Chapter 41
Caspar’s head was throbbing. All of the pain was rooted toward the back of his empty eye socket like a taunt.
He blinked and saw nothing but lights flashing overhead.
The sounds of the highway came next, along with murmured French.
He forced his eyes open and stared up at a car ceiling.
So I can see. No one has taken my other eye.
He tried to reach up and touch to see if the glass eye was still there, but he couldn’t move his hands.
He turned his head and felt another stab of pain rush through him.
I’m in a backseat. A car. Going very, very fast. A bump jostled him and sent more pain flowing through his head.
Caspar remembered nothing of the past fifteen minutes, save for golden dresses and the red fabric of the tapestry where people just like him were given wings. When the car went over another speed bump, he imagined he was flying.
“Merde,” the driver spoke. He turned the car to the right and drove onto a dirt road.
The shaking grew much worse. When Caspar dared to look at who was driving him, he wished he hadn’t.
The Chaos Star symbol that taunted him all throughout his prison sentence became visible on the back of the man’s scarred neck.
Henri Bouchard. The man who had ripped out his eye for magic was now carting him down a dirt road in the middle of Quebec.
And for what? For more magic? His wishes?
Malek’s crown? Caspar swallowed as he remembered the utter joy and elation that had crossed Malek’s face once he’d been reunited with his final object.
That joy had barely lasted two minutes. Everything hurt inside of Caspar, from his feet to his arms and down to the very thoughts in his brain.
They had been free. They were so fucking close to being free.
But something always gets in the way.
Caspar wanted to cry. Instead, he turned onto his side to see if he could still feel the jewels in his pockets.
Nothing. He turned around again, and caught a glimpse of the golden crown and the silk fabric in the front seat of the car. Precious cargo. Now that the Chaos Mages had his stones and Malek’s crown, there was no going back.
Caspar sank lower and lower into the backseat.
His legs weren’t bound, but they felt so, so heavy, as if lead was pumping through his veins.
Each movement was a chore. The lights of the highway faded and flickered as Henri drove further down the dirt road.
A minute later, he pulled into a development site.
The headlights reflected off a million different glass panels of a building that stood in the centre.
There were at least a dozen floors, but the darkness and his captivity warped Caspar’s vision.
The tower looked as if it went straight into the sky, like a veritable Tower of Babel.
The building was the only finished structure on the developed land; everything around it was half-covered in plastic sheets, reduced to scaffolding, or left in complete disarray with half-used equipment scattered everywhere.
Henri pulled the car directly beneath scaffolding that seemed to connect to a trailer work station before he cut the engine and stepped out into the night.
Caspar had no choice but to pretend to be asleep.
The element of surprise was all he had. There was no other car following them, so Malek hadn’t been captured.
He also couldn’t be killed either, since all his items weren’t together.
Even if Henri had the crown, the microphone and guitar were safe, so at most, Malek could only be tossed into the Summerland.
But he’s still bound to you. That won’t happen.
Caspar gathered what little strength he had and tried to rub the ring.
His hands were heavy, and his body was sore, but if Malek was still around, he’d hear the call.
And then he—and everyone else—would come and save Caspar.
The car door beside Caspar opened. He tried to go limp, but Henri’s breath was thick and intimidating. He grunted at Caspar, and then swore in French. When he tugged on Caspar’s shoes, his touch felt like a wound, and Caspar recoiled.
“Ah, there you are,” Henri said. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your magic.”
“I’m not magic.”
“No, not anymore. Had my own counter-spell placed on you. Welcome back to the world, Caspar Nassir. Take a look at your beautiful face in the mirror.” Henri tapped the side mirror and met his gaze in the reflection.
The golden hue from his skin was gone. Poof.
No more glamour. “I see you for who you are, Caspar Nassir. The Ghoul. And I want that other eye.”
“Fuck you.”
“Nope, that doesn’t interest me. Though I saw you and your boyfriend. K-I-S-S-I-N-G in the rose garden. You’ve got to be more careful.”
Caspar’s heart sank. When he went to curse Henri, his voice didn’t sound like his own. Before he could make sense of what was happening, a new voice rang out behind Henri.
