Chapter 10
TEN
KSENIA
Thing leads the way down to the kitchen—a large extensive room below the ground floor—but I hang back by the door near the staircase because Hannah is fussing over everything she is sure we need to take with us.
I’m eager to get going, conscious of every moment of daylight, and ready to leave this castle.
Yeah, these guys are big and a little freaky-looking, but it’s more so their intentions.
That Abaddon guy clearly doesn’t trust me, and paranoid people are dangerous.
Plus, the other one—well, he was happy to make his intentions quite clear to me this morning.
I woke to find the maniac twin grinning and flying above my head as I slept on the couch. His tail whipped around, and the flat, slightly pointy leather-like flap on the very tip of it covered my mouth to muffle my scream.
“Hello, consort, my consort,” he said.
I immediately leaped off the couch, crouching low and drawing my daggers, which only seemed to delight him.
He, too, came to his feet, though his wings still flared out wide behind him.
I was ready to scream again to alert my blue protector when he whispered low, as if very aware of his brother outside the door.
“This is what I mean.” He grinned. “We are perfect for one another.”
Maybe I didn’t scream then because I hated the idea of anyone protecting me when I’d been protecting myself for a long while now. I just narrowed my eyes at him and brought my blades up.
“I know who you are,” Remus hissed.
That got my attention. He did? Then why hadn’t he said anything before now?
He must have seen my surprise because he continued, “You’re a killer. Thing is too soft-hearted to see it.” Then he grinned even wider. “But like recognizes like. You were made for me. So stay. Be with me. Together, we could be great.”
Everything inside me tightened at his words.
Because though he was obviously a psychopath, what he said was also uncomfortably true. This was who I was beneath the mask.
A killer. Someone who couldn’t wait to get home and paint my uncle’s walls red with his blood.
This creature knew nothing about me, not even my name, but could sense it all the same.
I looked down at the knives held so comfortably—so expertly—in my hands and was hit with a flash of a memory. There was blood, but it wasn’t because I’d just sliced a knife across the throat of some asshole who deserved it.
No, it was my mother’s blood covering her chest and pooling beneath her body as I sat beside her for hours, wailing and begging for her to wake up.
I was four. She’d hidden me in the cabinet and made me promise not to make a sound when she heard the men breaking in.
With a small cry, I dropped the gutting knife, where it clattered onto the rug that covered the stone floor.
Remus chuckled softly.
“See, you know it’s true. It’s okay to be bad. In reality, there’s no such thing as good and evil. Only power. And now you won’t have to be alone.”
Furious at myself, I snatched my knife off the ground and ran for the door, ready to tear the heavy wooden chest of drawers I’d slid in front of it the night before away.
Wait, if the chest was still there, how did he even get in— My gaze flew to the open window.
Dammit, we were up so many stories I didn’t think to lock it, but duh, he could fly.
“Let me,” Remus whispered, chuckling. He lifted the entire chest as if it weighed nothing, flying the heavy furniture where it originally was and popping back out the window as I tore open the door to find Thing waiting on the other side.
I think if I was someone who liked touch, I would have thrown myself in his arms.
As it was, I stared at the floor and hurried into the hallway, glad when the door shut behind me. The demon’s words rang in my ears: You’re a killer.
I dug the toe of my boot into the stone floor of the kitchen and frowned, wanting to deny it. I’m not a—
But my eyes clench shut at the memory of another one of my kills. My hand was clenched around my precious knife handle as it met flesh. Then twisting the handle. Hot, thick blood spurting out and covering my hand. There was so much detached horror but also relief in that moment.
This has got to mean, considering what happened to me as a kid, that I’m really fucked up, right? Because every time I kill, I’m taking back power.
And that’s been working out so well for you.
I shake my head and open my eyes again, frustrated and disturbed. My hands immediately smooth down my thighs, my heartbeat calming only when I feel the familiar weight of my knives. It disturbs me even as I take comfort in the familiar motion.
I jerk away from the door when I hear footsteps pounding down the stairs behind me. Just in time, too, because the big one with horns comes through the door.
“Abaddon,” Hannah sing-songs. “I’m glad you’re up. You’ll be able to see Thing and our guest off.”
Abaddon lets out a low growl. “You can’t seriously be thinking about going with her. You’ll be walking right into their trap.”
“Whose trap?” Hannah asks.
Abaddon throws his hands in the air like it’s obvious. “The angel’s! It’s obviously to separate you from the herd so it can pick us off one by one.”
I blink, unsure how to interpret what I’m hearing. Are they speaking in code? Is whatever threat he’s referring to real? Do I even want to know who could be a threat to these guys? Is there a whole secret world out there alongside ours that I’ve been ignorant of my whole life?
