Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“Amateur,” Raine smiles. She’s only gotten more mellow. “Hey, is that a graveyard?” She’s looking out back into the forest.
I’m looking the opposite way, toward the official university campus. Across the field in front of Honey’s house-dorm lies the labyrinth, and from this vantage point, I can see the pentacle design hidden at its center. Beyond the boxwood hedges rises the dome of the conservatory and the stone buildings on the quads.
“I’m the king of the world!” I scream, pumping my fists into the air. I’m wearing a bear robe, the kind that has the head still attached. Both Honey and Raine declared it creepy, but I don’t care.
“Are you even high?” Raine asks me.
“No. I’m just like this.”
“I’m so glad I know you,” Honey coos, laying her head on my shoulder. I tell her I love her, and we cuddle until the bear head flops on her and she freaks out.
* * *
Sleepover 11:29 pm
* * *
“Do the thing!” I shout. We’re back in the drawing room.
“I don’t want to do the thing,” Raine says.
“You’re so good at it!” Honey encourages. She’s stretched out on the couch, playing with the curls on her terrible wig.
“I’m not good at it,” Raine protests while lying on the bear rug I found.
“Do it, do it,” I chant. “Do it for the plot!”
She grimaces. “Fine.” She juts out her chin, lowers her voice and mimics an old-school Italian gangster. “Just when you think you’re out, they pull you back in.”
“Yes!” Honey screams.
“More elderberry wine?” I hold up the bottle we found in the dusty cellars.
“More wine!”
I fill their mugs. A little slops on the ancient rug, but it’s okay. The rug is red and brown and hides a multitude of sins. Any stain becomes part of the pattern. “I’ve been thinking,” I say. “Do you want to form an alliance?”
“What?”
“We should join forces, have each other’s backs.”
“You’re so pretty,” Raine murmurs to the bear head.
“I’m in,” Honey says. “We need to stick together.”
“Fine.”
“Excellent. What shall we call ourselves?”
“The Villains,” I say.
“The Villainesses,” Honey corrects. “Raine, what do you think?”
It takes a moment to explain things to Raine, but once she gets it, she holds up a finger. “I know. I know. How about The Villaini? Gender neutral term.”
“That is actually brilliant.” I raise a toast to her.
“I don’t know, guys,” Honey says. She’s added glitter to her mermaid look, and now it’s everywhere. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a villainess.” She turns to Raine. “You’re smart.” She points to me. “You’re named after a poison.”
“And she’s obviously psychotic,” Raine puts in.
“Thank you.” I give a little bow.
“What can I do? I’m only good with hair and makeup.”
“That’s not true—” Raine starts to protest.
First rule of friendship: support your friend.
I lean in and get Honey’s attention. “Did you know there are bees that feed exclusively on the pollen of a type of rhododendron? The honey they make is poisonous.”
“I read about this,” Raine says. “There was a thing with the Roman soldiers…”
“They ate the honey and it incapacitated the army,” I fill it. “For weeks.”
“Yes! Murder honey!” Raine pumps her fist into the air.
“Murder honey! Yeah!” I cheer with her.
“So?” Honey says.
“So, Supervillain Rule #1: Your best offense is a good disguise. You’re sweet and gentle, Honey. No one would suspect you of anything. Just saying.”
She ponders this.
Raine speaks up. “Did you know, in medieval France, some women would poison their husbands all the time? No, really. They’d poison them in the morning.” She points her finger and stares at it like she’s zoned out and lost her train of thought. She’s feeling the weed.
“And?” I prompt.
“And give them the antidote when they came home. Kept them faithful.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” I fist-bump her.
“I almost feel sorry for Kaiser,” Honey says.
“Don’t. He can handle himself.”
“But he doesn’t have to.” Raine hugs the bear’s head. “Because now he has you to handle him.”
“Good job, and that’s right,” I say, because she worked hard on that delivery, and dirty jokes should be encouraged. “I can definitely handle him. A little poison goes a long way.”
“Do it for the plot,” Honey says.
21
Bella
* * *
At dawn, my eyes ping open.
There’s a chill in the air, and I’m grateful for the big black blanket I have covering me. All the white candles in the fireplace are out, burned down.
Raine’s on the floor, still snuggling with the bear’s head. Honey’s asleep in the big armchair. I took the couch, and the springs weren’t so great on my back. No wonder I’m awake.
Then again, no matter how late I fall asleep, I tend to wake up early. I love the quiet hours before the sun rises.
I get up and wrap myself in the blanket, which turns out to be a robe of some sort. I put it on and sneak out of the drawing room, tiptoeing over the creaky floorboards and down the hall toward the grand staircase in the front of the house. I find a window and look out over the fields. This early, with the light glinting on the dew on the long grasses, reminds me of mornings at our family farm. My mother liked to stay up late reading or painting, and then sleep in. My father and I liked to rise early. “You keep farmer’s hours,” Mom always said. Those were the happy days before we lost her.