Chapter 32 #2
“Shit!” Jett yelped, skipping out of reach. The range of the leash tugged at Fluffy, and he strained against it, jaws snapping at Jett’s ankle.
I plastered a hand over my mouth as it was getting really hard not to laugh. So far, Jett hadn’t even spared me a glance. The tiny dog trying to bite him had completely captured his attention.
Jett leveled an irritated glare at the aggressive dog. “Fluffy doesn’t like us, and we don’t like Fluffy. Which my aunt knows, so why is he here?”
Dustin unfolded his body to stand. “Mrs. Lyon sent me ahead of her. She’s waylaid on business—”
“And out of contact so I can’t rip into her for being so godsdamned sneaky.” Jett interrupted with a scowl. “Because we both know why Aunt Rosa sent Fluffy here to wait for her.”
Dustin gulped. “Mrs. Lyon thought while Fluffy and I awaited her arrival, I could assist Miss Crowther with the family reunion—”
“No fucking way!” Jett drew a deep breath and then exhaled it with a sigh.
Briefly pinching the bridge of his nose, he dropped his tone to one a little calmer but loud enough to be heard over the yapping.
“Listen, we love Aunt Rosa, but she’s a control freak with parties, and right now my sister is on top of everything. ”
“Mrs. Lyon does love planning parties.”
“Way too much,” Jett volleyed back. “The last one she organized for us, she had the idea of breaking the world record for a Baked Alaska and when flambéing it, she set the fucking Banquet Hall on fire… A few years ago she coerced us into borrowing circus performers because she desired an ethereal theme for my sister’s tenth birthday…
She wanted fireworks in the background while they flew across the sky on swings or twirled on ribbons as if they were fucking faeries or something.
The carnage…” he breathed, eyes wide and faraway as if revisiting the moment.
“It resulted in a massive cover-up, never mind the psychological damage done to my little sister when the fireworks went haywire and two of them fell and broke their godsdamned necks.”
Jett paced, and the chains clipped onto his belt and looped around a hip jingled with his furious movement.
“And don’t get me started on the time she wanted to create her interpretation of David Lynch’s Red Room.
Hours, days, and weeks of being shoved into suits to find the perfect one with the perfect cut.
They all looked the godsdamned same. The same,” he hissed, swiveling to a halt to stab a finger at Dustin.
“And then the photoshoot with us all posed in stupid positions with stupid props on a set crafted of things entirely red. It fucked up my sight afterward. I couldn’t see anything without a veil of red for months! ”
Holy hellsgate…
I wanted to sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch this all go down. Jett was on a ranting roll.
Who the hells was Aunt Rosa? I loved her already for messing with the Crowthers. Rosa Lyon? Could he mean Rosa Lyon, who was married to Harding? The Lyons were a lower hunting house.
Dustin rubbed the back of his head. A grimace carved lines into his features. “Mrs. Lyon does have a rather extensive list of ideas,” he replied weakly.
“I bet she does,” Jett muttered, keeping well away from Fluffy, who’d only now noticed my wraith-wolf.
Sage’s attention snapped to the tiny dog, and a line of hackled fur rose down his ridgeline. I shifted my stance nervously. I wasn’t sure if my wraith-wolf wanted to eat it or play with it.
Sage bounded up to Fluffy, skidded to a halt, and let out a howl. The two dogs sniffed noses and erupted into an excited, playful dance, facing off each other with wagging tails.
“Looks like they’ve just become friends,” Dustin said to me with a lopsided smile.
“Fucking figures,” Jett muttered.
I realized the younger Crowther was silently considering Dustin. His narrowed eyes became shrewder, as if he were reassessing the man in front of him.
A cold feeling rattled my nerves. What was he up to?
Jett crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to one leg. “Do you really want to help with this party?”
“Yes, sir,” Dustin replied eagerly. “If I could have a moment with Miss Crowther, I can go through Mrs. Lyon’s ideas with her.”
“We’re keeping the party simple this year,” Jett said. I stopped myself in time from rolling my eyes because the party was centered on my birthday. Jett spoke slowly, as if he were relishing every single word. “We could use your help in bringing us a case of absinthe from the Wormwood Driads.”
I knew absinthe was potent alcohol, practically moonshine of the magical variety. The Wormwood Driads were strange elemental creatures, and it was from their swimming holes that absinthe could be collected.
Dustin’s voice rose an octave. “The Wormwood Driads pool?”
Jett nodded with a flash of a quick sly smile.
