Harley Merlin and the Cult of Eris (Harley Merlin, #6)

“I’m a little nervous, that’s all. It’s not every day that I get to meet someone as inspiring as you.”

“You should really put on some Chapstick if you’re going to keep doing it, Pieter,” she replied with an amused laugh. Despite what she was saying, I was winning her over. She loved an ass-kisser. That’s why Kenneth Willow still had a position here. Ass-kissers were useful—they’d do anything she asked, without hesitation.

I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Eris.”

“Tell me, where is it you’re actually from? Where do all these ‘family values’ come from?”

“We come from St. Petersburg, but we’ve moved around a lot.”

She nodded slowly. “That must be where the strange accents come from. Not quite Russian, not quite Eastern European, not quite Transatlantic. A bit of a mishmash. Do you enjoy the ballet? I hear it’s exceptional in St. Petersburg.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never liked it. My sister got the artistic gene; I got the practical one.” She was testing me with simple questions. If I faltered, she’d know I was lying. This was where things got scary. It sounded innocent enough, but it was anything but. There was logic in everything Katherine did and said, and this was my polygraph test.

“So what do you like?”

“I like to hunt. And I enjoy winter sports. Skiing, snowboarding, skating, anything like that.”

“How very Russian of you.” She eyed me curiously. “I imagine you put those polar bear pelts to good use?”

I smiled. “No polar bears were harmed in the making of our fake deaths, Eris.”

“Tell me of your parents. Are they proud of you? Do you stay in touch?”

Oh, the irony.

“To keep up the ruse, we had to convince our parents we were dead. Otherwise, the authorities would have gone after them. We haven’t spoken to them since we were in the Arctic. It hasn’t been easy, but it had to play out like that. Like I said, protecting family is our priority.”

Her eyes didn’t stay on my face as I spoke. Instead, they drifted across me, scouring for any telling body language. “Do you get along with your sister?”

I chuckled. “Most of the time. We squabble like any siblings do, but we care about each other. And hey, we’ve stayed together this long without killing each other. Why break the habit, right?”

I had to sell every word, like my life depended on it. Because, at the end of the day, it did.

Katherine turned to look at Harley. “Now then, how about you?”





Twenty-Five





Harley





My blood felt like it had frozen solid in my veins. I couldn’t even look at Katherine without wanting to vomit or throw something sharp at her. Finch had dealt with his interview like a pro, keeping it casual but reverent, with a touch of nerves thrown in for good measure. After all, this was Katherine Shipton we were talking about here—there were very few people who could stand in front of her without losing their nerve. I thought I was one of them, but apparently not. I put it down to being Volla Mazinov. She was definitely crapping her pants.

“What Pieter said was very interesting, if a little saccharine. Let’s see what you’ve got to say for yourself, shall we?” Katherine smiled back at him, but her verdict remained unclear. He was still standing, which I guessed was a good thing. No Death by a Thousand Cuts just yet.

Finally, the moment I’d been dreading had come. She was staring right at me. My hands were already shaking, but not with fear. Anger bubbled through every cell, threatening to spill over. I just hoped it came across as nerves instead, or else she’d figure me out right away. I tried to send out a slither of Empathy, to feel out what emotions were coming off her, but I hit the same wall I always hit. Every time I came face-to-face with her, I became more convinced that she had Shapeshifter abilities. Finch had likely inherited his own ability from her. Thinking back to O’Halloran’s reaction in the Luis Paoletti Room, I wondered if I should try some reverse Empathy on her, to see if that would break through the wall. But that was a risk that didn’t seem worth it right now. If she sensed it, in any way, I’d be screwed. No, I’d have to win her over the non-Empathy-assisted way.

“Cat got your tongue? Maybe you think I don’t even need to ask who you are, since your brother has gushed enough about you.” Katherine chuckled, the sound filling the eerie silence of the arena. Nobody in the stands was moving a muscle; they weren’t even whispering to one another.

I dipped my head in a bow. “Not at all, it’s only polite to make an introduction. Volla Mazinov, at your service.”

“What, no salute?” she teased.

“Should I?” I made myself sound suitably dumbfounded and anxious.

She laughed raucously. “No need to just yet, Volla. I don’t really go in for the whole saluting-your-superiors thing. It’s a little too ‘National Council’ for my tastes.”

“Good to know.”

“You’re feistier than your brother, huh?”

I shrugged. “He can get a little nervous around beautiful women. That’s why I’m always his wing-woman. He’d be hopeless without me.”

“Don’t tell me you need the Chapstick, too?”

“Not just yet, Eris. I don’t really go in for the ass-kissing thing.” I mimicked her, hoping she’d be amused. I remembered just how much she loved a bit of banter. It was mostly to hear the sound of her own voice, I was pretty sure, but I figured it could work in my favor. She liked strong women—women who weren’t afraid to stand up and speak their minds. That was why she surrounded herself with them. Well, that, and the fact that she detested men at their base level, thanks to my dad and his life choices.

To my relief, she howled with laughter. “How very refreshing.”

“Really? Apparently, my personality is an acquired taste.”

“Good thing I enjoy unusual flavors,” she parried. “I hear Russian food is quite unusual. What’s your favorite dish?”

“On a good day?” I racked my brain for knowledge of the Mazinovs, trying to remember what had been written in their file. There’d been a picture of Volla and her brother in a grand restaurant, clinking shot glasses with a plate of caviar on the table in front of them. I figured it was a good enough guess. “Beluga caviar with a side of decent Russian vodka. I miss that the most. I haven’t tasted it in so long.”

“I’ve always found caviar to be a little barbaric, but I wouldn’t want to insult your heritage,” she said.

“Have you tried it, Eris?”

“I confess, I haven’t.” She laughed again, which I hoped was a good sign. “And why have you come to this place with your brother? My lieutenant tells me you made quite the scene with a couple of unruly security magicals. You must have been desperate to get her attention.”

“I don’t believe security magicals have any place in a bar like that, Eris. It only ever ends in round-ups and false accusations,” I replied. “We did what we thought was right. As for why we’re here, we’re eager to find our place among like-minded individuals—people who are tired of the status quo and want to make an actual change. Why should humans have the monopoly on this planet, when they’re so much weaker than we are? And why should those who pander to them have any right to bear Chaos? Some call it far-right thinking; I call it the right way of thinking.”

“You speak well, Volla. I’ve got to say, I’m enjoying your attitude.”

“What can I say? I was born with it.” I flashed her a grin.

“And what do you think you can bring to our organization?”

What is this, a job interview? I supposed it was, in a way. “Loyalty and strength. My Water abilities are renowned, and I figure they might as well be used for something important. Plus, I’m always game for a bit of patriarchy-smashing.”