Chapter 50
Horatio
Some people loved the smell of old books, but not Horatio. Libraries reminded him of homework and hours spent in detention. He shifted in the wooden chair, throat dry from talking so fast, and took a long chug of water.
“No wonder you’re so out of it. You were drugged twice,” Sugar said.
Horatio shot Gecko a death glare. “And the second round was a doozy.”
Gecko polished one of his fancy brass buttons with the cuff of his sleeve and mumbled an apology. When Komodo barked his name, he snapped to attention.
“Go to the king’s… guest room… and make sure he’s in the same position Mr. Slice left him in. Report back here immediately.”
“Don’t set him free. Meridian’s mine to deal with.”
Gecko gave Horatio a prim salute as he backed out the door.
“I can’t wrap my mind around the prophecy saving you like that,” Gunner said.
Dagger lifted Horatio’s shirt and traced the sigil only he could see. “Pretty like a flower.”
“Why didn’t it save me from being tranquilized, though?”
“Funny to let big guy get taken down by sleepy medicine.” Dagger cracked up even harder when Horatio scowled at him. “Vixens have good sense of humor.”
The search for maps continued. Seven climbed down from a towering bookcase and tossed Snake a dusty leather tube. “Hope this isn’t another portrait of the queen’s prized pony.”
Snake uncapped one end and unrolled it over a stack of papers already covering a large desk. “It’s a map—ancient and bloody confusing.”
Seven traced the hand-drawn maze of tunnels. “We’ll need to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to survive this.”
The word breadcrumbs sparked an idea. “Juno and Dragon have been here for two years, so someone’s been bringing them food and water, right?” Horatio asked.
“Right,” Sugar said. “And I’d bet my life Meridian isn’t the one serving meals.”
“So, who’s doing the king’s bidding?” Seven asked.
Gunner snapped his fingers. “Snake, remember those two he brought with him when he showed up in my dorm?”
“Young and scrawny. One had orange eyes.” Snake glared at Komodo. “Ring any bells?”
“I never assigned guards for Meridian’s personal use, but any of our hundreds of other officers could have.” Komodo grunted.
A scuffle at the door turned their heads. Gecko was pulling along a smaller guard by the back of his collar, who fought back like his life depended on it.
“Sir, I caught this one trying to pick the lock on the king’s guest room.” Gecko shoved the terrified guard closer to Komodo. “When I asked what he was doing, he told me it was none of my concern.”
“Disrespecting a commanding officer is grounds for dishonorable discharge, Tegu.” Komodo addressed the orange-eyed Reptilian. “Who sent you to retrieve the king?”
“Anole did, sir,” Tegu said, voice unsteady. “We’ve been searching for him all morning.”
“You and Anole were designated as Meridian’s personal guards? By whom?”
“I can’t say, sir.”
Gecko shoved him to the floor. “Answer your master sergeant at once!”
Tegu scrabbled to his hands and knees. “Anole forged your signature on the duty roster, sir. Two years ago. It’s all part of his master plan to take over Clairidia.”
“Liar! My nephew Anole would never commit treason. Lock him up.”
Gecko grabbed Tegu by one ankle and dragged him towards the door.
“Wait, sir!” Tegu clawed at the floor. “I know where General Dragon is.”
Komodo put up one hand. Gecko froze. Tegu whimpered.
“You allowed me to believe my brother was dead.” His tone chilled Horatio to the bone.
Tegu crawled closer and rubbed his face on Komodo’s boots. “I’m so sorry, sir! Anole tortured me so I’d keep quiet. You don’t know how I’ve suffered!”
“How you have suffered?” With an ear-piercing cry, Komodo clamped Tegu’s head between his massive hands and lifted him until his legs dangled twelve inches from the ground. “Treasonous coward. Where is General Dragon now?”
Tegu clawed at Komodo’s hands, legs jerking wildly. “Under… the castle. Elevator hidden in… the king’s quarters.”
Komodo’s fingers twitched around Tegu’s skull. For an instant, something flickered in his eyes: doubt, or maybe shame. But it didn’t stop his hands from twisting—the movement quick and sharp—the sound sickening. Like the snap of a dry twig.
With a grunt, Komodo dropped Tegu’s body at Gecko’s feet. Head twisted at an obscene angle, the guard’s dead eyes stared directly at Horatio as if it were his fault.
“Gecko, take his carcass outside and burn it. The rest of you, follow me.”
Silence swallowed the room. Sugar stroked the handle of his Glock, fingers surely itching to use it. Without a word, Snake handed Horatio his twelve-string.
