Page 29 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Is that supposed to be a pun?” I feel a vein in my forehead bulge with irritation.
“Maybe. Why didn’t you tell Ramiel about her?”
About what her touch did to me, he means.
“Why didn’tyou?” I counter. If he does not shut up, I will be forced to take extreme measures and make one of my demons bite his dick off.
“Not my business. Figured if you wanted him to know, he would know.”
And it isn’t as though he won’t find out. Ramiel knows everything and he finds out everything.
Eventually.
For now, my secrets are my own.
“What was it like?”
And Lorenzo’s.
“I—”
I hold up a hand to silence Lorenzo before he even speaks the rest of his sentence as footsteps sound at the mouth of the alley. He melds into the shadows, encasing the both of us within them so we blend into stone and shadow. We wait, our every breath bated and quiet, as the woman in question walks further into the alley.
“Her?”I ask down the bond of our link.
I feel a purr of pleasure emanate down the link from Ramiel.
“Her,”he confirms.
I smile for the first time in what feels like a long time.
The woman limps, cursing low under her breath. The sharp smell of blood overpowers the stench that surrounds us, and my gaze hones in on her injuries. Stab wounds. Courtesy of Lourdes, no doubt.
An unwanted sense of pride swells inside me. I do not want to be impressed with anything Lourdes does. She was foolish for falling into this situation in the first place, that I know for sure. Yet I cannot deny that she was tricked by someone who is a master at manipulation. For that, I will not fault her.
Because Lourdes is good. Foolish, but good. I can see it in her heart, as my brothers likely can as well. It is why they are obviously drawn to her. And why they want revenge.
As do I. Though to be honest, I never need a reason to extract vengeance.
I do it for the fun.
I take a step out of the shadows with Lorenzo at my back. We are quiet enough that she doesn’t notice us. This slip of a woman, with unsuspecting clothes and thick framed glasses perched on her nose. It isn’t until we rip the illusion of darkness away that she can finally see.
And she shrieks, pressing herself against the wall as I advance.
I know what she’s seeing, because I will her to see it.
Shadows and hell flames. A hint at the torture to come. She sees my brother and I, two shadows with distorted figures of anger and rage and retribution. And she fears us, rightly so.
Because we are the reckoning.
She opens her mouth to scream, and my palm shoots out, covering her mouth before she can do so.
Tears of anger and fear stream down her eyes. It’s pathetic. I wonder if this is what a fraction of what Lourdes felt when she was being attacked by this person within her own home. By thisthing. Because surely this woman is supernatural. I can feel a pulse of power surrounding her, yet I cannot identify it.
That only makes me angry.
My shadows lash out in ribbons, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, rendering her immobile. I remove my hand, replacing it with more darkness until it looks like she’s choking on it. Then, I take a step back, watching as my magic suspends her in the air.
