Page 1 of Accomplice to the Villain

Prologue

Once upon a time…

Evie Sage’s first month working for The Villain had been rather unconventional, though at least not cataclysmically shocking. A spilled cauldron brew here, a poisoned intern there. But therehadbeen a few strange…incidents. The most recent being her summoned into work two hours early for a meeting she was almost certain could’ve been a short message sent through the ravens.

Find better things to complain about, Evie! Like the hand you found in the reuse bin last week!

Although that had at least given her the opportunity to ask the boss if heneeded an extra set of hands. The frank horror on his face had caused her to laugh so hard, she nearly made herself sick.

It was mildly disconcerting that he was more offended by her harmless jokes than the foreign limb he’d lobbed in with the discarded parchment—Beckyhatedwhen they mixed anything in with parchment recycling—but she digressed.

Sighing and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she watched as the invisible barrier around Massacre Manor wavered underneath her fingers. Her attention flickered to the rising sun leaking color into the still-darkened sky. It looked as though someone had spilled orange and pink inks onto a dark-gray tapestry—pretty, if anything could be so before eight in the morning.

Marv, the Malevolent Guard at the front gate, gave her a gentle wave, and she smiled brightly at him, blowing a kiss that pinked his cheeks. “Good morning, Ms. Sage! Early bird gets the worm?” His normally wild hair was contained underneath a red leather helmet while Evie’s was plaited to the side, a few loose hairs pulling free around her face as they swayed in the early-morning breeze.

She stepped back as the large wooden door slid open with a familiar creaking, the damp chill of the entrance hall cooling her cheeks and filling her senses with the smell of wood burning and musty walls. “More like the early bird doesn’t get fired…and knowing the boss, that would be literal, I’m afraid.”

Marv’s chortle sounded behind her as her heels clicked on the stone floor, the torchlight brightening the room and warming it against the morning air. A low groaning echoed from the other end of the large, open space, near the only corner that was shrouded in darkness.

Her brow furrowed as she waved a hand forward. “Hello? Whatever creepy sound you’re trying to make, can you kindly do it under the torchlight so I can see you? That way I can scream properly.”

“Sage?” The rasp of The Villain’s voice caused a tingle of sensation to move down her spine. “You shouldn’t be here,” he grunted out, his dark shape inching toward the edge of the shadows that cloaked him.

She huffed and quirked a brow, folding her arms and pushing her thick braid behind her shoulder. “On that, we agree. I should still be in bed, curled up with my favorite nighttime companion.”

She thought she heard him choke. “Companion?” There was an odd sound of warning in the word that made her shiver just slightly.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “His name is Mr. Muffins.”

“Mr. Muffins?” She could see his shadow inching closer to the light, his voice gruff and laced with confusion. “You’re laying with a man called Mr. Muffins? Who in the deadlands is named something so ridiculous?”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at his obvious outrage. “A teddy bear I’ve had since I was six.”

There was a long silence before a flat word broke it. “Oh.”

She snorted and walked closer, as did he, finally washing himself in the light of the torches and the colors seeping into the room from the rising sun. She halted a few feet from him, eyes widening when she saw his face, words falling off her tongue before she could think better of them. “Wow, you look…terrible.”

The cobwebbed logical part of her brain sighed and rolled over so it wouldn’t have to witness what came next.

The boss’s normally tailored stubble was overgrown into a near beard, his shirt untucked, his hair mussed, and his normally pressed pants wrinkled beyond reason. “I beg you not to shower me with compliments, Sage. I hardly know what to do with them.”

Worry wove itself into the bottom of her stomach. Even his dry commentary seemed off, almost guarded. Clearing her throat, she stepped closer to take in the rest of him. Purple under his eyes, flexed fingers, tensed jaw, pulsing vein in his forehead.

She frowned andtsked. “Did one of the interns say good morning to you again? Itoldthem pleasant greetings were strictly prohibited.”

He shut his eyes for a moment and flattened his mouth into a firm line, like if he pressed hard enough, he could crush whatever emotion was about to show itself on his lips. “As much as I enjoy blaming others for my mistakes, I’m afraid there is no one to blame for my unkempt appearance but myself.” His dark eyes roved over her soft orange day dress, the distaste at her color choice obvious in the tightening of his fists at his sides. “And you, I suppose. For having the gall to witness it.”

The door suddenly slammed closed behind them, and Evie jolted, clasping a hand to her chest and her racing heart. “I hardly think it’s fair to blame me for anything, when you were the one who requested me here so early in the first place.”

He frowned deeper—if that was even possible—which made him look even more beautiful—

Ifthatwas even possible.

Annoyed and tired, she lost her patience at waiting for him to catch up to her. “You sent a raven…”

When he stared blankly at her, she continued to bumble out words, her mouth eager to get every thought out of her head to make room for the new ones. “It showed up at my window at four in the morning and scared the living daylights out of me. With a note saying we had an early-morning meeting about something urgent?”

A low hum sounded from his closed lips. It cleared any remaining tiredness from her system, like cauldron brew but better, warmer. “I don’t recall writing or sending… My restraint is at a low this morning, Sage, and apparently my memory as well. I must have written it before I was fully lucid. Please disregard the raven.”