Page 12 of Dead Wrong

Bastien’s hand retracted slowly. I turned to him, suddenly seeking the weight of his stare. But he was looking down at his hands, his expression stoic. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, tracing the lines of his palm with his index finger. “I know it must be painful.”

“It’s horrible,” I corrected him. “Who did this to me, Bastien? Does anyone even care that I went into the ground? Did my mother even shed a tear for me? Or is everyone too caught up worrying about who will step in if she can’t name a new Successor?”

The questions spilled from me one after the other, a dam of frustration bursting. My mind was only getting sharper by the second, and I couldn’t halt the anger that built along with the clarity. I had been wronged. Murdered. Discarded. And the only ones who seemed to give a damn were the ones who could profit off my death.

What was worse, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t escape the feeling that maybe the murder was deserved. That I must have done something truly awful. But it was impossible to know until my mind was whole again.

The partition between the back and front rows of the town car lowered, revealing Lorelei’s expressionless face. “We’re here,” she announced in a bored tone, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air of the backseat.

I tried the handle of the door, desperate for fresh air, but it didn’t budge. I looked back to find Lorelei giving me a pitying smile. “It’s probably a good time to mention that if you try and make a run for it, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome here can make that gem in your chest go supernova and blow you straight back to Hell. So, do behave yourself while we’re in public, yes?”

I ground my teeth, glowering between my two captors. “So be it. Just get me out of this fucking car.”

“My, my,” Lorelei tutted, wagging a finger at me. “That language is so unbecoming of someone from your upbringing.”

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

“You wouldn’t believe how wrong you are.”

The crowded coffee shop bustled with life, even in the dying light of the late afternoon. I checked the time on my watch before scanning the rows of tables and cushy chairs in search of today’s assignment. Mother had briefed me on the topics of discussion I was to bring up during my “date” with the son of an influential Adored matriarch, but already, I could feel the tedium sinking in as I stood in line to order. Another afternoon of vapid conversation and subtle influence as I charmed the pants off an insipid socialite.

These days, I felt more escort than envoy.

But such was my lot. It was how I could prove myself useful to Mother and stay in her good graces. And the job wasn’t without its perks. Being in the favor of the figurehead of the Magi Council opened endless doors for me, even if I did still have to wait in line for coffee.

“Next, please.”

The person standing ahead moved, making room for me to approach the wooden counter. A woman with pale pink hair and an impressively detailed sleeve of tattoos nodded at me. “What can we get started for you?”

“Double espresso over ice,” I ordered, eyeing the mouthwatering pastries in the bakery case before deciding better. It would be too difficult to steer the conversation in the necessary direction if I had a mouthful of scone crumbs. Even though they looked incredibly tasty….

I handed the woman a bill, waved away the offer for change, and slid down the counter to the waiting area, maneuvering carefully around the other patrons queued for their caffeinated concoctions.

“Here you go, Larry.”

A deep-timbered voice drew my attention as the barista handed a short, round man his order over the counter.

“Thanks, Bastien,” the portly man replied, grabbing the mug and carefully turning on his heel to retreat to a small table in the corner covered in newspapers.

The barista—Bastien, as confirmed by the name stitched on the front of his apron—returned to the polished chrome espresso machine, humming under his breath as he pulled the next shot of rich, dark liquid. His arms were the first thing that held my attention. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled past the elbow to reveal sinewy flesh, just a few shades lighter than the rich coffee he masterfully poured from a small glass. The next was his hair, rows of tight, dark locks stylishly swept to the side. They bobbed with each confident movement the man took, every step a gracefully choreographed loop of motion.

I forced myself to look away as the barista handed out the next beverage, if only because I was concerned he’d catch my lingering gaze. But as soon as the patron stepped away with their order, my eyes were drawn right back to him.

He smiled as he worked, humming an aimless tune. I couldn’t quite catch the melody in its entirety from where I stood, but what I picked up made the corners of my mouth twitch upward.

“Double espresso,” Bastien announced, scanning the line of customers before his sights narrowed in on me. “Here you go, friend.”

I stepped forward, an irregular heat building behind my cheeks. Without a word, I swiped the glass from the counter, reeling to move as quickly as I could away from the barista and into the café.

What in blazes was that? Perhaps I was coming down with something? I would seek out a healer as soon as my duty pertaining to this “date” was finished.

“Tobias!”

A lean, brunette-haired figure waved at me from across the room. My target had been spotted at last. Now, all that remained was the manipulation. It was a simple enough job, really. If my words and looks weren’t enough to sway the man, I could always rely on magic to get my point across. But that required a certain risk on my end, as other Adored matriarchs could possibly detect my influence on their sons, so it was best to keep it in reserve as a last resort.

I pushed the barista from my mind and set my focus on the target.

“Corinth, I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” I maneuvered around the table, pulling out the chair opposite the brunette. His smooth features masked his true age—just a year younger than myself—and he wore a loose poet’s shirt with golden string lacing the top that displayed the supple flesh beneath.

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