Chapter 40 Skull Building #2
A loud ringing echoed through the room, saving Luna from replying.
“Oh! That’s the timer. Damien”—Corey called over to him as if he wasn’t standing three feet away—“be a dear and grab those treats out of the oven.”
With his hands crossed over his chest, he scolded Corey, “You know, I’m still technically a prince, I should be the one ordering you around.” His voice was light, speaking in a teasing manner.
Corey’s horse-like ears flattened to her skull and she gave him a vicious, lopsided smile as she said, “Try it. I dare you.”
Laughing, he obediently went to the oven.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Corey said rather smugly. “Just place them over on the counter, Little Prince.”
The oven door creaked open as Damien called out, “Order me around all you want, but nothing about me is little.”
Well, he’s not wrong about that.
A cocky little smirk played on his lips when he returned with a plate of cookies. “See.” He lifted the plate into the air, causing the sleeve of his shirt to stretch tightly against the bulging muscles beneath, proving his point.
Corey threw back her head. “Ha! Big strong man can use his magic to hold cookies in the air. Please tell me how you managed such a feat.”
He placed the plate on the low black table between the couches and sank into one of them. “It took a lot of training, but I endured.”
Luna settled beside him, the cushion barely dipping beneath her weight.
Across from them, Corey dropped into the oversized armchair like she owned the room and swiped the biggest cookie off the plate. “When one has little talent,” she said, taking a bite, “they have to work twice as hard. Right, Damien?”
“You’re just jealous my horn is bigger than yours,” Damien said as he passed a plate of cookies to Luna.
“Size has nothing to do with ability,” Corey huffed. “I could kick your ass and you know it. Hold up. What’s that?” Her hand snapped out, knocking the plate out of Damien’s hand before Luna could grab it.
The porcelain shattered across the floor. “What the—” The words lodged in Luna’s throat as Corey grabbed her hand, eyes fixed on her fingers.
Dread coiled in her belly, heat flaming her cheeks. Her nail beds were exposed, marred with dried white-light blood, the scabs cracked and raw. She curled her fingers into her palm, pulling her hand into her lap. A pointless movement since Corey had clearly seen them.
A guttural snarl erupted from Corey, sending shivers down Luna’s spine. She hadn’t known a person could produce such a noise.
“You’re going to tell me who did this.” Corey’s demand sliced through the tense silence, her gaze boring into Damien with murderous intensity.
“It’s nothing,” Luna tried to explain, sinking deeper into the couch.
“It’s not nothing,” Corey spat, surging to her hooves with enough force the massive chair shifted backwards a bit.
For a second, Luna thought she might march back to Ghelvina and start a full-on war.
“Someone just added themselves to my list,” Corey growled.
“And trust me, that’s not a list you want to be on. ”
Damien leaned back, his hands folded behind his head. “Settle down, Corey. It’s all been taken care of.”
Her chest heaved, anger visibly pulsing through her. “It better have been a bloodbath.”
“It was,” Damien said matter-of-factly. Rolling his neck, his gaze found Luna’s as he added, “She took every single one of them out.” Was that pride in his voice?
Instantly, Corey’s storm of anger dissipated like mist under the morning sun. “Did you now?” she cooed, eyes glittering as she returned to her seat. “Tell me everything—and don’t you skip a single detail, sweet cheeks.”
Luna laughed; a nervous, uncomfortable sound, as if she was attempting to soothe herself. It didn’t work. Inside, she was cringing. All she wanted was to see Nina, not relive her trauma for someone else’s entertainment.
Corey leaned forward, her ears perked forward like this was about to become her new favourite bedtime story, one she’d treasured for years.
Luna shook her head. She didn’t think she could bear to say it out loud.
Even though she had taken out her enemies, she hadn’t been in control.
Her magic had surged through her, wild and consuming.
Truthfully, she hadn’t meant to kill all those people; she’d only been trying to get William off of her.
If Damien hadn’t been able to absorb her excess power, she might have taken them out as well.
His hand moved to her knee, giving it a light squeeze—grounding her in the present—before he answered for her, “She transformed. Exploded into starlight and shredded them all. There was nothing left of the place.”
“Good for you!” Corey cried, the fierceness in her voice replaced with sudden delight. She then trotted off to the kitchen only to return with another handful of cookies. “That’s how we treat those who wrong us. You get extra cookies.”
She handed Luna one, then paused a beat too long, her eyes catching the subtle tremble in Luna’s fingers as she took it.
Turning to Damien, she stuck out her tongue. “And you get none.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice still playful, though the teasing edge had thinned. “Next time, do a better job protecting my new dearest friend and you can have some.”
Dearest friend? Luna swallowed the bite she’d been chewing.
