Des just smiles.
Fairies.
Then, naturally, someone chooses that moment to turn down the hall. The Bargainer doesn’t make a move to put me down. Instead he begins walking with me wrapped around him like a koala, nodding to the fae woman as we pass her.
So awkward.
It’s not until we reach the double doors that lead to the nursery Des finally puts me down.
In this section of the palace, it’s unnaturally silent. I keep expecting to hear … something. The young are always noisy.
I reach for one of the knobs. Before I can grab it, the Bargainer catches my hand.
“Remember my words,” he says, “anything unusual happens, we’re out of here.”
I stare into those silver eyes, his chiseled features on edge.
“I remember,” I say. Shaking off his hand, I open the door.
It’s almost quieter inside the nursery than it is outside. Even the air here feels still, like everyone’s holding their breaths.
A lone servant fluffs the pillows of one of several ornate couches that rest in the sitting room. Beyond her, a set of French doors open up to a private courtyard.
She startles when she sees us, dipping into a hasty curtsy. “My king, my lady,” she says, greeting each of us, “What an unexpected surprise.”
“We’re here to see the casket children,” Des says brusquely.
Casket children—what a morbid name for them.
“Oh,” her eyes move between us. “O-of course.”
Do I detect unease?
She dips her head. “Right this way.”
As we follow her down one of the side halls that branch off the common area, I notice she discreetly cracks her fingers one by one.
“They’re fairly quiet at the moment.” Catatonic is what she means. “We’ve had to separate them from the other children. There were complaints … ” She doesn’t finish her thought. “Well, you know about that already, my king.”
“Complaints about what?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. “That the children were feeding off the other children. We decided to move them. They don’t … prey on each other.”
As we trail behind her, stepping over some glass toys and a lyre playing a cheerful tune, I give Des a what-the-fuck look. He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, his expression dark.
She stops at a door and knocks as she enters. “Children, you have company.”
The room we step into is cloaked in shadow, and none of the lit sconces seem to drive away the darkness. The far side of the room is made up of a wall of windows. Several children stand in front of them, staring out at the night beyond. Just like Gaelia said, none of them move a muscle. More lie on the row of beds pushed against the walls. I can’t see inside the cribs, but I know there must be infants in at least some of them.
A wet nurse sits at a rocking chair to our left, pressing a tissue against the skin just above her breast, wincing as she does so. She drops her hand, hiding the tissue in her fist when she sees me and Des, hastily standing and bowing to us each.
The Bargainer nods to her, while my eyes linger on the beads of blood forming where she’d been pressing the tissue to her skin.
“You both can leave us,” he tells the two servants.
The woman who led us here wastes no time leaving, but the wet nurse hesitates briefly, casting a fearful look about the room before she dips her head. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside,” she says, filing out. The door clicks shut behind her.
Now that the two of us are alone with all these strange children, I’m spooked, every instinct shouting at me to leave the room.
Almost as one, the children at the window begin to turn towards us.
I go cold all over at the sight.
Their eyes move to Des.
All at once they begin to scream. Not moving, just screaming. Even the babies are wailing.
Des leans in close. “I forgot to tell you—they don’t like me so much.”
You don’t say?
He steps in front of me, using his body to blockade mine, and I’m not going to lie, right about now I’m ridiculously grateful for my human shield.
You were the one that wanted to see them, Callie. Grow a backbone.
I force myself to step out from behind the Bargainer, scraping together the last of my courage.
What had Gaelia said? That strange though they may be, these were just kids.
Just kids.
I take a tentative step forward, and then another. They’re still screaming, their gazes transfixed on Des.
I begin to hum, hoping that in between kids’ love of music and my own abilities, they might stop shrieking long enough for me to actually interact with them.
All at once, the children’s eyes move to me, some of their screams hiccupping a bit as I begin to glow, the tune I hum beginning to have a magical pull to it.
And then I begin to sing. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star …”
So sue me for not being inventive.
One by one, the children stop crying and begin to watch me, mesmerized. I walk towards them, really hoping this is a good idea.
When I finish the song, the children blink, like they’re waking from a dream. I can’t glamour fae—my powers only work on beings of my world—but music doesn’t need to be controlling for it to captivate you.
