Chapter 8 #2
“Ahh, I knew the bird would come to play,” he says with a wild smile and a chuckle. He leans back, completely relaxed on my stool. “Mercy, my darling Little Crane. You’d get mercy.”
I wet my lips as I turn away from him.
“I feel I may already have that, Elliot,” I say as I push away from the overcrowded workbench. I pull my white t-shirt, trying to cool down from the intensity that is Elliot Jay.
“I guess you’re right,” he says as he shakes his head, his hair becoming sticky with sweat. “I did come to ask you, instead of the million other ways I could have gotten what I needed.” He shrugs.
“I want the truth,” I say, staring at the pink foxglove patch, growing taller than the normal three to four feet that it usually does. These are as tall as me and will need bigger stakes soon.
How would they have grown so fast independently?
Am I responsible for my growth or does that come from the support of… outsiders?
Wordlessly, I stalk toward the plant he’s asking for.
“Now tell me, Diora, what plant would you want to use to kill someone over a few months’ time?” The answer pops into my brain before I can process his question.
It’s the same plant I’ve been harvesting for Mrs. Jay.
“If she’s trying to poison you slowly, she’ll use elephant ear.
It’s hard to kill someone with this, but it’s effective in weakening the body.
It takes five to ten leaves to kill, and as you can see, they are huge.
What are your symptoms?” It’s the most unsuspecting plant.
Making it easy to dose someone over a length of time.
I hover my hand over a leaf, not letting it touch my skin. I’m so sweaty from the temperature and Elliot’s presence I would probably sweat out the effects of touching this poisonous plant, but I don’t give it the chance to hurt me.
Not like I’ve given the chance to Elliot.
“Burning and itching.”
“She’s rubbing it on your skin?”
“Tsk tsk, Little Crane. I don’t think that’s a story you want to hear,” he says, and the light in eyes dim as the corner of his smile shakes.
He stalks behind me as I stare at the elephant ear millimeters from the skin of my face.
I don’t dare make contact. It takes rubbing and constant contact to do anything, and I’m breathing in enough fumes and toxins circulating in this room to make a grown man weak.
“This looks more like a botanical garden than a greenhouse.”
“A greenhouse is to shelter plants while keeping the temperature and humidity desired for the plants to grow. That lies in the structure of the building. What I do inside of it, how I make it appear, is up to me.”
He hums as the pads of his fingers trail up my exposed arms and back down. “It’s nice.”
I sense compliments don’t come often from Elliot. Something about being the most dangerous man in the room leads to a man who can’t show weakness, which equates to kindness in this case. I turn around, bumping into his body directly behind me.
“Why do you let her hurt you?” I ask. Is she poisoning his drinks? Body lotion? How is she using the elephant ear against him?
“Probably the same reason you haven’t told Mother all about your plans to kill Yara Holdings. My dominos will fall when they’re supposed to,” he says with a shrug. My head snaps to him at the name he drops.
How does he know about Yara Holdings? I raise an eyebrow in question.
“You think I didn’t do my research on you?”
“That information isn’t public.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t findable, Little Crane.”
I see his chest rise with a deep inhale, and I notice his nose impossibly close to me. Does he like the smell of dirt?
I sidestep away from him, and even as I slide underneath his hold, he follows me.
Shaking my head as I step back to my safe zone—what’s supposed to be my safe zone, my work bench—but he follows me.
It’s like having a doberman follow you. His being dressed in black, and his haunting shadow over my shoulder, make me shiver.
“Elliot.”
“Yes, Little Crane?” he answers, still standing over me. I take a deep breath, preparing for another unanswered question.
I lean against my workstation, and he traps me in again by leaning both his arms on the table behind me. Breathing in his woodsy rich cologne swarming my senses.
I tilt my head slightly. The smile I’ve been holding back since he got here breaks through my defense and I see a glint in his eyes.
“Why are you still here?” It’s a bold question, as Juliet would call it, but I sense Elliot could’ve figured out this information without me. He could’ve left, should have left by now, but hasn’t.
I answered his questions.
Why else is he here?
“Little Crane–”
“Just tell me whatever it is. I don’t understand this game we’re playing,” I cut him off. He has something to say but isn’t saying, and I’m nowhere close to figuring out what he wants exactly.
He smiles and shakes his head like I told a joke. The act ticks me off, but I let him continue, anyway. He peers down at me. His gaze hurtling down on me… it makes it hard to process anything beyond Elliot.
“Do you think you can handle a monster like Mother?” It isn’t the answer I was expecting. My lips drop their smile, and I watch as the seriousness in his answer bleeds over the room. “Because I do.”
Kill Mrs. Jay? He thinks I could kill Mrs. Jay? A woman who runs a hitman organization and controls some of the most deadly killers in the United States. Who has been a killer herself for decades and has never been caught. Me, take her down?
“I think you overestimate my skill.” I scoff and push at his strong chest. He doesn’t budge. His presence looms over me as my thoughts run in circles in my head.
“I have more to lose—” I say my first thought running to Juliet. What if Mrs. Jay tries to hurt her, kill her, in retribution? I can’t risk Juliet. I need her. She has to live.
“You have the same stake as I do, Diora. Juliet will be protected. I promise.”
“You can’t promise; you can’t guarantee anything,” I say, trying to push at his chest again. All I can see is him. All my brain can interpret is him. It’s hard to think.
“I’ll have Enyo on her twenty-four-seven.” He speaks so surely. He’s thought this through, but I can’t say yes on a whim. I have a person in my life I can’t lose.
“Why not ask Enyo to kill Mother? He’s far more qualified,” I ask, scrunching my brows. Why isn’t he a part of this little vengeance squad?
“He can’t be involved. It’s too personal for him.” Elliot waves that off, like it’s obvious, and it makes me more confused.
“What does that mean?”
“We’re too close to her. She’ll see it coming if either of us do it. It has to be you. I need you.” His words land like blows to my chest. Elliot needs something. Elliot needs me? This doesn’t make sense.
“Can we even go after other Society members?” I shouldn’t even be considering this.
There is no way I could kill Mrs. Jay. As much as I’d want to be on Elliot’s good side, this ask is too much.
It’s selfish. As a member of The Morrígan Society, are we even allowed to kill each other?
If I couldn’t kill Mrs. Jay, there’s no way I could go up against the Society.
Breaking their rules is the last thing on my to do list.
“Yeah, you can. Especially when the Society is the one who tipped you on it,” he says, and it makes me more confused. The Society told him to kill Mrs. Jay? Why?
“Why?” I whisper. I don’t know much about the Society, but I don’t think they’d ask him that.
“I can’t tell you until you commit to the task, Little Crane,” he says and takes a step away from me. It’s like all the oxygen in the room comes rushing toward me and I can breathe normally.
I swallow my nerves and watch as Elliot walks out of my little greenhouse.
What changed in the last twenty-four hours for him to… trust me?