Chapter 5
“I’m breaking up with you.”
Simon looked up from his laptop. Jenny leaned against the open archway of his living room, twirling the belt of her silk dressing gown.
“What do you mean?”
Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand at him to emphasize her point.
Did she think he wasn’t paying enough attention to her? “We went out to dinner last night.” And had a pretty good time afterward.
“Yeah, to Mersea. I thought you rich people only ate at the most prestigious restaurants.”
“But they have the best fish and chips. And you said fish and chips were your favorite …” Back on their first date. When he’d said it.
“Anyway, I’ll go pack.” Jenny disappeared behind the wall, leaving Simon sitting there like an idiot.
***
Simon had a miserable time falling asleep that night; not so much the fault of being in yet another unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house, but rather of what Shanna had told him.
After a few hours of twisting and turning, stuck in a decision limbo of whether he wanted that light blanket or not, he got up and snuck to the kitchen for a glass of water.
He didn’t turn on any lights, not only because it might wake up Shanna and Dolores but also because the dark felt less disturbing to his stream of thoughts.
He forgot Shanna because of her curse, but what exactly did he forget? The most amazing night of his life that led to them marrying on impulse …
Or a deception?
Because as nice and innocent as Shanna appeared on the outside, the little doubtful voice in his mind wouldn’t shut up. When was the last time someone cared for you because of you, not because you were Simon Montague?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he had told Shanna that night and whether she had known who he was from the start. Perhaps she’d put a love spell on him. She didn’t seem to be doing that hot financially; a catch like him would have been …
Stop it. It didn’t matter now. If she had a sneaky plan, it hadn’t worked out. And that was the end of the story.
He drank the water, stared into the blueish-gray night beyond the window for a few more minutes, then headed back to his bedroom.
Instead of preoccupying his mind with Shanna, he should think of Aries and how he was going to make his comeback.
Maybe prepare some lines. Should he go for angry boss—because someone had severely messed up—or mildly amused boss?
He imagined himself sauntering up to the front door with some on-liner about coming to interview for the next CEO …
Something moved in the dark, further down the hallway. Simon froze, watching a figure creep toward the open door to his bedroom, then slip in. Oh, for god’s sake. If Shanna was about to hang another protection symbol above his bed …
He followed just as silently. Like he assumed, Shanna was beside his bed, raising a hand. He was about to say, “I’ve had it with pentacles,” when she shifted, bumped into something, and went, “Ouch! Shit, fuck!”
That wasn’t Shanna’s voice. And not Dolores’s, either.
Simon flicked the light on.
Next to the bed stood a slight, feminine figure in burglar garb straight out of a cartoon, complete with a thick black balaclava with hand-cut eye holes.
In one hand—the one Simon thought had been hanging a pentacle—she held a knife, and in the other she nursed her foot, balancing only on the left leg.
She froze as the lights came on.
“What the hell,” Simon murmured.
The burglar looked to the empty bed—where Simon had left the pillow and blanket in a pile that vaguely resembled a sleeping person—and then to him. “Shit,” she repeated. Her voice sounded young, like a teenager’s.
“Hold on now,” he said.
She stood frozen for a moment more, then darted across the bed to the window on the other side. Or, she tried, only she got entangled in the mess of sheets and blankets, plopped down half on the bed, half on the floor, and somehow triggered the bedside lamp to fall on her head.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” she grumbled.
The hallway behind Simon lit up. “What’s going on?” Shanna’s sleepy voice came from further down.
“There’s a burglar,” Simon said, not sure why his voice came out so casual. She had been holding a knife! A knife that might have gone into him, had she not stubbed her toe.
Wait a second—
“Shanna,” he called, although she’d already approached. “I think you prevented a burglary.”
“What?” She peeked into the room, where the little burglar still groaned, splayed out on the bed like a discarded ragdoll.
“Your accident thing must have affected her.”
“We were about to get robbed?”
“I wasn’t robbing you,” the burglar half-shouted. She twisted around, trying to untangle herself from the lamp’s cord.
“Hold on.” Shanna went to her, reaching for the cord.
“Careful, she had a knife,” Simon said.
“Does she—oh!” Shanna picked up the knife from the floor. “What did you need that for?”
