Chapter 80
Chapter Eighty
APRIL
La Boucherie opens in front of my eyes, and I have to gulp down the panic trying to choke me.
The personality they awoke in me when they turned me into one of them purrs at the elegance and luxury spread before my eyes.
But April? The girl who raided dumpsters so she had food in her belly cringes at the fancy shining tables covered with crisp white tablecloths, the sheer black drapery decorating the wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Gray marble tiles sparkle beneath my stilettoes as we step in to meet the hostess, and it only drives home the fact that I don’t belong here.
Even she is dressed in perfectly fitting clothing, her black pants hugging her curves and her white shirt stretching across her breasts.
Blonde hair coiled in a no-nonsense bun, she smiles brightly at us before doing a double take at Marcus.
“May I have your names, sir?” she asks a tad bit breathier than would be considered professional.
“April,” I tell her, my voice flat.
“Umm, yes … yes, of course, madam,” she stutters, but she keeps darting her gaze at the man standing next to me as if she can’t help herself, like he will disappear if she doesn’t have him in sight. “Follow me.”
The hostess leads us to a table for two that’s pressed against the tall windows, the entire time glancing over her shoulder to make sure we are following her.
Her brown eyes widen comically when the Guardians join us, and I almost laugh.
The poor woman is having an overload of handsome right now, and I feel sorry for her.
It took me a long time to get used to how beautiful their faces are and how perfect their bodies are sculpted.
She must be new working among the monsters ruling the world if she keeps gaping like a carp out of water.
“My name is Amy.” She clears her throat, wringing her fingers in front of her when we stop at our table. “If there is anything you need, just let me know. I’ll come by often to check on you. Your server will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I mumble under my breath, and Marcus pulls a chair out for me, waiting until I sit to take his own seat.
“We will be fine, love. No need to check on us. You can go now.” He nudges his chin forward, telling her to leave. She stands frozen, watching every move we make as if transfixed.
“Yes, I should go now.” Keeping her unblinking gaze on him, she speaks like she is dazed.
“Are you okay, Amy?” My hand reaches for her, but I stop myself at the last minute, fisting it and dropping it in my lap.
“What?” Blinking rapidly, she turns her wide eyes on me, taking fast deep breaths.
“Oh, yes.” With a nervous giggle, she lowers the tone of her voice.
“I’m sorry, I recently started working here and I’m still not used to seeing all the ho—I mean all the beautiful people that come.
” Ducking her head, she tucks an invisible hair behind her ear.
My heart stops.
If I wasn’t looking at her so intently, I would’ve missed the small inked swirl on the side of her middle finger.
A while ago, I would’ve thought nothing of it, but after seeing the underground rooms the Council kept for whatever magic mages performed for them, I recognized the symbol.
I stared at it for hours after Andrei died.
Two serpents circling, biting each other’s tail to form a closed loop frame a pentagram made of branches, tiny leaves popping out of them here and there.
In the center of the crossing lines that form the symbol, a drop of blood is filled with black ink pierced with a stake.
My blood curdles in my veins.
She is either a mage or a human, just like Sara, and she is helping them bring death and destruction to me and mine.
Marcus must’ve noticed me staring too long because he kicks my shin under the table.
The hard point of his shiny black loafers bumps against my bone, bringing tears to my eyes.
Snapping my head in his direction, I glare at him, darting my eyes a few times at the hostess pointedly.
“That’s understandable, Amy,” Marcus purrs, snaring her attention away from my gawking. “I’ll make sure to stop by more often if you’d like.” The woman sighs when he winks at her, and my lips twist in a grimace.
“We’d like to order now,” I tell her dryly.
“My sister doesn’t go out often, you see.” The asshole keeps flirting shamelessly, and I cock an eyebrow at him calling me his sister. “She’s waited to try the delicious food you have here all day, so now she’s famished.”
“Yeah, starving,” I tell him through clenched teeth, staring at his neck.
Marcus grins like an idiot.
“Of course … yes … you need to order,” she stammers again, and with a sharp nod, she turns and dashes across the restaurant in search of the server.
“Really, Marcus? Sister?” I hiss at him, fussing with the black cloth napkin folded neatly on the table so I don’t wrap my hands around his neck to strangle him. Eying the black plate sitting between polished silver utensils, I consider slapping it over his head, too.
“You weren’t exactly subtle when you stared at her tattoo, bella.” I startle when I hear he noticed it as well. Still grinning, he flicks his wrist, unfolding his own napkin with a snap before placing it over his lap. “Stating we are not a couple kept her attention on me instead of you.”
“How considerate.”
“Why are you being all snappy? I thought this is why we were here, to gather information, no?” His accent thickens when his dark brows slash low over his eyes. We are both keeping the tone of our voices low so no one overhears us.
