Getting in cars with strangers is a very basic rule that I’ve never had a problem following, but it’s silly to reject the ride when this is the woman I’ve traveled to see. The only one who can help me.
I lift my chin. “Yes, I’m looking for you.”
“Very good.” She leans back and rolls the window up.
I blink at my own reflection distorted back at me. I look impossibly young and naive, and I’m pretty sure there’s a crease on my face from where I had myself propped up against the window on the bus ride. I’d hoped to clean up before meeting her, because first impressions matter. Oh well. One works with what one has.
The driver’s side door opens up and a tall Black woman with short cropped hair emerges. She gives me a once-over and shakes her head, but she doesn’t say a word as she puts my bag into the trunk, and opens the door for me. It’s too late to back out now. I’ve come too far.
I climb into the backseat.
When I was small, my sisters used to threaten me with the Sea Witch whenever they decided I was being annoying. If you don’t act right, the Sea Witch will come and take you away. It used to terrify me as a child. Now she terrifies me for other reasons. A woman doesn’t come by a reputation like hers without some kind of truth behind it. But she is only a woman, flesh and blood just like me. Or that’s what I tell myself as I try to shake the feeling I’m a mouse who’s just cuddled up to a cat.
Her presence fills the space, squeezing my chest even though she’s retreated to the other side of the seat and isn’t touching me. In the dim interior, I can see that she’s wearing a wrap dress with a dark pattern almost like bubbles on it. It’s pretty and obviously expensive, but a printed dress should make her more approachable.
It doesn’t.
She’s studying me the same way I’m looking at her. I don’t want to know what verdict she comes up with. I’m not at my best. I dressed for comfort instead of making an impression, wearing my favorite faded jeans, a tank top, and knitted cardigan that’s fraying a bit in spots.
The silence spins out between us, strangely loaded. Even knowing better, I can’t stop myself from breaking it first. “I don’t trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” She shrugs a shoulder. The move draws my attention to her impressive cleavage, and I immediately jerk my eyes back to her face. Ursa is attractive, but it’s more complicated than beautiful. She’s powerful. She’s not even doing anything other than looking at me, and I’m fighting to draw each breath.
All the lessons I’ve spent a lifetime learning go right out the window. “What do you want with me?”
“I want to help you.” There it is again, her wicked smile that does nothing to reassure me. “I have something of a soft spot for Alaric. This is a favor to him.”
She isn’t telling the truth. Ursa is the Sea Witch. Even if she were madly in love with Alaric, she wouldn’t give him to me. She certainly wouldn’t do something to undermine her own power and territory as a favor. She’s also very clearly not going to tell me the truth.
I narrow my eyes. “Then why not pay his debt and free him?”
“It’s complicated.” She doesn’t look away from me as the car slides back into traffic. “I can see you don’t believe me, so I’ll lay it out for you. Hades’s neutral territory is too valuable to risk; as such, he won’t allow anyone in Carver City to interfere with his precious deals. Alaric made a deal, and I pay his debt, it might look like I’m using Alaric’s bargain as a way to bribe Hades, which impacts his interactions with the other territory leaders. It’s messy and that man abhors a mess. You, my dear, are a very convenient loophole.”
It seems reasonable enough, but she’s very pointedly not mentioning her history with my father, which is the very definition of mess, even if I don’t know the specific details. “Very convenient indeed.”
“Now, before we begin, I have to ask.” Ursa sits back, somehow looking every inch a queen in the vaguely cramped backseat. “How far are you willing to go?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “As far as it takes.” I’ve never experienced what I feel for Alaric with anyone else. If that’s not love, what is? And if it is love, it’s worth fighting for. It’s worth sacrificing for.
She nods as if she expects no less. “And what do you have to bargain with?”
I flush. I have a trust fund, but I won’t have access to it until I’m thirty. I’ve never wanted for anything, but all my credit cards and bank accounts are linked to my father. My liquid assets are minimal. Except… I touch my necklace. “I have this.”