Chapter 16 Snarl of Hatred #2
Ko didn’t respond. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild with a fury that hadn’t yet burned out. His knife now too dull to penetrate the hard carapace, he started kicking it, his steel-toed boots sending chunks of shell flying into the lake.
“Koa!” I shouted, sharper than Zane. “She’s safe! It’s over!”
“She was in danger.” He turned to me, his eyes blazing. “She was right here.”
“But she’s safe now.” Zane stepped closer, clapping a hand on Koa’s shoulder. “Come on, baby brother. You’ve done enough damage for one morning. And your blade needs sharpening. Let’s go do that and calm down.”
Ko hesitated, chest heaving, but he finally nodded, and the tension in his shoulders eased, although both Zane and I knew his vision would be blurry and his heartbeat erratic for a while.
Brumous trotted past us then, an enormous pincer clamped in his jaws. He looked absurdly proud of himself, his tail wagging so fast that it blurred, as he dragged it up the hill toward the house.
“On the bright side, should take Brummy a while to gnaw through that,” Zane smirked. “Save us a pair of boots or two.”
“And make the whole manor stink like a fish market,” Ko said on a half-growl, half-snort.
As Zane commented on how the place needed airing out anyway, a flash of white caught my eye.
Seri’s new sneakers.
The ones I’d bought for her. The ones I’d knelt to put on her feet, my fingers trembling as I tied the laces. They were sitting neatly on the grass. My chest tightened, a fresh wave of guilt and fear washing over me, and I rubbed my knuckle between my eyebrows.
“Thirty minutes,” I muttered. “We were gone thirty moon-damned minutes.”
“I don’t call her trouble for nothing,” Zane snickered.
“Look at the golf cart,” Koa mumbled, still shaking with the need to kill. “Dammit. Seri likes riding around in it.”
“Look at the SUV,” Zane countered. “Guess we’re walking to the next monster hunt.”
Ignoring them, I snatched up the sneakers, cradling them tightly to my chest as I turned and ran toward the house.
Plans. Contingencies. Ways to make sure this never happened again. Better wards. More guards. A full security overhaul.
We weren’t going to lose her. Not to Eluned. Not to anyone.
As I reached the patio, I caught sight of Seri through the open back door.
She was sitting at the kitchen island, her hands wrapped around a steamy mug, color slowly coming back in her face.
Brumous sat before her, his eyes fixed on her face even as his huge paw pushed his trophy across the floor toward her.
Addison hovered nearby, dripping cleavers still in hand, and Mrs. Wentzel wrapped a blanket over Seri’s wet legs, tucking it under her bare feet.
“Damn monster ruining my morning,” Mrs. Wentzel muttered, probably too quietly for Seri to hear, but not dhampir ears. “Haven’t run that fast in years. Thankfully, the tarts didn’t burn.”
Even as the corners of my mouth flicked up, the sight only fueled my determination to do whatever it took to keep our beloved safe. Even if it drove me and everyone around me completely insane.
Taking a deep breath, I walked into the kitchen.
“Simmy!” Seri called, her voice trembling, but proud. “Did you see me, Simmy? I hit it! I actually hit it!”
Her words were a knife to my chest.
“More gargoyles,” I mumbled, not able to face her just yet. “At least a dozen. Hmm. Maybe two. Instructed to attack anything that so much as looks at her sideways.”
Going to the sink, I spread a dish towel on the countertop, then set Seri’s sneakers on it.
“We’ll need underwater wards, of course, motion sensors, maybe even a net to catch anything that tries to swim through.”
Inside the pantry, I found the white vinegar easily since I’d rearranged everything in alphabetical order.
“Needs a panic button. No, one for every room she frequents. And one she can wear at all times.”
Back at the sink, I filled a glass measuring cup exactly halfway with the vinegar, then topped it off with water.
“Needs to learn self-defense. Proper self-defense. Not just swinging a stick. A stick. A stick. I’m going to see that in my nightmares tonight. Zane can teach her. No, Koa. No, both.”
I stirred my cleaning mixture with a teaspoon, then used a dishrag to dab the diluted vinegar at the grass stain on the tip of Seri’s left sneaker in slow, measured circles. Very slow, very measured circles.
“Simmy? Are you okay?” Her voice had dimmed a bit, twisting the knife in deeper.
“Give him a minute, dear,” Mrs. Wentzel told her calmly. “I think he’s nearly run the gamut of possible protective measures. Addison, fetch her a pair of socks.”
“Si, abuela.”
“And cameras.” I raised my voice a little. “Everywhere. Inside, outside, the lake, the woods. And someone monitoring them twenty-four seven.”
“Simmy, aren’t you… Aren’t you proud of me?”
Dropping my head until my jaw hit my chest, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, then squared my shoulders and spun around, sneakers in hand. Two strides later, I dropped to my knees at her feet, gently unwrapped them from the blanket, and humbly accepted the white socks Addison held out.
Our wife was alive right now because of a stick, a boy with a pair of cleavers, and an old lady with a rifle.
With utmost care, I slipped her socks on, then her sneakers, leaving them untied because my fingers were trembling. Gliding my palms up her ankles, I clung to her calves and swallowed hard.
“And a safe room.” I finally raised my eyes to meet storm-cloud gray. “No, a bunker. Underground, warded, stocked with supplies, independent water and ventilation systems. And a direct line to Father. Just in case.”
“Simmy?” She set down her mug, and her tea-warmed hands cradled my face.
“My little wife,” I breathed.
For a moment, the frantic energy of my planning faded, and all I could see was her.
My palms tightened ever so slightly around her calves, thumbs running up and down her shins.
Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to one knee, then the other, a chaste gesture.
Not something I’d normally do in front of others, but she deserved it.
Deserved the respect. The pride. The recognition.
“You fought back.” My voice cracked, betraying me, and my hands shook harder as they clung to her.
“I did.” Her eyes softened. “For you. For Zane. For Koa. For us. For this life we’re building. And I always will.”
“You mean, if he ever lets you out of that bunker,” Mrs. Wentzel hurrumped. “Now, may I please have my kitchen back, Prince Casimir? Addison and I are behind schedule now, thanks to the unplanned monster incursion.”
As Seri giggled and slithered off her chair and into my arms, the corner of my mouth twitched. Just once, almost imperceptibly. A tiny crack, faint and fleeting.
I’d make sure her life never again depended on a stick.
A fucking stick.