Poppy Morgenstern
Misery perches on my shoulder as I realize what this is and what it means.
This isn’t only the fall of an empire.
This is genocide.
Poppy is asleep when I return.
Alexander isn’t.
I’ve avoided crossing paths with him at all costs, but what I discovered tonight is too important to let lie for comfort’s sake.
Stalking through the manor’s library, I find Salem’s underworld king where he always seems to be: in a wingback by the hearth, chasing his woes from the bottom of a bottle. He senses my presence, his grip on the wine glass visibly tensing.
“You’re disrupting my peace, boy.”
“That’s my specialty, don’t you think?”
Alexander grunts, sufficiently miffed. “To what do I owe the displeasure of this particular vexation?”
I tap into my photo gallery and tilt the screen toward him. He studies the image of Scull’s Morgenstern kill list. Not an ounce of surprise shows on his face.
“Where did you find this?”
“In the apartment of a certain crooked detective currently shoving his knife deeper into your back.”
I anticipate a burst of rage, perhaps his glass thrown into the fire. Certainly not his sigh of dejected defeat.
“Youknewthis was happening,” I bite out, incredulous. "Your own fucking family has been hunted to near extinction, and you haven't told your own daughter?"
“Watch your tone, boy.” His arctic glower flicks to me then to the chair beside him. “Sit.”
The order grates my pride, but I obey.
“Rin and I have known,hai.” Alexander focuses on the flames, his gaze glossing. “We’ve been discussing when to tell Poppy.”
“The longer you wait, the higher chances she’ll hear it from someone else.”
His tongue clicks disparagingly at my unspoken threat. “Spare me. You and I are both very much aware she’s in no sound state of body or mind to hear it now.”
I snicker. “You’re such a fucking coward.”
Alexander’s attention cuts to me. “Would you care to repeat that?”
“Coward.” I smirk at his scowl. “Poppy can handle the news. You’re afraid of how she’ll look at you when she learns that you’ve been hiding the systematic murder of her entire family.”
“Is that so? How will she look at me?”
“Like you’re not the strong, capable father she thought you were.”
A crack splits through the glass in his white-knuckled grasp. A familiar rage burns in his irises, so bright they almost glow in the firelight.
Très bien.I need his hellfire for what comes next.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to tell Poppy, and then you’re going to invite the detective over for a nice,longdrink.”
I’ve never seen his smile before. It’s the kind his daughter wears, vicious and infernally wide. Befitting a predator locked onto his prey. His laugh is worse, the chuckle of something vile from the depths of hell.
