Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (100)

“Yes, it is,” Lyssa said, eyes clear.

Evie smiled as she sipped the tea—and immediately spit it out. “Lyssa, this is awful.” She hacked and coughed the bitter vinegar taste of it off her tongue.

“Oh! I cleaned the teakettle yesterday. Could that be why?” her sister said with false innocence.

“Did you use vinegar?” Evie narrowed her eyes, holding up her hands as if she was about to pounce, and Lyssa began to giggle.

“No!” she screeched as Evie bent over to tickle her. They both laughed until they were crying and rolling to the floor to get the upper hand. Evie was bigger, but Lyssa had the relentless determination of a child that believed she could accomplish anything; it was enough for Evie to concede.

“I surrender! You win!” Her voice was hoarse from the joy, and she sat up, her smile slipping when she saw Lyssa staring at the blood on her dress once more.

“You promise nobody got hurt?” Lyssa asked skeptically.

“Nobody that you care for.” It was as close to the truth as she could concede, because a lot of people had died last night—but telling Lyssa that was pointless; Evie would never allow her sister near that sort of danger. She thought of the traitor leaving the note for her, in their home, in her bedroom, and shuddered.

Lyssa saw the subtle move and frowned, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Evie bit her lip, attempting to find the right words. “There’s a rat loose in the manor house I work in, and it’s terrible. It’s eating the food, breaking things, riling the cat, and for the life of me, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to catch it.”

Lyssa tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. “Have you been looking in all the right places?”

“Everywhere they would be,” Evie said, nodding.

“What about everywhere they wouldn’t be?”

The words rang like a bell.

Was Lyssa right? Was Evie too focused on looking in all the most obvious places? Too focused on making lists to truly look at what was in front of her own eyes?

“I think you need to stop going to school. It’s making you too smart. I don’t like it.” Evie bumped her shoulder against Lyssa’s. “Have you looked in on Papa this morning?”

Lyssa picked up the mug of foul liquid, and Evie followed her into the kitchen, where she dumped it out the window. “He left for a walk about ten minutes ago. He said he was feeling fresh…or maybe it was refreshed? Anyway, he didn’t want to wake you.”

Evie’s heart felt lighter at that piece of news. “I’m glad.” She turned her head and did a double take at the clock. “Does that say ten o’clock!” Evie yelped, remembering that while the rest of the office had been given the day off while The Villain searched for the traitor, Evie most certainly had not.

“I’m late for work!” she screeched, bolting for her room to change. Evie was halfway through the door before she turned to look at her sister. “And you’re late for school,” she said in a singsong voice, making Lyssa groan.

She smiled. Maybe she was doing a good job as a replacement parent after all.

But her smile faltered as she pulled the soiled and damaged dress from her shoulders, exposing a massive bruise on her upper arm. She shuddered as she recalled those who had fallen last night under the guvre’s venom—their flesh not just bruised but melted from their bones.

Her stomach twisted as she hurried to dress, unsettled that the traitor kept besting them—and there was no telling what sort of damage they would inflict next.





Chapter 49


Evie


When Evie stumbled into the office, her hair a mess, Becky was already sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously, probably signing the death warrant on a litter of puppies. The woman moved her elbow forward and winced, holding her stomach, and Evie felt a quick rush of sympathy.

She walked over to Becky’s desk, wringing her fingers until the bespectacled woman looked up.

“What?” Becky asked.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Becky said, looking back at the stack of checks she was signing for payroll. “Tatianna fixed it.”

“She usually does,” Evie said, feeling wobbly.

“Always.” Tatianna’s warm voice carried over as she glided in and put an arm around Evie. The healer looked like a confection—a light-pink dress hugged her curves and fell into flouncy ruffles below the waistline. Her braids were tied back by the largest pink bow Evie had ever seen.

“You look—” Evie started, but Becky finished.

“Pink.”

Tatianna frowned. “I always wear pink.”

“And very pretty,” Evie added with a supportive smile.

“And so pink,” Becky said, staring at Tatianna’s dress like it was a contagion that would spread to her drab outfits.

“Can’t a girl look nice without such skepticism?” The healer frowned and stiffened when Clare exited the boss’s office, looking forlorn.

Both Evie and Becky followed Tatianna’s eyes to the waifish woman. “Ohhhh,” Evie said, dragging out the word, scanning Tatianna’s outfit again. “Now it makes sense.”

The healer narrowed her eyes at both of them. “Nothing makes sense when that woman is here. I want her gone.”