ONE
Ivy
I comefrom a long line of black widows.
A whole society of them.
My mother killed my father when I was too young to remember him, and played the role of grieving widow so well, no one suspected a thing.
Now, it’s my turn.
A pinch of this…a dash of that…and just the right amount of…
Perfection.
I place the cap on the vial and turn it in my hands, marveling at the beautiful periwinkle color.
One day, my skills will buy my freedom,I think to myself.But only after I put them to use.
I place the vial in a secret compartment in my purse and force my face into a neutral expression.
My mother gets up from her chair and sighs. “You were sloppy.”
“Were you much better at my age?”
It’s a silly question considering she married at sixteen and killed her first mark at eighteen, but it was a different time then. Poison detection has come a long way, as have background checks and surveillance videos.
Mother opens a drawer, grabs a bag of hemlock, and hands it to me. “Extract the seeds.”
There’s no point in arguing with her. I could perform the task to perfection a thousand times, and she’d still ask me to do it again.
Her love for torturing me is just too great.
I take the cones from the bag and pull at the scales to extract the winged seeds. Because they’re being taken by force, I won’t get as much, but that doesn’t matter because we grow them in such abundance.
“Here you go.” I push the seeds over to her, hoping it’s enough. “Should I concentrate them?”
She presses her eyes closed and releases a heavy sigh. “I can’t recall a time I was ever this anxious before a job.”
“You’ve trained me well,” I tell her. “Not that it matters. My profile has been up on the matching site for a week and I’ve yet to generate any interest.”
“But you will, sweetheart. This isn’t Chatter, where men go for hookups. Miss May’s clients scrutinize their options carefully, using background checks and private investigators to do their legwork.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
“No, and why would it? The Web has gone to great lengths to remove almost every mention of us from the internet outside of the social media presence I’ve carefully curated for us. We’re pristine.”
“Let’s say that we never get a bite, and Miss May isn’t all she’s cracked up to be…then what? It’s not like I’m going to find a mark at a bar.”
“We have Sisters?—”
“Face it, Mom. Your little death sorority is dying! When are you going to get it through your head that this is 2024 and people are a lot more suspicious than they used to be?”
“It’s not my little death sorority—it’s ours. The Web has been around for centuries, and boasts women in its ranks that have the powers to protect us. Just so long as we follow their rules.”
“Once I do this job, I’m out,” I snicker.
“If that’s your prerogative, then I cannot stop you just so long as you complete at least one job.”
