“He can try,” I said. Levi grinned up at me as if he thought I was naive. I narrowed my eyes. “Why would he want me and not you, or Zero?”
“He is greedy. Always wants more. And you … You are his more, right now. Read this,” he gripped the book tighter. “So you know what you’re up against.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
“I can only guess. It's in French.”
“Sounds useful,” I said sarcastically, crouching down in front of him. “Final question: why do you care?”
“Snakes stick together?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah fucking right,” I responded. Levi smiled at me. Then his blue eyes began to glow in that preternatural rage I’d witnessed when he was a monster behind glass.
“I hope that you will be his death.”
“You want me to kill him for you?” I asked with disinterest.
“Do it for yourself,” he whispered. His skin darkened and his gills gaped so wide I could see inside him. He lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to his lips, kissing them.
“Bise,” he breathed, sending out the kissed salute. French. For a man who didn’t know French. Weird.
“Mhm, see you later,” I said. He died fast, but his body didn’t get the message. Bones crawled and skin bulged, seemingly desperate to turn itself back into being a sea dragon. Scales pushed out like seedlings.
“Great, now he’s moulting,” I said. Then it stopped as quickly as it started. What was left of him lay half-shifted by the fence, already cooling.
“He was old,” Nemo said. “You could see it in his eyes.” I reached over for the book in Levi’s hands.
“What do you think he meant?” I asked, running my finger down the binding. “All that about him, Zero, and me?”
“You’ve been warned twice about the same thing,” he said. “The people behind the asylum.”
“Not people.” I flicked open the leather cover. Inside, scrawled in looping cursive, was a name: Damien D'Bolique. “A person.”
2
THE BLOODLESS BUTCHER
BAZ
Doctor Orson stood in the open door of a sleek, black car.Hiscar, I supposed—still parked here from when he lost his job as head psychiatrist and got a promotion to full-time asylum patient. Everything I knew about cars was from movies and books. Nemo, who’d never been into fiction, eyed the vehicle like it might leap up to bite him.
“What is that?” Orson asked.
“A book,” I said chipperly. He stared me down, looking annoyed.
“Oh, that?” I asked, looking over at what Nemo carried. “You met Levi before, right? What do you think, trunk or backseat?”
“No,” Orson said. “Do we need to have a group therapy session as we escape?” We all piled in the car. Orson and Bree were up front, while Nemo folded himself into odd angles in the back. I sat in the middle smooshed between Levi and Nemo. This was the start of something special, I could tell.
“You would love that, wouldn’t you? You get off on therapy.”
“What took so long?” Bree asked. I eyed the book Levi gave me, sitting on the floorboard.
“Another warning about Supra coming for me.” As the engine roared to life, Nemo’s eyes bugged, and he gripped Bree’s headrest so hard it ripped off.
“Uh, guys. Nemo is acting strange.”
“Off we go!” Orson said with a sadistic smile. “Six hours to my cabin.” He turned around, watching Nemo lose his shit with excitement shining in his eyes.
