10. Nora

10

NORA

" I 'm going to kill him."

I brush my gloves off on my trousers, plaster dust streaking across the black fabric.

"What? Who?" Josie asks when I step from the kitchen.

She pushes off the wall she was leaning against.

"The one who did this," I say.

I walk past her, needing to get out of this brownstone.

"Okay. Yeah. Agreed." Her footsteps quicken to keep pace with me.

"Right now. I'm going to kill Jamison."

Once I'm out the front door, I hop down the last two steps and make a beeline for the car. The boxy black Cadillac idles at the curb, white-rimmed wheels waiting to deliver me to my vengeance.

"Woah, woah, woah." Josie manages to get in front of me, raising her hands as if she can placate me with a gesture. "Why do you think it's him? This could have been a burglary gone wrong."

"We both know that it wasn't."

"Sure. But we need to think before taking action," she says. "Preferably, in a rational way. Why do you think it's Jamison?"

I toss the note at her. She catches it before it can fall to the pavement.

"Because he said this to me yesterday. Bastard was probably pissed I knocked him on his ass after he tried to cheat me."

"Okay, I can buy that. But what about the rest of it?"

"Rest of what? We go and we off him. That is the rest of it."

"Nora," she deadpans.

" Josie," I mock.

"If Jamison did this, then he knows about that night."

"All the more reason to kill him and be done with it."

"You're not listening," she growls. "How does he even know about what happened to your parents? Why would he taunt you with reminders of that? Especially for something as small as last night's slight."

"Because he's an asshole trying to make a point? Men have done worse for less," I snap, trying to push past her. But Josie shoves me back with more strength than you'd think she'd have, given her slim stature.

"Stop being dense and think!"

Her voice is full of frustration, but her tone does its job, making me pause. The world, which was blurred around me, only showing me the one directive, comes back into focus. My head swivels, taking in the empty street around us.

"Okay," I say. I take a deep breath. "Okay."

I'm sorry. I project the thought from my mind, knowing Josie will hear it, and will feel the sincerity in it. Can we finish this in the car?

She doesn't answer, just opens the passenger side door and sits on the front bench.

I round the car, popping into the driver's seat. It roars to life when I turn the ignition key, the engine vibrating the entire vehicle. I put it in gear, and we sit in silence until we've driven through the portal and are back in the safety of Anwynn's streets.

"Anyone who was there that night is long dead. I made sure of that years ago. Outside of Pride himself, of course," I say, turning down a one-way street that leads us back to our apartment building.

"You're positive ?" Josie asks, her brows furrowed as she stares out the window.

"You've scraped my memories over and over again yourself—did I miss anyone?"

Josie lets out a sigh. "No."

"So, unless Pride told someone, which he wouldn't ," I say. "Then there's only one answer to your question."

She fills in the blanks. "He's working for a Virtue."

"Not just any Virtue."

Josie stares at me, but I keep my attention on the road. "You really think Patience is pulling the strings?"

"What we saw is too similar for it not to be."

A beat passes between us as we pull to a stop in front of our building. The valet waits patiently outside my door, but I don't get out of the vehicle, leaving it running.

I think the stakes of it all hit us both at the same time.

"We need to be careful with how we handle this," Josie says.

"I know."

" You need to be careful."

"I know."

"So, where do you want to go from here?"

I start packing away my own doubts. Compartmentalization is a skill I learned early on. Unfortunately, emotional regulation didn't click as easily.

As I have proven many times over today.

"First, I want all families stationed human-side moved back to Anwynn."

"What? That'll push back the timeline on our new shipments by?—"

"That was an order, not a suggestion," I cut her off. "You asked me to think and act rationally. I will not needlessly risk more lives until we know more about the situation."

I'm not an empath, but I can feel the subtle approval radiating off her.

"Okay," Josie says. "I'll handle that transition personally. They won't be happy, though."

"I'd rather they be pissed at me than dead."

We get out of the car, slamming the doors shut and tossing the keys to the valet.

"And we're still paying Jamison a visit," I add as I hold the building door open for Josie. "Someone needs to pay for the lives lost, and I think he needs a reminder that Sins are scarier than Virtues."

I can't sleep.

My dreams are plagued with memories I'd long since banished but can't fully exorcize from my consciousness.

Nothing some tea and a cigarette can't fix.

I'm nursing a Black Cat, the tobacco a bitter companion on my tongue as I wait for the kettle to boil, when Josie shuffles into our shared kitchen.

We each claimed half of the penthouse suite in one of the apartment buildings our House owns. The kitchen and dining room split the floor, giving us both a neutral ground to coexist and privacy when we need it.

"Can't sleep?" I ask.

She rubs at her eyes before waving at her head.