“Don’t you touch him.”
Henri scoffed and turned towards the voice. Anthony stood by the trailer doorway in an oversized dark red suit, a loose tie around his neck.
“Don’t you touch him,” he said again.
Caspar let out a low cry. Anthony. Anthony was here. He was going to save him. Caspar rubbed the ring over and over, hoping for Malek to come and help out—because as strong and sturdy as Anthony looked now, he was still only one man.
“I want the other eye,” Henri said. “The other items are here on the front seat. I don’t want them. Just the eye.”
“Hungry?” Caspar teased, pulling strength from a place he did not know existed. “Such a strange thing, to eat what you want to become. But I can tell you, it’s not gonna make you smarter. I cannot help you there.”
“Fuck you,” Henri cursed.
More gravel crunched. Anthony walked closer. He paused, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a wad of brightly coloured bills. He counted them before handing over several hundred to Henri.
He did not meet Caspar’s gaze once.
“What?” Henri stared at the money, and then threw it back in Anthony’s face. “You can’t pay me off. I know what I want, and I want him.”
Henri scrambled back to the car, causing Caspar to yelp.
He desperately tried to kick him away, only now realizing that Henri’s teeth had grown sharp, as if he’d filed them down to a point.
The thought of Henri eating his eye—like he must have done with the other—made Caspar want to throw up.
When Henri caught his shoe and tore it away, Caspar let out a cry.
“Anthony! Do something!”
A gun fired. Henri let go of Caspar’s foot and glanced down at his chest. A red circle slowly spread across his shirt before he collapsed over the car, blood pooling all around.
Caspar barely had time to scream before the door he was leaning against was opened.
He nearly fell face first into the gravel, his arms useless, but Anthony held him up.
The touch on his skin was familiar, yet foreign.
Caspar’s mind reeled while his body tried to calm down from the last fifteen minutes.
“Anthony,” Caspar said. “I need your help.”
“Of course you do. Come with me now. Don’t forget your shoe.”
Anthony grabbed Caspar’s shoulder and directed him out of the car. His grip was tight on Caspar’s arm, but he wasn’t hurting him.
Right?
This was Anthony. The man who’d built sandcastles with him, watched the World Series with him, and then kissed him when they were both twelve.
This was Anthony, who now dragged Caspar to the front of the finished glass building, a smile never leaving his face.
Anthony wore Malek’s gold crown over his wrist as if it were a simple bangle, rather than the power source it truly was.
The silk fabric from Caspar’s jewels also stuck out of his jacket, where a pocket square had once been.
“This is my place,” Anthony said as they stepped into the foyer. “Nice, huh?”
“Um… yeah.”
“I’ve been buying more land lately. You know, working in real estate, you get to see where all the good deals are, and only in the past little while have I acquired the capital to finally get the things I really, really want.
But enough about me. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess. I knew it when I saw it on TV.”
“What did you see?”
“The escape! Someone caught it with their cell phone camera. A prison break is a big deal, especially when the Ghoul apparently dies in a fire. I knew it was a hoax, though. When I found Henri and the gargoyles, well, it was pretty much easy as pie to find you.”
“Why did you hire him to capture me? If you knew I was alive, you could have found me. I could have—”
“You could have called me on your cell phone?”
Caspar cursed as he remembered the call he’d placed his first day free. The aborted call—but apparently it had been enough for Anthony to trace him.
“I wanted to send you a message. They told me I couldn’t.”
“Ah, yes, them. So ominous. But you’ve really just been hanging around with a gang of misfits who think they know how to play the system, when it was actually me holding off the big guns.
Patience, patience. That’s what your dad stressed when we were working in customer service, remember?
Always wait and assess your options before action.
You’ll be surprised to find out how much more you can save that way. ”
Caspar’s heart dropped. “Oh, God. No. You… We’re best friends.”
“Oh, Caspar. Always so sweet. Here. Take my arm. I know it’ll be tough getting up those stairs since the elevator isn’t working yet, but I have a surprise for you.”