This was only their second time meeting .
. . and she wouldn’t have thought they were friends, let alone dearest. But perhaps Corey was one of those people who made friendships quickly, or maybe she didn’t know what real friendship was . . .
Damien turned a sharp eye on Corey. “You think I just sat around and let her get hurt?”
“I think if I was there,” Corey purred, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “nothing would have happened.”
Luna stiffened, the comment knocking the breath from her lungs.
In one sentence, Corey had reduced everything she’d endured to a failure of protection, as if she hadn’t fought, hadn’t suffered, hadn’t survived.
It stripped something from Luna, diminishing everything she had been through.
She wanted to say something, to argue, to somehow prove that she was strong, capable, but words failed her, dissolving before they could form.
All she could do was sit there, small and helpless all over again.
And that—more than anything—infuriated her.
Damien shook his head. “Your arrogance blinds you.”
“What do you mean?” Corey swung her head so fast in Damien’s direction, Luna was half surprised her horn didn’t fling off. “I train fucking hard and you know it. I would’ve killed every single person there and saved her from having to do so.”
Damien remained still, composed, one arm draped over the couch’s arm like a ruler on a throne.
His expression gave nothing away, no offense taken, no heat behind his words.
“Your hubris outweighs your actual capabilities,” he said, voice even, unmoved.
“There is zero chance you would’ve fared any better than the rest of us. ”
Corey may have been attempting to be supportive, but it hadn’t landed well.
Luna’s gaze moved from the floor to Damien’s, grateful he had the words she didn’t.
“I speak the truth,” Corey shot back, a retort ready on her lips. “I would’ve stopped shit from getting bad before they had a chance to.”
“Just like you did when you were with Ella?” Damien asked, sharp.
Corey gasped. “That was different.” Her fingers curled tight into the couch cushions like she was physically restraining herself.
“Was it?” Rising to stand, Damien’s hand sliced through the air. “You were supposed to make sure nothing happened to his fiancée, and now she’s as good as dead. When I realized Luna was gone, I went after her. I found her before it was too late. Can you say the same?”
Every word sent Corey sinking further into her chair, and when he was done, her complexion was ghostly pale.
Luna tilted her head. Now was probably not the best time to ask what happened to this Ella person. That’d likely be too rude, inappropriate even, but damn the skies—why not? Corey had deemed it acceptable to argue about Luna’s traumatic experience seconds ago. Fair game.
Placing her uneaten cookies back on the table, Luna asked, “What happened to her?”
Silence.
Then finally, Corey said, “She used to love an adventure. Always wanted to go everywhere, see everything . . .” She let out a ragged breath, her voice hollow, void of its usual musical sweetness.
“But after she got engaged to Gregory, she changed. When I finally convinced her to go exploring near Winta and Felix’s, we ended up in a fight.
I stormed off, thought she was right behind me . . . but she wasn’t.”
“Where did she go?”
Corey slowly blinked, refocusing her eyes on Luna, returning from wherever she’d gone. “I don’t know. I figured she was just taking her sweet time to annoy me, but she never came back. Everyone searched for her, Gregory still does I think. But she left no trace. It’s like she just . . . vanished.”
Luna didn’t know what to say. No wonder Gregory had her grave at Winta and Felix’s, that’s where Ella went missing.
Corey rubbed her forehead. “You know the most ironic thing is . . . I don’t even remember what the fight was about.”
Probably something small, Luna thought to herself. Something minor. Nothing worth losing a life over.
“Sorry, Corey,” Damien mumbled, biting his lip. “I went too far.”
“No.” Corey shook her head. “It’s fine. I get it.”
An awkward silence fell on them. Eager to escape it, Luna rose and began gathering the broken shards of glass and scattered cookies.
Corey fetched a broom and swept up the smaller fragments, tossing everything into what looked like a garbage can in the kitchen.
The scaly container glowed bright red, then gulped and the waste completely disappeared.
After a bit, Damien entered the kitchen. “Marion is with Nina, I presume?”
Corey nodded. “She’s in the basement. Cuffs on to suppress her magic, just in case. We’ve also been taking turns watching her. Don’t want her pulling any tricks, you know.”
“If you still want to see Nina, we should go now,” Damien said, turning to Luna.
“Of course,” she replied. It was the whole reason they had come, and she wasn’t about to change her mind now despite the dread filling her gut.
“I’ll come down with you,” Corey said, already heading down the side hallway. “It’s my shift anyway. Marion could use a break.”
Luna followed, bracing herself for what waited below. After a lifetime of longing and questions, she was finally going to speak to her birth mother. All she could do now was hope that it went well—that it wouldn’t break her more than it healed.