The burglar grunted. Shanna proceeded to free her as Simon positioned as a guard. They sat the burglar down on the bed, and he removed her balaclava.
An unimpressed face of a teenage girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, stared back, the expression that of a kid caught sneaking out after curfew.
She had short black hair with vivid blue tips, and a cloud of dark eye makeup stood out against her pale face.
That was a veritable canvas for piercings: one in the eyebrow, nose, and lip each, at least two in the ears, and then Simon lost count because one, it wasn’t important, and two, Shanna went, “Hi, there.”
“You know her?” He whipped his head to Shanna.
“Oh, I’ve no clue who she is,” Shanna said. “I was just greeting her.”
“You know she tried to murder me, right?”
“You said she was a burglar.”
“But then I remembered she also had a knife. Above my head, ready to strike.”
“You weren’t even in bed,” the girl said.
“My hypothetical head.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “As if I’d stab you in the head. Where have you ever seen that? You go between the ribs, for the heart or lungs, obviously.” She scoffed. “Head.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Shanna reached out with her hands. “You were trying to stab him?”
The girl shrugged. “Whatever.”
“No, not whatever,” Simon said. “I’m calling the police. Let’s see how you explain it to them.”
“No, no, wait!” The girl tried to jerk up, but he held her down. “Hold on. We can make a deal, right? You could not call the police and not let me go to prison, and I could, uh—”
“Okay, that’s it.” Simon looked at Shanna. “Do you want to make the call? I’ll stay here to guard her.”
Shanna bit her lip. “Uh, sure.”
“Don’t you want to know who sent me to kill you?” The girl shot out as Shanna turned to leave.
“What?” Simon said.
Shanna stopped.
“You’re Simon Montague, yes?” the girl said. “I was hired to kill you. But I will cooperate. If you don’t turn me in.”
“You can cooperate with the police.”
“Or you could try listening to her,” Shanna said.
“Are you on her side?”
“No, but—look at her. She’s just a kid.”
“A kid that was hired to assassinate me!” He hadn’t even realized how insane that sounded until he said it out loud. An assassin. For him.
“Look, I don’t give a shit about you,” the girl said.
“Well, thanks,” he murmured.
“But I got a very good offer to get rid of you.”
“I don’t think that’s something you should brag about.”
“Why would you want to kill him?” Shanna said.
“I don’t know! I didn’t ask. But …” The girl pouted, rolling her lip piercing. “The guy paid well, and I needed the money. I still need it. I’ll get it when … you’re dead.”
“Doesn’t everyone already think you’re dead?” Shanna said.
Simon frowned. That was true. And it only made the situation more bizarre.
A little too bizarre to let it go.
He let his arms fall to his side. “Okay. I’m not calling the police.” He gave the girl a stern look. “But you’re explaining yourself.”
***
In the kitchen, the strange girl was seated on a chair, hands in her lap, posed in front of Simon and Shanna like a suspect at an interrogation. Which, Shanna guessed, was precisely the route they were about to take.
She still couldn’t believe someone had tried to murder Simon. And in Gran’s house, of all places! She and Gran would have to discuss some wards after this. But first …
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Simon said. “Who are you?”
“The name’s Chris,” the girl said.
“Shanna.” She raised a hand in greeting, lowering it when Simon glowered at her.
“Who hired you to kill me?”
Chris opened her mouth, deliberating for a second. “I don’t exactly know. A few days ago, I was hanging out with my friends—well, they’re not friends, more like people I sometimes hang out with—at this old, abandoned factory. Cool place to practice graffiti, ten out of ten, recommend.”
Simon raised an eyebrow.
“Anyway, this dude comes in and says he has some business for us that pays well. All the others got scared because they’re losers, I guess.”
“That’s why they’re not your friends,” Shanna said.
“Exactly!”
“I think you’re teaching her the wrong lesson,” Simon murmured to Shanna, then locked eyes on Chris. “And? What did he look like?”
“Kind of weird. I didn’t see much of his face because he wore a hoodie, but he had a beard. And I don’t think he was used to this kind of shady business. Anyway, I stayed because I was curious. And he tells me he needs to get rid of this man—you—as soon as possible. He offered twenty grand.”
