But this woman speaks it all and leaves nothing unsaid.

She slips her hand under the table, dumping a heavy pouch into my lap.

My eyes dart to hers. “This is too much.”

She shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes. “I swear it’s not. I will do whatever I must to keep my children safe. Put it toward another woman who can’t afford your help.”

I press my lips together. I only charge a fee to those who can afford to pay something. I donate most of it to women who need support after I dispose of their abusers, or to relocate young girls who need to escape their violent parental homes.

But this woman doesn’t seem wealthy enough to afford so much coin. Warning bells ring in my head.

“What about your children? How can you afford to sacrifice so much?” I ask.

The woman hesitates. “Mabel at Ink and Willow told me that your time is largely donated. I won’t ask how you can afford that if you don’t ask me how I afforded this.”

I nod. Mabel is an excellent judge of character and a trusted part of our network. I could postpone until tomorrow and check with her in the morning to be sure.

I tie the coin purse to my belt. “All right. Where will your husband be tomorrow night?”

The woman’s eyes go wide. Now I see the raw desperation in her face. She’s truly afraid. “Oh no, miss. Please. I already took a huge risk just being here. If it doesn’t happen tonight, he’ll find out I had a neighbor watch the kids. Worse, I had to follow him to find out where he’ll be. I doubt I could do it again tomorrow without getting caught.”

I hold up my hands. “Okay, calm down. I’ll do it. Just tell me where to find him and what he looks like.”

“He went to Heartless Haven Pub with some friends. They’re thick as thieves, but be careful of them as well. He has dark hair and olive skin, and eyes like a dark blue stormy sky. You’ll know him by his coat, though. It’s finely made, dark navy with gold leaf embroidery on the lapel. When we met, he told me the stars had nothing on my eyes and gave me a rose. He has such easy charm, but don’t be fooled,” she says bitterly.

“The truest monsters are always the most at ease,” I say. I take her hands across the table and give them a squeeze.

“Thank you,” she gushes, taking my hand between both of hers. She blinks back tears. “I promise I’ve learned my lesson, and without him gambling and drinking our money away, I’ll be able to take better care of the children. I can’t tell you what this means.”

I nod, pulling my hood farther forward. “Now do me a favor and go have a drink at the bar. Strike up a conversation with both the bartender and the person next to you, and make sure they both know your name. Then, leave in an hour and make your way home. Stay with your friend who is watching the children until ten bells, and then take them to bed.”

“Why?” she asks.

“So you have an alibi when the watchmen come.”

She swallows hard and nods as I hand her back a few coins.

“Good luck,” I say.

I rise from the table and head to the Heartless Haven Pub and what might be the Poison Vixen’s final victim.

OceanofPDF.com

3HARLOW

Inormally change my glamour between meeting the client and the victim so I’m harder to identify if anyone spots me, but my necklace has limited uses, and the power went out when I was a few blocks from the bar. It’s a common occurrence this time of year. If the sunstone network along the walls doesn’t get enough light during the cloudy winter days, all nonessential power is shut down in the evening.

A candlelit bar will be too dark for anyone to notice my eyes.

Unlike when I put on my glamour—by focusing on how I want to look while pulling power from my necklace—to go back to my base appearance, I only need to take it off.

I remove the necklace, brushing my fingers over the delicate star that hangs from the chain, and tuck it into my cloak pocket before turning the corner and pushing open the heavy wooden door of Heartless Haven Pub.

I’ve never met a mark here, but I’ve snuck in a few times for the music.

I’m met with a wave of humid, ale-scented air and boisterous fiddle song as I step inside.

From the threshold, I glance around the room, searching for my mark. There’s a man in a navy coat sitting by the fireplace with a barmaid in his lap, but he’s pushing fifty and, upon closer inspection, his coat doesn’t have any embroidery.

I tug my hood a little farther over my forehead, scanning the crowd, until I see another man in a navy coat with gold embroidery on the far side of the room. I walk toward him, skirting the edge of the room.

My mark leans an elbow on the raw wood bar and laughs with a friend. I move deeper into the crowd, keeping a peripheral eye on him.

He’s younger than I expected. Only a year or two older than me, and, even from a distance, I can see how handsome he is. He has a dusting of stubble over a strong jawline. His dark hair is a little longer than most men in Lunameade wear theirs, but it’s styled neatly into perfect waves. If it wasn’t for his faint sun kissed tan, I might believe he was a wealthy merchant trapped in a shop all day. But I can tell he’s a laborer simply playing the part in his fancy clothes.

He looks handsome and at ease. Then again, the prettiest faces can hide the most vicious violence, and I’ve been fooled before. I ended up with a black eye and broken wrist for my doubts.

I walk farther into the room, sitting down at a table in a darker corner of the pub, right in his sight line. His copper-haired friend grins and claps a hand on his shoulder, then shuffles around the bar and down the hall toward the washroom. My mark’s gaze passes over the crowd.

I choose that moment to tip my hood back and unbutton my cloak. My red silk dress is like a beacon. I feel his gaze immediately, but I force myself to look as if I’m fussing with my cloak before I finally meet his eyes. Smiling softly, I wait for him to take in the truly absurd amount of cleavage I’ve put on display.

In my experience, men never suspect someone lovely could hurt them. The simplest enticements can get them into a room alone with me.

Men like a story of a woman humbled, so I play that part—dazzled by their charm, disarmed by their attention—a lamb stumbling dumbly to the slaughter. A girl wandering a wooded path, unaware of the wolves.

A year ago, before I started doing this secret work, I tried to get Kellan or the city watch to do more to help the women in our community. Both my brother and his guards were content to let women’s worries be women’s work.

But quietly accepting men’s violence was not the women’s work I wanted.

In the absence of a conscience, men need something to fear. I’ve made myself their monster.

I’m not searching for men who need mending. I don’t care for their penance—only their last gasping breaths.

Still, they have the nerve to look betrayed when the burn of poison hits them—outraged that they’ve been caught and bested by someone they expected to be weak. They may only ever be sorry that they underestimated me, but that’s something.

I twist my lips into a shy smile, which my mark returns. He stands, placing a coin on the bar and gesturing to my table. This is going to be easier than expected. I didn’t even need to work to get him to come over to me.

He holds my gaze, and there’s an arrogant confidence about him as he swaggers to my table.

“Excuse me, miss, are you waiting for someone?”

I grin. “Not anymore.”

He laughs and sits in the seat across from me. “Is that how it works for someone so striking? You wear an extraordinary dress and you’re never at a loss for eager company?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“I hope you’ll forgive my forwardness, but I couldn’t let another moment pass or I was certain you would have been set upon by at least a dozen other men. Those eyes put the stars to shame.” He reaches into his coat and hands me a white rose.