“But you can remove it, right?” I gave him a hard glare. If I’d gotten into this deal for nothing, I’d start firing off shotgun rounds like there was no tomorrow.
“Oh, yes. Have no fear.”
Easy for you to say… you’re not face-to-face with a human-Child of Chaos hybrid.
“I’ll ask again, since you seem easily distracted: Do you recall anyone coming to the house back then?”
I dug deep but came up blank. “We didn’t live here then, so it’s hard to remember. A lot of my childhood is a blur, with my dad and everything. I need time to think back that far.”
“Human memory is such a weak vessel.” He scoffed.
I shrugged. “We can’t all have big cosmic brains.” I sifted through my memories, but one thought kept pushing through. “How come the curse couldn’t be detected? A few people looked over her, and they found zilch. Marie wasn’t even one hundred percent sure it was Voodoo by the time she finished. It ended up being more of a fifty-fifty situation. I know you said she doesn’t know everything, but she must know the feel of a Voodoo curse, right?”
“The individual who crafted this must be a remarkable scholar of ancient blood magic, which is a different branch of the tree of Voodoo than we know today. The only people who still study and utilize this sort of Voodoo reside in the heart of Africa, in isolated tribes that most people don’t even know exist.”
“So, are we going to Africa?”
Erebus shrugged. “That depends on where the spellcaster is. They may have left Africa. But, I must reiterate, only they can reverse this curse.”
“Why can’t you do it, if you’re so high and mighty, and you claim to know everything?”
He sneered. “That is none of your business.”
“I’d say it is, since I’m your pocket slave.”
“This is extremely powerful and complex Voodoo. Its name is ‘Death of the Soul.’ Going straight to the source is the option with the smallest risk to the victim.” He smiled eerily. “Besides, I imagine you want closure, don’t you? Do you not wish to look upon the person who did this, and ask them why?”
I looked down at Mom. Since finding out it was a Voodoo curse, not Alzheimer’s, that’d been all I could think about. “Yeah… I do.” And I’d be taking my shotgun with me, plus a few dynamite spells.
“How does this sound—I will go so far as to help you find the person, on the proviso that you start working for me immediately afterward.”
“Are you going to string me along, like you’ve been doing with Finch?” I still didn’t like that. Finch didn’t deserve what Erebus put him through.
Erebus laughed darkly. “I only need you for one project, so you need not worry about ending up in the same predicament as Finch. He didn’t read the fine print, so to speak. But, for you, I will clarify the length of your service and seal it with an unbreakable blood pact.”
“No tricks?”
“No tricks,” he replied firmly.
Why don’t I believe you? “Fine. Help me get this worm and cure my mom, and I will help you on one project.”
“Excellent.” He wafted his hand through the air and formed a dagger of pure black. I pulled a face as he drew it across his palm. Blood didn’t bother me, but I didn’t know what would ooze out of him. To my shock, it did look like blood, just darker. On my turn, I held out my palm and let him cut it. It didn’t hurt. More magic, probably. With our bleeding hands clasped, he gave me a firm handshake.
“Is that it?” I shook back as hard as I could. His hand felt like a block of ice, cold and smooth and burning at the same time. Sparks of something like electricity stung up into my palm. It made giving a decent handshake pretty tough, but I held on to the bitter end.
“Yes. The deal is sealed. One project in exchange for helping you. Then you walk free.”
I eyed him. “Do I get to know what the details are now?”
“It has to do with Finch’s current endeavor on my behalf,” he replied. “That is all you need to know for the time being.”
“You want to throw me a bigger bone there?”
He grinned. “No.”
What have I gotten myself into? Erebus had sworn no tricks. But he was a game-player, a master manipulator, through and through. He clearly liked to drop breadcrumbs without giving the whole loaf. I’d have to be very careful.
I still felt I was doing the right thing. By doing this, I could save Mom. My sister could get her mom back. I didn’t care about the cost of making that happen.
