“Okay, okay,” Pax says. Watching him become so unnerved rattles me. I look to Kiyoko, to William. William nods at me,We’re okay. We can do this.
I breathe. Swallow the bile in my throat.
Okay,think. I’m actually relieved we’re meeting Blanckhere, on our turf. I know the reasoning behind meeting at his apartment: get a feel for the place, scope it out, match it to the blueprints we’ve memorized. But I can’t imagine how overwhelming that might’ve felt, meeting my sister’s murderer for the first time in his own, lavish penthouse. Surrounded by things purchased with his blood money. No, Julia’s Bureau has become a great comfort to me, a home away from home. I scan our small, lovely storefront.
The light, the tinctures, the tins, the incense.
Yes, I love this place.
We’re okay. We can do this. I steady my shaking hands.
But Pax… the wrath emanating from him is an inferno. William talks Pax into stepping outside. He feels the rage roiling off Pax, too. Rage of that magnitude cannot be contained.
“We’re going to the back alley,” Pax says. He reaches for my hand, and when I give it to him, he clutches it to his chest. “Nirav, William, and I. It’s for the best, don’t you think? I don’t believe I can…”
He doesn’t finish that thought.
“Yes. You should go.”
Pax clutches my hand, the very hand he was just cradling, tickling, whispering into. “Are you sure? I—I—” His eyes are a storm, his aura a tornado of worry and fury. My heart aches.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“If you need anything, just—”
“Scream.” The thought makes my stomach queasy. The incense turns against me. “Okay.”
Pax reaches forward, cups my face. I lean into him and pressmy forehead against his, our breaths steadying together. This gesture—it feels like a wave passing over me, pulling through me, then… calm.
I lean back. There is no time. “Go.”
Clarice juts her chin in the opposite direction of us and tucks her hair behind an ear.
Pax, William, and Nirav slip into the alleyway, those silvery green eyes locking with mine as he eases the back door shut.Snick.
The bell above the front door chimes again.
My sister’s murderer enters my domain.
I don’t know what I expected of Max Blanck, physically. Horns and a tail, perhaps? But instead, he’s an overly buttoned-up fellow—vest, tie, jacket, black bowler hat. Perhaps those horns of his are beneath his chapeau. He’s an average-looking forty-something wearing a rather smug expression, and he keeps his hat on. Rude.
Clarice greets him with a loud “Max! Darling!” and a kiss on each cheek. “You caught up.”
I am immediately sickened. Did I honestly think I could just casually meet with my sister’s killer? Sour bile floods my mouth.
Don’t do this, Stella.
This isn’t wise or good or kind or smart.
Kiyoko must notice I’m fighting to hold it together, because she steps forward. “Won’t you take a seat, Mr. Blanck?” She motions to the only chair in the room, one we’ve borrowed from the stables next door. Its upholstery smells a little horsey, but it will have to suffice. “Have a cup of tea.”
“No,” he replies. “This won’t take long. Your friend here insisted I take this meeting, but I’m not interested in including your…brandof entertainment at my soiree.”
Is he scared of what we might uncover? Quite likely.
Clarice licks her teeth and taps Blanck on the lapel of his jacket. “Silly Max. You know parlor readings are all the rage right now! Your party will be the absolute talk of the town if you include a couple psychic mediums.”
While Clarice patters on about why we should be included alongside her own genteel party tricks, Spirit offers me an image I’ve never seen before: a steaming bowl of cooked rice. But the bowl tilts, and inside, a flash of a sleek straight pin. A pin among grains of rice. It would be so easy to miss.