“I go out of the castle daily to gather wood, and I am unharmed,” Thing responds calmly.
“And that’s bad enough!” Abaddon explodes.
I back up, hating how loud he is. The next second, Abaddon jabs his forefinger in my direction.
“She’s a Trojan Horse, and you’re a fool to take the bait!
We never should have allowed her inside in the first place.
So let us be rid of her once and for all! ”
Thing remains impassive during his brother’s tirade, waiting quietly for him to finish. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks, brother.”
He reaches out a hand for his brother to shake, but Abaddon spins toward the stairs, muttering angrily under his breath. But not so quietly that I can’t hear him. “Sometimes I liked it better when you were locked up in the dungeon.”
My eyes fly back towards Thing. What the hell did that mean? Why was Thing locked in a dungeon? And did that asshole mean he’d locked up his own brother?
“I’m so sorry for him,” Hannah says from the kitchen, where she’s been cooking and helping Thing prepare provisions.
“Everything’s good to go.” Her face is pained as she looks after her husband.
Then she looks back at me. “I hope you’ll ignore him long enough to get some breakfast. I made bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. ”
“Thank you, Hannah, that’s so kind,” Thing pipes up. “Would you mind if she and I ate alone?” My eyes shoot to him. Has he picked up that he’s the only one I feel a modicum of comfort around? I don’t even know why. Mine is a solitary life, apart from the rare time I spend with Dad.
But Thing is. . . easy to be with. It’s why I asked him to come along.
I think I can stand to be around him. Plus, the kind of hunting I do is in cities, not forests.
I know how to navigate back alleys and the black market.
Not wild animals and maps of snowy terrain.
I was never, how do you call it, a Girl Scout.
“Of course, of course,” Hannah says. She pulls out silverware, sets it beside our steaming food, then, with emotion in her voice, says, “It was so nice meeting you. Safe journey.”
I get the uncomfortable feeling she’s about to ask to hug me again when Thing says, “Thank you, Hannah.”
She nods and turns, hurrying out of the room.
I use my fork to quickly separate the scrambled eggs from touching the bacon and toast, then begin to eat.
I’m very particular about the texture of my eggs, and these are much softer than I can usually stand.
But I need all the protein I can get for our trek, so I shovel them in quickly.
The bacon is enjoyable, and I finish with the crunchy toast. It’s good to have a full stomach.
Thing devours his food even quicker than me, and he had a much larger portion. Then he points me to a mountain of coats, scarves and gloves Hannah must have provided. I pull them on one at a time, holding onto the counter while I step into the thick snow pants.
He shoulders a huge backpack full of what I assume are meant to be our provisions for the journey. There’s a much smaller, lighter one for me that I throw some of the extra bags of food in.
“Please tell everyone thank you,” I say. I’m a stranger, and Hannah’s husband clearly distrusts me. Yet they’ve provided me with so much, and Thing’s willing to go on a long journey to help a stranger home.
Home.
My chest clenches. Because I’m not going home. Not yet. There’s no home to go back to, not if my Dad didn’t make it out. But I’m not letting myself think about that.
Uncle Pavel is a paranoid bastard and almost always closes himself up at his villa outside St. Petersburg. He’s never even allowed me to visit him, making me wonder how long he’s been planning this.
I clench my fists. So St. Petersburg is where I’m going.
“Let’s go,” I say. “I’m ready.”
And then, even though I’m the one eager to leave, we’re up the stairs and through the large open room to the door, where the horned Abaddon stands ready to open it before I quite feel ready. Oh, goody. And here I was, hoping I’d get to leave without seeing this asshole again.
But I guess it is sweet that despite his harsh words minutes earlier, he’s come to hug Thing and wish him well on the journey.
Romulus shows up, too, and I’m grateful it’s him while his conjoined twin sleeps. He gives Thing a warm hug and, as he pulls back, instructs him, “Stick close to the rivers as you travel southwest. Use the GPS like I showed you.”
“I was there in the old days,” Thing rumbles, his voice so deep. “I remember how to travel by the stars as well. They have not changed. We will not get lost.”
I’m close enough to hear Abaddon lean in and whisper, “And keep an eye on her. I don’t trust her.”
I roll my eyes. Thing just growls in warning and turns away, right into Hannah, who all but throws herself into his many arms. He swings her around a little as they embrace, and I frown harder at the floor while they say their goodbyes.
I know she’s with Abaddon, but it makes my chest tighten a little in frustration that she’s so comfortable touching Thing when he feels like. . . mine. It’s an absurd passing thought. I’m glad when Abaddon finally opens the door, and a blast of freezing wind hits me in the face.
I pull the ski mask down over my face, then trudge into the snow before anyone can say anything else.
I’m ready to leave this place far, far behind.
I’ve got revenge to see to.