Page 18 of Queen of Madness

Such a small portion of time in the grand scheme of a day. But like anyone watching the clock, the seconds drag by, threatening to stop altogether if I don’t refrain from staring at the slow-moving changes in the numbers. I can’t help it, though, because when my shift ends, I’ll go back home to some type of message left from Sam, proving my sister is okay. He said all I have to do is get in and survive long enough to get back and receive it.

My eyes drift to my exit. There’s no point in staying here when I could be touring the house. And without an eye over my shoulder, it gives me longer to explore. To memorize.

Decision made, I open my door to a dim, quiet hall and glance to my left, toward Onyx’s room. Like all the others in the estate, her door is black, stark against the gray walls. But unlike everyone else’s, hers has a keypad where the handle should be. With no light coming from the sliver of space beneath the wood, I wonder if perhaps it was her who just passed my room.

An unwelcome spike in my blood pressure forces my gaze away at the thought of her. It doesn’t seem real that someone can be so damn breathtakingly beautiful while commanding a near army of men. But even more than the bout of temptation that drains into my thoughts, I can see through the veil and know exactly what she is. She’s half succubus, half death, and if I’m not careful, I’m likely to sell my soul after I’d fall into her.

I mentally add the space between Onyx’s legs to the long list of things that are bound to kill me as I round the hall and quietly walk down the stairs. My feet coast across each step, feeling for any loose boards or screws in the banister that may make a noise. When I reach the foyer, I glance back and forth, trying to remember what’s where from Maddy’s quick spiel.

The offices need to be looked at first, and then perhaps the labs. But when I turn toward what I think is the right direction, the smell of sweet waffles forces my feet the opposite way, my stomach tightening around the acid sloshing inside.

How long has it been since I’ve eaten?

I don’t dwell on the thought long before a heated conversation stalls my steps.

“Why are you slicing the berries so thin? He won’t be able to pick them up with a fork.” An older woman’s voice spills from the kitchen, a tightness in her lazy tone.

But only a scoffing grunt is her answer.

I roll my thumb across the pads of my fingers, debating whether to venture to the labs instead of down here where I may get caught, or inside, where two more unfamiliars seem to be in a standoff while cooking breakfast. I do need to know all I can, as quickly as I can, and perhaps I can get some of that information from the people living here.

Decision made, I round the wide entry and into the open kitchen. As expected, marble floors continue through the space, and nothing but sleek black cabinets line the walls. Not a thing is out of place, and if there weren’t two people currently standing in front of the massive island, I wouldn’t think anyone even cooks in here.

My gaze finds the owner of the hostile grunt first. He’s a heavyset man, wearing a classic crisp chef’s hat and an apron, sweat glistening across his forehead as he works over the gas stove. He doesn’t seem to notice my presence, but the woman does.

She’s older, perhaps in her late fifties, with short gray hair. At least, I assume it’s gray, but the low lighting and the angle in which she leans into the countertop make it look blue. She appears impassive, almost annoyed at my presence.

Her face tilts as she examines me, and after her eyes trail back to my face, she sticks a long, thin cigarette holder between her lips and takes a lengthy pull.

“A new guard.” Not a question, but an introduction. The large man peers up between bushy brows to glance at me momentarily before grunting again.

I take a few steps forward, taking a seat at one of the barstools, despite their current squabble. “Yeah, I’m the—”

“Who... are you?” she interrupts, dragging out her words as she pushes off the counter and blows a stream of smoke from the side of her pursed lips.

I rub the nape of my neck, shifting in my seat. “Ezekiel Kane.”

“The very same one you were just going on about, you ol’ bat.” The chef huffs, plating up what I’d imagine is a five-star breakfast. A short stack of thick waffles, topped with fresh berries, and a side of syrup. Two over-easy eggs, and three strips of perfectly browned bacon.

My stomach rolls loudly, forcing the woman to stop whatever retort she had ready for the cook and look back at me. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as if she can see that it’s been almost three days since the last time I ate.

As if she’s made some sort of deduction, she squares her small shoulders and tucks a loose, indeed blue, hair back into her low bun. “I’ll take this to Antonio. Make the stray pet here a plate.”

I raise a hand to oppose her offer, but another contorted sound echoes from my stomach.

The man nods, waving the woman away. “Go on, Caterina. You’ve got me up an hour early for his breakfast today, so make yourself useful and take it to him. I’ll make me and the kid some food.”

Kid?

Again, I open my mouth to make a remark, to demand they acknowledge I’m sitting a mere few inches from their faces, but then I quickly snap it shut. I don’t know these people, and I’m smart enough to know not to show my hand too soon and damn sure not to bite the hand that offers to feed me. At least for now. I urge the sharp prick of agitation to ebb back in the shadows and stare at the two.

The woman, Caterina, rolls her eyes, practically shoving her shoulder into the man’s bicep to grab the tray. She dangles the cigarette in her mouth and disappears into the hall, leaving me with the cook.

“A big guy like you must have the appetite of a horse.” He chuckles more to himself than to me. “But you’re all muscles. I bet you don’t even know what sugar is.”

I shrug. “Studies suggest sugar is as addictive as cocaine.”

The large man guffaws, his long, droopy handlebar mustache flopping around with his belly laugh. “I can attest to that. I’ve done both and am still only addicted to one.”

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