Page 83 of The Unweaver

Kalandra’s eyebrows rose in delicate arches. “Perhaps you do not yet see the possibilities. Clients would pay anything to be intimate with their loved ones again.”

Cora swallowed her nausea down. “Necrophilia is not my thing.”

Anita smothered her laugh at Madam’s formidable stare. Waving her ring-bedecked hand, Kalandra guided them to a sunny sitting area with a sweeping view of the Lily’s pleasure gardens. Cora sat on the edge of a settee, glancing at Anita for direction. The Sanguimancer looked equally petrified at chatting with Madam.

“Pray, what was your business with Rune?” Kalandra insinuated herself upon a throne-like chair, tapping her blood-tipped talons on the arm. “Other than trying to steal him from me, that is. Hasn’t your new master poached enough from me?”

“Mal had some personal business with Rune,” Anita said in a tight voice. “We’re just the messengers.”

“Is that so?” Her smile was sharp and knowing. “Rune never could keep a secret. He’s just so chatty in bed. Isn’t he, Azalea?”

Anita’s eyes darted to the door and its tailed keeper. Iris bared her teeth back. “We really must be going, Madam. Lots to do. You know how Mal is. Always busy.”

“Is that so.” Madam rearranged her skirts in a tidy pleat. “As you have demonstrated before, you are more than capable of leaving my home. And I shall let you. After I read the Unweaver’s hand for one minute.”

“No!” Anita leapt out of her chair. “No. That won’t be necessary, Madam.” Worry was written on the lines of her face as she shot Cora a pained look. She understood how much a powerful Animancer could reveal in a minute of physical contact.

Teddy had coached Cora in defending against Animancy. It was all about the misdirection of desires, like focusing on a food craving and nothing else. She could school her reactions for a minute if it meant getting them out of here and never coming back. “It’s all right, Anita. One minute and you’ll let us out of here, unharmed?”

Kalandra gave Iris a significant look and the Bestiamancer rose and stepped closer. “So long as you do not harm me, Unweaver. Indeed.”

Cora nodded. Madam smiled. Anita fretted.

“Cora, Cora,Cor-a,” Madam Kalandra cooed, peeling off her newly stolen glove one finger at a time.

Her skin was soft on Cora’s chilled hand but her magic was like a claw tracing the seam of her self-control. A tug on her heartstrings lured her desires to the surface with a come-hither hitch. Cora’s emotions stirred in response. A restless disquiet.

Think of a food. Any food. French toast! French toast is good. Especially with fresh strawberries— She cursed herselffor conjuring an image of Bane making breakfast in a three-piece suit. Then Bane naked in a clawfoot tub—

No!She shoved the image away. Or tried to. Cannabis and concentration, she realized too late, were mutually exclusive.

“So, you enjoy working for Malachy.” There was a wicked glimmer in Kalandra’s dark eyes. She stroked the back of Cora’s hand in a gentle rhythm and purred, “Personally, I have always found it a pleasure doing business with Malachy. He is one of my most treasured clients.”

Animancy riled Cora’s emotions without mercy. Her pulse spiked. Her chest panged. Vaguely, she knew Kalandra had breached the sacred brothel–client confidentiality that gentlemen staked their reputations on. She was outing Bane to get a rise out of Cora.

Cora took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.

Bane had left behind a trail of beautiful women. Yvonne and Kalandra and all the stunning creatures sashaying through the Gilded Lily. And now he was trying with Cora. Not because she was beautiful, but because she was simply there. The silver medal. The consolation prize.

Think of another food. Anything! Any—

“Your desires are conflicted.” Leaning closer, Madam dropped her voice to an intimate whisper. “I sense your fear. Your hunger. Your jealousy.”

Kalandra had given name to the medley of emotions churning in her gut and broiling in her veins. Names had power. That unpleasantness slithering in her belly had a name and a reason.

Cora was jealous. Viciously, nauseatingly jealous. She hadn’t been Bane’s first conquest, and she certainly wouldn’t be his last. A ripple of jealousy became a current in her veins. A drip of fear gushed into a flood. She tried to pull back, but Kalandra’s claws tightened.

“Ah, your jealousy isripe, Unweaver. Jealousy is like drinking poison and hoping the other person drops dead, no? But your suspicions of Malachy are not unfounded. He has no love in his heart. A woman is a weakness to him. Love is a liability, leverage for enemies to exploit. Your craving for him will go unsated. He will only use you as you’ve been used before.” Madam shook her head gently and smiled. “So desperate to be loved, yet so convinced you are unlovable.”

The roaring current of magic stoked Cora’s emotions a hundredfold. Pressure mounted inside her, pushing against her skin and threatening to burst her at the seams. She couldn’t misdirect the Animancer clutching her hand if her life depended on it. Which it quite possibly did.

“In these walls, however,” Madam said, her voice a low seduction, “you will find nothing but the love you crave.”

“Charged for by the hour,” Cora gritted out.

Her claws stilled for a half-second, then dug in deeper. “Charges that your late twin still owes me. Ah, yes, Teddy. He was in way over his head. I wasn’t surprised when he turned up dead.” She tutted at Cora’s startled gasp. “Why, I had to ban Teddy from sampling the Lily’s pleasures after he burst in one evening, wilting my poor flowers with his crazed ranting. Rune accosted him and tossed him out for the last time.”

Animancy amplified Cora’s shocked horror until she throbbed with it. This was not the story Teddy had given her about the jilted lover at his favorite brothel that he’d rather avoid. Was Kalandra throwing her brother’s vices back at Cora to bait her?

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