“I was just released from prison. How do you suppose I leave the city?”
My lips lifted in a smile. “Easy. We have money. Lots and lots of money to pay your deeds. We can even purge your record. A fresh start if that is what you want.”
“This hunt you two talked about. What will happen there?”
“Violet will take my place. She always does. That girl never judges. She doesn’t care who you are, she will do what she can for you. That is why I love her so much. As for the hunt? Don’t worry, you won’t be an active participant. Just keep the centaurs away from her. She’s not built for them.”
“Centaurs? And Arun? He will be there?”
I tilted my head in confusion. “Of course he will be there. All of the brothers and sisters will be there.”
This time he tilted his head towards me. “What?”
“Everyone born from the solstice is a brother and sister. We are not literally related. Except for Violet. She wasn’t born from the solstice, she was left on our doorsteps.”
“You want to know how you die? Is that it?” James cupped my cheeks in his hands. His green eyes stayed true to their own color for a few minutes. I was so engrossed in what he was doing, I didn’t see Violet come out of her room until I heard her voice in the corner of my mind. James’ gift was that mesmerizing. Just when I thought he wasn’t seeing a vision, his eyes turned to a light, cloudy green.
He told us everything.
I didn’t see that coming.
Chapter Nine
James
Ethel in her human form wasn’t all that bad. Hot, even. Big tits, bangin’ ass. And hell, she wasn’t as weird as Violet or her shit show of a brother. That part was good. But with her stupid talk about a solstice and dumb ideas that she knew better than me who my parents were, I was simply done. Between the two of them and the Anus or whatever his name was—whom I was sure would come back—there was nothing to do but give them what they wanted. They’d either let me go or they wouldn’t. The last thing I needed was some feline freak show leaving me with a limp dick, and living at Ray’s hadn’t been that bad.
“You want to know how you die. Is that it?”
Pain shot through my wrist as Violet jumped.
“Jesus! Can’t you turn the voltage down or something? I’m trying to give you what you want.”
It didn’t seem to matter to my mistress of endless wrist pain what we’d shared in that breakroom. Now, she like all other women I’d known before—besides Jenn—had her eyes fixed on the prize. It wasn’t about what she might have felt for me but what I could do for her. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised.
“Sorry,” she said, moving closer. “You’re really going to tell us, Honey?”
Honey. Christ. Fuck my life. I knew how to turn my stupid curse on and off now. I wanted to bark at her about what I’d get in return and why she’d allowed an eight-year-old witness his grandfather’s death rattle. But it was useless. She’s given me some crap about a solstice and people being siblings because of some breeding spree or something. For the first time—ever—I missed prison. At least that place made sense: hierarchy, codes of loyalty, divisions. Prison was clean compared to this shit.
“If you’d shut up. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice turning this crap on and off.”
Violet pressed her lips together as I stared at Ethel.
“It’d help if you looked at me,” I said.
But Ethel turned away. Great. I get to beg a fucking cat. Epic. Catnip, bitch?
“Let him see!” Violet begged.
It was somewhere between her pleas for Ethel to look at me and the wave of frustration that washed over me where it came – as if it had never left.
A blade.
A knife, maybe?
Long fingernails filed into tight tips the shape of daggers.
A woman.
Ethel in human form. Same perfect rack.
I wasn’t sure why it shocked me. Feline or human form, I knew better than to think she’d have nine lives or more. No matter what they said about the solstice, I lived on planet earth. To me, everyone was mortal no matter the curse.
Still, I wasn’t used to playing with the death game. It’d been something I’d run from my entire life. Yet death had chased me and never before had I faced it head on. I didn’t want to then, and I didn’t now. But trying to see a death was different than letting it come of its own volition.
I took in slow, shallow breaths, squinting at her just to be sure. I did my best to tune out Violet’s similar short but more rushed breaths only inches away as I got my bearings.
There were no voices. Only the plunging of what appeared to be a kitchen knife. Ethel’s gasp and finally the chuckling of a woman as Ethel clutched her stomach—blood seeping through a white T-shirt—and arched forward.
Thump.
She did not scream or moan. Her death, like nothing I’d ever seen before, didn’t seem to come with resistance only a gurgling sound that took over the tiny room. A bathroom? A foyer?
I blinked again, shaking my head to will the curse to speak louder. It didn’t make sense that Ethel would be stabbed in the stomach and not even attempt to fight back. Her attacker was coming at her head on. I’d only ever seen murders before where the victim was unsuspecting. This time, Ethel had to see what was coming for her. Yet, I couldn’t get a good read on her face.
I turned my attention to her female attacker. Aside from the blunt fingernails and blunter bob haircut, the woman wasn’t someone I recognized. Her bone straight black hair was kissed by tiny lines of white, mirrored in her eyebrows and telling me she had to be over forty. Her bent nose flared as she threw back her head and began laughing, turning away from Ethel who laid on the floor.
Blood began to pool around Ethel’s body as Cat Girl curled into the fetal position. For a moment, she looked as if she might get back up; her head and upper body making a full attempt. But finally, as the woman with the knife bent down to her and stopped laughing, Ethel’s head turned to the side against a white tile floor in surrender.
“A woman. A woman with a knife.”
“What does she look like?” Violet’s voice was stoic. She wasn’t wasting time with her yammering now. She had to understand how the curse worked if she was able to cut to the chase that way. It was the first time I’d heard her conduct herself in a way that meant business.
“Black hair. Older. Maybe forty-five? Fifty? Big nose. Not, as you would say, ‘adorable.’”
The girls chattered about who it might be, listing off names and ruling them out as I watched the attacker pull the knife from Ethel’s stomach. For a moment, I assumed she’d plunge it back it. That’s what most killers did to be sure they’d fully disabled their prey. Instead, she pulled the knife from Ethel’s gut and brought it to her lips. Now, and with the way she looked at it, I swore she would lick Ethel’s blood. Fucking freak. These people were so fucked up. Instead, she flared her gigantic nostrils and appeared to be smelling her victim’s blood.
“The nose is your hint. This chick’s messed up,” I said, unsure how to explain the primitive look in the killer’s black eyes. She’s probably an animal too – sniffing her next meal.