Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(21)

Leonard frowned at Trystan.

Trystan raised a brow. “Something to say?”

Leonard gulped as if afraid to proceed. It annoyed him.

You did just contemplate throwing him from the window.

But that was hardly the point.

“What is it, Leonard?”

Leonard stepped forward, placing a stained glass piece in Trystan’s outstretched hand. “You see, sir? It’s faint, but there are words inscribed on the glass. Easier to see when the sun hits it head-on.”

Trystan’s eyes widened as he held the slab of blue glass up to where the sunlight was flowing in—sure enough, there were words in a delicate script. Once Upon a Time… A land called Rennedawn was forged by magical creators. All…

The glass cut off there, and the realization hit Trystan like one of Fluffy’s sneezes. “Rennedawn’s story? Is printed on the stained glass?”

“Boss!” At that moment, Gushiken ran in, skidding to a halt at Trystan’s side. “Wait. Did you just say—”

Before he could finish, Trystan let out a yelp as a sharp pain seared through his biceps—a quick, hot sting that burned like a brand to the skin. “Fuck!”

Trystan dropped to his knees.

His vision faded to darkness.

And he fell.





Chapter 12


Evie


Evie spun on the wall just as the blade landed next to her.

Mere inches from her head.

Her heart rate soared as she half yelled, half screamed, dodging another slash of the blade. “Hey!” she cried in outrage, dancing from one edge of the room to the other, the intruder following her and blocking her every attempt to run toward the exit. “You almost hit me.”

The intruder’s fierce, murderous expression wavered for a moment to a near-comedic confusion. “That’s the idea, you wench!” he snarled.

Evie used the split second of his attention leaving her to bolt for the door. Her dagger, which was normally so connected to her movements, deadened in her hand, like the magic was dormant or not there at all.

The fading magic, she thought, rearing its head at the worst possible time—as per usual.

There was very little she knew how to do without the magical aid…other than stabbing until she hit skin.

Which was exactly what she did when the assailant picked her up from behind. She buried the dagger in his hand, pulling it back out and gasping in relief when he released her with a howl.

She knew she had mere seconds to take advantage of the win.

Or it surely would’ve been a win, if Evie moved through the air with the speed and grace of a Malevolent Guard. But Evie moved through the air as she always had…

Frantic, panicked, and absurdly winded.

She barely made it two steps before her attacker was swinging at her again, and the force of his fist burying in her stomach slammed her into the wall. Her head cracked against the stone, her vision going spotty and limbs going limp. “What—what do you want?” she whispered with a breaking voice as her knees buckled. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

“He was right.” The assailant closed a hand over her mouth, his hot breath against her face making her want to retch. “You never do shut up, do you?” Evie’s eyes widened, her words muffled beneath his hand, her vision starting to go dark at the edges now. “He’ll be displeased I killed you before he had a chance to. But the temptation is far too great.”

Who? Who would want to kill me?

Her mind answered for her: Who wouldn’t?

He grinned at the confusion likely apparent on her face. It angered her enough to clear her head—and send power to her limbs. Her heel came down in a flash, crushing into the toe of his boot. As her attacker howled in pain again, she grinned. She knew switching to higher heels had been the right choice.

“Oh, no you don’t, witch!” He gripped her harder as she tried to break free, squeezing her arms until she felt pained tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t recognize me? Do you see the family resemblance?”

His hand slid off her mouth, and she gasped for a breath, trying to steel herself so he wouldn’t feed off her weakness. In the past, she had let all her fears crush her beneath their weight, but this was the present, and she was no longer trying to hide from the people who wanted to scare her. She had decided to scare them, too. “My experience with family has been less than ideal the last few months, I’m afraid,” she rasped, desperately trying to place him.

It was then that the cruelty in the man’s expression looked familiar—so familiar it made her world go cloudy with crushing fear.

No. It can’t be.

“You don’t remember your old employer?”

Her palms dampened, and a lump lodged deep in her throat, making her airway close further. But still…Evie smiled, sucking in a breath as he squeezed her arms hard enough that the bruises would be large and ugly. “You must be a Warsen.” She feigned contemplation of the man’s scalp. “The receding hairline is hereditary, then, I suppose.”

The man’s lip curled as he shook with rage. She was physically weaker than him, it was true, but Evie’s best method of attack was talking her victims through an endless circle of torture. She’d yet to kill anyone that way, but by the gods, she’d wager she had been very close on a handful of occasions.