Green-Eyed Envy (36 page)

Vic became aware of my presence in the same moment and spun, the wicked-looking whip with jagged barbs on its end fluttering as he did so. A smile equal parts charming and terrifying spreading across his face. “Ah,
querida
, I should have known you’d be punctual.
Overly
punctual. I thought I had at least another half hour before your arrival.”

“You thought wrong, apparently. And don’t call me that.”

“Oh, but you
are
my dear one, no matter the face you wear. It’s what’s inside you that I cherish above all others.”

I stepped forward slowly, cautiously, wanting to close as much distance between us as possible without setting him off. “I bet you say that to
all
the girls. Like Meredith—and poor Sylvia.”

His sunny smile dampened somewhat. “Poor Sylvia liked it rough, I’m afraid, too rough even for my tastes.” That went way past the point of irony, considering the torture implements spread all around him. “I warned her what would happen if she mixed mortal narcotics with my little wonders.”

“So you’re claiming you
didn’t
kill her?” I inched forward another few feet, which didn’t seem to bother him. Yet.

He twirled the ends of his barbed whip almost playfully. “The drugs killed her, not I, although . . . ”

“Although what?”

“I
did
make sure her death wish was granted. The poor girl had been rather suicidal when I found her, you see, and lived only for the pleasures—and pain—she found in my arms and with my wonders. It seemed only fair to make sure she found the peace she sought for so long.”

“So you
did
poison her with the catnip, same as you did Harper’s lovers.”

“
Ex
-lovers, ” he corrected lightly. “And
poison
seems such a strong word. I prefer to think of it as awakening them to their new lives.”

Like I’d been in any doubt about his being stark, raving mad before. “Whatever pretty label you dress it up with, Vic, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts considers it murder in the first degree, as does the Sisterhood. Punishable, as you well know, by death. A death I would be happy to grant you so
you
can find the peace you seek.”

My body tensed as I prepared to leap forward and make good my promise, but rather than look alarmed, he simply went right on smiling, standing there all calm and mockingly handsome, as if he didn’t have cause to be alarmed. Which, perhaps, he didn’t.

I changed my mind last minute and leaped toward Scott rather than Vic. Scott, oddly enough, shook his head wildly and made noises of protest, his eyes bulging out but his mouth staying firmly closed. Which was even more bizarre, all things considered. He should have been yelling at me—whether to hurry the hell up, or as was more likely, to save myself and leave him behind (as if I would)—and the fact he wasn’t disturbed me. It was only when I landed on the ground a foot away from him that the reason for his being struck mute jumped out at me. His mouth had been duct taped.

 

 

HE MAY NOT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO
SPEAK
, BUT his eyes spoke volumes:
Do it!
So I prepared to do just that, filtering more and more Rage through my serpents and then turning to pounce on my prey only to see a blur flashing from where Vic had stood toward me. My mind had trouble processing what was going on, that’s how freaking
fast
he moved. Faster than a Hound, faster than a Fury, hell, faster than a
Harpy
could have managed—and I’d found out just how fast those crazy bitches could fly months ago. One moment he was there, and the next he was
behind
me, pinning my arms in an ironclad grip and pressing my body to his.

“
Querida
,
querida
, you really are a vision standing there in divine indignation, prepared to strike down the wicked with the force of the gods’ vengeance. Perhaps, however, you should listen to my proposal before you start striking and smiting—unless you
want
your former lover there to continue dying horribly.”

My body froze in its attempts to break from his grasp, and I had a bitch of a time calming down the serpents wrapped around my lower arms. The girls wanted nothing more than to bite a hundred holes in his flesh and flood him full of venom. “W-what do you mean?”

Scott redoubled his struggles, succeeding only in bloodying his wrists and causing himself more pain.

“Why, you didn’t think I’d lure you here without some insurance for your goodwill, did you? Even now one of my most toxic wonders—made from the same catnip used on the others—courses through his veins, poisoning him from the inside out, and only one thing can save him. My antidote.”

