Reading Online Novel

Shadowdance(108)



Lucien looked as though he would argue, and Mary cut him off. “Please.” It was a rasp, desperate and pained. She blinked hard, refusing to look at her old friend.

He was silent for a moment, then he leaned back in his seat, once more insolent and undemanding. “Very well. Tell me what happened tonight, chère.”

Mary turned away, inspecting a lovely cornucopia of fruit spilling down the center of the table. “It was vicious, brutal.” She swallowed hard. “He drew a weapon.” Her nail edged a groove in the mahogany. “It appeared to be like a baton, with two spikes on the end. But when he touched me with it”—on a sigh, she faced Lucien again—“a bolt of pure electricity coursed through me, then I knew no more.”

Lucien wiped a hand over his face. “Damnation.” They both knew what electricity could do to their hearts. “So”—Lucien idly tapped one toe against the edge of the table—“we now know what killed those GIM.”

Mary wandered over to the table and selected an apple before going to the window to peer out. “And then there is Talent, who is in danger of being driven over the edge by what has happened to him.” Mary could confide that much, because Lucien knew. The blasted man knew everything, it seemed.

“As much as I dislike the prig,” Lucien said quietly, “revenge is not always the loss of sanity, but sometimes its very balm. And if that is what all of this Bishop mess is about, then devil take the SOS and the Nex, leave it be and let the boy have at it.”

She glanced down at the apple in her hand. “I killed tonight, Lucien.”

The chair he sat upon creaked. “Tell me.” The command was so soft that she almost did not hear it.

Her nail broke through the bright red apple skin with a little pop. “A Nex agent. She was one of them. Who hurt him.” Mary blinked rapidly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking, chère?”

That I’ve fallen for him. Her eyes burned but no tears came. “That I was foolish to risk so much for a man such as he. I cannot explain it well, only that I know he’s damaged, but he is not destroyed. You see revenge as a balm.” Mary shook her head, still looking at the apple. “It is a toxin. He has a family who loves him. Should he fall, they will be destroyed too.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “What is one more kill to me? I am already dead inside.”

“No, Mary.” Lucien lurched forward. “You are not dead. And you are loved too. I love you.” He stabbed a thumb at his chest as he glared at her.

Of course he did. Lucien had never hidden the fact. But the love of a friend, while comforting, was not enough anymore. It did not soothe the restless discomfort that pushed against her chest or quell the loneliness that seemed to grow within her each passing day.

Her smile was wobbly. “I love you too. At any rate, I merely meant that avenging the crime against Talent hurts me less than it hurts him. Moreover, it felt good to do this thing for him.”

That had been the strangest part. For the past two years, Mary had believed that the SOS would fill the dark void that held residence within her chest. And while it helped, she hadn’t felt as strong and as right as when she’d plunged the stake into Ada Moore. What did that make her?

Her voice was subdued when she spoke again. “But now I find myself wondering if I should quit the SOS. I am a regulator, Lucien. It is my duty to uphold the very rules I broke.”

Lucien’s mouth twisted. “Rules rarely take into account the stickiness of life.”

“You always were a nonconformist,” she said weakly. Instinct and logic warred within. Right now logic was screaming that she was a fool and to end this madness and let Jack Talent dig his own grave.

They fell into quiet. Outside, the weather slowly rolled in, and below, the Thames dulled to pewter. Mary took a deep bite of the apple, relishing the way her teeth sank into the flesh and the crisp snap of the fruit giving way. Tart-sweet flavor filled her mouth as she crunched.

From behind her came Lucien’s snort of disgust. “That is one thing I shall not miss.”

She turned to find him pinched-faced and glaring at the apple in her hand.

“Lord above, woman, the way you go at those things. You’re worse than a cow with her cud.” He waved a lazy hand toward the silver cutting knife resting by the fruit platter. “Has it never occurred to you to cut your fruit like a civilized person?”

She almost laughed but took the pleasure out on the apple. He winced at her exaggerated bite. And she smiled, her mouth full of fruit. “If the way I eat apples bothers you so greatly,” she said around the apple, which made Lucien sneer, “then why provide me with them all of these years?” It had been the one gift from him that she’d truly valued above all others, for it spoke to her pleasure rather than his vanity.