“Excellent question! Would you like the long or the short answer? I’ve had plenty of time to workshop both versions in the last months.”
“Did they hurt you? Are they torturing you, or interrogating you, or—”
She shakes her head. “They treat me well, if you discount the perpetual infringement of my Human rights. But they’ve never brought me out of this room, and I’ve tried. I’ve pretended to be sick, I’ve gotten aggressive—no dice. The guards are assholes of unspeakable proportions and refuse to talk to me.”
“How did they take you?”
“The last thing I remember was walking down the sidewalk on my way to your apartment from work—then bam, I was here.”
I glance around the attic. “What do you even do all the time?”
“I’ve been catching up on sleep. Reviewing my life choices. Stewing in regret. Mostly, I read.” She gestures at the shelves. “But the selection here is limited to the classics. I’ve read, like, three Dickens novels.”
“Appalling.”
“The Catcher in the Rye, too.”
“God.”
“And an entire mystery series I don’t even like.” She shrugs. “Now, would you like to hear my theory on why someone even bothered to kidnap little old me, so you can say I told you so, or something?”
Irritation fuels me enough to finally sit up straight. “No, because I didn’t tell you so.”
“Oh.” She nods, bemused. “Well, this is a pleasant surpr—”
“I couldn’t tell you so, because you hid the story you were working on and the shit you were doing from me.”
She frowns. “Okay. Well, at least let me explain—”
“I already know.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it. I was actually—”
“You were looking into the Weres, or Thomas Jalakas, or financial crimes or something. You found out that Liliana Moreland is a Human-Were hybrid, possibly one of a kind, and then got kidnapped for your efforts.”
Serena recoils. “How do you . . . ?”
“Your cat was . . . There was that butterfly alphabet thing on your planner, and . . .” I massage my temple. “Just trust me when I say that I know, frankly, way more than I ever wanted about anything. Lowe said that—”
“Who’s Lowe?”
My heart pangs. I swat the memory and the pain away in one big swipe. “The Were Alpha. My husband.”
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. Tell me how they—” She stops abruptly. Does a double take. Blinks at me multiple times. “Did you just say . . . ?”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“Misery.”
“I know.”
“Seriously.”
“I know.”
“I’m gone for three months, and after a lifetime of having literally no news, now you are married to a Were Alpha?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.”
“Technically, it’s your fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“You think I got married because I found sweet Were love on a dating app? I was looking for you. The entire time you were gone. In whatever way I could. That’s how I ended up married to the brother of the very young, very innocent half-Were girl you were willing to exploit, and now we’re here, and I’d bet my entire collection of hacking tools that it’s Emery who took us, and that Mick has been working with her behind Lowe’s back the whole time—I bet . . . You know what? I bet Emery knows that Ana is a hybrid, and wants to make sure that Ana can never serve as a symbol of unity between the Weres and the Humans, and the way you were snooping around put you on Emery’s radar, and Serena, it was so fucking hard for me to find you.” It all comes out so quickly, I barely have time to keep my tone in check. But I regret it instantly when Serena’s hand comes up to press against her chapped lips. Her nails are bitten to the quick—a habit she grew out of years ago.
“It’s just . . .” She swallows. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“That you’d be looking. We had that fight, and . . .” Her voice breaks a little. “I kind of said things I didn’t mean, and I figured that maybe you were done with me.”
I stare at her, momentarily speechless. Maybe the larder beetles have eaten her brain? “Dude. I didn’t know that was an option.”
She lets out a small laugh, a little shakier than her usual. “I just had a lot of time in here to think about what I said.”
I nod. Poke my tongue around my very dry, very sour mouth. “I had lots of time out there, too.”
We regard each other. If we were better people, less screwed up, we’d probably be able to say something like I love you, or So glad to be together again, or a slightly more macabre Thank fuck you’re not dead. But we both stay silent, because that’s what we do.
We both know the unsaid, because that’s who we are.
Serena clears her throat first. “Shall we consider the matter archived for the moment?” she asks. “We can clip each other’s nails when we’re out of here, or something.”
“Excellent suggestion. Let’s focus on what to do.”
She takes a fortifying breath. “I’ve actually been working on a plan.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It involves staying here. Building a life. Growing old. Developing cataracts.”
I smile. “You always had the worst fucking plans.”
She laughs. And I laugh. And then we laugh some more, until the whole thing sounds less like laughter and more like slight hysteria, and God, I missed this.
“Another plan,” she says, wiping her eyes and lowering her voice, “that I’ve hatched in the past three minutes, is to lure the guard at the door, and use your Vampy magic to thrall them into letting us go.”
I scowl. “You know I can’t do that without touching people.”
“Misery. Babe.”
“What?”
“I doubt there’s another way.”
“We could fight. There’s two of us, and we know self-defense—”
“They won’t come inside. Everything is handed to me through that opening.” She points at the square panel in the door. “But now that you’re here, we might be able to trick them. I could distract the guard long enough for you to get a hook in him.”
I shake my head. Fully aware that I’m not saying no. “This could go so badly.”
“They wouldn’t take it out on you,” she points out. “You’re the daughter of a Vampyre councilman and I guess the wife of a Were Alpha?” She pinches her nose. “Unlike me, you’re a valuable hostage to use in negotiations, and this Emery person must know that. If anything, they’d take it out on me, which is—”
“Also unacceptable.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “I really would love to get out of here. Spend more time with Sylvester.”
“Sylvester?”
“My cat.”
“Ah.” I glance away guiltily. “About that.”
“I swear to God, if you tell me that you let my cat starve or choke to death on my yarn or get eaten by a raccoon—”
“I did not, even though he’d deserve it. However, his name is now Sparkles. And he’s grown very attached to Liliana Moreland, or vice versa.” I ignore her withering look. “There’s nothing but cats in the world, and Sparkles is mediocre among them, so I’ll get you another one if we ever—”
A knock at the door, and we both startle.
“Yeah?” Serena calls. She pushes me out of sight, even when the door and the food slot stay closed.
“I have a . . . bag of blood. For the Vampyre.”
“Who’s that?” I whisper.
“Bob.”
I tilt my head. “Who the hell is Bob?”
“It’s a name I made up for the guards. They’re all Bob.” And then, louder. “Misery’s not feeling well,” she yells. Which is true—I feel like total shit. “I think the drugs might be about to kill her or something!”
What the hell? I mouth. I cannot deal with a Serena plan right now.
“Well, that’s above my pay grade. I can’t do anything for a leech, anyway—”
“She is Vampyre royalty. Whoever your boss is, do you think they’ll be pleased with you if she dies under your watch?”
There are a couple of muttered curses I can barely make out. Then the slot opens. “What’s going on?”