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Thing is, I bet in each story the villain doesn’t consider themselves the epitome of evil. Even the evilest of minds have justification for their acts. They’re the hero of their own story; it just depends on where you stand.
I sidled into the booth. “Mother, Father. A displeasure, as always.”
“Must you dress like that when you
come here?” he growled, stacking the papers scattered across his messy desk in an attempt to get them out of my reach. I glanced down to my white pencil skirt, strappy Manolos and sleeveless gray silk blouse. “Like what? A model? Fashionista? Sex symbol?” He shook his head. “You’re drawing attention.” I grinned. “Well, of course I am. I exist.”
This guy was a hoot. Who used the word ‘aforementioned’ in a text message? I was almost five hundred years old and didn’t use it.
Before I could shove it open angrily, the vampire stepped forward, opening it for me. He faced the interior of my apartment. “Ms. Rominskitoff for you, Your Majesty.” I pushed past him. “Yes, by all means, announce my presence in my apartment to the vampire who broke in,” I snapped, glaring at the emotionless face. “Who else would it be? Britney Spears here for an impromptu concert?”
I tilted my head. “I’d stop my digging if I were you. You might just find out you’re digging your own grave.”
I replied. “And I resent that comment. I know when to hold my tongue.” He gave me a look. “I said I know when. I didn’t say I actually used that knowledge.”
It was better to be a little crazy so when the world threw you a lotta crazy, you knew how to deal with it. Fire with fire and all that.
“It would sell its own mother for a pint of blood,” he hissed, as if I hadn’t spoken. I scowled at him. “Of course I wouldn’t sell my own mother,” I retorted with mirroring distaste. “I’d give her to you for free,” I added sincerely. “In fact, I’d pay you to go and slay her.”
No Neck was not amused. “She’s everything we’re trained to kill.” I rolled my eyes. “Lucky they’ve got you here to remind them of their entire purpose in life.”
“Plus, I did surprise them. Grenade instead of doorbell.”
“Yes, well, it seems hell has frozen over,” I replied, sipping my drink. I then tilted my head and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry that means you won’t be able to return home in the near future.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t do threats. I make promises,” I replied, my voice cold.
I didn’t need to be a witch to know that spelled danger.
