Chapter 27 Cressida
twenty-seven
Cressida
Sunniva sprawls across my kitchen island like a cat. She’s chewing licorice whips this time and swiping through her mobile with a fingernail painted a violent pink. Two guards linger at the far door, pretending to be invisible.
“Your haunted stair sighed at me again,” Sunni announces dramatically, flicking her gaze my way. “Either Elara likes my boots or plans to murder me dramatically on the landing one day.”
“Elara’s a critic, not a killer,” I reply dryly. “She respects good footwear. It’s poorly constructed opinions she can’t tolerate.”
A grin spreads across Sunni’s face. “You look different today, dark queen. Spill it.”
I lean on the worktop opposite her and try to figure out where to start.
Giselda sending me more gifts? The way my favorite dress fits a little differently at the waist?
Or the way I cried last night when I saw a dad lift a toddler into the air from the sidewalk because terror followed me all the way home.
“Giselda sent me another gift,” I say, starting with the easy thing.
Sunni’s smile curves into something a bit meaner. “Of course, she did. What’s the aesthetic this time? Victorian ghost bride? Serial killer chic?”
“Both.”
The box is the size of a book, wrapped in expensive paper and black ribbon without a card.
She opens it with two fingers like she’s defusing a bomb.
Inside is a music box shaped like a tiny coffin.
If you wind the brass key, a nursery rhyme tinks wrong.
We watch the little ballerina turn twice before Sunni shutters and shuts the lid, shoving the box back.
“She’s jealous,” she states flatly.
“Of your taste in accessories?” I joke, trying to deflect.
“Of us,” Sunni corrects. “Of Lucetta, too. Of the way we survived without her and now have something she’s not a part of. You and me grew up at each other’s elbows, but Giselda always liked the way your shadow matched hers. Now, Lucetta’s bond with us is iron, and she can’t stand it.”
“Lucetta has always been ours. She’s always been more than just my bodyguard. She’s family.”
“Well, yeah. Since you were ten and she glared the sun into submission for you for daring burn your darling nose.” Sunni lets out a sigh and reaches into her tote to retrieve an envelope. “I got a note.”
My stomach tightens. “What does it say?”
“It’s just a scrap of paper that says ‘Miss me’ on it. Oh, and the S’s are dramatically drawn into little scythes because Giselda always has to be extra. And there’s a smear of what I’m choosing to believe is cherry filling. Maybe a threat, maybe dessert. Who knows?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was sending you stuff?”
“Because I knew you’d blame yourself, and because I didn’t want Konstantin to find out and put me on lockdown.”
“She keeps getting bolder.”
“She wants to own us again like we’re paper dolls she cut out in the ninth grade.”
“Giselda doesn’t get to own me.” My hand instinctively presses over my flat stomach. “The only one who gets to do that is hunting the streets for her.”
Sunniva is staring at my hand as if might give up the secret. “Okay, spill. That hand-to-stomach move only comes with one secret, and it’s not the ‘my husband is a walking felony in a suit’ kind.”
“Don’t panic.”
She shrugs. “I only panic fashionably.”
“I’m late.”
Her face goes through three emotions so fast that I almost miss the fear between the joy and the oh, you beautiful idiot.
“How late?” she whispers.
“Late enough to stop counting days.” A laugh chases my confession. “Late enough that I Googled how many different reasons a woman can faint and then told myself I was just dehydrated.”
It finally hits her what I’m saying, and she launches from the worktop like a human glitter cannon and tackles me in a hug that smells like vanilla lotion and barely contained joy.
“Oh my god. You’re gonna have a tiny little Bratva prince or princess.
Do you think they’ll come out mean-mugging everyone and gnawing on the femur bone of their enemy? ”
“Sunni,” I say exasperated.
“Right. Right. Serious moment. Let’s circle back to the baby being a badass later.”
I laugh despite myself, clinging to her warmth and absurdity like a lifeline.
“It’s early,” I rush. “I haven’t told Kon. Or Lucetta. I haven’t even allowed myself to say the words out loud in the house because I’m terrified it’ll echo back and the ghost will congratulate me.”
Sunni snorts, the sound strangled and affectionate. “I swear if Elara throws you a baby shower before I can, I’m stealing her ribbon.”
“She’s a spirit, Sun. She doesn’t have a corporeal body.”
She waves her hand dramatically. “Potato, Tomato.”
“Pretty sure that’s not the saying.”
“Hush,” she says, flicking my nose.
I snicker, feeling lighter now that my secret is off my chest. How the hell I’ve been able to hide it from Konstantin and our bond, I have no idea.
“How are you feeling about it?”
“Happy. Sad. Scared. My emotions are all over the place.”
“Good. I’d be worried if they weren’t. Pregnancy membership includes crying at commercials, wanting to stab people who drive too fast near crosswalks, and eating your feelings.”
“A cute dog caught a Frisbee, and I wept like it solved world hunger.”
“See? Hormone tax. Kon’s footing the bill.”
“Don’t tell him yet,” I say too fast.
Then I let my confession out. “We live in a world where blood is currency and bodies disappear in daylight. Where our ex-best friend is the fucking Reaper, and she’s out there building zombies out of addicts and leaving me presents like some twisted anti-Santa.”
Sunniva’s face sobers and she reaches for my hand.
“I don’t want to bring a baby into this darkness,” I whisper. “I’m already half-mad just keeping myself safe. How am I supposed to keep them safe?”
“I mean, your husband is literally the Bogeyman. I feel like that gives you a parental leg up on most people.”
