Goddess With a Blade, Tome 4 : At Blade's Edge

Chapter One

After the sensual pace of Venice, London seemed to fit like a very well-loved jacket. At 11:00 p.m., the city still vibrated with energy. Young people congregated at doorways to pubs and clubs, laughing, fighting, crying loudly over the phone while fighting with boyfriends.

In mid-August, the heat still stuck to her skin, along with the smog. Shiny black cabs whizzed past, darting around busses and pedestrians.

Each neighborhood had its own flavor, and the one she headed to tasted coppery like new money. With hints of pretension. The perfect setting for her quarry, one sanctimonious prick named Roth Wesslyian.

The cacophony of raucous, trendy youth faded into the murmur of patrons sipping expensive cocktails that took twenty minutes and fourteen ingredients to make. They sat at tables on the sidewalk but looked at phone screens instead of one another.

That worked for her purposes. They were all so busily engaged elsewhere, they barely even glanced her way as she strolled past.

Some would instinctively avoid her. Those were most often the people who still listened to their gut feelings. She was a predator and on some level, those people knew it.

Several blocks away from the main road, she crossed a small, perfectly manicured square, dropping onto the bench nestled under a tree.

Just beyond was the three-story flat Roth and his girlfriend lived in. Rowan leaned back as she pulled a neat little pair of field glasses from her pocket so she could get a better view.

Normally she’d have made an attempt to hide what she was up to. But no one seemed to be expecting her in London, though for Goddess’ sake, they should have.

If they had no sense of preservation, she had no problem taking advantage of it.

Admittedly, it was a bit of a thrill to sit there in the open. Doing some crime. Too bad Clive wasn’t there or she’d have gone back home to bounce on him a while.

A television flickered from its place on the wall; casting blue lights against the window in what she knew was the master bedroom.

Her valet, David, had procured the plans for the house easily enough. She even knew where all the security was powered. A central hub made it so easy to take out.

And she would.

When she wanted Roth to know she was there.

For the time being she’d stalk him, terrorize him and make him nervous. Because he was human garbage and she liked to play with her food before killing it.

He was in there, that little rat-fucker. Scurrying around, probably preening anywhere near a reflective surface. The man who’d repeatedly tried to have her killed and worse, paid for the assassination attempts on David.

“I’m coming for you, motherfucker,” Rowan muttered as she watched him parade around in ridiculous pajamas.

Outrage settled in as he lived his life in his silly, excessive way and people had died because of him. More would by the time this was over. How dare he be the one enjoying every sunrise when he’d filled the world with so much shit?

Her lip curled even as she took note that David had just approached from the west. Rowan tucked the glasses back into her pocket, made her notes about Roth’s nighttime routine and by the time her valet sat next to her on the bench, she was ready to be interrupted.

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