The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan #1)

by Robert Jackson Bennett

I reminded myself to hold my head high, to keep my expression scowling and stoic, like a real assistant investigator might. Then I had to remind myself that I was a real assistant investigator, damn it all.

“I do so admire,” she said, “how you can be a flippant shit with a mere handful of syllables. Quite a talent.”

“I see,” said Ana. She nodded, satisfied. Then she sat back in her chair, sniffed, and said, “Well. Fuck.”

She stared at me, outraged. “That…that is basically the goddamn definition of ‘knows how to pick locks,’ boy! What an absurd thing! What the hell else do you know how to do?” I handed her the cup. “I do seem to be developing a talent for tolerating verbal abuse and mad questions, ma’am.”

Then I heard her scoff and mutter, ever so softly: “This smug little bitch. Here we fucking go.”

“You goddamned Apoths always think it’s worms.” “That’s because so many people have so many fucking worms.”

“Well, now I do wonder if you should be my assistant,” she snapped. “But not for your dishonesty, Din. Rather, because you apparently think me a fucking idiot!”

But its strangest feature is that the more its citizens feel it is broken, the more broken it actually becomes.