Chapter 37 Jules
Jules
For half a second, I can’t move. It was weird enough when I got dragged out of the Human world and brought into the Shadow Realm, but all this time I’ve been kind of thinking in the back of my head that this whole experience is some kind of really vivid dream.
I mean, a world divided into kingdoms ruled by paranormal Mafia gangs who all covet curvy women—it’s not exactly realistic, is it?
Only maybe it is because now it’s not just me in the Shadow Realm anymore. Hanna has been dragged into it too and I bet it’s somehow my fault.
My friend is just standing there, wide-eyed and frightened.
She no longer looks like the jewel-eyed Fae creature Whistler dragged in by the arm.
She’s not some nightmare thing made of glamour and sharp edges—she’s just Hanna.
Real, human Hanna, in wrinkled navy-blue scrubs that are a little too tight in the hips with a name badge clipped crookedly to her chest.
Her auburn curls are a mess, pulled half out of whatever ponytail she threw them into this morning, and her green eyes are wide with shock. Freckles dust her nose and cheeks, standing out starkly against skin that’s gone pale.
She looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her—except now she’s standing in a Vampire Don’s dining hall, surrounded by monsters. Well, two monsters and me.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, still not quite believing it. I never expected to see anyone from Book Club again, but here she is.
Hanna sways slightly, like her legs might give out and I rush to catch her before she falls…but Don Malthus beats me to it.
Before I can stop him, he is cradling Hanna in his massive arms, looking down at her with that skull mask of his.
“Be careful, lovely one,” he murmurs. “You wouldn’t want to bruise that lovely pale flesh, would you?”
Hanna looks up at him, her green eyes going wide with fright.
“Who…what…”
I dump my cat and rush to my friend. Mr. Mittens lands on his feet, of course, tail lashing furiously as he glares at us all like this is the worst dinner party he’s ever attended, but I barely notice—I’m too worried about Hanna.
“Hey, let her go,” I demand, glaring at the Necro Don. “You’re scaring her to death!”
“Very well.” Don Malthus removes his skeletal hands, pushing Hanna gently into my arms.
But by this time, she looks positively wild. Her hands fly to her hair, fingers tugging at her curls like she’s trying to wake herself up.
“Oh my God,” she says, sounding breathless. “Oh my God, Jules. What…where am I? Where is this place?”
“That doesn’t matter, right now,” I say, hugging her tight. “For right now, you just need to know that you’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you—I promise.”
Of course, I couldn’t stop either the Vampire or the Necromancer if they wanted to hurt her but just let either of them try! I’m not so worried about Lucian, but I give Don Malthus another glare, letting him know my friend is off-limits.
Hanna lets out a broken little sound and clings to me tightly. Clearly her mind is reeling—trying to process all of this. I know how she feels.
“Oh my God,” I say, laughing and crying at the same time. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“I can’t believe it either!” she says, voice high and shaky. “Where am I? Jules, where am I?”
I pull back just enough to look at her, keeping my hands locked on her arms like if I let go she might vanish. She’s curvy like me—soft hips, full thighs—and the reality of seeing her, another human here in the Shadow Realm—grounds me like nothing else could. She just looks so real.
Her scrubs are rumpled, like she slept in them or ran out the door in a hurry—probably she was late to work. Hanna is a wonderful person, but she’s almost always running five to ten minutes late at any given time.
Maybe she came looking for me and that’s how she ended up here.
My chest tightens painfully at the thought. My poor Hanna—I feel awful for her.
“Where am I?” she whispers again.
“You’re definitely not in Florida anymore,” I tell her. “I’ll explain. I promise. Just—breathe.”
She sucks in a breath that seems to shake her whole body.
It’s not like she’s weak—she’s one of the strongest people I know.
I mean, she’s a Hospice nurse—it takes guts to do a job like that.
But she also looks like she might be going into some kind of shock and who could blame her?
It makes you feel crazy to be dragged from the regular world into the Shadow Realm—I should know.
But while I’ve been preoccupied with my cat and my friend, the mood in the room has shifted sharply.
Lucian rises from his chair in one smooth, dangerous motion, the scrape of wood against stone loud in the sudden silence. His eyes have gone blood red and they are fixed on Whistler, his expression darkening by the second.
“What,” he says coldly, “is the meaning of this?”
Whistler lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug, like he didn’t just drag one of my best friends into a supernatural power struggle.
“You instructed me to retrieve the cat and its accoutrements, my Lord. So that’s what I did.”
“I instructed you to retrieve the cat,” Lucian snaps, every word precise and sharp. “Not abduct another human—especially not another Curvy Queen! You know how dangerous it is to bring them here to the Shadow Realm!”
His voice cracks like a whip and Hanna stiffens against me. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and squeeze automatically.
“Why did you bring another human,” Lucian continues, his voice like ice, “When I specifically instructed you to bring only the animal?”
Whistler’s mouth quirks.
“Ah. Well. You did say everything around the cat—everything the cat needed, right?”
Lucian’s eyes narrow dangerously but Whistler hurries on.
“This woman,” he says, gesturing toward Hanna, “Was petting the animal. It appeared attached to her. The cat seemed to require her presence, for emotional support, maybe.”
Mr. Mittens chooses that moment to let out a loud, offended mrrrow. He’s twining around both our legs, as though asking for attention from me and Hanna.
Whistler spreads his hands and nods at my friend.
