Chapter 19 Mosaic of Fears #2
Slipping into someone’s mind is never the same experience twice.
Some minds are organized like libraries, others like tangled gardens.
Eluned’s mind? Pure chaos. A funhouse designed by a serial killer on acid.
Memories didn’t flow chronologically, but seemed to spiral around emotional epicenters.
Flashes of cruelty, moments of validation from Arabesque, jealousy toward her twin Amabel that burned so hot it was practically its own entity.
I pushed deeper, careful not to betray my presence as I flipped through her consciousness like pages in a particularly disturbing book.
“You think you’re so clever,” she was saying aloud, unaware of my mental invasion. “Mother warned us about you, about what the Cimmerians did to monsters, but Serafina has made you soft.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered dismissively, most of my concentration focused on navigating the twisted corridors of her psyche.
There. A flash of Seri, curled up on a bedroom floor, her face a portrait of agony as Arabesque stood over her with a gleaming vial, catching silver strands of stolen magic.
Eluned watching from the doorway, not with sympathy, but with envy.
She’d wanted to be the one working the spell, not just observing.
The memory tasted of bitterness and something else, a desperate hunger for approval.
I dug deeper. Arabesque discussing plans, but frustratingly vague ones. “The crown” mentioned repeatedly, but which crown? Vampire? Shifter? Fae? Frost Folk? Eluned herself didn’t know. She was just another pawn in her mother’s game, although she’d never admit that, even to herself.
While I rummaged through this toxic mental wasteland, Eluned continued her verbal assault, oblivious to my invasion.
“You’re the weakest link in your little threesome, aren’t you? The forgotten middle child. Casimir leads, Koa fights, and what do you do? Make jokes and get in the way?”
I barely registered her words, but I did find something interesting, a festering wound in her psyche.
Uncertainty about her own parentage. Arabesque had told the twins different stories about their father over the years, each more grandiose than the last. A demon lord. A dark undead king. A powerful warlock.
But Eluned had overheard something years ago, a whispered conversation between Arabesque and one of her coven. Something about a “human mistake” and “trashy mortal blood.”
Oh, this was too perfect.
I withdrew slightly from her mind, focusing enough on the physical world to note she was still talking, her words growing more frantic as my lack of reaction unnerved her.
“—and when Mother takes what’s rightfully hers, you’ll be begging for mercy, bastard prince. She’ll keep your beloved as a battery until she’s used up, just like her father—”
“Luney, Luney, guess what?” I interrupted, voice lilting with mock excitement. “I know something! Something really good!” I leaned forward, making sure she was focused entirely on me. “Something about your father!”
Confusion crossed her face, then desperate curiosity. I’d laid the bait, and now she was practically vibrating with the need to know what I’d discovered. I pushed that need, amplified it with my telepathy until she couldn’t resist.
“What about him?” she finally asked, unable to resist.
“He was human.” I let that sink in for a beat. “Not even a witch. Not a fae. Not a king. Just a man who looked at the twin monsters Arabesque had birthed him, saw a waste of his blood, and walked away.”
Her face froze for half a second before twisting in rage and denial.
“You’re lying!” she shrieked, the enchanted rope glowing as she struggled against it. “My father was a demon prince! Mother told us—”
“Mother lied,” I cut in smoothly. “Like she lies about everything. Your father was nobody. Just some guy Arabesque screwed and discarded. That’s why she’s so obsessed with bloodlines and power. She’s trying to scrub away the stain of her own mistakes.”
I had no idea if this was true, but I knew with absolute certainty it would devastate Eluned.
Her entire identity was built on being special, superior, more magical than “worthless” Seri.
But if Seri, a lunar witch born of a wolf shifter and sired by an earth witch, was actually thrice as magical as Eluned?
Nuclear psychological warfare.
“Shut up!” she screamed, spittle flying from her lips. “You know nothing!”
“I know you’re afraid,” I said quietly, pushing back into her mind with more force now. “Afraid Amabel is the better twin. Afraid Arabesque loves her more. Afraid you’ll always be second best.”
I reached deeper, broadcasting her own memories back at her. Arabesque praising Amabel for her control while scolding Eluned for her impulsivity. Amabel mastering a spell while Eluned struggled. The constant, gnawing feeling that she wasn’t good enough, would never be good enough.
