14. The Grotesque
THE GROTESQUE
I squint my eyes against the setting sun as I peer up at the Cloisters. The brown-gray building, which resembles a monastery with a bell tower, looks especially menacing today with black mist circling around it like a panther searching for the opportunity to strike.
What the fuck am I even doing here?
Honestly, I don’t have an answer to that particular question. One second, I was on my way home, to the shack beneath Brooklyn Bridge that I created for myself years and years ago, and the next…
The next I was here, standing before the imposing, wrought-iron gate that Dev constructed around the old museum over a century ago.
My palms feel motherfucking damp, which is the strangest sensation I’ve ever experienced.
Why is my heart pounding so erratically, beating against my skull like a drum?
Why does my mask feel stifling where it’s pressed against my face, like it’s made of cement instead of ceramic?
Why the fuck am I nervous?
Even that word seems too tame for what I’m feeling.
It doesn’t fully encapsulate the terror coursing through my veins like magma, burning, liquefying, obliterating everything it comes into contact with.
I feel hot one second and freezing cold the next.
The fluctuating temperatures have my head reeling, threatening to topple straight off of my shoulders and roll across the ground.
This was a stupid idea. A very, very stupid idea.
You shouldn’t have come here, Tesq. What the fuck were you thinking?
Walk away. Walk away right now.
But my body doesn’t listen to my commands, and I find myself frozen in place, unable to leave.
“Grotesque!” a familiar voice booms, the noise accompanied by the poignant slap of shoes against the paved pathway. A second later, the Devourer comes into view, his broad, towering frame capable of evoking fear in lesser monsters. But I’m not a lesser monster, and Dev doesn’t scare me.
Dev’s only a head taller than me. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to use that head to glower down at me, his sharp teeth twisting into a rictus grin, not a hint of genuine amusement to be seen.
Not only is he taller, he’s come out naked—a fact which makes me tilt my head because while some monsters reject human clothing, he’s not typically one of them.
What is he doing?
Why is my heart speeding up, stopping, and then regaining speed once more?
“What are you doing here, Grotesque?” he growls, folding his huge arms over his chest.
His skin ripples, the lines of his tattoos wavering and hairs sprouting up along his hips, and I know he’s wrestling with his tumultuous emotions. He knows I’m not a threat, not really, but he also doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t understand why I’m here or what I even want.
And to be quite honest, I don’t have the answers to those questions.
“The girl,” I grunt out, matching his pose and folding my arms over my chest.
His gaze immediately dips to my strange, gray, granite-like skin before he lifts his head and meets my eyes—the only things currently visible with my mask on. Even my mouth is partially obscured.
“Is she here?”
His posture turns rigid, tense, a predator seconds away from pouncing and ripping his claws through skin. His huge teeth grind together as he regards me with unfettered distrust. And more than that—disgust. “Why do you want to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” I counter immediately, wondering if he’s being purposely obtuse. Or perhaps he’s trying to irritate me, to feed the rage circulating inside of my belly like a tornado of debris and flames.
He barks out a caustic laugh, one that raises my hackles.
I have to press my lips together to contain the growl that threatens to break free.
My entire body physically shakes with the force of restraining myself.
All I want to do is lunge towards him, shove my claws into his eyes, and then claim what’s rightfully mine.
No, not just mine, I remind myself bitterly. Ours.
That single word shoots down my spine like an Arctic breeze, and another growl reverberates through my chest.
The tiny human girl should be mine…but she’s not.
Because we all bid on her.
And all Four Terrors won.
There’s never been a tie before. Monsters, by all intents and purposes, are naturally possessive, egotistical creatures.
We hoard our possessions the way mythical dragons worship gold.
Most monsters can’t even fathom sharing their toys, let alone their pets.
And they definitely wouldn’t want to share their humans.
But when Dev threw a hissy fit in the middle of the party, the auctioneer accidentally said, “Sold,” the exact second all four of us put our final bids on her. And since the magic of the daggers made the bids binding and final…
It takes every ounce of my meticulous self-control to keep from throwing myself at the bastard.
She’s been at his home for an entire day already, and who knows what the fuck he did to her during that time.
He’s never had a human female slave before.
And he went absolutely feral at the auction.
What if he doesn’t know how delicate human females are?
What if he couldn’t control himself? If he hurt her—
I force myself to take a deep breath, to inhale the stale, tepid air greedily and then exhale just as noisily.
When I went home last night empty-handed, I told myself it was for the best. I didn’t truly want this human girl, despite bidding on her at the auction.
That was pure instinct. I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
All I knew was that she was standing before me, looking like every fantasy I ever had wrapped into one enticing, perfect package, and I was a weak, weak man.
So I did what any sane monster would do—I bid on her.
And bid, and bid, and bid, until I was sure I had nothing left to give.
But I didn’t truly want her.
I don’t want her.
It doesn’t matter that she’s my fated mate.
Still, my voice runs away from me, developing a life of its own as I meet Dev’s glower with a scathing glare. “She’s not just yours,” I hiss, dropping my hands back to my sides and balling my hands into fists.
The Devourer is powerful, sure, but I believe I could take him in a fight. His instincts are purely animal—a lion hunting a gazelle, stalking through the thick grass and waiting for an opportunity to pounce. But me?
My gaze flicks to my gray hands curled tightly into fists by my sides. My horns start to throb on my forehead, the short white curves of bone aching to ram him.
