Time

Time slid like silk sheets between my fingers. Easy and effortless, and shocking when I looked back to see how much of it I'd already gone through. I spent most of my time staring at a set of four walls. Different four walls every few weeks, when we traveled from place to place. But no matter where we went, I tended to stay in my room.

But time still passed outside my door, the world donning its autumnal colors as I hid away from it and attempted to find answers. The rare exceptions to the rule were retrieval missions. I went twice, taking Jordan along both times.

After the escape from Monasterio Trapense Nuestra Señora de Quilvo with a nasty bite from one of the safeguards, Jordan and I spent the night alone in a hotel room. He blushed an interesting shade of pink when I stripped off my pants so he could tend the wound. He tried not to stare at the polka-dotted underwear I wore. It was sweet.

And after the wound was wrapped, I kissed him. That was sweeter still.

Family

Nicodemus and Deirdre stuck close and tried their best to act like we were all one big family. A horribly incestuous and dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless. When not drawn apart by necessary pursuits we ate supper together. Often ordered in from expensive restaurants, because neither seemed the sort to dirty their hands with something so plebeian as household chores. I would cook occasionally, with Lasciel hissing recipes from Better Homes and Gardens into my ear so I wouldn't unintentionally poison the dinner party.

We'd sit around a table in whatever palatial, fortress-like estate they always had on hand when we traveled. After those first months conversation came in spurts. Sometimes about my current projects, but often things that were banal. Ordinary. Seemingly innocuous. I'd examine each topic, sift it like a paranoid gold prospector, trying to find the hidden agenda. Often, there was none. Just the very human need to socialize. Everyone had it apparently, even this villainous trio.

Once I'd even heard Nicodemus make a joke. A genuinely funny aside. It had been a shock to my system and my laughter had come a beat too late. My heart lurched like I'd missed the last step on a staircase.

No one acknowledged the slip. The rest of the dinner was spent in silence.

Sleepless nights

I drank a lot of coffee.

Eight cups a day, minimum and I sometimes compounded my caffeine use by adding in a couple of Cokes for good measure. If it weren't for Lasciel's subtle nudging of my metabolism, I probably would have gotten the shakes more often than I did.

Coffee often replaced breakfast and lunch, because I just didn't have the patience to get up and seek it out. Even asking one of the Squires to retrieve it for me felt like too much of a chore most days. I'd have dinner with Nic and Deirdre at night. My jeans grew loose over the course of my stay. Eventually, I tired of having to buy new and switched to wearing drawstring sweats instead. Easier that way.

I stayed in my room researching what would be needed to pull off my burgeoning plan to rid the world of the Red Court. I stayed up nights, pouring over texts until my beleaguered eyes screamed for mercy and my poor body keeled over from sheer exhaustion. My record was five days. I was sure Lasciel had something to do with that.

And after weeks of exhaustive research, I found what I was looking for. I celebrated with a nap, curled in Jordan's arms, using him as a pillow.

Training

Nicodemus didn't allow layabouts or bumblers. While my swordplay was competent, it wasn't good enough. So we sparred. Anduriel would often get in on the match, making sure I couldn't cheat my way to victory using magic, acting as a counter to Lasciel should she try to do the same.

He was a demanding taskmaster but the results were impressive. My body was honed to a razor's edge, my combat skills both magical and mundane absolutely lethal.

Sometimes the exhaustion was the only thing that could send me off to dreamless sleep. So I fought Nicodemus like it was my life's ambition to kill him.

Because someday, when my current goals were met, it would be.

Unworthy

Jordan treated me reverentially at first, in awe that I'd chosen him among all the initiates to train. Just as Nicodemus had trained me, so I trained Jordan, trying to keep his tongue safe from Deirdre at the very least. It was put to use in a different capacity when I broke away from research long enough to see him. There were rarely any words.

He was fumbling, eager, like he was a mortal in the presence of a goddess, unsure if he was allowed to touch. Months slid by and the gentle touches became more demanding. We did not have sex. He only asked once and whispered a question when I denied him.

"Is it because I'm unworthy, my lady?"

My heart ached for him, for the insecurity the question revealed. There was only one thing to say. There was a party line to toe, and I'd pushed it far enough already. Nicodemus would raise hell if he ever found out.

"Yes. That's the reason why."

Zero

It was shocking just how many invitations Nicodemus received from various organizations. Most of them hoped to court his favor.

Despite his lavish lifestyle, Nicodemus turned out to be rather reclusive, rubbing elbows with only who and what he must to keep his many arrangements afloat. Most of the time the only company he kept was mine, Deirdre's, and Anduriel's.

I turned the invitation to a very exclusive Chicago nightclub over in my hand. Zero. A White Court establishment that promised unforgettable pleasure. I shoved the idle curiosity into the pocket of my corset jacket on a whim.

Girls just wanna have fun, after all.

Curses

I'd found it. The spell to end all spells. A bloodline curse that would scoop the Reds out like the malignant cancer they were. I had the money and the power to do it and no one to tell me no.

I purchased four supermax prisons through black market connections. The inmates were the worst of the worst. The vilest, most violent, and irredeemable refuse that the human race had to offer. I felt only a few needle pricks of conscience when I accepted the fact they'd all have to die to fuel the spell. It wasn't like the world was going to miss serial killers, rapists, and the like.

I found the confluence of ley lines in the middle of Lake Michigan, and an old, nearly forgotten map. The place was called Hard Rock, once upon a time. The location of a cannery, though the island had been mysteriously empty for many years.

I told Nicodemus that night. His smile would have frightened a shark. He patted me on the head with what could almost be considered paternal approval.

"Well done."

The praise sent prickles of pure panic down my spine. A tiny voice whispered; "What are we doing?"

What's necessary, I answered. So shut up and let me work, will you?