As I ravaged her mind, I felt a flicker of pity. Seri was right: Eluned was Arabesque’s creation, her tool, her soldier, but she had never been anyone’s daughter. Not really. And Seri had seen that, despite everything Eluned had done to her.
Our girl’s capacity for compassion never ceased to amaze me.
But compassion wouldn’t stop Arabesque.
And it for damn sure wouldn’t save Eluned for what was coming for her now.
“You were never wanted.” I layered each word with swan song. “You were never special. You were a mistake.”
Panic bloomed across her face as the emotion hit her, not just the concept of being unwanted, but the actual feeling of it.
Raw, unfiltered despair. Pain might excite her, but true existential terror?
She’d never felt it before, and the swan cant was forcing her to experience what she’d inflicted on others, on Seri, without the ability to twist it into pleasure.
“Stop it,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it!”
I hummed then, just a single, haunting note that went on and on and on.
She scoffed at first, thinking I’d retreated to something as simple as humming. Then her breath hitched. The note wasn’t just audible; it seeped into her, into all the little fractures that made up Eluned Harrow, and widened them further and further.
I tilted my head, watching her with a lazy smirk as I spoke directly into her brain: You like pain, don’t you, Luney? The thrill of it. The control. But what about fear? What about despair? How’s that feel, you bitch ass bitch?
She shook and tried to fight it in vain. When she broke into gasps, clawing at her scalp as if she could rip me out of her mind, I moved to crouch right beside her, my cheek nearly brushing her ear.
She’s going to be fine, you know. Seri. Three rich husbands. Handsome bastards, at that. An elegant estate. A wolf who’d rip out the Devil’s own throat for her. A long, beautiful life ahead.
Silencing the hum, I pulled back to look her in the eyes, letting her see the cold truth in mine.
“And you? You will be nothing. No one will remember your name. You’ll be just the first stain on our basement floor.” I smiled, all fangs and no mercy. “Not even the rats will care to gnaw your bones. That is, if Koa leaves anything more than powder.”
Eluned stared at me, tears streaming down her face, her mind stuck on the mosaic of fears that I’d arranged just for her.
I stood up, dusting off the ass of my pants.
“Gotta go, Luney. Someone else wants a turn with you.”
Without another glance, I turned and walked away.
#
The concrete stairs felt colder on the way up, like my body had finally remembered we were freezing down here now that I wasn’t laser-focused on mentally eviscerating a witch.
My knees felt like they were made of jelly, my head buzzed like a dial-up modem from before I was born, and my whole body was trying to figure out if it wanted to pass out, puke, or both.
Behind me, the spy eye buzzed like an overexcited wasp, and Eluned’s broken sobs echoed off the cinder block walls.
Some people might’ve called what I did cruel. I called it karma with interest.
The spy eye landed on my shoulder as I reached the top of the stairs, its weight unnoticeable. Its tiny crimson eyes glowed, recording everything for my brothers’ viewing pleasure. Without looking, I gave it a lazy flick with my finger.
“Show’s over, folks,” I muttered. “Tune in next for Koko Cimmerian’s ‘How to Dismantle a Witch.’ Spoiler alert: Significantly more bone-breaking, significantly less mind-fucking.”
My laugh came out a little too high-pitched. That wasn’t great. But whatever. I was alive, she was broken, and my brothers were about to get some Grade-A nightmare fuel from my feed. Win-win.
The hallway connecting the basement to the main house felt twice as long and ten times colder.
My hands were still trembling faintly from the psychic blowback.
I’d definitely overclocked myself diving that deep into Eluned’s psyche, but I shoved it aside.
Nothing a nap and a shot of whiskey wouldn’t fix.
Still. That bitch’s mind? Woof. Like taking a tour through a haunted house designed by someone who thought Saw was a feel-good romantic comedy. Pure scrambled, rotten, horror show.
I wasn’t gonna lose sleep over it or anything, but I definitely wasn’t gonna touch food for a bit.
The spy eye buzzed again like it was desperate for attention, and I rolled my eyes.
“Chill, Tiny Tim. You’ll get your fanfare.”
Reaching the security center, I braced one hand against the doorframe, breathing hard.
The vertigo was getting worse. Like my brain hadn’t fully settled back into my skull yet.
Fang-rotted, moon-damned deep-dives. Always felt like I’d just wrung my mind out like a wet towel, and my body was saying, “Hey man, we’re shutting down now, bye. ”
“Your turn, Murder Machine,” I rasped as I finally stumbled through the door.