Not really an offer. It is, however, a choice. You may go through the blood-pact ceremony and join the Coterie, or start buying burial plots for any humans or pets you hold dear. âNoâ is an option, but itâs a terrible one.â The cherry of her cigarette brightened as she inhaled. âI will destroy everything and everyone youâve ever loved. I will raze this whole town if need be. I will salt the earth so that nothing, not even the smallest weed, can come back, and I will not lose any sleep over it.â
She meant it too. That much was clear. Under the table I reached over and grabbed Cadeâs hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine and held tight.
âOr,â she continued, âyou can live a relatively normal existence. Happy in yourââshe looked around the cabin, her amusement at our provincial life evidentââhome. You work for me on an as-needed basis. I keep you safe, because believe me when I say there are others who want your services, and they wonât be nearly as concerned with your happiness and welfare as I am.â
So my choice was death for anyone in a twenty-mile radius, or life under her thumb. Cade squeezed my hand again, and I knew heâd support any decision I made. He would go on the run with me if I wanted. I felt the gentle warmth of his hand and knew that wasnât going to work this time. I thought the world of Cade, but he was human. Fragile. And to Venus, expendable. Heâd be dead in six months. If we stayed in Currant, at least I could keep an eye on Venus and the Coterie. I could keep Cade safe. I desperately needed to do that. He was the only person left who loved me, and I would do anything to protect him. Even if it meant working for the person who killed my mother.
There really wasnât enough therapy in the world to make the situation okay.
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AT FIRST Venus tried to schedule training sessions with Owen at the Inferno. I like to think of Venus and Owenâs relationship as akin to that between sea anemones and clown fish. Apart, they donât amount to much. Together, they form a perfect symbiotic relationship. The anemone provides a safe home for the clown fish, which is immune to its stinging barbs. In return, the clown fish chases away butterfly fish, which would eat the anemone. The clown fishâs poo also feeds the sea anemone. Natureâitâs both amazingly complex and totally disgusting. Just like Owen and Venus. They protect each other, they benefit from each other, and thereâs a lot of crap involved, metaphorically speaking.
Owenâs training sessions were a disaster, much like the Chernobyl accident was âa bit of a spill.â The end result was someone pulling a shrieking ball of me off of Owen while somebody else hit me with the spray from a fire extinguisher. The cold white foam did nothing to stop my spot-on banshee impression. Owen was laughing, which made me kick at him again before they removed me completely. I connected with a meaty thunk , but he just laughed harder. Totally not gratifying.
I was still screaming curses and verbal bile while I was carried out of the room by my waist. I must have been a charming sightâspit flying from my mouth, my face red, snot dripping from my nose, and the rest of me completely covered in whatever that flame-retardant stuff is that comes out of fire extinguishers. Whoever had me didnât speak, and I was too out of it to care until I was bumped through the kitchen door and thrown into the area where the big rubber kitchen mats were hosed down. Then the hose was turned on me. The tile smelled, the water was ice cold, but I sat there until I was thoroughly drenched. Gone were the snot, white foam, and my red face. I was a Popsicle, but a calm one.
A skinny dark-haired guy serenely coiled up the hose and replaced it on the wall hook. He seemed to be only a few years older than I was, and while his manner was cool, he looked