Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)
Hannah Nicole Maehrer
To my grandparents
Georgann, dearly departed Richard, Rosalie and James
For so generously passing your love of stories to me
I love you all dearly
And for all of you—
This is what I think it would be like to be
the morally gray fantasy villain’s accomplice
Accomplice to the Villain is a laugh-out-loud, fantasy romance with severed limbs thrown off the balcony for fun and office pixies poisoning the cauldron brew. In addition, the story includes elements that might not be suitable for all readers. Blood, death, battle, serious injury, extreme pain, torture, familial estrangement, graphic language, sexual situations, child abuse, and imprisonment of an animal are shown on the page. Readers who may be sensitive to these elements, please take note.
Prologue
Once upon a time…
Evie Sage’s first month working for The Villain had been rather unconventional, though at least not cataclysmically shocking. A spilled cauldron brew here, a poisoned intern there. But there had been a few strange…incidents. The most recent being her summoned into work two hours early for a meeting she was almost certain could’ve been a short message sent through the ravens.
Find better things to complain about, Evie! Like the hand you found in the reuse bin last week!
Although that had at least given her the opportunity to ask the boss if he needed an extra set of hands. The frank horror on his face had caused her to laugh so hard, she nearly made herself sick.
It was mildly disconcerting that he was more offended by her harmless jokes than the foreign limb he’d lobbed in with the discarded parchment—Becky hated when they mixed anything in with parchment recycling—but she digressed.
Sighing and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she watched as the invisible barrier around Massacre Manor wavered underneath her fingers. Her attention flickered to the rising sun leaking color into the still-darkened sky. It looked as though someone had spilled orange and pink inks onto a dark-gray tapestry—pretty, if anything could be so before eight in the morning.
Marv, the Malevolent Guard at the front gate, gave her a gentle wave, and she smiled brightly at him, blowing a kiss that pinked his cheeks. “Good morning, Ms. Sage! Early bird gets the worm?” His normally wild hair was contained underneath a red leather helmet while Evie’s was plaited to the side, a few loose hairs pulling free around her face as they swayed in the early-morning breeze.
She stepped back as the large wooden door slid open with a familiar creaking, the damp chill of the entrance hall cooling her cheeks and filling her senses with the smell of wood burning and musty walls. “More like the early bird doesn’t get fired…and knowing the boss, that would be literal, I’m afraid.”
Marv’s chortle sounded behind her as her heels clicked on the stone floor, the torchlight brightening the room and warming it against the morning air. A low groaning echoed from the other end of the large, open space, near the only corner that was shrouded in darkness.
Her brow furrowed as she waved a hand forward. “Hello? Whatever creepy sound you’re trying to make, can you kindly do it under the torchlight so I can see you? That way I can scream properly.”
“Sage?” The rasp of The Villain’s voice caused a tingle of sensation to move down her spine. “You shouldn’t be here,” he grunted out, his dark shape inching toward the edge of the shadows that cloaked him.
She huffed and quirked a brow, folding her arms and pushing her thick braid behind her shoulder. “On that, we agree. I should still be in bed, curled up with my favorite nighttime companion.”
She thought she heard him choke. “Companion?” There was an odd sound of warning in the word that made her shiver just slightly.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “His name is Mr. Muffins.”
“Mr. Muffins?” She could see his shadow inching closer to the light, his voice gruff and laced with confusion. “You’re laying with a man called Mr. Muffins? Who in the deadlands is named something so ridiculous?”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling at his obvious outrage. “A teddy bear I’ve had since I was six.”
There was a long silence before a flat word broke it. “Oh.”
She snorted and walked closer, as did he, finally washing himself in the light of the torches and the colors seeping into the room from the rising sun. She halted a few feet from him, eyes widening when she saw his face, words falling off her tongue before she could think better of them. “Wow, you look…terrible.”
The cobwebbed logical part of her brain sighed and rolled over so it wouldn’t have to witness what came next.
The boss’s normally tailored stubble was overgrown into a near beard, his shirt untucked, his hair mussed, and his normally pressed pants wrinkled beyond reason. “I beg you not to shower me with compliments, Sage. I hardly know what to do with them.”
Worry wove itself into the bottom of her stomach. Even his dry commentary seemed off, almost guarded. Clearing her throat, she stepped closer to take in the rest of him. Purple under his eyes, flexed fingers, tensed jaw, pulsing vein in his forehead.
She frowned and tsked. “Did one of the interns say good morning to you again? I told them pleasant greetings were strictly prohibited.”