Page 79 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

The Yarn & Stitch smelled like freshly brewed tea and the muggy moisture from outside seeping in through the cracks. There was no shortage of teapots—they were all around the store wherever they could fit; tucked into shelves around yarn supplies, stacked beneath the front window, spread evenly over the checkout counter…

Violet wasn’t sure what anyone could possibly do with so many teapots.

The rain finally died down. Violet hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her interns for a second over the last hour. She imagined they were at the cathedral, either waiting outside in the downpour, or if the magic of the temperamental cathedral front doors was feeling nice today, maybe the interns had managed to get inside. They were probably trying to call her on the phone she didn’t have. Probably wondering why both days they’d shown up for work so far had been weird.

But more than that, she worried about Mor. Shame on her for it—she couldn’t shake off what Freida had said.“…he is absolutely in over his head. He will die soon. And likely, he will die terribly.”

She could barely breathe past the ache in her chest. She’d never felt more helpless, more angry. More desperate to run into a dangerous situation she didn’t belong in, where no one wanted her.

Violet sat at the coffee table picking at a macaron, dissecting its fluff and icing. Her plate was on the corner of the table—the only space left that wasn’t being occupied by Gretchen’s sprawled body. Violet wondered why the knitters didn’t put Gretchen on a bed somewhere. It seemed mean to leave her out in the open like this. The woman’s mouth was hanging open and everything.

Every few seconds, Violet looked back at the front door. There never seemed to be a decent time to try and sneak out, and even if she did, she had a feeling these women took their job of guardians seriously. She’d probably be followed and dragged back.

She wouldn’t go running to Mor, even if she was worried. She just wanted to meet her interns.

Violet sighed, rubbing her tense forehead. There were only so many conversations she could listen to about “Glenda” from the moped place who wouldn’t give the knitting club a deal on mopeds, and the newest in-trend knitting pattern, and how long it would take the “barista-assassins” across the road to get fat from all the pudding they eat, and how much longer until Kate Kole’s wedding.

Violet dug her fingers into her hair. She couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and turned all in one motion. “Freida, I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

Violet’s words cut off; her vision filled with a mop of metallic-red hair. Luc stood over her, gazing down into her eyes, a strange wildness and anger on his face as he took her in.

One of the knitters screamed, and soon every fairy woman in the store scrambled for their needles. “Don’t touch our human, Shadow Fairy!” one of the women snapped.

Luc cracked a small smile, indicating he intended to do just that.

Violet turned and grabbed the nearest teapot, holding it above her head to whack him with it. But she blanched when she spun back and found cold wind blowing an eerie shadow over the store. Luc kicked the couch to his left, and it struck the two closest women, tipping over and pinning them to the floor.

“I must take her.” He said it almost apologetically. “So, feel free to try and stop me, Sisters.”

Luc grabbed Violet by the waist and vanished.

Violet couldn’t scream in the wind. She couldn’t breathe, let alone make a sound as they swerved around smeared buildings andthroughthings at warp speed.

The world finally formed around her as they came to a stop in an abandoned-looking street. Damp roads glistened beneath the sun breaking from behind the clouds, and tall buildings sheltered them on either side.

An arrow speared past Violet’s shoulder, and she heard a thump.

Luc gasped.

His grip slid off her, and Violet slapped a hand over her mouth. She whirled as he fell flat upon the road, an arrow protruding from his chest. His inhales were ragged, his dark lashes fluttering until his eyes slid closed. It seemed he was no longer breathing. One of the silk fur pendants on his necklace shuddered and turned to dust before Violet’s eyes, the twinkling hairs floating off in the breeze.

Shayne appeared at the end of the road, walking toward them with his crossbow raised, another arrow already loaded, and a satisfied smile across his face. He splashed through the puddles in his bare feet.

“Three down, six to go,” he said.

But Luc’s eyes flashed open.

Violet screamed and sprang back as Luc reached up and tore the arrow from his heart. He stood and yanked Violet to him, pinning her back against his bloody chest and forcing Shayne to stop walking. Dranian inched out of the nearest alley, spear raised, and came to Shayne’s side.

Voilet was sure she could feel Luc’s heart pounding against her back. His breathing was heavier than before.

“Dear Violet.” His voice was sweet and warmer than she expected, though there was a strange urgency he didn’t have before. There was something in it that made her want to put her guard down, that same feeling she got the first time she met him like they were old, trusted friends. He reached around to nudge her face toward his. “Think of me beautifully for a moment.” He pressed his mouth against hers, and Violet’s heart doubled over. She tried to pull away from his kiss at first, but then…

Then…

Luc drew back slowly, the sun glowing behind his scarlet hair, making it burn like a bouquet of flaming gemstones. The silver in his eyes turned to vibrant crystals, gleaming and beckoning her to stare at them forever. She’d never loved a set of eyes so much—why hadn’t she noticed them before?

“Violet.” When Luc said her name, Violet felt warm all over. “Be my shield, would you, dearest? Take an arrow for me?” When he gifted her a smile, his face was perfection; soft, smooth skin, a heart-shaped mouth, and deep lashes unlike anything Violet had ever seen.

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