One punch from me will make him see stars. Two will drop him on his ass. And three? That might kill him.
I don’t just look like I’m made of cement—sometimes, I actually am made of it. Like…a gargoyle. Or one of the statues the Devourer loves to collect. But unlike those creations, I won’t break. Nothing he can do to me will shatter my rocky skin or break me to fragments.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” He takes a threatening step towards me, his red eyes blazing with savage lethality.
I know I need to tread very, very carefully with my next words, but I’m not sure if I want to.
What right does he have to her? She’s my goddamn mate.
And I may not want her in my life, but I sure as fuck am not going to leave her to be tortured by this hideous brute who doesn’t know how to control his temper.
“I have just as much of a right to her as you do.” I match his step with one of my own, my teeth grinding together.
A muscle in his jaw bunches as he holds my stare. Slowly, ever so slowly, his glowing red eyes flick in the direction of a strange, ebony and orange monster I hadn’t noticed hovering a few steps behind us.
“Filia,” the Devourer bites out, his tone capable of burning the flesh off of a human. “What the fuck does he mean?”
“He…um…” She nervously wrings her hands together as she glances between the two of us.
“He’s right, sir. Apparently, four monsters, including you two, purchased her at the auction.
I only discovered it this morning, but after everything that happened…
” She huffs out an annoyed breath, her eyes flashing dark.
What happened this morning?
The thought presses against my awareness, stabs at it like a serrated blade, but it tumbles away from me before I can capture it.
The Devourer snarls.
I watch in rapt fascination as his face changes and distorts.
His features already resembled that of an animal more than a man, but just now, he becomes something otherworldly.
Something hideous. His muzzle expands until it’s nearly the size of my fist, his teeth lengthening and cutting through his bottom lip.
The fur on his skin grows, as do the ears on the top of his head.
All that remains of the familiar Terror are his pure red eyes, emanating violence and vengeance plucked from hell itself.
I can’t help but think of the old legends of how we came to be.
The humans, desperate for an explanation, claimed that we crawled out of hell.
I suppose I can picture it when I close my eyes—thousands and thousands of beasts of every shape and size pulling themselves out of a ferocious pit of fire, intent on destroying civilization as the early humans knew it.
They were wrong, of course, as they’re wrong about a lot of things, but I can’t help but think of that urban legend as I stare into the Devourer’s twisted, angry face.
Before I can even blink, he roars, and the force of it actually staggers me back a step. Still, I don’t cower in fright the way the tiny, low-powered female monster is doing. I don’t rip my eyes away from the man who might be able to best me in a fight. And I say might loosely.
“She. Is. Mine!” he roars, the noise reverberating through the courtyard, seeping into my bloodstream. I can honestly feel the force of it in the marrow of my bones, as if it has somehow dug its way beneath my skin and muscle.
Why are you fighting this, Tesq? I ask myself as I hold his withering glare, refusing to back down. Refusing to walk away. What the fuck would you do with her if you had her?
Let her go?
The mere thought quakes me where I stand, anger and terror swirling together in a toxic combination.
I can’t let her go…but I also can’t keep her.
And I can’t allow her to remain with the Devourer.
So what the fuck am I supposed to do with her?
I never even met this damn female, and already, she’s destroying my fucking life.
“I won’t let you take her!” the Devourer roars, advancing towards me with a vicious snarl.
I hold my ground, cocking my chin up to show him that I’m not intimidated. “Are you going to fight me, Devourer?”
Fuck, I’m itching for him to say yes, to wet my knuckles with his blood. We have a rule between us four—no killing.
But maiming?
I imagine hanging one of his arms above my bed, letting it dangle there like a baby’s mobile, spinning overhead—his furry fingers waving me to sleep.
A cold, bloodthirsty grin erupts on my face, something he can no doubt see even with my mask in place.
“She. Is. Mine.” His clawed hands swipe at my chest, but I stealthily move out of the way.
Compared to the Empty Man and the Creeper, I’m as agile as a huge, lumbering oaf.
But the Devourer? As I said before, he relies on his animal instincts, the fight-or-flight trigger inside of him.
He won’t portal through time and space to attack me the way the Creeper might or take me by surprise like the Empty Man.
He’ll simply run at me headfirst and pray his teeth or claws come into contact with my skin, even knowing that I’m practically indestructible.
If anything, he’s more likely to break one of his damn limbs trying to hurt me than he is actually harming me.
“I bought her too,” I rumble, still unsure why I’m fighting him so badly on this.
Dev roars a second time, his huge chest heaving, a tiny bit of saliva drizzling down his chin. And then, without another word, he stalks back towards his house, his black tail swishing behind him like a feral wolf’s.
I remain standing outside, rooted to the spot, as the dark smoke materializes once more around the property, mere inches from my face.
It slithers towards me experimentally, poking and prodding like a hungry beast just waiting for permission to pounce, and I know exactly what that is—a magical warning.
If I try to take the little human girl from him, he’ll retaliate.
And the Devourer may just kill me, regardless of the rules.
Why the fuck is he so possessive of my mate? Did he hurt her? Did he do something else—?
I can’t even finish that thought as stone-cold anger rushes through my veins, the frost ironically burning everything it comes into contact with.
I need to get her out of here. I need to bring her home with me.
And then…
Who the fuck knows?
I don’t want to keep her, regardless of what she is to me, but I also can’t let her go. And I sure as fuck can’t leave her with the Devourer.
So then what the hell am I supposed to do?