Page 47 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

“That’s not what those pills are for,” Mor stated. “And for the faeborn record, that’s not how iron works. Edible iron comes from generous plants. Cold iron isn’t meant to be eaten.”

Violet grunted a laugh. “Well, I’m different than other anemic people. I had a special doctor prescribe these for me, and you might lack understanding of basic human medicine, but trust me, these pills work,” she said, and Mor rolled his eyes.

“That doctor is a liar. These are killing you.” He nodded to her bottle as he threw his legs over the bedside and stood. “And you’ve also become wildly addicted to them. But they’re your best protection against my enemies. So, take them, for now,” he said, opening his dresser drawer and pulling out a white shirt. He paused, still staring in the drawer. He glanced back at Violet. At her sweater.

Violet shifted in her seat and looked off, hugging her arms to herself.

Mor released a sigh and pulled his shirt over his head as he walked across the room, appearing at full strength out of nowhere. “When all my problems are sorted out,” he went on, “I’ll pay a visit to that doctor myself.” His voice was low, and Violet got the strangest feeling she should high tail it to the doctors’ office and warn her doctor to run for his life or something.

Mor stopped by the bedroom door. He turned back with a strange expression. “You didn’t take one of those pills last night?” he asked again.

Violet shook her head and stood, too. She chose not to mention that‘not taking one of those pills last night’had left her dizzy this morning, and she was doing everything she could not to show it.

It looked like Mor had a question on the tip of his tongue.

“What?” she asked, nudging her purse away with her foot. It was only then that she remembered she was wearing Mor’s slippers. He seemed to notice the fluffy pink things with the cute cat ears cradling her warm feet. Violet quickly moved on, “Spit it out if you have something to say. I already told you I don’t like it when people beat around the bush.”

Mor seemed to let the slipper thievery go as he drew back into the room. “How did you escape the Shadow Fairy in the alley?” he asked. “How are you alive, Violet?”

Violet huffed an odd laugh that was a total misrepresentation of how she felt about what had transpired. “I hardly remember,” she said. “It all happened so fast.” She cast him an odd look when he came to stand in front of her. It reminded her how tall he was.

“May I see?” he asked.

“See what?” Violet almost backed up a step when he lifted his hands toward her face.

“Hold still, Human. It won’t hurt.” His voice was gentle as his fingers came over her temples. She held perfectly still when he touched her as light as a feather. But she gasped, warning bells going off in her head.

A rush of warmth flooded her mind as he slid into her memories faster than she could form a response—she could feel him there, inside her mind. It wasterrifying. She reached to smack him away as it awakened a feeling she knew she’d felt before.

“It’s all right,” he said before she could hit him off. “I’m not stealing anything. Every memory will still be here when…” His face changed, his calm mouth sinking to a frown.

Violet’s mind filled with the memory of the alley, the redhead’s echoing voice getting sharper and sharper as the memory became clear. She suddenly worried that if Mor saw the memory, he might also somehow be able to tell her feelings about it, and all the things she’d thought about it since.

21

Violet Miller and the Thing that Happened in the Alley Two Days Ago

It took one quick swipe of the redhead’s fairy sword to slice the front of Violet’s sweater in half. Strands of pink yarn flew to the ground, one landing in a small pool of Gretchen’s blood behind him. Violet raised both hands in surrender before he might start hacking at her sleeves, too. “I’ll do the rest!” she volunteered, quickly yanking the sweater’s remains off her arms. She carefully set the heap of ripped yarn on the ground at her feet, then stood tall again—still with her hands raised.

Her throat constricted when the fairy leaned in, tilting his mouth toward her neck. He inhaled deeply.

A second too many passed of him standing that close. When he pulled away, his evil leer was gone. His mouth twisted to the side like something was bothering him. Like maybe he totally forgot Violet was even there and had gotten lost to his manic, murderous thoughts. But then he said, “You’re not what I expected, Violet.”

Violet blinked. She didn’t dare lower her hands. “You’re not exactly what I expected either,” she rasped.

The crazy thing was that close up, the redhead didn’t look like a psychopath. He definitely gave off “dark villain” vibes, but when he spoke, it made Violet feel like he’d known her forever. Like they were old friends, trusted allies who had things in common. She wasn’t sure how she connected the dots, but it occurred to her that maybe his easy familiarity was because he was reading her articles on him… And also, that he was totally flattered.

What gave it away was when he said, “You must like me a lot to obsess over every one of my victims the way you do.”

“You must like me a lot to have read all my articles on those victims,” Violet said back, her voice coming out with less force than she would have liked. She cleared her throat. She was already pressed back against the cold brick wall. There was no more moving back for her.

She stole a glance toward the end of the alley, hoping to find a healthy Master of Doom figure standing there, or even Dranian with his spear. But all she saw was a gentle breeze rustling some debris and filling the alley with a shallow whistling sound.

“So, we like each other, then,” the redhead said. His smile returned, broad and provocative. “I’d invite you to seal our discovery with a kiss, but I have a feeling that would go just as poorly as last time.” He drew a sparkling red gem out of his pocket and placed it in his teeth, biting down to hold it in place and smiling around it. “I don’t want you to forget this anyway,” he added.

Violet’s arms grew numb; she slowly lowered them as it dawned on her that this redhead fairy still thought her skin was untouchable. He mustn’t have seen when Violet had touched Dranian’s fingers in the street. She swallowed, trying to think of how to use that to her advantage.

“You’re right about that,” she said. “I’m special. I hurt fairies who get too close. You might want to take a step back,” she said to him.

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