Stuffing down my rising unease, I draw pliers from my bag and pull the obstruction from the woman’s throat. Dangling in the dim light is Leviathan’s signature curse.
Scull snickers. “What is that? A voodoo doll? Does our vigilante think they’re a witch now?”
Ignoring him, I pinch the corpse’s hair between my fingers and smear the blood. The hair beneath is a familiar shade of red. In an instant, I recognize her.
Fury burns my blood to ash. This isn’t a random murder.
This is a message.
Leviathan is coming.
My knuckles rap urgently on Poppy’s bedroom door. Inside, something heavythumpsonto the floor. Expletives hiss as fabric shuffles. An audiobook playing quietly over the speakers pauses just before the door swings open to reveal a droopy-eyed Poppy. She’s in a dusky pink yukata printed with powder blue baby’s breath petals and butterflies seeking their nectar, cradling to her chest a book with a tattooed man wearing a stag skull on the front cover.
“Brontë?” She blinks away a fog of confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I called. You didn’t answer.”
“I fell asleep reading.” Her uptilted baby blues slowly scan my scrubs, then the dark hallway behind me. “What time is it? How did you get in here?”
“It’s three a.m. I picked the lock on the back door.” Ignoring her gape, I gesture to the room. “May I?”
Poppy widens the door for me to step inside. I pat Jezebel’s head in passing then open a window to the early December chill. Fishing a lighter from my jacket, I ignite a cigar and take several deep drags.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here? Or should I grab a chair and wait until you’re done sulking?” Poppy pauses, her reflection pouting. “I might be dead by then, actually.”
I sigh. “We have a problem.”
“Could you be any more vague?”
I watch the dark sea writhe like a live beast beneath the full moon. A silence stretches between us, loud as a soundless scream. I wonder if she hears the scythe hanging over her head, swinging in the breeze as it waits to come crashing down.
“Brontë.” She snags my reflection’s vacant stare. “What happened?”
Exhaling a long smoke stream through my nostrils, I wordlessly pull the autopsy report from my jacket and hand it over. Her scrunched nose straightens as she sifts through the grisly scene photos.
“F-Fiona?” Tears line her lashes. A storm of disbelief, grief, and rage rises to meet my gaze. “What is this?”
“You know what it is. Leviathan murdered a member of your inner circle. Worse, a friend. To add insult to injury, they made it look likeyoudid it. Killing Fiona is Leviathan’s way of shoving your face in the dirt, Poppy. If your family’s history is a roadmap, you know where this leads—your family’sdoorstep.”
Poppy curses, snatching her cell from her nightstand and making a call. From what I gather, she’s ordering her cyber team to check the scrubbed cams for anything the police may have missed. Cherry smoke burns the noxious acid from my gut as she speaks in hushed tones, her fluffy slippers wearing a line through the floor as she paces back and forth for what feels like an eternity. When she hangs up, her shoulders couldn’t be any lower.
“No bread crumbs to follow?”
“No.” She steps close enough for me to breathe her coffee and cotton candy scent spearing through the bitter cherry smog. “Merci,Brontë.”
“For?”
“Bringing this to me.” When I don’t respond, she rests a hand on my arm. I stiffen, but I can’t seem to make myself brush her off like I should. “I know how much of a risk you’re taking in helping me.”
“I’m merely doing my part.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. You could’ve easily done nothing and let Leviathan come for me. Would’ve made your decade-long hunt for me worth the wait.”
I ignore the pang in my chest. If we’d never met, that’s exactly what I would’ve done.
“As I said, we made a deal. This is me upholding my end. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“You’re upset.”