Nine
Finch
If you could have dinner with anyone, alive or dead, who would you pick?
Talk show hosts always asked that question, and none of the people sitting around this table would’ve made my list. No offense, but I liked my food with a side of glittering conversation and a few good laughs, instead of an entrée of cold stares and a smattering of suspicion. Melody and Mr. Abara didn’t give me any stink-eye, but Luke seemed to have joined the “let’s all hate on Finch because he was squeezed out by a monster and is clearly exactly like her” party.
I’d retreated into one of my rarer coping mechanisms—keeping my head down and keeping my trap shut. No jokes. Even when Oliver started going on about his life-changing backpacking experiences in Thailand, I resisted, though I doubted he’d done more than drink cheap beer and lounge around on beaches annoying the locals.
The food, though. Damn.
Stuffing every tasty creation into my mouth would have kept me quiet, even if silent judgment hadn’t surrounded me. Delicious courses came one after the other, never too heavy. An herby salad with citrus dressing. Moussaka so fluffy it melted on my tongue. Fresh olive bread with fava and tzatziki. Squares of baklava marinated in raw honey. My mouth watered like I had a serious problem with my saliva glands.
All of it had come from the monastery’s farm, apparently somewhere inside this huge interdimensional pocket. The courses were served by the human monks, who looked pretty pleased that they had folks to entertain. Perhaps they thought it beat prayer and flagellation, though maybe they weren’t that kind of monk.
This is the life. Things felt simple here. I liked simple. It marked a nice change from the hectic pace of the past year. Man, did I deserve a breather.
We all sat at a wooden table on a terrace that hadn’t been visible from the outside, with potted lemon trees in full fruit around us and the sunset putting on its prettiest performance. Even the air smelled different here. Cleaner, crisper, filled with the warming scents of citrus and herbs.
“I thought we might take a brief repose until the next course,” Etienne said. He sat at the head of the table. Naturally.
“Sounds good to me. I’m about to bust out of my jeans.” I broke my silence and gave my swollen tum a rub. “Hey, is that why you wear those robes? No waistline to worry about? I might need one of those soon.” I looked at one of the monks clearing plates, but he just gave me a puzzled frown.
Etienne smirked. “Not all the monks speak English, Finch.”
“Right.” The burn of judgmental eyes hit me again, and my skin prickled.
“Thank you for this generosity.” Mr. Abara gave a gracious nod. Why couldn’t I have said that?
“It is part of the service,” Etienne replied. “Aspiring minds must be well-nourished.”
“Reminds me of a feast I had in Nepal, before I trekked to Everest base camp,” Oliver chimed in. “Course after course, all of it so traditional.”
“You climbed to Everest base camp?” Melody looked at Oliver in awe. “Isn’t that supposed to be one of the toughest challenges a person can undertake? Was it dangerous? Goodness, how did you handle the altitude?”
He shrugged. “I planned to trek to base camp, but the instructors said my level of expertise was too high for the rest of the group I was with, so they made me stay behind. They didn’t want to lower morale, or make the others think they weren’t doing well enough. I’ll go back one day, though.”
I snorted.
Yeah, good one.
“Something funny?” Oliver glared at me.
“Just a stray piece of bread.” I banged on my chest to play up the ruse.
He smiled coolly. “Didn’t your mother teach you to chew your food properly?”
I’d had enough of this dingus. “You know what, she didn’t. Too busy crushing my spirit. She wanted me so broken that I’d obey her without question. Did your mother ever lock you in a room with a Tarasque on your seventeenth birthday, while it filled slowly with water? Oh, and have that be your so-called present?” I took a deep sip from my glass. “You don’t want to know what she did for my eighteenth. There isn’t enough therapy in the world for that particular treat.”
Oliver sat in stunned silence. That’s more like it. I took a sly glance at Blanche to see if my tale had softened her up at all, but she refused to look at me. It would take more than one sob story to prove to her I wasn’t my mother. All the secondhand apologies in the world wouldn’t bring her husband back. Sometimes I felt Katherine had gotten off lightly. She’d died at my hand and escaped trial for all the evil things she’d done. Instead, I seemed to be doing that for her.
