Page 86 of Apprentice to the Villain

Evie

Evie chased her brother into the open office space, interns and pixies darting out of their path. She knocked into a desk, and papers flew, one of them sticking stubbornly to her face. “Gideon, stop!” she yelled.

Thank the gods he was halted by Marv, who just so happened to be entering right as Gideon was about to escape. They danced around each other for a second. “’Scuse me, sir,” Marv said politely.

“Marv, don’t let him leave!” Evie screamed, rushing forward. The workers around her eyed the blood caked to her skin and watched the scene with open-mouthed shock. Even though blood wasn’t an abnormal sight here at Massacre Manor (especially during intern orientation), she couldn’t fully blame them. She probably looked like a nightmare.

Marv, bless him, didn’t need to be told twice. He threw his short, stocky form right into Gideon, tackling her brother to the ground. “Got ’im, Ms. Sage!”

She softened for the man as she walked forward, appreciating that he hadn’t batted an eye at the blood or her dishevelment. “Thank you, Marv.”

“And who do we have here?” Marv asked.

“Gideon Sage. A pleasure,” her brother choked out—Marv still lay flat on top of him.

Marvin smiled like they were shaking hands and not getting intimately acquainted on the office floor. “Lovely to officially meet you, Mr. Sage. We’re all very fond of your sister around the office.”

Gideon smiled. “Our mother will be thrilled. Employee of the month, is she?” Though she knew it was a jest, it was in poor taste, all things considered.

She huffed as she sat on the floor beside them. “If he lets you up, will you tell me the truth?”

Gideon nodded, looking at Marv and smiling. “Well, kind sir, I think that’s your cue.”

Marv’s cheeks pinked, but he quickly jumped off her brother. “I was coming in to tell you and the boss, Ms. Sage: Keeley and the others said there were Valiant Guards getting closer to the manor borders. The Malevolent managed to distract them and lead them in a different direction for now, but parts of the manor keep becoming visible again.”

Evie’s heart pounded double time. Clare and Tatianna had still had no luck finding an enchantress to reset the barrier, and though non–magic users could still set invisibility spells, they didn’t seem to be sticking for very long. It was obvious they were only buying themselves a little bit of time.

“Thank you, Marv.” Evie smiled gently, not wanting to alarm the guard any more than he already was.

Marv’s cheeks pinked again as he scurried out of the room and back to his post.

Evie remained on the floor, watching Gideon as he watched her. “Well, we could continue to stare awkwardly at each other, or you could tell me everything you’ve been keeping from me,” she said.

Gideon folded his lips inward. “Staring awkwardly sounds delightful.”

She rolled the dagger handle in her palm and scrunched hernose. “Even if I carve out one of your eyes?”

Her brother frowned. “I don’t recall you being this bloodthirsty.”

“Hazard of the occupation.”

He adjusted his shoulders, setting them back. “I always wanted to be a knight, Eve. Surely you remember that.”

She did, vaguely, along with her own aspirations to be a queen or a sheep herder. Or the summer before her tenth birthday, when she’d tried her hand as a fire-wielding trapeze artist and had promptly fallen off the roof.

And burned a hole in the grass that never grew back.

But those were childhood notions. Evie had always thought that Gideon would settle within their village, perhaps take on the butchery for their father when he grew older. She hadn’t thought their youthful ramblings could make any sort of way for actual employment.

If that were the case, she should have a herd of sheep following her and a crown on her head, which, admittedly, wouldn’t be the strangest sight this office had been witness to, but it was far too close to the week’s end to give her boss a burst blood vessel. Though she likely already had, darting out of the cellar and chasing her brother down the hallway like she did, coated in blood that did not belong to her—because she was tracking it on the floor, not because of the blood itself. Her boss hated mess.

“Before I continue…” Gideon frowned. “May I ask: Did you murder our father?”

“Gideon, that’s a horribly rude question.”

“My apologies. Shall we first sit and ring for tea?”

She slapped him on the shoulder and wiped some of the blood from her chin. “I didn’t murder him. I merely stabbed him in the thigh.”