“I was caught off guard, that’s all.” Wiggling in my chair, I glance at the table to our right where the two Guardians are sitting ramrod straight, their eyes locked on us with unnerving intensity. “And those two will give us away, anyway. Look at them.”
“It’s actually not a bad thing.” When I narrow my eyes at him, his lips twitch at the corners. “We can’t fool anyone into thinking we are human. So, maybe if they guess who we are, someone will slip and say something thinking we can’t hear them.”
“Do you have ears everywhere?”
“I don’t need to have them everywhere.” Leaning his forearms on the table, he brings his face closer to me, so I follow suit, my upper body moving in his direction. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, his gaze steady on mine. “Slow down your breathing and just listen.”
Doing as I’m told, I deepen my breaths and focus on everything around us.
At first, I flinch at the assault of sound raking through my head, but with each slow breath, I am able to separate them enough to direct my focus whichever direction I need.
A few tables down, two men are discussing some business arrangement in clipped tones.
At my back, a woman pleads with whoever is sitting with her to stop doing whatever he is doing because she doesn’t want him hurt.
I pay closer attention to it, thinking it has something to do with the mages, but after a short moment it becomes clear it’s nothing that concerns me.
I’m about to open my eyes when a low voice penetrates my ears, and my back stiffens.
“…are here, I’m telling you.” From the whisper, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman talking. “Why do we have to wait when I can just stake her right there on the table. I’ll die, I’m aware of that, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
My jaw clenches, and I strain to hear if I can tell who is talking.
Marcus stills across from me, and I can feel him struggling with his powers to maintain control.
I can’t tell if he hears it as well, or if his reaction is a reflection of my own.
When I don’t hear anyone answering the person clearly planning my death, I figure they must be talking on the phone, especially when the person speaks again after a moment of silence.
“I can do it, I’m telling you.” I pause, my heart jackhammering in my chest. “I’m serious, this is what I’m going to do …”
“Hello, my name is Michael and I’ll be your server today. Are you ready to place your order?” A person speaks in a tight tone, and my eyes snap open to stare at our server.
Greasy dark hair is gelled over his small head, his neck too long for his thin frame.
Dressed just like the hostess in black pants and a white shirt, he has a vest, as well, with a notebook tucked in one of the small pockets.
Beady eyes move from me to Marcus and back as he waits for an answer.
The fucker had to come now so I miss whatever death is coming for me.
“Yes, of course,” Marcus answers smoothly, but I can see the tightness bunching the corners of his mouth.
He must’ve heard it too, because he sends a pointed look at the Guardians occupying the table next to us, some unspoken conversation happening between all of them right in front of me. “I’ll have a Tomahawk cut, please.”
I raise an eyebrow, wondering how he can order without looking at the menu.
“Excellent choice, sir.” The server nods primly, the nostrils on his long, hook nose flaring. “And for the lady?”
I snort.
I can’t help it. The last thing I ever imagined in my entire life is for someone to call me a lady.
I bet I can tell the prim and proper fucker how much food waste they have, because I’ve been through their dumpster more times than they’ve thrown trash.
Marcus kicks me under the table again. I decide I’m going to break that leg when we get out of here, if I’m still alive.
Coming to this place has, to date, been my dumbest idea.
And like losing Andrei was not enough, I brought Marcus to them on a silver platter.
No matter what happens, they better pray I die if there is any type of attack.
Because if I don’t and Marcus gets hurt?
I’m going to level this city along with everything and everyone in it.
“She will take the Petrossian caviar, Tsar caviar to be exact, and bring the vodka in a bottle. After that, you can deliver two of your mousse au chocolat for dessert,” Marcus answers for me while I stew in my anger.
“Excellent,” the server repeats, his beady eyes twinkling with excitement. I wonder what on Earth Marcus ordered for me to get the damn weasel salivating over us. “It will be arriving promptly, if you’d excuse me.” He dashes away like his ass is on fire.
“What did you just order for me?” I narrow my eyes on Marcus.
“Tsar caviar, bella. The best there is.” One side of his mouth tilts up. “It better be for three hundred and fifty dollars a serving.”
“You ordered me fish eggs for three fifty?” My incredulous laugh is more of a huff than anything else. “Quite fitting, I’d say.”
“What do you mean?”
“As last meals go, you did well, my friend.”
“What are you talking about, April?” His shoulders snap back, all teasing gone.
“You didn’t hear it? The conversation …” I trail off when he glowers at me. I guess he picked up on my unease and didn’t hear what I was listening to after all.
“I think I’m about to die,” I tell him nonchalantly, offering him a cheerful smile.