Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (4 page)

MOLLY HAD ALMOST
convinced herself by the next morning that Tensley wasn’t coming back.

He doesn’t exist.

She combed her curly hair out of her face with her same yellow brush, viciously stroking it until she heard a crack and stopped herself from breaking the brush in half.

Calm. Down.

Stupid brush.

Stupid emotions.

She dressed in a baby blue dress shirt and paired it with a pleated black skirt for work, completing the outfit with her massive sunglasses. She eyed her expansive collection of vintage designer shoes from years before that she had ended up leaving at her parents’ house instead of taking to the apartment, and picked a pair she knew wouldn’t let her down that day.

Everything’s fine
.

“What did he do?”

Molly spun, terrified—but it was only her dad in the doorway, dark bags hanging underneath his usually happy blue eyes. When she stared back at him, Tensley’s words chanted in her head.

He’d rip her life apart, beginning with the people she held close.

She relaxed her features and shook her head. “He didn’t do anything, dad. We talked.” The last thing she wanted was for her dad to pick another fight with Tensley, in case the demon really meant what he’d said about removing her dad’s limbs. “Look, I need to get to the museum.” Avoiding eye contact, she walked by him and downstairs.

“Did he say anything?” Fiona called from the kitchen.

“He said he’s my fiancé.”

“
Fiancé?
The contract never said anything about that.” Derrek curled his hands into fists.

Her mother wrung her smooth hands, now blocking Molly’s way out the front door. “There must be a way out. Can’t we do something?”

“I don’t know...”

Molly had heard the tale so many times, but as she’d aged and the shadows had never returned, she’d fooled herself into believing it wasn’t true. Of course, it was fed to her in pieces her parents thought she should know, without the pieces they thought she shouldn’t know.

“We’ll figure something out,” Fiona said, her eyes wide and unfocused. Then her features warped into a forced smile. “How about you skip the museum today and we can have a spa day, okay?”

Molly sighed. “You know I can’t miss work. I worked too hard to get in.”

“We could easily find you a new internship. Something well known and accomplished,” her dad added.

“I earned it on my own. I don’t want to have to rely on you and Mom any more,” Molly said, the cool sensation stirring behind her eyes. She took a deep breath; she needed to stay sane and maintain a sense of normalcy. “I need to go.”

Molly brushed past her and onto Madison Avenue, making sure her sunglasses were securely on her face.

The street was crowded and loud, and Molly’s stomach grumbled for gooey chocolate donuts as she eyed a bakery’s store window. She refrained diligently, instead picking up the daily coffees and teas for her coworkers, and a whole-wheat bagel with cream cheese. If she wanted to get into the line of work she’d dreamed of, she needed to start from the bottom, even if it meant picking up coffees and dry cleaning to move up. Along with those things, she got to research, and that quenched her desires.

When she made it to the Museum of Muses, she passed out the coffees and teas to each manager, manager’s assistant, and manager assistant’s assistant, and was just sitting down at her tiny desk of organized colored folders when someone spoke.

“Ms. Crawford?”

Molly jumped in her seat at her mother’s maiden name; it was how she’d gotten her internship the
real
way, without her parents’ inadvertent help. She turned around to see her boss, Mrs. Everett standing nearby. “Yes?”

“Do you have a moment?”

Molly’s heart raced.
Oh shit, I’m fired. Did I mess up?
She nodded, following Mrs. Everett’s tall frame down the sleek white hallway, focused on the beat of her heels. When they entered a large office that overlooked Central Park, she took a deep breath and sat down in front of the other curators for the museum waiting there, Mr. Cho and Ms. Albinson.

“Your sunglasses, Ms. Crawford?” Ms. Albinson questioned. Molly touched underneath her glasses, heart stuttering.
What the hell is going on?

“She’s very sensitive to light. She’s been approved to wear them,” Mrs. Everett answered.

“Ms. Crawford, this is your second summer working with us.” Molly nodded at Ms. Albinson’s cool, detached tone, her large forehead wrinkled. “And you’re going back to Columbia in the fall?”

“Yes,” Molly’s voice croaked. “To study Arts and Humanities, preferably Museum Studies.”

“I see. You had the highest mark in your class, you ran the International School Exchange Program at Columbia, and you’re fluent in French, English, and Spanish; quite the list of achievements for someone your age,” Ms. Albinson mused, reading off the resume she held.

Molly played with the hem of her skirt. “I love language, so I wanted to focus on that.”

Ms. Albinson leaned back in her chair, fixing her bold black glasses. “And what have you been working on recently?”

“I’ve been researching an exhibit focused on India’s Deccan Courts during the sixteenth century with Mr. White. The art itself from that time period is”—she took a deep breath, seeing it in her mind—“otherworldly; it’s poetic lyricism in paintings, if you will.” Molly blinked a few times behind her glasses and caught faint smiles on their faces.

Mr. Cho placed his pen on the table and threaded his fingers in front of him. “You certainly seem to have a passion for working here. What we’re proposing is for you to work here next school year as a
paid
intern. We only take on so many during the year, and we choose those we feel have promise.” He paused. “But for us to choose you as one of our few paid interns, we must know if you can handle it. Exemplary work over the next months will secure you the position.”

