Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin #1)(41)
Author: Gena Showalter

Everything about him appealed to her.

Yes, she should have freed him—but she was still glad she hadn’t. Not just for her selfish reasons, but because he was better off here, trapped, than out there, being hunted by her father.

If she’d thought, even for a second, that he could successfully hide from Jecis with those cuffs on his wrists, she would have done it, would have risked it. But no. He couldn’t. No one could.

The best course was for her to stay here, take care of the otherworlders, and take whatever discipline her father dished out. It would hurt, it would humiliate her, but if Jecis beat her, the wedding would have to be delayed to give her time to recover. Time was all she needed. But oh, knowing what she’d have to endure caused a shudder of revulsion and fear to rock her.

She just . . . she had to find that key. At least now she knew what to look for.

Vika changed into a soft, comfortable tee and flowing pants, something she could relax in while feeling as if her organs were nothing more than mush. She pulled on her most comfortable boots and reclaimed the knife she’d found in her mother’s favorite trinket box a few years ago, only to stop, her attention caught on the beauty of the weapon.

The hilt was carved from mother-of-pearl and when held to the light glistened with all the colors of the rainbow. The blade was currently hidden, but when released was thin and silver and sharp.

How could something so lovely hurt so absolutely?

Her mother used to polish the metal with loving strokes, but only when Jecis was absent. Three weeks before her death, she had glanced up at Vika and smiled a little crazily. One day he’ll push me too far, and I’ll kill him. We won’t ever have to be afraid again, will we, princess?

One day.

Now Vika laughed without humor. “One day” was the answer to everything, wasn’t it.

“How could you leave me with him, Momma?” she whispered. He’d only grown worse over the years, more and more of his heart rotting and his soul withering. And the truly sad thing was, he had no idea he’d become a monster. He still considered himself fair and just. “How could you pick another man over me?”

With a sigh, Vika stuffed the blade inside her pocket.

Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men, and arming yourself for war is wise.

The voice startled her, and she spun. A swift search proved she was still alone, and her spine lost its sudden rigidity. Alarm was replaced by anticipation. Not an intruder, after all, but the return of the good . . . whatever he was.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What are you?”

Last time, he’d ignored her. This time, he answered. My name is X, and I am your . . . helper.

X. “As in, X marks the spot?”

Exactly.

“Just how are you supposed to help me, X?”

You tell me. You summoned me.

Uh, no. No, she hadn’t. “I think I would remember something like that.”

But you do not think I can feel your torment?

Her emotions were so strong she was projecting them into the other realm? “You mentioned war,” she said. “You seem so, well, gentle. Shouldn’t you have a problem with the use of force?”

Against wickedness? May it never be!

Good point. But, “I don’t want war,” she said. “I want peace.” Finally. For once.

How do you think peace is won?

War, but . . . “How do you think people are lost?”

And you’re not lost right now?

Her motions were jerky as she anchored her thick mass of hair into a ponytail. “I’m alive.”

And you like your life?

Solo had asked her the very same thing. “What can I do to change it? Tell me, please, because I’m certainly doing everything I can and having no luck.”

Trust.

“Who?”

Silence.

“Who?” she demanded.

Again silence.

Annoyed by such an abrupt end to their conversation, she stomped from the vehicle. Behind her, the door shut and locked automatically.

She was supposed to remain in her trailer again today, but she wanted to deal with her father rather than run, and she wanted to get it over with. Waiting would only make things worse.

The sun was bright, glaring. In an hour, the circus would open. Right now performers bustled about, setting up shop while trying to pack up everything they wouldn’t need. The day would be hectic. And oh, was Solo in for a shock. When the circus left the outskirts of New Atlanta, he would meet a whole new crop of monsters—and he would grow to love the bars that contained him.

Don’t think about that right now. She might lose her nerve.

Vika raced out of the sectioned-off area where the performers lived and through the games and rides. First she bypassed the big wheel. Soon, each basket would twirl round and round and upside down as a performer swung from the bar stretched across each cart. None of the patrons would realize those performers were anchored to the bars with flesh-colored cuffs and weren’t in any danger of flying to their deaths.

Next she passed the roller coaster that would shoot through man-made tunnels decorated to resemble different planets, each one filled with bright lights, mystical holograms, and spooky mist. Only, the mist wasn’t there for visual effect, as the humans always assumed. It was there for physical effect. In the particles was a small dose of adrenaline, making the ride seem more exciting than it actually was.

After that, the bumper cars came into view. An electric shock would be delivered to every driver who was hit. For some reason, people loved watching their fellow humans jerk against the sting, loved hearing the ensuing curses and growls, loved being chased at high speed, where revenge was eventually taken.

She turned a corner and entered the food court, the scent of fried bread and meats wafting through the air, followed by caramel and citrus. Once she cleared the canopy overhead and snaked around another corner, the games Jecis used to earn even more cash from the otherworlders who had already lost their appeal came into view. Pin the Tail on the Wedlg, Rakan Piñata, and the Delensean Rack-and-Sack were the current crowd favorites.

Tears beaded at the backs of Vika’s eyes. Hardly anyone peeled back that layer of “fun” to peek at the seedy underbelly of the circus. The tricks, the lies, the cruelty. People came and they played and they laughed. They watched the performances in Big Red and marveled, captivated by feats no human—or otherworlder—should be able to do. And then they left, totally ignorant to the evil they had just supported.

Finally the main tent came into view, a big, red monstrosity her father had patterned after the circuses of old, and Vika tripped over her own feet. Jecis was inside, preparing for the first show.