Chapter 17 Mad God
Mad God
Once the sun was up Liv could sleep, but damp, ghost-pale morning brought breakfast, delivered on a covered tray by the blond one. He rapped at the bedroom door, and she could even distinguish his knock from the other guy’s.
Erik tapped politely. The blond all but rattled the door off its hinges.
“Ma’am?” Even through heavy wood, he sounded like a douchebag. Liv considered turning over and clamping a pillow to her head, but the thought that one or more of them might break in and drag her to the table forced her out of the warm safe nest in a rush.
At least he didn’t jiggle the doorknob, but she was already up, and when she peered cautiously out of the bedroom the blond was all the way at the hall door, his hands crossed loosely in front of him and his hair glowing under weak pearly daylight.
He was grinning, too. Almost ear to ear.
“There she is.” His smile didn’t alter; it looked painted on. “Not gonna bite you, lirai. I’m Jake, short for Jacob.”
I don’t think I care. She took her time from behind the door, studying him. Checking the emotional weather of her captors was a survival measure, but she didn’t have to like it.
He looked altogether too satisfied with himself, though not irritated. “I can leave, if you want to eat alone,” he continued. “Didn’t know what you wanted in the latte this time, so it’s plain.”
The fact that he’d made the right choice, even by accident, was infuriating.
Still, Liv took stock. She had grey pajamas and black slippers, thankfully clean and dry—she didn’t want to guess where the brown-haired guy had put filthy, mud-soaked socks, hoping it had been an incinerator—but she didn’t have a weapon, or anything that could pass for one.
Short-for-Jacob didn’t look like he was going to leave, so she coughed slightly, working the sleep out of her throat. It felt like something dry and scaly had scraped down her esophagus, and wasn’t that a terrible mental image? “This isn’t the part where you offer to let me escape again, is it?”
“Nope.” Jake settled into the uncanny immobility he shared with the other two men. It was disconcerting, seeing them pause while the rest of the world continued. Like a bad special effect—or a terrifyingly good one. “I’d say sorry about that, but I’m not.”
At least he admitted as much.
Liv leaned against the small slice of opened door, bracing it in case he got ideas. Her stomach cramped, right on the verge of an embarrassing rumble.
“But we had to make the point without you getting hurt, and that was the only way to do it,” Jake went on, soothingly, nice and reasonable. “Father was out thinning the ranks of the unclean, Erik was defending you, and I was midrange. Standard.”
Standard, he said. “How often do you do this sort of thing? Kidnap lirai?”
“You’re the first potential I’ve ever seen outside of training, ma’am. Haven’t seen a real true lirai for about thirty years or so.”
What, you were in diapers then? But if she could believe in giant tentacled horrors, why not a little bit of eternal youth?
The worst part wasn’t the nightmare beasts or even her own unruly, terrifying dreams. It was that she was beginning to accept a lot of outlandish bullshit as natural and possibly inevitable. “Thirty years?”
“Probably more. What year is it now?”
For the love of… “I don’t know unless I look at my phone,” she hedged. If he was a sexist asshole, he might even believe it.
“Nice try.” His smile didn’t alter, but a shade of genuine warmth crept into its curve, like he was pleased at a good move in a sports match. “Yeah, a long time. Time gets funny when you get your mark.”
The thought of that violent crimson non-tattoo was enough to kill her appetite. Or it should have been, but she was flat-out starving. “Does it keep you young?”
“Sort of. We don’t really age, part of his dominion over flesh.” There was no doubt who he meant, the loathing in the single syllable was all but bubbling-toxic. “You want me to leave you with your breakfast, ma’am? It’ll stay hot until you get to it.”
Isn’t that useful. “Is that magic?”
“Sort of.” He didn’t relax, but his gaze slid away to the window, came back with a smooth arc that reminded her of a security camera. “Father would call it an application of natural laws mankind has only begun to codify.”
It sounded like a direct quote; Jake obviously had a gift for mimicry. It was the old guy’s even, controlled, robotic delivery right down to the breathing. A tiny laugh snuck past Liv’s lips, a happy little thief.
“And she has a sense of humor, too.” Jake’s grin widened, less a grimace and more true amusement. “The total package, ladies and gentlemen.”
Liv let the door swing open a little further. The covered tray beckoned, and if it held a new heart-stopping surprise, she was going to see if she could stab him with a fork. She might not be able to hurt these guys, but her training as a monster hunter had to start somewhere, right?