Scott’s body went slack and his tortured gaze met mine. I saw the truth of Vic’s words written there, something Scott hadn’t wanted me to see. Stupid mutt. Like I’d just
leave
him here. Like I’d leave
anyone
here.

“What—What do you want?”

“Besides you in my bed, my love?”

“
Don’t
call me that, you son of a bitch.”

“Now, now, language,
querida
. ” His voice became uncharacteristically steely. “Behave yourself and I won’t make your ex-lover suffer more than he has to.”

The way he kept referring to Scott as my “former” and “ex”-lover made me nervous. “I—I’m sorry.”

“That’s my girl.” His words so mirrored what Scott had called me recently that tears pricked my eyes. “What I initially wanted from you was your delectable half-Hound heritage in order to discover how my wonders would affect you. Falling in love with you was just a welcome bonus,
querida
. Of course, the other night when I realized you’d been misleading me every bit as much as I had you, my plans had to change. Once I realized
which
Fury you had to be, it became clear what the gods intended. Your ex-lover will make an excellent substitute for
Sierra
and ensure your best behavior both in my bed and in the lab.”

“How—How do you think you’re going to get away with this? With the murders?”

I shuddered when he leaned forward—in my natural form, we were very nearly the same height—and nuzzled my hair. “It’s very simple, my love. Murphy here will die unless I administer a dose of antidote to him every twelve hours, starting with the first in, oh, the next half hour or so. I have another dose, a very special one, prepared for
you
. One that will make you see things more . . . clearly . . . so you can help me.”

“Help you what?”

“Finish setting up Meritton to take the fall for the murders, of course. Now that I’m done with my experiments on Cats and, in particular, Cat corpses, I don’t need him as a partner anymore. Sadly, you will be unable to locate your former lover after you take out the psychotic killer in his lair. Where, conveniently, there will be plenty of forensic evidence tying Meritton to the murders and Murphy’s abduction.”

I couldn’t hold back the words that burst from my lips. “You’re crazy, Victor. Your drugs have—”

“My
wonders
have given me the type of clarity and strength most people can only dream of possessing. They’ll give you the same,
querida
. Soon, you’ll see how perfect we are together.” He reached his free hand into a pocket and then withdrew a syringe. One he intended to plunge into my neck, no doubt.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, as my sister-in-law would say.
How
did I always end up with unbalanced stalker types wanting to use me for their own purposes? First Stacia and now Victor. Had I taken a bath in Supernatural Obsession or something?

Think, Riss, think! You have to assume he
did
poison Scott, and Scott
does
need his antidote to survive. You
can’t
let him dose you, or you
will
go right along with his plans. So what can you do to stop him?
My mind scrambled for a solution that would both defeat Victor while letting both Scott and me survive, but kept coming up empty. I had no clue what poison Victor had used or where he kept the antidote. My gaze darted to the tray of plants and flowers next to Scott, and my pulse picked up speed.
Or did I?
Surely it wasn’t coincidence that Victor stored both catnip and roses next to each other. I remembered each time I had inhaled the scent of those roses when under the effects of Victor’s drugs—my mind had become momentarily clearer and my body had felt better. Stronger.
That
has
to be it!
Victor had told me which plant was his most valuable
wonder
without even realizing it . . .

But did I dare risk Scott’s life on what was little more than an educated guess? What if I rolled the dice, took Victor out, and was wrong? Could I live with that? But could I live with the alternative? Becoming a drug-addicted slave to Victor’s will, with Scott a tortured hostage to ensure my cooperation in his schemes? I looked at Scott and saw that his gaze had followed mine to the tray of plants—and he’d guessed what I was thinking. His eyes widened suggestively, and he nodded, saying
Do it!
once more without words.

That realization freed me from indecision, and I burst into action, unfurling my wings and knocking Victor—and his “wonder drug ”—halfway across the room. Rage and wings gave me the speed to leap upon him before he fully recovered; luck and wits helped me grab the syringe he still clutched in his hand, flip it around, and plunge it into the prominent vein pulsing in his neck. He screamed out, “No!” as I did so, and he managed to get a hand free and onto the syringe handle but it was too late: I’d already pumped the entire contents into his bloodstream.