“The cat needed her, so I brought her. Along with the food, the litter box, the carrier, and assorted other objects that looked like the cat might need them. They’re in your office with your guards, my Lord.”
Lucian looks like he might actually tear the Realm-Hopper’s head off.
“This is ridiculous,” he growls. “You have taken an unnecessary risk bringing her here.”
Hanna’s fingers dig into my arm, and I can almost feel her fear.
She’s worried that Lucian will hurt her—that he thinks she’s to blame for being here somehow.
I open my mouth to reassure her but before I can get a word out, another voice cuts in—low, velvet-dark, and threaded with something ancient and cold.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Don Malthus Veyl murmurs. He takes a step towards us, his gaze trained on Hanna.
Every instinct in my body screams danger. Hanna shrinks against me and I tighten my grip on her.
Don Malthus moves closer with eerie grace, his shadowy robes billowing as though stirred by a wind only he can feel. The skeletal hands emerge again, pale and sharp, fingers long and deliberate. They seem like an odd contrast to the huge, muscular body outlined by the strange fabric he wears.
Everyone has stood up by now and we’re all congregated by the head of the table. The servants, perhaps sensing conflict, have vanished like smoke.
The Necro Don stops a few feet from us. He towers over us both—the specter of death with a deadly chill coming off him. It’s like standing next to an open freezer door…or maybe an open grave.
“Tell me, beautiful one,” he says softly, his skull-mask angled toward Hanna. “What is your name?”
Hanna goes completely still and her face—which had begun to get a little color—goes paper-pale again. She straightens despite herself, spine stiff with fear, and takes a small step backward—away from him and closer to me.
“I—I…” Her voice trembles. “You…you’re not—my name is none of your business.”
The bone grin never changes.
“Ah,” Don Malthus murmurs. “But it is my business. For I must know what to call such a lovely woman—such a beautiful queen.”
Lucian shifts, frowning. He looks displeased, but doesn’t interrupt.
“I have seen you before,” the Necro Don continues, still looking down at Hanna. “I am certain of it.”
Hanna’s breath seems to catch in her throat, and she just looks at him—clearly at a loss for words.
“Yes, you stand in the doorway between me and my charges,” Malthus says to her. “Those I must guide from the Human Realm into the shadows of the Great Beyond.”
She swallows hard.
“I… I’m a Hospice nurse,” she stammers. “But I’ve n-never seen you before.”
Don Malthus inclines his skull slightly, seeming almost respectful.
“Of course not,” he says. “It is my role to remain unseen, lovely one.”
The air around him seems to grow colder.
“But though you do not see me, I am there,” he continues quietly. “Always. I have watched you comfort those who must soon take my hand. I have seen you sit beside the dying when others could not bear to stay. I have seen you whisper kindness into ears that no longer hear.”
Hanna’s eyes are huge now, glossy with terror.
“I…I…” She shakes her head, clearly at a loss for words.
“I have seen you lean over the bedside of those whose time in the Human Realm has ended,” Don Malthus says. “I have admired your courage as much as your beauty, my curvy one. Long have I wished to have one such as you at my side.”
Hanna just stares at him like a deer caught in headlights—frozen, shaking, unable to look away. And who can blame her for being freaked out? It’s like Death himself is coming on to her—definitely not a normal situation.
“Oh my God,” she whispers at last. “I can’t…please, I don’t even know you.”
“But you could come to know me…and I, you,” he murmurs and reaches for her with one long-fingered, skeletal hand.
Hanna seems almost hypnotized. For a moment, she sways forward—as though she might fall into his arms for a second time that night.
That’s it—I’ve had it. I grab her hand hard enough to jolt her out of the trance.
“Nope,” I say sharply. “Come on, Hanna. We’re going.”
Lucian turns toward me.
“Julia, our guest—”
But I don’t wait for permission. I don’t care if it’s rude—I’m not letting my friend fall under the spell of Dr. Death.
I bend, scoop Mr. Mittens under my free arm—he protests loudly, claws kneading my sleeve—and haul Hanna toward the door.
Don Malthus takes one step forward, as though drawn to my friend but Lucian moves at the same time.
“That is far enough,” Lucian says, his voice like a drawn blade. “You are an ally, but you have no rights to this human. She is in my territory and therefore under my protection.”
The Necro Don pauses, his skull mask tilting thoughtfully.
“Another time, then,” he murmurs in that velvety-dark voice. “You cannot stand in the threshold forever, lovely one,” he says to Hanna. “One day you will have to cross it yourself. And I will be there—waiting for you.”
Hanna gives a little cry of terror and I give her a tug.
“Don’t listen to him,” I hiss. “Come on!”
I drag her out of the grand dining room, my heart hammering, Mr. Mittens squirming under my arm, and my friend’s hand locked tightly in mine.
I don’t look back but I can feel their eyes on me—both the Vampire and the Necromancer. Though Don Malthus is probably looking mostly at Hanna. She seemed to attract him like catnip—is it because she’s a Hospice nurse and he’s seen her before, as he said?
Whatever the reason, I’ve already decided he can’t have her. She’s my friend and she’s here because of me. I’ll be damned if I let her get dragged off to The Hollow Necropolis to get gnawed like a bone.
But I have an uneasy feeling that Don Malthus isn’t likely to be distracted. Now that Hanna has been brought to his attention, he’s not going to forget her.