“Actually, we fought a Tarasque in France a few years back,” Shailene said proudly.
Fay nodded. “They’re nothing to write home about. Tough shells, but once you get through that—”
“—they’re a piece of cake,” Shailene added.
“Yeah, and we were about seventeen.” Fay smiled smugly. “That thing is in the Bestiary now.”
“No hassle whatsoever.” Shailene finished the jibe. A beautiful, savage, arrogant tag team.
I sank back in my chair and clutched my glass for dear life. No matter what I said, I set myself up to fail. Getting us inside hadn’t bought me any brownie points. In fact, nobody had mentioned it since, and the Shining Twins acted like it was their divine right to sit there. As if their useless battering of gemstones had been the key, rather than, you know, the actual key.
“Let’s start afresh, shall we?” Etienne came in as peacekeeper, no doubt feeling guilty that he’d lit this fuse. “Why don’t we go around the table and you introduce yourselves: your abilities, where you come from, etcetera, etcetera?”
“Well, as you already know, we’re—”
“—famed monster hunters.” The Basani twins jumped straight in, even though they sat in the middle of the bench opposite and nowhere near Etienne.
“We’ve been traveling the world since we were sixteen, capturing—”
“—all kinds of Purge beasts. Big, small, aggressive, treacherous.” Fay beamed at her sister.
“Our names are in the Sydney Coven’s Hall of Fame,” Shailene went on.
Fay nodded. “We’re the youngest to be inducted, and definitely the most impressive. We’ve got some grisly creatures in Australia, and I’m not talking about the—”
“—spiders and snakes. There are insanely dangerous Purge beasts in Australia, and we’ve put at least one of each into the Bestiary. Both of us have Telekinetic and Fire powers to help us do it.” Shailene gave her sister a nudge, the two of them soaking up the admiration. Not that they got any from me. Their exploits would have been cool, but their arrogance made it impossible to give them any kind of credit. They need some humble pie for dessert.
“You said you put ten percent of all beasts into the Bestiary?” I couldn’t help myself. A garnish of pettiness would taste so sweet right now.
The twins shot me a withering look, both barrels. “Yes.”
“I’ll take a look when I’m back at the SDC. I’d love to see the creatures you’ve captured. Tobe will know which ones came from you. That dude has a brain like an encyclopedia, and he’s a good pal of mine. Should be interesting.” I smiled sweetly. Name drop, biatches! I didn’t doubt their skill, but I smelled BS. The BS of embellishment.
They exchanged a glance. “You do that,” Shailene muttered.
“Yeah, knock yourself out.” Fay’s lips curved in a scowl. Maybe she literally wanted me to knock myself out.
“You know Tobe?” Melody shrieked. “That’s incredible! Is he as fearsome as everyone says? What about his wings—does he have wings? I would love to meet him one day. Can you imagine what it must be like to live for over a thousand years? How does he feel about that? Have you ever asked him?”
I chuckled. “Whoa there, one question at a time. I’m nursing the start of a food coma here, so I’m a little slow.”
She giggled shyly. “Sorry, force of habit.”
“He’s definitely not fearsome, unless you piss him off. Then he gets scary, but most of the time he’s a big pussycat. With wings. Big ones. He keeps things in them, like Mary Poppins. Anything you might want, he’ll probably have, tucked up there somewhere. As for living that long—he doesn’t talk about it much, but I don’t reckon it’s easy. He’s had to watch everyone he loves die and start over, time and time again.”
“I’d love to talk to him.” Melody sighed.
“He’d probably be down to talk to you, too.”
“Why don’t you go next, Melody?” Etienne prompted.
Melody’s expression quickly changed. Like an eccentric, fluffy tortoise, she retreated into her shell. I guessed she didn’t like having the spotlight in larger groups. She probably ran a higher risk of saying something she shouldn’t.