“You stupid bitch!” He pulled the syringe out and then stabbed me with it—in the heart rather than the neck. On the plus side, no more drugs to send me to La-La Land the way they already were him. On the downside, it hurt like
frigging hell
. My hand jerked toward the handle to pull it out, but Nemesis thrust her body between my fingers and the needle while Nike leaped from my arm to Vic’s writhing body to make sure he was no longer a threat. Seconds later, his body went still. What he had planned to knock me out with must have packed quite a punch.

I turned my attention back to Nemesis. “Hey, let go, you stupid sneak—snake.” My words came out slurry and disjointed, revealing that, okay, I hadn’t quite pumped him full of the syringe’s
entire
contents. “It hurts!”

Scott made some loud but unintelligible sounds to get my attention. I glanced at him and he shook his head emphatically. Okay, so both he and Nemesis thought yanking the needle out of my heart was a bad thing. I wrinkled my brow as my thoughts grew more sluggish—though nowhere near as cloudy as they’d been the last time Vic drugged me—and decided that maybe they were right. It might be best to let my backup remove the needle from my heart, although none of
that
seemed to be—

Cue the cavalry’s arrival, in the form of a now-alert Trinity, the rest of our team, and several of Scott’s Shadowhounds, including one particularly beautiful Kiara, loaded down with her bag of magical healing goodness. She zeroed in on her brother right away—not that I could blame her; of the two of us, he definitely
looked
to be in worse shape. And really, even with the syringe sticking out from my heart, he was. Kale, Mahina, and Cass busied themselves handcuffing Vic,
after
Nike unwound herself from his legs and slithered up mine. Trinity’s mouth widened when she saw the in-no-way-tiny syringe handle jutting out from my chest. She urged me to sit down, but I refused, staggering as I tried to take a step toward the medical cart.

“Marissa!” she barked out, the fact she’d used my full name showing her exasperation as she grabbed on to an arm—the one left conveniently empty since Nemesis had only made it up to my waist so far—to steady me. “
What
are you doing?”

I pointed toward the medical cart, or at least I tried. It looked more like a wobbly hand wave than anything. “P-p-poisssson,” I finally managed to slur out.

Kiara’s head snapped from Scott’s direction to mine. She’d already taken initial stock of his wounds and been trying, after ripping off the duct tape, to get him to speak to her. I saw then that his body had gone slack and his eyes squeezed shut.
Gods damn it, he needs that antidote!

“Trin, s-sorrrrry.”

“For what?” she asked with a frown, then grunted when I slammed a heel down onto her toes and ran forward—as best I could—once she reflexively let go.

Kiara deduced at least part of what I’d said and hurried over to help me. “What poison?” she asked. “I have a huge supply of antidotes in my bag, and even one that will counteract just about ninety percent of all magical poisons along with the proper spellword.”

I shook my head. “No. N-need s-special p-plant.”

Her eyes widened and she picked up speed, hurrying me toward the medical cart filled with life-saving—and ending—plants. “Which one?” I managed to point a shaking hand toward the bloodred roses, and she plucked one from a stem. “This one? Are you sure?”

I hesitated.
Am I?
Scott’s life depended on it. Images of the way the roses had cleared my mind more than once in the past flashed through my mind and sure, sudden clarity flooded inside me.
Yes, yes, I am.
I nodded.

“Thank you!” She plucked a few more roses, grabbed a vial from her bag, and began crushing the petals into the bright green potion inside. “This is the cure-all I mentioned. Mixing the poison’s antidote with it will make it effective against
ninety-one percent
of all magical poisons along with the proper spellword.”

Her attempt at humor didn’t fool me. She was no more 100 percent sure it would work than I had been, but it was the best chance we had to save him. “Gods, this would work so much better if I could get it directly into his bloodstream rather than having him drink it . . . ”