“So you were sleeping with Mr. Kaufman?”
She nodded. “More or less. He didn’t do much for me.”
Her integrity was astounding.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“Usually, he only sold me the small stuff. He didn’t even use it most of the time. But when he found Possess, he couldn’t stop himself. He used it without thinking—it was like he became another person. It was a weird, wicked drug. Nasty stuff, but hard to stop using. After he died, I didn’t know who to buy from. That bastard died and didn’t leave me with a way out. And now I’m desperate. I hate being desperate. Desperation is something I reserve for my special clients—for the men who come to me.”
She bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes. “Men don’t mean anything to me. They’re toys. Useless. Cheap thrills. I don’t care if I break their hearts—or their wives’ hearts. They all deserve it.
“Women come in here, asking me for advice about love. Me! But they give me money, so I keep doing what I do best. I tell lies. But now I’m stuck here, with no way out and no one to buy from.”
She pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag. The pungent scent of smoke fogged the room. I now understood why I’d never felt comfortable around the lady. She was a snake, a sorry, sick individual who did more harm to people than she would ever understand. I didn’t want anything else to do with her, but I also knew she was lying to me—she’d admitted already that she was in the business of lying. Now it was time for her to fess up.
“Surely there must be someone else you’re buying from?” I asked.
“No one.”
“Is that so?
“Yes.”
“Drop the act,” I said. “I heard your conversation on the phone. You’re buying from someone. Who?”
She placed both hands on the table. “No. One.”
She could push, but I could push harder. “Was it Jordan Young?”
Her face flushed with anger. “I won’t speak with you any longer.”
“Your girls were carrying poppy flowers in their baskets, and Mr. Kaufman—the man you were sleeping with—was found with the same sort of flowers in his eyes. Why?”
She stood, her fists flexed, and I stood too. “Leave,” she said.
“Not until you tell me what you know.”
“You want me to tell you? Fine. You know nothing. You have no idea what’s going on here. It’s evil beyond your understanding—you’re headed down a path that will end in death. You should leave now and count yourself lucky. You will lose everyone you love—for that is your curse.”
I balled my fists, feeling anger and magic rise within me. She was lying. Everything she said was a lie.
But if it’s a lie, why does it feel like the truth?
“Tell me what you know,” I demanded.
“The killer is here,” she said. “He is watching your every move, waiting until he has enough energy, and then he will take you.”
I paused, my anger turning to fear. “How—how do you know that?”
“He knows you.”
Now she was just creeping me out. “Who is he?”
“I won’t tell you!” Rage filled her eyes as she rounded and grabbed the urn off the shelf. Before I realized what was happening, she bashed the urn into my skull. Sharp shards of glass cut my skin as the ceramic burst open and ash exploded all over me, coating me in a fine, powdery dust.
Inhaling the ash made me cough, and it blinded me for a moment, disorienting me as I felt something sharp jab my breastbone. Madame Glitter forced me backward until we ran into a wall of solid muscle. Only then did I realize Kull had entered the room.
He held his sword tip under the woman’s throat.
“You,” he said in his too-calm voice, “will not harm her again. Do you understand?”
“Or what?” she said, trying to sound defiant, though her voice wavered.
“Or I kill you.”
I couldn’t see Kull’s eyes, but in his voice, I heard the anger. He would do what he said. Without hesitation.
“Fine,” Madame Glitter said and spat on the floor. “Get out.”
He backed slowly out of the room with his hand gripping my arm, pulling me along. Warm blood trickled from a cut in my forehead and dripped down my cheek. When we exited the tent, he kept his hand on my arm and steered me away from the tent.
“Where are we going?” I said, trying to shrug him off.
“To your booth.”
“What? But I wasn’t finished with her. Let me go.”
“No.”
What? “Kull, let me go!”
“Not until I know you are safe.”
“Safe?”
“Yes, safe. You have not changed. You are still as reckless as ever. I am surprised you’ve lived this long.”
I was at a loss for words. I tried to struggle free of his grasp but had no luck. Anger boiled inside as he forced me toward my booth. What did he think he was doing? I could have handled the woman. Had he been waiting outside the tent, listening to our conversation, waiting for his chance to strike at the woman—to protect me?
He wouldn’t have done such a thing for Heidel, so why did he think he needed to do it for me? Did he think I was some weak flower that needed protecting? The thought drove me mad. I had been so close to getting Madame Glitter to confess who was selling drugs to her. So close! What did he think he was doing?
When we finally reached my booth and entered, he released my arm. As I faced him, his icy blue eyes calm, my own anger consumed me. All the emotions I’d ever felt for him burst through the fragile dam I’d created.
I shoved him backward, hoping to make him fall into the table. He didn’t budge. Of course. His inability to move when I touched him seemed like a metaphor of our entire relationship. He could break my heart and not feel guilty, while I had to suffer.
It would stop. It
