“What is a fun way to kill someone, I wonder?” His face was inscrutable, but she could tell she’d surprised him again.
“Well, I don’t know! I’m sure one must find some joy in an activity they partake in so often.” She reached out a steadying hand and grabbed his shoulder as she stepped over a fallen log.
His shoulder tensed under her fingers, something Evie didn’t completely hate the feeling of, but his face remained impassive. “You’re correct. There are a few fun ways.” He stepped out of reach once she was safely past the log, and she dropped her hand back to her side. “But I hardly have need to implement them when your two left feet will be your undoing.”
“For the last time, I am not clumsy. I fell once. The first time was your fault, too.” She strutted in front of him, arms crossed. “I have my faults, Your Evilness, but one of them is not being prone to—”
Smack!
Evie’s head reeled back sharply. Ouch.
She blinked at the open night air, wholly confused about what had just happened.
A heavy sigh sounded behind her as The Villain moved around her small form to place his hand against her invisible attacker. But the minute his fingers touched the space, a barrier began to dissolve around them in a flash of blue light. The corners of the scenery melted away, revealing large stone walls and a black iron gate. Behind it, high-rising cobblestone towers.
His castle was hidden by magic—that had smacked her in the head.
The gate swung open, and The Villain motioned for her to walk in front of him. As though resigned to dive headfirst into a moat of hungry sea dragons, she followed his instruction. Honestly, at this point, what else could she do? She’d exhausted any other options when she’d agreed to help him and let him help her in return. May as well see this through to its bitter, bloody end.
Massacre Manor was far too large to just be considered a manor. It could probably house her entire village, plus another two villages of the same size, comfortably. It was dilapidated and crumbling in some parts, but there was a charm to its dishevelment. The stones making up the structure were muted grays and browns, moss and vines overgrowing in the crevices and spaces between. But its disorder made it appear inviting and mysterious.
Perhaps even a little comforting.
They stepped around cracked fountains covered in more moss as Evie’s gaze bounced about the surrounding garden. It was surprisingly well-kept. In fact, she was sure she saw a patch of daffodils and choked back a giggle.
But the grandeur of the space was truly the most frightening, as it somehow seemed to grow bigger the closer they came—increasing at the same level as Evie’s impending doom.
In short, it was huge, and what a very grand place to die.
Swallowing hard, staring at the dark wood of a large door, Evie turned toward The Villain, signaling a question with her eyes.
“If you push on it lightly, the door will open.” There was a confusing dryness to everything he said. Like he either had a secret sense of humor or he truly believed everyone else in the world was incompetent.
“I know how doors work,” she said, exasperated.
He squinted, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “Then why isn’t it open yet?”
Ah well, incompetent people everywhere it is, Your Evilness.
“Let me get that for you, sir!” A gravelly voice sounded from the window above them, and Evie shrieked in surprise, stumbling back into The Villain.
“Hurry, Marvin. Ms. Sage seems to be having some sort of attack.”
“How long has he been up there?” She pulled away from the solidness of his chest and found herself alarmed to catch the freshness of his scent. Shouldn’t he smell like death? Not faintly of cinnamon, whiskey, and cloves.
“He’s one of my guards. He’s always up there.” As if they’d timed it, the heavy door swung open with an ominous creak.
Evie followed him inside to the dimly lit entry hall. “Okay, I’m inside your lair, Your Evilness. Why have you brought me here?”
He rolled his black eyes and trudged across the massive room toward several large stone stairs against the far wall, leading to who knows where. He called out over his shoulder, “If you’re going to work for me, Sage, you cannot continue to call me that.”
His strides were long, and Evie rushed to catch up as they began their ascent. “Work for you?” The idea was too ridiculous. “I can’t do that. You’re…you’re…bad.”
He froze on the second flight, leaning against a stained glass window. “I am,” he said, not even attempting to deny it. He walked toward her, looming. She knew he was trying to intimidate her. “But you said you needed employment.”
She had? Oh yes, she had, when she was in a ramble-induced state. Evie was used to people tuning out those musings, not marking them as job applications. “I do,” she admitted wearily. “But why would you possibly offer me a job? What about today has told you I’m qualified for any of the kind of work you do?”
“You have a cutthroat way of thinking I find valuable, and you helped me, despite all you’ve heard about my reputation.” He looked down at the blood-soaked scarf around his waist.
“Your injuries!” Evie reeled back, looking at him with disbelief. “I completely forgot. Are you in a lot of pain?”
He grimaced but didn’t pull the scarf from his waist. “I heal quickly. What of your injuries?”
The bruise on her hip was going to be ugly and purple. As for the bite of the arrow that had nearly flayed the skin off her back, it was stinging, but the worst of it had subsided.
“I’ll live.” She shrugged, neglecting to mention the additional knife wound on her left shoulder. Put there by her last employer.
That still hurt like a bitch.
He nodded, holding his hand out, and said, “What do you say, Sage?”
Evie paused, knowing admitting this could get her killed, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “Would you still be offering me this position…whatever it is…if you knew that my father was once a knight for the king?”
His face remained impassive; in fact, he looked bored. “Is he still?”
“No no! It was well before I was born. It was just a way for him to save money for his butcher’s shop. He retired after he married my mother.” The next part was painful, so she said it quickly. “He’s far too ill to work anymore anyway, and his only loyalties are to his family.”
The Villain shrugged. “Then I do not see why that would be any sort of issue.”
Well, that one aside, she was certain she could still find quite a few.
“What would working for you entail?” she asked, eyeing his hand like both a lifeline and a death sentence. “I have no interest in hurting people or helping you to hurt people. Or being one of your…lady friends.”
Hand dropping back to his side, his lips twisted upward, almost as if he were attempting to…smile? “You’re hardly the kind of woman I’d take to my bed.”
Evie’s face burned, and the sting on her shoulder was suddenly no comparison for the burn of rejection she felt in her chest. Which was ridiculous, because she hardly wanted to be desired by this man, but for goodness’ sake, she had a little pride.
Putting his hand before her once more, his beautiful face becoming an impassive wall, void of emotion save for the slight softness around his eyes, he said, “I will be frank. I will not force you, but you know where ‘Massacre Manor,’ as you so eloquently called it, is located now. You know that I am not immune to the slice of a blade and, the worst of all your offenses, you’ve seen my face.”
He stared hard at a curl lying against her forehead. She must have looked a wreck after running through the forest like a criminal.