He got nose-to-nose with Komodo, guitar at the ready. “Last I checked, my name’s on the prophecy, not yours.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?”
It might have been Komodo’s condescending tone, or maybe the smirk, but Horatio had never wanted to punch someone in the face so badly in his life. Instead, he kept eye contact with the scary Reptilian while discreetly setting his guitar to stun.
“It means I’m in charge.”
Komodo stretched taller. “I’ve commanded armies. What have you done?”
One chord later, the bulky Reptilian was flat on his back, conscious but paralyzed. Horatio raised a brow at Gecko. “You want to have a pissing contest with me, too?”
Gecko shook his head. “How long will he be like that, sir?”
“Not long.” He nodded at Tegu’s corpse. “Where’s his partner, Anole?”
“I’m not sure, sir. But I can radio the other officers and tell them to search.”
“Do it now.” Sugar ripped a tapestry off the wall and tossed it over Tegu. “Then send somebody to pick up the stiff.”
“Got anyone we can trust to guard Meridian’s dungeon?” Snake asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ll assign two of my best officers right now.”
“Choose wisely. Because if someone gets to Meridian before I do, I’ll chew out your throat first.” Snake bared his fangs.
“Understood, sir.” Gecko raised a trembling salute.
They found a library alcove filled with easy chairs and regrouped. Snake patted Horatio’s knee. “You were cool as ice back there, mate. Proud of you.”
“I was shaking on the inside, though.”
Sugar crossed his legs, expression serious. Horatio prepared for an interrogation. “You didn’t tell us everything about your encounter with Meridian, did you?”
Horatio relayed every detail except for one: the way his dick twitched when he was planked over Meridian, fighting the urge to lick the gloss from his mouth.
No one needed to know about that.
“The weak protests are a dead giveaway,” Seven said. “He wanted you to fuck him.”
“I gave him time to ask, but he just clammed up, so I’m not sure.”
“No, he definitely wants your dick,” Gunner said. “But who wouldn’t?”
Sugar laughed. “He wants al-l-l the dick. He just can’t cop to it.”
“Who cares? We’re going to blast him to smithereens, right, Hor?” Snake asked.
“Maybe. It sounds like this Anole dude was calling the shots. What if Meridian’s just a pawn? What do we do with that?” Horatio groaned. “I hate being in charge of someone else’s karmic retribution.”
“Prophecy chose you for a reason. You will know what to do. Trust,” Dagger said.
A quick prickling in his chest—directly over the sigil—was all Horatio needed. Besides, who was he to argue with whatever cosmic forces were at work?
Gecko appeared in the doorway. “Master Sergeant is beginning to twitch, sir.”
“Good. Let’s go rescue my Juno,” Dagger said.
· · ·
A shy castle docent led them to Meridian’s quarters. Obviously Petulian, his four eyes blinked rapidly whenever he met Horatio’s gaze.
“H-here we are, gentlemen.” He fumbled for a key he didn’t have.
“No need.” Snake placed a palm against the door, and it popped open. “Thank you, lad. You may be off.”
“First, can I get your autograph, Mr. Guitar Slayer, sir?” With trembling hands, he held out a piece of paper and a pen to Horatio.
“I guess everyone knows about the prophecy around here.” He signed the way he always did: big and loopy, with a quick sketch of a guitar.
“Yes, and we’re all rooting for you, sir.”
Horatio shook his head as the docent sped off. “Everybody hates Meridian.” He cracked his knuckles. “Ready to peek inside the king’s medicine cabinet? I am.”
Komodo stood in the doorway, arms out. “No one is allowed to touch anything.”
“Too bad. I’m gonna touch it all.” Horatio nudged Komodo aside. “Rifle through every drawer. Uncover every secret.” He stepped over the threshold and did a double take.
Beyond the small foyer was a sitting room with three arched doorways that branched off into hallways. Warm wood, dark green walls, and leather armchairs—it looked like Sherlock Holmes lived there, not a leather strap wearing kinkster.
“Are we sure this is Meridian’s lair? Where are the masks and other assorted freaky items?” Horatio picked up an old-fashioned pipe. “Interesting.”
Gunner pointed to a portrait hanging over a stone fireplace. “I think it’s his.”
Komodo nodded. “The late King Vale. He took the throne after Queen Claire passed away. Eight years later, he too passed on.”
“I’ve heard rumors that Meridian got his father drunk and pushed him off the balcony that night,” Seven said.
All the air left Horatio’s body.
