Page 92 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

“It’s just…” Mor could practically hear the human boy squirming. “Can’t you come back sooner, maybe? This journalist sort of gives me the creeps.” Jase dropped his voice to a whisper.

Mor sighed. “Why is that, Human?”

“Well…” Jase’s tone was odd. “He’s got those same two-coloured eyes you have. Kind of like sparkly marbles or whatever, you know?”

The smile fizzled off Mor’s face. “What colours are his eyes, Jase?” he asked, his grip tightening on his phone. “Specifically, which two colours?”

“Uh… I can’t see from this far away,” Jase admitted. “Do you want me to go check—”

“No. Be there soon.” Mor hung up the phone and turned to Cress, Shayne, and Dranian. “This birthday party is over. Come to the cathedral. Bring your weapons.”

Mor vanished before his brothers could ask questions.

The cathedral was quiet.

Mor crept over the creaking floors, peering into the various rooms. His interns were nowhere to be found. He had no idea where Violet was, either—if she was about to walk in. If she already had. Pebbles speckled the floor like they’d been kicked in different directions.

“Luc,” he called into the echoey space. His heart twisted in his chest. Traces of fairy mischief laced the air, the coldness of the Dark Corner staining the walls and saturating the emerald carpet.

He finally found the fox in the sanctuary.

All the candles were lit. A pew had been dragged up onto the dais and sat there like a wide throne. Luc rested in it with his arm over the backrest, and Mor’s chest tightened at the sight of the nine tailed fox, alive and well, and very much in the human realm.

“What did you do to my interns?” Mor asked in a low voice.

Luc cast him a dull, disgusted smile. “You’ll never find them.”

“Luc,” Mor warned, “my brothers will be here soon, and you’d better tell me before then. Remember—you only have six lives left. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Luc’s spiteful chuckle echoed through the large room. “Oh dear, it’s like you’re not even worried about Violet at all,” he said, pulling out his ruby and rolling it between his fingers.

Mor’s stomach tightened. He hadn’t noticed Violet’s scent when he’d walked in. Luc must have somehow erased it.

“And I shouldn’t have to remind you—that’ssix lives more than you,” Luc added.

“What did you do to my human?” Mor asked. When Luc didn’t answer, he resorted to begging. “Luc, don’t put her through anything more. I know you want to leave the Ever Corners and hide among the humans.” He saw Luc’s gaze flicker up to the wall. “I will help you.”

Luc pulled himself off the pew to stand. “It’s too late for apologies, Trisencor. I want you to hurt. I want her to hurt, too. It’s in a fox’s nature to want these things, I suppose. We’re born to be cruel.” He held his ruby up to the muted light coming in through the stained-glass windows.

“I despised your father, too,” Mor said. “We were the same that way. Luc, if there is any kindness in you, give Violet back to me.”

Luc placed the ruby in his mouth. He drew out his fairsabers.

Mor staggered back, reaching for his fairsaber handles, shaking his head. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded.

“Our dear Violet may be out of it for a while after what I’ve done. If you survive the next three minutes, you’d better find her before she starves to death like those other poor human fools.” Luc dragged his silvery gaze up to Mor. There was no remorse in his eyes. There was no feeling at all.

Mor didn’t have a chance to draw his blades before Luc struck. A cold-iron saber ripped across Mor’s side, and he released a guttural sound as his purple blood sprinkled the floor.

Luc grabbed his hand from behind and twisted—Mor’s wrist snapped. He growled as Luc landed strike after strike, dull punch after dull punch; torturing Mor slowly instead of killing him with one blow.

Mor didn’t get in a single hit, even after he managed to forge his fairsaber blades.

He could hardly move when Luc was finished. He crumpled to a heap on the floor, wheezing from crushed lungs and broken ribs. Luc moseyed around and stood above him.

“That was too easy, Trisencor,” he said in obvious disappointment. “I wasn’t going to hurt you at first, you know. I wasn’t going to hurt your guard dogs either, but you pushed me into a corner.” Luc put his fairsabers away and crouched, bringing his face over Mor’s. “Foxes become dangerous animals when they’re cornered,” he added. And then, “If I ever see you again, I’ll run you through.”

Mor’s breathing staggered as Luc stood and walked away, pulling the bead out of his mouth and placing it back in his pocket. The fox headed for the hallway on foot instead of airslipping.

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