Pressure rose in my chest. "But he can't put it down. Right?"
"He can't." Hiro's voice softened. "But now he doesn't have to carry it alone."
I let that settle.
Let it become something I could hold onto.
The kitchen felt different now. The same pots and pans. The same prep stations. The same light through the windows. But I was different. Something had shifted inside me—settled into place like a key finally finding its lock.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Smiling, Hiro reached out and rubbed it away. "Okay."
I cleared my throat.
He pulled the sketchpad toward him. "Enough of this. We have a cocktail party to plan."
"We do."
He cracked his knuckles like a man preparing for battle. “Where do we begin?”
I picked up my pencil. “How does each Claw kill?”
Chapter eleven
Cocktails for the Claws
Nyomi
“Okay.” A lump formed in my throat, raw and aching, but I swallowed it down. I put my thoughts on Kaede and thought of last night. He was a goodlooking guy, although eerily calm, with his platinum-blond hair tied in a low knot at the nape of his neck. He’d also been wearing leather gloves that he kept adjusting when it seemed like he was annoyed.
I tapped the page with my pencil. "So, about Kaede."
Hiro nodded, apparently satisfied with our heart-to-heart. He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. Back to Kaede.”
I picked up my pencil. "Tell me how he kills."
"Like he's dancing."
I widened my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Like his body is hearing something the rest of us can't and he's just... moving to it. Smooth. Beautiful. Absolutely lethal."
"Graceful?"
"Elegant. Effortless. He makes death look like art."
"So his drink should be. . .something beautiful that could also kill you?"
“Is there a drink that would do that?”
I tapped my pencil against the sketchpad, thinking. "Maybe. . .I’m thinking. . .Japanese gin. That's the base.”
“He’ll like that.”
“You know what? Dry sake. It'll act like a silk vermouth—smoothing the edges, making everything flow together."
Hiro nodded. “This is sounding good.”
