Imposter

Chapter 44

When they reached the dock, Retha ordered everyone but Katrina to stay exactly where they were.

"What are we doing here?" Katrina asked as they stepped onto the sand.

She'd never been to Eloe, one of the three islands. Dante had vacationed there several times, and he said it was nothing more than a quiet getaway.

It wasn't where one would go for an adventure, and Katrina didn't know what someone like Retha wanted with the poor, unsuspecting island.

"I am here to collect something," Retha said.

"So why am I here with you, and not Mason?"

Retha looked down at her, narrowing her turquoise eyes. "What gave you the impression I like being asked questions?"

"Sorry." Katrina bit her lip and looked away.

"There is an old house not far from here," Retha said. "Do you think you can make the walk?"

"Of course," Katrina said. "I just don't understand why."

"You don't have to understand," Retha said. "What about Jericho? How long have you been in love with him?"

Katrina frowned. "I don't understand why you think I'm in love with him."

"And I don't understand why you are in love with him, when there's a much better man in front of you. Jericho is a boy, and a foolish one at that." Retha clucked her tongue. "With enough training, you could be a proper lady—or at least, halfway there."

"And who is this 'much better' man?" Katrina demanded, stopping in her tracks and propping her hands on her hips.

Retha turned slightly. "Who do you think?"

"I don't know!"

"Mason."

Katrina snorted. "Right. Because I want to be with a mass murderer. Also—he drinks blood. No thanks."

No sooner had she gotten the words out had Retha wrapped one hand around her throat, lifting her an inch off the ground.

"You ought to remember your place, child," she snarled, her eyes fiery. "Don't think that just because he fucked you a few times doesn't mean he won't kill you if he gets the mind to. You are not important to this mission, and I will give him permission to kill you if that is what he wants."

She let go of her and Katrina stumbled back, gasping for air.

"That proves my point," she snapped, rubbing her sore neck. "I stand by what I said."

"Mason cannot help his condition," Retha said, her eyes calculating. "Much like you can't help yours."

Fear caused her heart to jump. "I'm nothing like him," she said, her voice unsteady. "I'm nothing like you."

"One day you will have more dead bodies on your hand than even Mason," Retha said. "But just remember—you're nothing like him."

Retha made Katrina wait outside an old, rundown house that was covered with weeds. When she returned, she was carrying a tiny, golden box.

"Give me your hand," she ordered.

Katrina eyed the box warily, holding her hands behind her back. "Why?"

On top of the box was a small, silver sword. It looked real, and painful. It was stuck on the box so that the tip was pointing up.

"I can't open it if you don't," Retha said impatiently. "I sealed it with the blood of a Blood-Seer and that is the only way I can open it."

"I'm not a Blood-Seer," Katrina said defensively. "I don't have magic."