Molly sat there slack-jawed, staring at them for longer than necessary.
This can’t be happening.

“We know this museum is not as well-known compared to others in the city and we do not have their kind of funding, but we are interested in you becoming part of our intern team. What do you say?” Ms. Everett prompted.

“Yes,
yes,
of course!” Molly clasped her hands together and grinned widely at them. “Thank you so much.”

Molly happily bounced out of the room. If she got the paid internship, she wouldn’t have to worry about moving back into her parent’s house or looking for a lower-paying part-time job. She rushed back to her desk to devour her paperwork and as she picked up a pen, her racing heart stalled—the ring was a reminder of the darkness looming ahead, the stupid ring she couldn’t remove. She needed a plan; she needed an escape strategy.

By the time she glanced up from her research, she saw it was ten after three.
Shit!
She dug through her purse for her phone and saw September’s multiple messages and several missed calls filled the screen. The latest few read:

SEPTEMBER

3:01 P.M.

Hey I’m here

SEPTEMBER

3:05 P.M.

I’m hungry and I never got my McDonald’s last night. Lies.

SEPTEMBER

3:09 P.M.

Seriously where the hell are you?

SEPTEMBER

3:11 P.M.

MOLLY DARLING DO I NEED TO COME IN THERE AND KICK YOUR RICH GIRL ASS

Molly gathered her things and said goodbye to the security guards. She rushed out into the sunshine and sighed at the warmth, away from the frigid AC.

September lounged on the steps nearby, balancing a pencil on the back of her hand. Molly approached her carefully, hugging her books to her chest. “Hey September, sorry I’m late—and about last night, too. I got tired and just stayed at my parents’ place.”

“My stomach forgives you.” September dusted off her ripped, worn-out boyfriend jeans as she stood. Her dark brown hair was braided, with random strands dyed vibrant blues, yellows, and pinks. “So? What are you all smiley about?”

Molly giggled.
I can’t hold it in!
“Well, I just got offered a chance at a paid internship during the school year…”

“No way!” September clapped her hands. They hugged and a bit of September’s hair got in Molly’s mouth. “Sooo…” September pulled back, rocking on her feet. “How
was
last night? You’re not fooling anyone with that ‘stayed at my parents’ place’ bullshit.’ You’re old enough to go to a guy’s house. I’m not judging, but you gotta
tell
me.”

Molly chewed the inside of her mouth. “Can I go eat the equivalent of my body weight in baked goods first?”

“Ohhh, no. Spill.” September folded her arms.

“It’s nothing,” Molly insisted, attempting a weak smile.

That earned her a raised brow. “Mol, you can tell me.”

Molly shuffled her black Kate Spades against the concrete. “Do you know anything about…um…demons?”

“If you count a certain redhead who hosted your birthday party last night, then yes. I know a shit-ton about them,” September joked.

This is stupid—she’s not going to believe me.
“Forget it,” Molly sighed, starting down the steps.

September raced after her and blocked her path. “I was kidding. Well, partially.” She paused. “But really, I’ve watched
The Exorcist
if that helps. I, however, cannot do a crabwalk down the stairs. No one is that skilled.”

Molly forced a thin smile. “I’m just under a lot of pressure. The internship, my parents, school, being an ‘adult’, Ten—” Molly stopped. She couldn’t tell September about
him
; what if it was dangerous? She wanted to go back to the time when they’d giggled about the idea of the shadows coming back, back to when it didn’t seem real.

“Mol, if it’s Stella and Tina, they’re bitches,” September said. “Do you want me to do something? ‘Cause my fists would love to meet both of their plastic faces.”

Molly narrowed her eyes. “
September.
”

September smirked. “What can I say? Being rough is in my blood. Brooklyn born.”

“Hey ladies.” Both of them turned to see Stella and Tina marching closer.

Molly’s shoulders stiffened. She didn’t know why the two of them were in front of the museum, since they’d seemingly made it their lives’ missions to never go to a museum.

“What are you doing here?” Molly eyed the two girls.

Stella raised a brow and glanced at Tina. “The Doctors Without Borders meeting is at the Plaza at four.”

“No—that’s not until tomorrow,” Molly insisted, pulling her planner out when the heiresses exchanged skeptical looks. Skimming the ink-laden pages, Molly’s finger stilled on the bold black letters.

Damn it.

It wasn’t like her to forget plans, but with the arrival of Tensley, her mind had been otherwise occupied.

“Are you too busy at the museum to keep track?” Tina folded her bone-thin arms. “We’d understand—your mom might have a fit, but it doesn’t matter to us.”

“No, no, I just…” Molly paused. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and it slipped my mind.”

Stella gave her a long, calculating look. “So where the hell did you
go
, Darling? After bolting out of my living room, that is. I planned that party
just
for you, and you ditched us. I wanted you to let loose for one night.” Molly could hear the hurt in Stella’s voice.

“I had to leave to see my parents,” Molly said, glancing at September for support.

“You’re nineteen now. Screw them,” Tina huffed. Her New York accent was thicker than the rest of them, and it only made her seem more exotic. “A lot of rich hotties were there after you left, too. Michael asked where you went.”