Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
The mission is gone now, and I feel strange in my skin, strange in this place. It’s everything I ever wanted—more than I ever could have wanted because in no scenario could I have dreamed having both Atalanta and Circe looking at me with love in their eyes.
And, ungrateful wretch that I am, I can’t help thinking, Is this it?
I turn and move through the doorway into the living room. The matching couch and love seat set are new enough to still hold their shape perfectly, and the rug on the floor is a muddled gray pattern. It looks like a thousand other living rooms in a thousand other homes. Except for one key difference. “Circe?”
“Yes, love?” She sounds so sweet and innocent. The little liar.
I toe the rug back a little. The stain I had barely glimpsed extends well under the rug. “Why is there blood on your nice hardwood floors?”
She curses. “Damn it.”
I turn back to find Atalanta glaring at her. “What did you do? Whose blood is that?”
“Would you believe me if I said it was here when I moved in?” We both shake our heads and Circe waves that away. “Fine, fine. Look, the housing market is truly outrageous, even if you have money. It’s just a bad investment to buy at these prices unless the house is practically unlivable.”
“So you killed the owner?” Atalanta shouts.
Circe props her hands on her hips. “That would be shortsighted in the extreme.” When she realizes neither of is buying this innocent act, she sighs dramatically. “The city had a bit of a Russian mob problem when my people and I moved here. Now it doesn’t.”
I blink. “Circe.”
“Don’t say my name in that tone. I did a good thing by any definition of the word.”
“Pretty sure murder isn’t under the definition of ‘good thing.’” Atalanta’s exasperation comes through in every word. “And the Russian mob? We just got through dealing with the Thirteen and you want to give us a legion of enemies?”
“A few points of order. One.” Circe holds up a finger. “I can be subtle when the situation calls for it. I hardly marched down the street and compelled them into a duel. They died in accidents. It’s tragic, really, but I did get a good deal on the house on account of the bloodstain no one could get out.”
“Circe, please.”
“Two.” She continues blithely on. “I did try to settle into a civilian life but…” She presses her lips together, that vulnerability creeping through again. “I was so bored.”
My shoulders slump. “Damn.”
Atalanta shakes her head. “Yeah. Damn.” She walks over and slings an arm around Circe’s shoulders. “Can’t say we didn’t feel the same, wading through all the paperwork and meetings to get a new government up and running. Tedious doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Circe bites her bottom lip, but she can’t quite cover up her smirk. “In that case…I had an idea.”
Atalanta groans. “I know I’m going to regret asking this but what is your idea?”
I find myself holding my breath as Circe leans against Atalanta. The picture they make has my heart squeezing in my chest, a feeling that’s both good and almost painful. We’re here. We survived.
“We could attack that bloodstain with some impressive chemical warfare and settle into this house. Scandalize poor Ralph with our unconventional lifestyle. He’s a nice guy… I’m sure he’d still switch off shoveling the sidewalk.”
A normal life. One where we might be happy, or we might go out of our minds with boredom and start inventing trouble. “Or?”
“Or…” Circe grins impishly, though the smile fades almost immediately to seriousness. “The rest of the world isn’t perfect. They might not have a Thirteen officially, but there are a number of pasty white billionaires who are actively making everything worse—from living conditions to climate change.”
“Uh-huh,” Atalanta says slowly. “And you’re suggesting we…”
“Kill them.”
I’m already shaking my head. “We are not going around assassinating people.”
“Even if they deserve it? Even if they’re responsible for so much death?” She’s playing now, teasing us. “Besides, we wouldn’t have to kill them all. If word gets out that someone is offing billionaires, eventually the remaining ones will get scared enough to give away their money.”
“Now I know you’re fucking with us.” Atalanta shakes her head. “There’s no way that happens.”
“Maybe not.” She shrugs, still grinning. “I guess then we really do kill them all.”
I laugh, the sound releasing something that had gotten tight and cramped inside me. “We’re not murdering people like that. Their money would just go to whoever is next in line, and nothing would change.”
Circe rolls her eyes theatrically. “Fine, then I suppose we could go with plan B.”
“I hate to even ask this.” Atalanta ruffles her hair. For all her protests, she’s clearly delighted by this turn of events. “What is plan B?”