Page 22 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

Her mind was as dizzy as before, only this time with terror.

The guy dropped his fingers from his swelling lips. “Clever,” he growled in a low voice. Without explaining, he grabbed Violet by her jacket sleeve and threw her down the sidewalk into a passing couple. “Next time,” he promised as Violet slammed into a middle-aged man.

Violet stuttered through an apology and whirled back toward the bus shelter. The couple asked her if she was okay. She didn’t answer. She just stared at the empty sidewalk, her chest tight, hands shaking.

“Did you see a guy there just now?” Violet asked the concerned pair as she pointed toward the bus shelter.

The couple eyed the shelter. “I didn’t see anyone,” the man said. The woman was already shaking her head.

Violet swallowed and hugged her arms to herself as she turned and speedwalked down the sidewalk, looking over her shoulder every few seconds until she cleared the block. She didn’t know what to think anymore. A week ago, she wasn’t even sure that the memory-loss victims had been affected by ancient folklore magic. And a day ago, she’d stood across from another one of these beings who’d been frightening in his own way, but he had at least let her sleep after she’d fainted, and had planned to make her breakfast, and had offered her a job. Though the two beings looked similar, they felt vastly different.

“Either he did that on purpose so I’d come, or you’re an accident waiting to be snatched up.”

Violet was sure one of those two guys was the villain stalking the streets and doing terrible things in the city. She’d accused the Master of Doom without hesitation. But her instincts were telling her she might have just looked straight into the eyes of the real monster.

10

Violet Miller and a Gift of Surprise Pebbles

The house was in organized shambles. Violet’s mouth parted as she came in the front door. Zorah was standing perfectly still in the kitchen, but she turned and cast Violet a horrified,what-in-the-world-happened-here?kind of look.

Violet had noticed the gardens outside first. All the rosebush stems were tied into tiny little knots. The petals had been plucked off every flower and neatly organized over the lawn in ten-inch intervals.

It was the same inside. The kitchen table was upside down in exactly the same place it had always been, with its legs sticking up. All the teacups were upside down on the counter, their matching saucers balanced carefully on top. The paintings and pictures on the walls were all turned backwards. But the worst was the pebbles…

Tiny pebbles were everywhere; covering the floor, across the counters, up the stairs… All evenly spaced apart like the flower petals outside. Violet didn’t think she could take a step off the welcome mat without kicking them.

“He’s messing with me,” Violet realized. The pictures. The teacups. The garden…

This was all a joke to the Master of Doom. Some twisted revenge for how easily she’d escaped his clutches. How she’d denied his job offer.

“Who is?” Zorah finally spoke. But she wasn’t looking at Violet; Zorah’s gaze followed the pebbles leading up the stairs.

Violet wondered if there were rocks left in their beds, and her skin heated. She yanked off her jacket and threw it into the closet without hanging it up. “I’ll be back.” She left before Zorah could ask any more questions. She clicked down the street on her heels, ready to bash in the door—and possibly the handsome face—of this Master of Doom jerk.

It took her an infuriating three minutes longer than it should have by bus to reach the cathedral. Violet marched her way up to the doors and knocked as loud as her knuckles would allow. She knocked again when no one answered, even bashing the door once with her foot. “Hello?!” she shouted. “Hell—”

A body appeared beside her, and she stifled a scream.

She whirled on him with her finger up to scold him, but he grabbed her arms before she could speak and the world turned to liquid around her.

The guy dropped her so fast, she tumbled to the floor like her legs were missing. He released a strained grunt. Dust was beneath Violet’s fingers, and her surroundings were dim. She was back inside the cathedral. When she rolled onto her butt to glare up at the Master of Doom, he was rubbing his hands and wrists where fresh pink marks were beginning to form.

He was the one already glaring. “What did you do between yesterday and today that made it painful to touch you again?” he bit out.

She stared at him as it sank in once and for all that he had teleported. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but it was the first time Violet was sure it was real and not a delusion of her dizzied state. He’d moved at a speed unheard of. She’d always believed in the weird and unusual, the things others would claim were conspiracy or fiction. She’d just never met one ofthemin person until this week. And now there were two.

“Why did you destroy my house?!” she shouted at him. “I’m going to have you arrested for breaking and entering! I’ll go to a cop you’re not secretly aligned with like that bubble-gum-chewing, law-breaking, heartless,OfficerBaker—”

“Watch it.” His words were filled with warning.

Violet’s mouth twisted to the side at his defensive tone.

So, insulting the pretty cop girl was off limits, then.

“Fix my house,” Violet said without yelling this time. “Fix it now, before my aunt has a heart attack.”

Doom exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed. “That wasn’t me, Human.”

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