"Migraine," she says.

I hum. Josie gets them often. A side effect of always having to engage with her magic—otherwise, she'd be bombarded by a constant stream of people's thoughts.

"I'll make you a cup, then."

I pull an extra mug from the pantry, along with the bag of loose-leaf tea. The kettle whistles, and I pull it from the burner, clicking the flame off. I throw the portioned bag into the pot to let it steep and bum out my cigarette. The blackberry aroma quickly overtakes the room.

"Are you okay?" Josie asks. She's taken up her usual spot in our breakfast nook, plump cheek balanced on her hand.

"Define okay," I chuckle.

That pulls a sleepy snort from her. "Adjective. Satisfactory but not exceptionally good."

I huff a laugh, leaning back against the counter, and pull my silk robe tighter around me.

"I'll be fine. Today was just… a lot."

"Are you going to tell me what happened with Imogen?"

I turn with a sigh, worrying my lip as I pour us each a portion of tea. I drop a cube of sugar into both mugs and add a splash of cream to mine before bringing them to the kitchen table.

Josie blows on her tea as she waits for me to answer, steam dancing off her cup in little twirls.

"We were arguing."

She quirks a brow over her cup as if to say Yes, I know that already. Please continue .

"She told Silas about the tonic."

"Ah." Understanding fills her warm brown eyes.

"Yeah."

"I take it Silas wasn't too happy with you during the meeting today? Though it couldn't have been that bad considering you walked out alive."

"You could say that." I take a sip, letting the scalding tea burn my tongue. "Actually, I need to make a few calls. We need to take him with us to see Jamison."

"What?"

I wave my hand. "I'll fill you in with Hattie and Claude tomorrow."

"Okay." She hugs her mug with both hands on the table. "Back to Imogen, then."

I groan, head hanging back.

"She snuck behind our backs and nearly cost us this deal. And, apparently, this wasn't the first time. Silas has been using her for information on us since I took over." I lick my tea-stained lips. "Not like we have much to hide when it comes to business bu?—"

"But this was the one thing that could have ruined us," Josie finishes. "Bad timing."

"Terrible timing." I sniffle, the steam wafting up from my mug making my nose runny. "I shouldn't feel like my stomach is going to fall out of my ass, but the look in her eye when I yelled at her… it's bothering me."

An elongated sigh slips from Josie's lips. She weighs her words before she speaks.

"Hearing she did that, I'm definitely hurt. But I don't think Imogen would betray our trust for nothing. There's gotta be a good reason." Josie stares into her tea. "Did she say why?"

"We didn't get that far before you pulled me away." I circle the rim of my mug; the ceramic burns my fingertip, but I let it. "Does the why even matter?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"The right why could ease your guilt."

"I don't feel guilty. She betrayed me . I'm angry."

" No . I think you want to be angry. But instead, you feel remorse ‘cause you're stuck on her," Josie says, expertly uncoiling my unsaid thoughts. "And that complicates things. Especially if she has a good reason to back up her actions."

Stuck on Imogen… I scoff internally. That's a terrible understatement. Ever since she walked into my class ten years ago, I‘ve wanted her.

Could I quit my addiction to her?

I chew the inside of my cheek, thankful for Josie's patience as I search for the right words.

"I don't know where to go from here," I admit.

Josie's head bobs back and forth, lips pursed. "If you care about her, or even just value her friendship, then the first step is to ask her why. Then maybe apologize. Then talk about your fucking feelings for once."

My head drops to my forearm on the table with a groan. "I hate apologizing. It makes me feel weak."

Josie laughs. "You apologize to me plenty."

"That's because you're the one person in Faerie who is right more often than me." The words are mumbled into the wood. "And I hate you for it."

"You don't hate me."

"No, I don't."

I peer up at my best friend—my sister—and give her a soft smile that only she's ever seen.

She squeezes my forearm.

"I'm going to have to talk to her too. Hash it out. But as for the trust part, try to give her some credit. It's hard enough being your friend. I cannot imagine being your girlfriend," Josie snorts. "I'm sure you'll think of some way for her to gain it back. Just like I'm sure she'll be willing to entertain your antics to gain it back."

"Like a test?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of inviting her to dinner, talking to her… but a test could work too."

A beat passes between us before we both chuckle into our tea, sad little smiles dancing over our teeth.

"I still need to think about it," I say.

"It's okay to take your time."

"Thank you, Josie."

"You're welcome, Nor."

And then we sit, each refusing to leave the other. Hours pass, the moon says its goodbye, but Josie's shoulder doesn't stray far from mine. Her presence is a quiet comfort.

Sometimes, you just need to not be alone.

The window teases a purple-pink morning sky, and taxi exhausts pop, the world moving forward while we sit still.