“King Vale turned to drink after his wife’s death. As for the rest, Meridian is many things,” Komodo said. “A disappointment. A coward. But a murderer? Hardly. I can’t imagine he’d have the stomach for it.”
“Are we talking about the same Meridian? Tall. Wears masks. Kind of a psycho?” Horatio asked. “He seems like a dude who’d off his dad.”
“Before King Vale became king, he was the prison warden. After his coronation, he invited me to take over that role. I got to know the family well, but I haven’t seen Meridian face to face much over the past two years. Like most young people, he prefers to text his demands.”
“What was Meridian like as a kid?” Gunner asked.
“Overindulged, but a good student.” Komodo’s jaw flexed. “After his father died… he changed. Now he’s a disgrace to the family bloodline.”
“Trauma will do that to a person.” Horatio put the pipe back. “Lots of ground to cover. Too bad the one guy who could’ve pointed us in the right direction is dead.”
Eyes closed, Komodo put a hand on his chest. “I let my anger guide me. It won’t happen again.” A quick breath, and he resumed the search, rapping his knuckles along a paneled wall. “This castle is full of hidden passageways. One might lead to the elevator.”
Working together, they checked every room but found nothing of note until they got to a large bedchamber, presumably Meridian’s. The room didn’t appear lived in, and smelled of must and neglect.
Horatio picked up a bed pillow and smacked it against the headboard, producing a cloud of dust. “Well, his workbench isn’t getting used.”
“Iggy mentioned something about him sleeping in a locked cell at night,” Snake said. “I wonder where he’s hiding that?”
Gunner opened a door to his left. “Uh, guys? I found the masks.”
The space was set up as an artist’s studio. Long counters were covered with strange, chalky lumps. “What are these?” Horatio asked.
“Plaster molds for those.” Gunner pointed to a wall covered with dozens of masks. He lifted a sheet of plastic, revealing a plaster head covered in wet clay. “This one’s in progress.”
“I’ve met you in person,” Sugar said to a Reptilian mask. “I’ll bet he spends most of his time in here, working on his freak show.”
An airbrush station took up one corner. A half-painted dragon mask hung from a hook. “Wow,” Horatio said. “Meridian’s crazy, but he’s one hell of an artist.”
“Did you notice that every mirror in this place is cracked?” Seven asked. “Even the one in the corner over there.”
Horatio stared at his reflection. “Like looking through a spider’s web.” He sighed. “Guess he didn’t like looking at what he’d become.”
“Meridian’s story gets sadder by the minute,” Gunner said.
Snake rubbed his arms. “Let’s find the way out, quick.”
“Wait, look at this.” Seven held out a gold picture frame. “I know that’s Queen Claire on the right, but who’s the little girl?”
“Must be a daughter we never learned about. Cute that they’re wearing matching ball gowns, though,” Sugar said.
“The queen only had two sons. Of that, I’m sure,” Komodo said.
“You can’t deny the family resemblance.” Sugar frowned. “How old was Meridian when his mother passed?”
“Eight,” Komodo said. “She died giving birth to Alistar.”
Sugar tapped the photo. “She looks about eight. Do you think maybe that’s… Meridian?”
“I didn’t. But now I do.” Seven shook his head. “He looks so happy here.”
Horatio was about to ask if anyone had seen Dagger when he appeared in the doorway. “I found toys. Lots of toys. Come see.”
Horatio dashed after him. “Like sex toys?” Once he caught up, Dagger pointed inside a deep closet. “Oh. You meant the other kind.”
The walk-in had shelves on each side that were lined with dozens of dolls, stuffed animals, music boxes, and even a porcelain tea set.
“Everything in here is dusty. Except this.” Gunner lifted a teacup. A soft click sounded. The back wall of the closet shuddered, then slid upward, revealing an elevator.
“Sexy genius.” Horatio patted Gunner’s butt. “Let’s do this.”
After a long descent, the elevator doors opened, revealing a subterranean level with five dimly lit passageways snaking in different directions.
“Well, this is fucking creepy,” Gunner said.
They exited the car and stood in the center of the alcove.
“Which way?” Horatio asked.
Dagger sighed, long and mournful. “I don’t feel Juno. He must be far away.”
“I smell blood.” Snake pointed to the middle passageway. “Coming from there.”
“Blood?” Seven scanned the floor with his flashlight. The beam illuminated a bloody, bare footprint. “Fuck. Me.”
“Please not Juno,” Dagger wailed.
Snake crouched and took a long inhale. “Human.” He dipped his finger in the print and took a taste. “I know that flavor.”
“No fucking way,” Sugar muttered.
He stood, face grim. “Ormond.”