Page 46 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

It wasn’t like the redhead was physically harming the young women, apart from leaving them asleep for too long. It wasn’t like they woke up with broken jaws, or broken legs, or other more horrific violations.

It was like…

Violet looked at the piles of articles on the desk, neatly spread apart. Organized.

“He’s organizing them,” Violet said to herself.

He was a fairy, like Mor. What if being a folklore creature gave all of this a different meaning? What if he had some fairy purpose to fulfil? She slapped her hand on the desk as the thought slid into place. “He’s collecting something.” Her chair screeched back as she stood, and she raced out of the office, down the hall, and into Mor’s bedroom.

“Doom!” she shouted as she came in. “I don’t think the attacks are random! There’s a purpose…” Her voice trailed off when Mor didn’t move. Violet scratched behind her ear, looking at the bedside clock. It was nearly noon. She sighed. “Do fairies just sleep forever?” she muttered as she walked back out.

Two. Whole.Nights.

Violet was ready to yell at the Master of Doom by the morning of the second day. She’d done her hair into a lazy bun and had put on makeup, just because she’d been bored. She’d already consumed three cups of tea and had typed out a whole article all before ten a.m. based on her theory of the redhead having “an end goal” in mind. After, she found herself in a rickety chair by Doom’s bedside, waiting, because she had nothing else to do.

Mor stirred.

Violet grabbed the side of the bed, thinking she was imagining it.

His eyes peeled open. Mor stared at the canopy above his spoked bedframe for a moment. His gaze dragged over to Violet. She dropped her grip on the bed and sat back in the chair, suddenly aware of her hair being messier than normal, and the fact that she wore comfortable shorts and his oversized sweater. She oddly brushed a hand over the hair that had fallen out of her bun.

“You’re alive,” he said, realization crossing his groggy face. “Thank the sky deities. I was afraid my soul was ruined.”

Violet slow-blinked. Did he really not remember seeing her the other night? Grabbing her and yanking her to him by her sweater? Going on about how pretty she was and all that—not that she needed to be told to know it.

The dummy actually tried to prop himself up on his elbows like he wasn’t recovering from being stabbed. His curly hair stood on end in places, but it didn’t make him look bad. It probably wasn’t possible for Mor to look bad.

“Thank the sky—what? Are you joking?” Violet almost glared. If he wasn’t so helpless and hurt and sleepy, she might have. “You nearly got mekilled.”

“No, you nearly gotyourselfkilled, Human,” he said right back. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head a little like he was warding off the tiredness from sleeping for three million years. “I told you to stay at the café. You do reckless things, and it gets you into trouble. That’s not my fault.”

“This isallyour fault,” she corrected, folding her arms. “You have a past with the attacker I’ve been investigating, and he came after me because I smelled like you. How does that translate into me almost gettingmyselfkilled?”

Mor released a grunt. “Humans,” he muttered to himself as he pulled back the sheets and began inspecting his bandaged side. He didn’t even ask who’d bandaged him up. Violet’s jaw slid to the side so she wouldn’t blurt out the obvious—that she’d done it. Like a hero.

She released a huff and sat back in her chair. She would literally bite her tongue to keep her thoughts to herself if she had to. She would bandage up this ungrateful fairy a dozen times over if she must. Because she couldn’t go back to being jobless again. She told herself that was the reason.

Mor tried to sit up all the way—he winced, and Violet jumped forward, grabbing his shoulders. “You were stabbed, you idiot,” she said. “You should rest.”

Mor went still. He blinked at where her fingers wrapped tightly around his bare shoulders. “My bones have melded, and my flesh is healing fast. I’ll be fine,” he said like he hadn’t noticed that she could touch him again. He nudged her hands off and sat up. “Why areyoufrail? You’re speaking in a tone that makes me think you’ll collapse at any faeborn moment,” he asked, looking her over.

Violet cleared her throat as she sank back into her seat. “I didn’t take my supplements,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I think I figured out what’s hurting you every time our skin touches.” She dragged the bottle of iron supplements out of her purse at her feet and held it up.

Mor took the bottle and read the label. Then he opened the lid and sniffed inside. He carefully tipped the bottle over, and a pill rolled out onto his hand. He snarled as a sizzling sound filled the room, and he hurled the pill toward the wall, shaking out his hand now blemished with a dark red circle where the pill had landed.

“Oh my gosh,” Violet whispered. “I wasn’t even sure if I was right until this minute.”

“So that’s why your flesh feels so faeborn-cursed hot,” he said, more to himself. He shoved the bottle back toward Violet. She took it and was about to put it back in her purse when he said, “Keep taking them. They might be the only thing stopping that Shadow Fairy from snatching you; not that a pair of gloves wouldn’t solve the problem.” He muttered the last part more to himself.

Violet raised a brow and shook the pills. “Youwantme to take these?”

“Won’t you have fainting spells if you don’t?”

“Maybe. I’m anemic,” she explained. “Like, really,reallyanemic. I never get enough iron—”

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