She shrugged. “There’s not much to say. I’m from the Winchester family. I live in the so-called Winchester Mystery House. I have ties to the San Jose Coven, but I’ve never visited it. As I said before, I’ve been homeschooled my whole life, and I suppose I don’t get out much.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I like to read. I like to learn. And… uh… I have Air and Empath abilities.”
“What about those Technicolor wings you gave Luke?” I cast Luke a sly glance. “He looked like the lovechild of an angel and a unicorn.”
Melody shifted awkwardly. “Uh… I know a lot of specialist spells. Transformative ones, mainly. I’m not as good with them as I am with my natural abilities, but I suppose practice makes perfect.”
“Give us a show—tell me what I’m feeling,” Oliver urged, glossing right over her spell skillset.
She shook her head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t want to slip up like I did before.” She nodded to Etienne. “I’m sorry. Sometimes, I forget not everyone has Empathy. The words just come tumbling out before I even know what I’ve said.”
“We all make mistakes,” Etienne said, with surprising kindness. Melody’s endearing quality seemed to affect him, too. Yeah, no kidding, you called me out about ten seconds after Melody called you out. Hypocrite.
“No, go on. Color me intrigued,” Oliver insisted.
“Are you sure?” She hesitated and glanced at Luke, who shrugged. It was Oliver’s funeral.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Oliver sat back and smiled. He evidently hadn’t come up against an Empath before. He probably thought himself impervious.
Oh… this will be good.
Melody took a shaky breath. “You keep thinking about the Basani twins. There’s all this desire coming off you whenever you look at them. A bit of fear, too. They don’t seem to like you, though, so you might be barking up the wrong tree. They feel suspicion and anger toward you. Mr. Abara feels sad and frustrated about something and isn’t feeling very comfortable right now. I won’t read Etienne in case I say something bad. And… I can’t read Finch or Blanche.”
Oliver’s cheeks turned beet red, while the Basani twins stuck to their nonchalance. But Melody’s words about Mr. Abara sparked my curiosity. He didn’t look sad. He must be good at hiding it.
“Luke, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Etienne ended the awkward silence.
“Me?” He pointed at his chest. “I’m here to look after Melody. I’ve worked in her family’s service for just over a year. That’s it.”
Melody nodded. “He’s a Magneton.”
“Bending spoons like a magician?” I grinned at him and g
ot nothing back. Tough crowd.
“There’s more to it than that,” he replied, unamused.
“I know, I almost lost a filling before.” I rubbed my cheek to emphasize the point.
Oliver nodded and tugged on his ear. “And my piercings. Hey, if I threw a fork at you, would it stick?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Does metal stick to you?” I parroted.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Luke muttered. “Don’t even think about trying it. I don’t want strangers throwing cutlery at my face. I’m not a sideshow.”
“Ah, come on. Melody showed us what she can do. Let’s see what you can do.” I picked up my fork.
Oliver grinned. “Yeah, mate, you know you want to. Just give it a little bend, or make it dangle from your nose. Anyone can do it with a spoon, but I’ve never seen anyone do it with a fork.”
Luke glowered at us both. “I’m not a performing monkey.”
I lifted the fork, and the prongs curled over as Chaos spiraled from Luke’s hands.
“I mean it,” Luke hissed. “Come any closer with that, and you’ll need a surgeon to get it out.”
Wide-eyed, I sat back in my chair. “Just trying to create a little dinnertime entertainment.”
“He doesn’t feel comfortable with an audience,” Melody said. “That’s why I always do most of the talking, isn’t it, Luke?”
His expression softened. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Even though it always gets me in trouble. I suppose it would be more useful if I had metal in my lips, so he could snap them shut when I ramble.” She giggled and touched his arm, soothing the beast.
“I’d never do that,” Luke replied quietly.
Mr. Abara’s voice thundered across the table. “I come from Nigeria, and I’m a Geode.”
Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map Page 7