Shanna gasped. “Twenty?” That was so much—
“That’s as little as my life is worth?” Simon shot out.
“For you, it might be little,” Chris grumbled. “For me, it would help save Freddie’s life.”
“Who’s that?” Shanna asked.
“A fellow kid at the shelter. A few years younger. He has HAE.” At Simon and Shanna’s blank looks, Chris rolled her eyes and explained, “Hereditary angioedema. It causes swelling and a lot of pain, and if it happens in a bad spot, it can even be deadly. But there are drugs that can control the enzyme that causes the condition. If you can buy them, of course.”
“You know a lot about this,” Simon said.
Chris shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And you took the offer without any down payment?” he said.
“He gave me two grand if I needed it to get here and buy equipment and all that.”
Simon sat down on a chair across from Chris and hid his face in his hands.
“And what will happen when you come back without fulfilling the deal?” Shanna asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not like he wasted that much money on me, so maybe he’ll ignore it. Get someone else to do the job.”
“Oh, great,” Simon said. “So I’m about to have a line of assassins after me. For what, again?”
“I don’t know.” Chris twisted her mouth to the side. “Did you scam someone? Kill someone? Cheat with someone’s wife?”
“He’s been dead for the past three years,” Shanna said.
Simon exploded out of the chair. “You didn’t have to tell her that!”
Chris looked at them like she was pondering her escape again, this time for entirely different reasons.
“The point is, Simon couldn’t have done anything,” Shanna said.
“Maybe it’s some competitor,” Simon said in a tired voice. “Somebody found out I was still—again—alive, and they’re trying to use the chaotic situation to get rid of me. The rest already thinking me dead would serve them well.”
“None of the people who helped you come back would have a reason to do so,” Shanna said. “So who else knows you’re alive?”
“I did call almost every person in my company,” Simon said. “Maybe someone talked accidentally. Mentioned the ‘prank.’”
“One of your employees—”
“Would never. Besides, what would they stand to gain? A different boss?”
That was true. From what she’d seen in articles and heard by word of mouth, Simon had always led his company competently and confidently. There were no rumors of poor working conditions or dissatisfied employees. Why would anyone risk getting a new, possibly worse boss? They wouldn’t.
But the competition …
Her heart squeezed. Somebody out there wanted Simon dead, and they had no idea who.
And she was the most useless witch; how could she ever protect him?
For every charm she could make him wear, there’d be her bad luck to balance it out.
And with Simon unable to get away from her, that bad luck would follow him everywhere.
They needed to break that bond. As for Chris …
“So, what do you intend to do with me?” Chris asked, as if reading her mind.
Simon paced the kitchen. “You’re not going back. Yet. Let the man think you’re still working on the job. In the meantime, you’ll help me find out who hired you.”
“But how are you going to find him?” Shanna asked.
“You heard his voice and got a glimpse of his face, yes?” Simon waited for Chris to nod.
“You said he acted oddly, like he wasn’t used to this, so my guess is this is someone in an important position, not a random goon they’d hired.
I’ll think of the possible candidates and show them to you. We’ll see if anyone matches.”
He continued to pace, his tone shifting to the more lively one Shanna was used to from when he talked about exciting business propositions.
“Before Vegas, we were about to make a deal with InTech, but I canceled it. They could still be butthurt; that’s one candidate.
Imarla—they were always jealous of us. Or it could be a disgruntled former employee of one of the companies I’d acquired.
Somebody, somewhere, has got a bone to pick with me. And we’ll find him.”
“And then you’ll let me go?” Chris raised a dubious eyebrow.
Simon looked at Shanna.
“I think she’s learned her lesson,” Shanna said.
“Totes,” Chris quickly agreed. “No more taking on assassination contracts.”
Simon sighed. “Then I’ll let you go.”
Only as Shanna yawned and remembered she should get back to bed—and wondered how she’d be able to fall asleep at all—did she realize the sky outside was already turning a lighter blue. And Gran had always been an early riser.
The stairs in the hallway creaked. Gran shuffled into the kitchen and fixed on her glasses, coming to a dead stop as she noticed the company.
“Morning, Gran,” Shanna greeted her with a smile. “We got an early start today. Meet Chris. She came to kill Simon during the night.”