Always assuming that was what they had in mind. But if they didn’t, what use was she? “I’ll come out,” she said, finally. “If you answer a question.”
“You don’t have to bargain, lirai.” That sobered him up; the grin faded by degrees, and his sandy eyebrows drew together. “Just ask, I’ll answer as best I can. Always.”
Awful nice of you, but I don’t think you’re trustworthy. They paid a lot of lip service to being polite, but of course, she’d been kidnapped. “When do I start training?” She took a deep breath. “To hunt those things, the monsters.”
Jake made a restless movement, like a horse smelling fire. “Any sane person wouldn’t want to.”
Well, she couldn’t argue, but still. It was just like wheedling a favor or some paperwork out of a particularly cranky court clerk. “I’ve been kidnapped by a trio of monster hunters. Sanity might be a drawback in this particular situation.”
“Well, technically we’re straight-up predators instead of monster hunters, but good point.” He rubbed at his gold-stubbled chin with blunt, callused fingertips. “As for training, you won’t need it; lirai are instinctively deadly. All you need is the Flame, and that’s not here.”
The Flame. Okay. “Where is it, then?”
“Any temple with an active lirai will have access. We just take you to one of your own kind, and then…” He spread his hands, a helpless movement yet a relief from that uncanny stillness. “Well, would you believe me if I said you have to see it first?”
I might not have a week or two ago. She didn’t even know what day it was. “Maybe.” Grudging acceptance colored the word; Liv pushed the bedroom door a little further open. “So, Jake. You got a last name?”
“Nope. Won’t be passing anything on.” The grin was back, but an uneasy shadow moved in his dark gaze.
Electric light was kind to him, bringing out all the gold in his hair, lightening his eyes a bit.
If she saw him in a bar she might look twice; he had the kind of relaxed magnetism that caught the eye, and his shoulders were nicely broad.
“Besides, I was an orphan. Nobody wanted me. Well, except the Sons.”
Is that how you got here? She made a mental note to brood on the implications of that tiny nugget of information, and opened the door a little further. Erik had said basically the same thing. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Now he sounded honestly puzzled.
She could make conversation, empathize, and maybe find a chink in his armor all at once. “It’s never nice to feel unwanted.”
“That psych degree of yours must be getting a workout.” But Jake didn’t sound sarcastic. Just thoughtful.
“It’s useful.” She hesitated a little more, but a thin thread of coffee-smell reached her. Her stomach was about to tear itself free and go running after victuals caveman-style. “How long do you guys live, then?” I can’t believe I’m asking this.
“Long time.” He tilted his head, giving the question his entire consideration. “Unless we die in combat or go ’round the bend. Bet they haven’t told you that bit yet, huh?”
Liv just stared at him. Obviously she hadn’t heard about this, but saying so would only give him another reason to mock her.
This guy probably did a lot of mocking.
“Well, then.” He made a short, arrested motion, settling his shoulders. “Storytime with Jacob, little lirai. You gonna come out?”
When he put it that way, she didn’t think she wanted to. “You going to behave if I do?”
“Absolutely.” Now his perfect white teeth gleamed at her. “Like the good little boy I once was.”
“Were you?” I don’t think you were. You have narcissism written all over you in neon, and underlined as well.
“Right down to my toenails, ma’am.” He didn’t move as she edged into the rest of the suite, though his eyelids lowered a fraction.
He didn’t try to shrink like Erik; this guy had probably never thought about how his sheer size would make someone else feel.
“So, let’s say you have the qualities necessary to become a Son of Ymre. ”
“Which are?” It was on the tip of her tongue to say like kidnapping? Which probably wouldn’t go over very well.
Like a lead balloon, Mom would have said.
It hurt to think of her mother, as always, and Liv didn’t have her usual distractions around to anesthetize.
No phone, no friends, no job—they were probably climbing the walls at the office right now.
Sal Kinnock often said missing a good paralegal was like missing his hands.
Someone else was going to have to miss his groping pinches, though. Liv was trying not to feel relieved about that particular prospect, and failing miserably.
Jake ticked off qualities on his callused fingers. “Stubbornness, intelligence, and a certain… flexibility.” He halted, obviously wanting her to ask another question.
So, he liked performing for an audience. Liv took a few steps toward the table. “Physical, mental, or moral?”
“Yes.” The way his grin intensified said he was pleased, teaching the little lady some of his tricks.