“But that’s out of state, and it’ll take me days to get there and back,” Dustin protested.
“Best you get going straight away.”
The other man blinked, his mouth agape. “You mean now? It’s nearly midnight.”
“No time like the present. And take the overgrown rodent with you.”
“You’re not kidding, are you?”
Jett smiled a wolfish grin. “Nope.”
Dustin hesitated a moment before kneeling to scoop up Fluffy.
When he rose, I realized he was also holding the book that had accidentally slipped from his grip when Sage had scared the hells out of him.
Instead of tucking it under an arm or putting it away, he offered the old tome to me. “You dropped your book.”
No, I hadn’t even touched that book. My gaze shot to him, and he smiled back politely. I reached out and took it from him, perplexed as to why he’d wanted me to have it.
He inclined his head to me, and to Jett he said, “Mr. Crowther, I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few days.”
Dustin left, and it wasn’t until we heard the library door closing that Jett cast a look over his shoulder to the soldier standing behind him. “Well, that was fun and takes care of Fluffy the Fourth along with my aunt.”
Annoyance sparked in my blood. I had a feeling that Dustin was going to be sent off on random, purposeless missions from now on, and I might not have the opportunity to speak with him again.
Jett strode lazily toward me.
Sage silently stalked him, his ghostly fur rippling as it hackled upward.
My fingers tightened on the book Dustin gave me.
“So my brother did allow you to roam,” Jett pondered in a conversational tone. He glanced around the room, black brows slashing forward. “What are you doing here?”
Let them see what they want to see.
As much as it felt like chewing on rotten leather, I had to make myself small and scared. I wouldn’t cower, but I would permit myself to seem meek, so I took a step backward, shrinking my shoulders inward and widening my eyes. “I wanted to see the library again,” I whispered, as if fearful.
“What were you and Dustin talking about when I arrived?”
“Nothing. You didn’t give us time to talk.”
Jett considered me with the same sly look he’d given Dustin. Apprehension plucked at the knotted bones of my spine as I wondered what was going through his head. Nothing good, I was sure.
The soldier lifted a hand to her ear, listening, I assumed, to an earpiece. “Sir,” she said, stepping flush with Jett. She shot me a curious glance before her attention went back to the youngest brother. “The jet’s ready.”
“Tell my brothers I’m leaving for a few days. They can deal with the shipment to the Emporium.”
“Will I tell them your—”
“No, I don’t plan on telling them where I’m going.”
My gaze sliced across the glistening sheen of sweat above Jett’s upper lip. And for a moment I swore I saw his hand trembling as he took the overnight bag from the soldier.
Jett turned to me, and the glow of amber firelight made his chilling smile even more sinister.
“You’ve earned yourself a few days’ reprieve.
” He stepped closer, and with his great height, he loomed over me.
His voice was barely a whisper, but I heard every single word.
“When I get back home, you and I are going to play a game of cat and mouse. It’s not only my older brother who loves to hunt. ”
Inclining his head in mock politeness, he strode off. The soldier spun on her heel and followed.
Besides the spike of adrenaline rushing through my veins and pounding in my ears, came the rhythmic pattern of footfall, the swish of the library door opening and then closing.
Alone, I let fire breathe in my chest as I straightened to my full height.
Fuck him.
He thought to intimidate me, play a game, and hunt me like an animal.
Well, I was an animal, and he’d find that out when I took a chunk out of him.
Jett Crowther was going to learn the hard way that he wasn’t the hunter—I was.
I leaned my hip against the empty end of the table, near the leather armchair. Strewn across the tabletop were crystal tumblers and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. And at the table’s opposite end was a massive pile of books, some stacked neatly, others not so much.
The book in my arms was large and bulky.
Curious as to why Dustin had wanted me to take it, I flipped it open.
The parchment had creases and was worn, and the writing was smudged and faded.
Flicking through the pages, I discovered partway through that the writer had changed.
Someone new had taken up writing about strange critters and rare oddities.
Their handwriting was neat and orderly, with an ink and quill—no modern ballpoint pens for us.
As I rapidly flicked through the book, something slipped from between the leaves and fell to the floor. Glancing downward, I saw a white envelope partially perched on the tips of my toes.
Bending down, I scooped it up. Someone had already opened it. The top was sliced a little rough, like a letter opener would do. Turning it over, my breath caught in astonishment as I took in the careful handwriting, recognizing it instantly.
The envelope was addressed to my sister, Evelene Wychthorn.