Undercover (Into Shadow, #5)

by Tamsyn Muir

You won’t get yourself in trouble lovergirling here, Starr . . . You won’t have the time.”

No mindless hunger. The badly painted lips peeled off those sharp pink teeth. “Amy,” the ghoul panted. “Amy, I still dream about you.”

missile. It was the gold ring Lucille loved to play with. Reflexively she rubbed off some of the old brown blood. There was script on the inside. She read the inscription out loud. “‘Lucy & Lesley,’” she read. “‘Love endures.’” Lucille cackled.

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind,” said Charleston. His goons had all drawn their cheap pistols. Then he said, “I know that face.” “Interesting,” said the Widower. “I wondered if you might.”

“Carol,” he said, “you make me believe in hell.” “It’s a hellish world, Charles.”

“Fabulous work, honey,” said the Widower. “Oh, go fuck yourself,” snapped Lucille. Then she dipped her head back to feed.

endures.’” “Or so I thought—at the time,” said the Widower. “Oh, something endures, but love doesn’t.”

“You’re wondering what type of woman keeps her own wife around as a ghoul. I do. Like I said, I’m not ready to give her up yet . . . I’m not finished with her yet.”

She said, “Why did you make her a ghoul?” The Widower stared at her in very real amazement. She set down the brandy glass. “I didn’t make her a ghoul, Starr,” she said. “She went out and got infected herself.” “Nobody would infect themselves.” “She did.

“Believe me or not, Starr. I wouldn’t have infected Lucy. It wasn’t my way. Sometimes I think I’d let her go if she just told me what she’d been thinking.”

“You were undercover,” she said. “You were undercover too.”

Lucille didn’t know enough to starve herself just enough to make use of what she was given. How could she ever? She was just a shark in a birdcage.

“You made it personal,” she told Lucille. “It’s a very human thing. I don’t think you make a good ghoul.”

“Did we seem close, sir? Me and Luce West?” He sounded puzzled. “Sure. That’s why I’ve let you run around without a partner. Didn’t want to saddle you with a replacement. God, that I lived long enough to see Luce West laid low by some two-bit crook like Carol Widdener . . . ! It’s a rotten world, Starr.” “People keep telling me that,” she said.

“Why did you kill Amy Starr?” she asked her in an almost-normal voice. “That’s a secret.” “Why? Why keep secrets now?” “Why keep secrets at all?” she said. “It’s a habit. Not just a human habit, either.”

“You were undercover. I’m undercover.” She found herself saying: “It’s a hellish world.”

“Anything for the job, Amy?” said Lucille. She sounded faintly mocking. “I’m not Amy.” “You are what you eat,” said Lucille. “Oh, cute,” she said. “Very cute.”