“Sunni—”
“I get it, doll face,” she says gently. “But I also know you. You’re not just darkness, Cressi.
You’re storm, and thunder, and fire. You’re the kind of woman who’ll raise a baby who bites back.
The kind who’ll burn the street down to build a cradle.
The kind who knows the law won’t help and decides to be the law anyway. ”
I blink fast, because we’re not crying today. Not in my good mascara.
“That’s what Giselda says.”
“Let’s not let the sociopath take our slogans,” Sunni jokes.
“I’m afraid of what this will do to him,” I admit another fear.
“He loves you. That man worships the ground you walk on.”
“Exactly,” I whisper. “And if something happens to me? To the baby? He’ll burn the whole world down and take himself out with it.”
“Then let him,” Lucetta says, stepping into the room. “Let him burn it all down if it means keeping you safe. But don’t keep it to yourself. You’re not alone.”
“How much did you hear?” I ask with a groan.
“Enough to know that I’m officially pulling double duty,” she says with a wink.
I sigh. “I’m telling him soon.”
“When is soon?” Sunni asks.
“After I figure out how to do it without him thinking I was keeping it from him because I didn’t trust him. I do. I just—” I swallow. “I wanted one quiet corner that belonged to me before the world tried to own it.”
“We’ll make the corner big enough for the three of you to live in and then we’ll put razor wire around it,” Lucetta promises.
Then she glances at the items on the table. “Another package?”
“Music box,” Sunniva answers. “Totally coffin-chic. A bit over the top, if you ask me.”
Lucetta leans back against the kitchen island and folds her arms over her chest. “She’s targeting me, too. Unrelated to the packages, but definitely related to the fact that I’m in the way. She’s trying to thin the herd around you all.”
“You okay?”
“Obviously,” she answers me. “They were amateurs. I’m disappointed that she’s wasting her energy on theatrics.”
“Has she been trying to get into your head anymore?” Sunniva asks.
I sigh. “Yes. Thankfully, I can feel her before she has a chance to lock on, so it’s easy to block her out.” I glance at them both. “What about you all? Has she tried?”
“Not that I know of. My shields are pretty strong. Once I knew the truth about people having abilities, I went to work on creating shields in my mind. I think that’s another reason you’re able to block her out so easily.
You’re stronger than she is. Plus, I think you have a built-in shield because of the bond with Konstantin,” Lucetta says.
“I thought I felt her once,” Sunni admits. “It was like this pressure of . . . wrongness in my head. But I just did some of the exercises you always taught us, Luce. Build the wall, secure the lock, then redirect.”
“I wonder,” Luce muses.
“Wonder what?”
“If it’s only people she has a bond with that her weak ass powers work on.” She shakes her head. “Just something to think about.”
“Giselda isn’t just sending a message with these things,” Sunniva says, tapping the box. “She’s measuring us. Seeing how close she can get before Konstantin loses his mind.”
“The let’s make sure he loses it on our timing,” I reply.
“Right. Let’s organize. Priorities first. Tell Konstantin. Lock schedules. Pick a better emergency word than ‘oh shit’,” Sunni says.
“Tell him what? That we’ve had this bitch stalking us and haven’t said anything? That she’s been trying to get into your heads? Or that he’s about to become a daddy?” Lucetta asks.
“Yes, because we were trying to protect him like he does us,” I reply, even as guilt chokes me.
“Daddy Kon,” Sunni muses, trying to break up the tension. “Sounds kind of sexy.”
I pick up one of her licorice twists and throw it at her. “Shut your whore mouth.”
“My mouth is a whore. She’ll do some shit for sweets.”
The three of us crack up before slowly sobering.
“We go to Kon. He needs to ramp up security. I want four on you and three on Sunniva. He also needs to replace those two,” she says, nodding toward the men in the foyer. “Complacency is death.”
Sunni laces our fingers together across the kitchen island. “Family meeting then.” There’s bravado mixed with resolve in her tone. “We tell the Bogeyman we’re being stalked. We let him rage and fix what fists can fix. You tell him he’s a daddy, and we keep doing what we do.”
I touch my stomach, a quick, thoughtless reflex that betrays me to myself if no one else.
Sunniva sees, of course. She doesn’t say anything, just leans across the worktop and presses her forehead to mine in a promise.
“You tell him. He’ll go nuclear and then he’ll kneel. And then he’ll build you a world that can’t touch our girl.”
“Girl?” I echo, half-laugh, half-sob.
“Don’t gender the fetus, Sunniva,” Lucetta says dryly.
Sunni tosses her hair and sniffs. “I’m manifesting. Let me have this.”
“Okay. Right.” I blow out a breath. “I tell him about the baby tonight.”
Sunniva pops the licorice whip into her mouth before pulling it back out and pointing it at me like a wand. “Also, when you tell him, open with ‘don’t panic’ and then duck.”
I snort. “Noted.”
The front door creaks open and footsteps breach the threshold. The guards adjust their stance, and I know . . . he’s home.
It’s time to let him see the pieces I’ve been hiding because I can’t carry this alone anymore.
I won’t let Giselda make me feel like I have to.
War or not, this baby deserves a chance at something more than fear and I deserve to trust the man I love with the truth.
The three of us link our hands and walk toward the foyer.
I’d be a fucking liar if I said I wasn’t terrified of how Konstantin is going to react. Not just to me keeping so much stuff from him, things that put me in danger, but also my pregnancy.
I have to find a way to make him understand that it’s my own fear that held me back, nothing to do with him.
“Kon,” I call out in a voice that sounds more sure than it is. “We need to talk.”