Page 41 of She Who Was Once the Sea

Across from me, Petra took a long, slow breath through her nose. "The smell of your fear is delicious."

"I'm not afraid of you," I lied.

She smiled. "You have five days," she repeated.

"You already said that."

"You're wasting them."

The reminder made my heart stutter. She was right, of course, and that knowledge formed a hollow pit at the center of my stomach. In the distance, a bell chimed the hour, and it felt like a cruel coincidence.

Petra closed her eyes against the sound.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered as they fell quiet.

When she opened her eyes again, they were affixed to mine.

"We've known each other a long time," she said, smirking. "I know you understand desire. I know you understand hunger." Her eyes drifted across the bodies of the two men I'd murdered. "I want to know if you understand love."

"But why?"

"Maybe I'm bored," she answered, examining her sharp fingernails. "Or maybe I simply like watching you scramble in your silly desperation. You flesh-folk are all so predictable. Once you find something you want, you won't ever abandon its pursuit."

Somewhere in the dark, a rat scurried.

"I like to watch."

She spoke the final words with vicious certainty. The city was her chess board, and we were her pawns.

The rage that filled me bolstered my confidence. "I hope you're ready to watch your own demise, then."

In a flash, she was on me again. Her cracked fingers were locked around my throat, and I saw stars as she slammed me against the wall.

"You continue to play with your own luck, child." Her cheek was pressed against mine. Something sharp and jagged slid across my neck. When I realized it must be her tongue, I couldn't help but squirm.

Her grip tightened.

"But how can I punish this behavior?" She spoke into the skin at my throat, and a pathetic squeak escaped from my lips.

Suddenly, she pulled away, so I could once again see her face, but kept her hand firm against my neck.

"I know!" She sounded delighted. "I could take your little Fratello. Make you start from scratch with a new one."

I choked. Not from the pressure of her fingers, and not from the idea of beginning my task anew.

No.

I pictured Garrett, his warm smile and bright eyes, sealed over into stone, locked somewhere in her maze of prisoners.

Petra grinned again. "Yes, I think that's what I'll do," she said. "You've already done some of the work for me. All that's left is the stonework—"

"Don't," I gasped, barely able to squeeze the word through my crushed windpipe. "Please."

She frowned. "But I thought you didn't care about him?"

Her grip loosened just enough to let me speak. "This is between us.

"Yes, dear." It was as though she were speaking to a child. "But he has chosen to insert himself into business that isn't his. I can't let that go unpunished.