“The charred stench of her burned, blistered skin. The ashy aroma that replaced her sweet perfume. The choking clouds of smoke that slithered down my throat and coated my lungs. You can’t even fucking imagine it. Like a slaughterhouse that had caught fire and burned to the ground with all the animals trapped inside.”
My voice was matter-of-fact and emotionless, but Tucker actually shuddered and turned away, as if he suddenly couldn’t stand to see me looking so much like my mother. That cold rage in my heart thrummed with satisfaction. For the first time, I’d actually put a crack in Tucker’s cool, detached armor.
I glanced at the mirror, which was angled so that I could still see his face. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, as if trying to banish the horrible images that my words called up in his mind. But he’d been there that night. He might not have seen my mother’s body, but he’d witnessed the aftermath of Mab’s Fire scorching through the mansion.
I wanted him to remember. I wanted him to think about it. I wanted the memories to haunt the bastard the same way they haunted me.
A long silence followed. Neither one of us spoke. If only I’d had one of my knives, I would have cut through my ropes, risen from the chair, and stabbed him in the back.
But if wishes were horses, I’d have a yard full of prancing ponies by now.
Finally, Tucker opened his eyes, cleared his throat, and faced me again. “I tried to save your mother. Truly, I did. I gave her every opportunity.”
“To do what? Fall in line with the rest of your Circle cronies? Do all the horrible things that they ordered her to? To be their little lapdog, just like you are?” I barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Doesn’t seem like much of an opportunity to me. More like a prison. But then, you would know, wouldn’t you, Tuck?”
My cruel words finally snapped him out of his memories and his soft sentiments, whatever they were, and his face hardened back into its usual detached mask.
“You’re the one who’s tied to a chair, Gin. Not me. I’d say that you’re the prisoner here.”
I shook my head, deliberately making my freshly dyed blond hair fly around my shoulders. “Nah. I’m not a prisoner. I don’t take orders from anyone; you can’t say the same. I’m my own person, but you’ll never be that again.”
Tucker’s eyes glittered, and I saw the silent agreement in his black gaze. He shrugged his shoulders, not quite dismissing my words. “Either way, one good thing has come out of all of this.”
“What’s that?”
He flashed me a smile, showing off the fangs that glinted in his mouth. “You won’t be a thorn in my side anymore.”
I gave him an amused look. “Why? Because you think that Rivera and Porter are actually going to kill me? Think again, pal.”
His smile widened, and his black eyes warmed just the faintest bit. “You have your mother’s confidence—and her stubbornness too.”
It was by far the nicest thing he’d ever said to me, but anger spiked through me at his words. He made it sound like some sort of shortcoming on her part, and mine too. “I know.”
“Yes, you do know, don’t you?” he murmured. “And sadly, little Genevieve, it’s going to be the death of you, just like it was for her.”
I started to ask him what he meant, but Tucker gave me another long, measuring look, then opened the door and left me behind.
? ? ?
Tucker stepped onto the porch and out of my line of sight, although he left the door open behind him. A few seconds later, more footsteps creak-creak-creaked on the wood. Rivera and Porter must have come back from wherever they’d gone and rejoined the vampire on the porch.
“Kill her,” Tucker ordered in a clear, strong voice that carried into the cottage. “And try to get it right this time. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes, Damian.”
I heard more footsteps, heading for the far end of the porch. After a few seconds, the footsteps faded away, as if Tucker had stepped off the porch and out into whatever landscape lay beyond. And I realized that the vampire was leaving. He was actually leaving without killing me.
Tucker was no fool. I wasn’t a scared little girl stumbling around the woods like I had been the night of my mother’s murder. He knew exactly how dangerous I was and that I would fight until my very last breath. But instead of ending me himself, he’d walked away and left the job up to Rivera and Porter. If there was one thing that I knew about Tucker, it was that he always had a reason for his actions, no matter how twisted they were. Hmm.
The other two men stepped back inside.
Rivera glanced over at me, making sure that I was still securely tied up, and took another long hit from his silver flask. He held it up to his ear and shook it, but the container was empty. His nostrils flared with anger that his precious booze was already gone.
“I need a refill,” he growled. “You heard Tucker. Kill her. And be quick about it. It won’t be long before her friends realize that she’s still on the property and come back searching for her.”
Still on the property? So we were still on the Rivera estate. But where? I’d reviewed every single inch of the grounds when I’d been planning to break into Rivera’s office, and Porter’s caretaker cottage had been the only one clearly marked on the property. So where was this second cottage located? I didn’t know, but fresh hope filled me. All I had to do was get out of my bonds and out of the cottage. Once I was outside, I could figure out exactly where I was and escape. Then I would find my friends, and we would come back here together, finish what we’d started, and put these bastards in the ground for good.
“Of course,” Porter murmured in a neutral tone, more than accustomed to dealing with Rivera’s drunken demands.
Rivera rolled his eyes, knowing that he was being handled. He stomped out of the cottage and slammed the door shut behind him. He crossed the porch, and the sound of his staggering footsteps faded away. No doubt Rivera was on his way back to his mansion to get his much-needed refill and drink the rest of the night away.
That left me alone with Bruce Porter.
I thought that he might immediately come over and start beating me, as both Tucker and Rivera had ordered. I tensed, ready to reach for my Ice and Stone magic and use it to blast right out of my chair and the ropes still tying me down.
But Porter had other plans. He grabbed one of the chairs from the kitchen table, brought it over, and put it down directly across from me. He sat down, leaned back, and made himself comfortable. Once he was settled, he looked at me and smiled.
And just like that, the Dollmaker finally revealed his true self.
Oh, Porter looked exactly the same as before. Gunmetal--gray hair cropped close to his skull, pale blue eyes, deep lines grooved into his ruddy skin, strong, compact, muscular body in a dark, subdued suit.
But from one second to the next, his entire demeanor changed.
Gone was the dour, serious head of security, the man who stood quietly in the background and waited for others to tell him what to do. Now his eyes were brighter, his smile wider, his posture far more natural and relaxed. He looked . . . happy.