Their eyes move to Des, and they tense up again.
“Be calm,” I say, my voice ethereal. “He means you no harm. I mean you no harm.”
It’s a tense few moments while I wait to see how they’ll react. When they don’t begin to scream again, I relax. At least, I relax is much as I can, considering I’m surrounded by a gaggle of creepy kids. A couple of them have dried blood caked around their lips.
I try not to shudder.
“My name is Callypso, but you can call me Callie. I wanted to ask you all a few questions. Will any of you speak to me?”
Their eyes move to me, and they stare unblinkingly at me. I’m seriously concerned that they’ve gone catatonic again when, as one, they nod, circling around me.
“Where are your mothers?” I ask.
“Sleeping below,” one little boy murmurs.
“Why are they sleeping?” I ask.
“Because he wants them to.” This time, it’s a girl with a lisp that responds. As she speaks, I catch sight of two sets of fangs.
I try not to recoil.
“Who is ‘he’?” I ask.
“Our father,” another girl says.
A single father to all these children?
I swear I feel a ghostly breath on the back of my neck. There is no earthly reason why they should know this—or anything else I’ve asked so far—yet they do. And I have a feeling in my gut that they have most of the answers Des is looking for. Whether they’ll share them is another matter altogether.
“Who is your father?” I ask.
They look at each other, and again I get the impression that they make decisions as a collective unit.
“The Thief of Souls,” a boy murmurs.
That name—Gaelia had mentioned it, and I’d seen it scrawled on Des’s notes.
“He sees it all. Hears it all,” another boys adds.
Ten points to Slytherin for the creepy answer.
“Where can I find him?” I ask.
“He’s already here,” says a boy with raven black hair.
My hackles rise at that.
“Can I meet him?”
As soon as I ask the question, the room darkens. The Bargainer doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear that he’s not happy about my question.
“Yesssss …” This comes from one of the cradles on the far corner of
the room. “But you cannot bring him along.” The children’s eyes dart to Des.
“Our father will like you,” a redheaded girl says.
“He already does,” another adds.
“He likes pretty things.”
“Likes to break them.”
Again, that chilling breath is breathing down my neck as the children speak, their unwavering gazes fixed on me.
Des’s shadows circle my lower legs protectively. “Callie.”
The children tighten their circle around me, throwing glances over their shoulders at the Bargainer.
Earlier, I’d worried they wouldn’t talk. Now I’m worried that they might be too fond of me.
“Do you know where I can find him?” I ask.
“He will find you—”
“He always finds the ones he wants—”
“He’s already begun the hunt—”
“The hunt?” I shouldn’t ask. I feel like coming to the Otherworld has exposed me in exactly the way I feared it would.
“He’ll make you his, just like our mothers.”
Alright, I’m done.
“I have to leave,” I say.
Across the room, Des begins moving towards me, clearly on the same page.
“Not yet,” the children beg, closing in on me, their hands grabbing my dress.
“Stay with us forever.”
“I can’t,” I say, “but I can come back.”
“Stay,” one of the oldest boys growls.
“She said no.” Des’s sharp voice cuts through the room.
The kids recoil from him, several beginning to scream again. One hisses at the fae king, her pointed teeth bared.
“Stay,” several say to me again. This time they grab my exposed forearms, and when they do …
The air in my lungs leaves me.
I’m falling into myself. Down and down, into the darkness, past cages and cages of women, some who batter the doors of their cells, some who are lying far too still. Floor after floor of them blur together as I plummet.
Then the world flips until I’m no longer falling down, but falling up. And then I’m not falling but flying.
I land at the foot of a throne, the wings at my back spread wide. My surroundings vanish, replaced by a forest. I’m soaring through it, and the trees seem to howl. I fly out of the woods only to crash into my old kitchen, the room soaked in blood.
My stepfather pushes himself off the ground, his body coming to life.
Oh God, no.
He looms over me, his eyes angry. From his head sprout antlers. They grow and twist with each passing second. He stares me down, his face shifting until I’m no longer staring at my father; I’m staring at a stranger, one with chestnut hair, tan skin, and wild brown eyes.
The man in front of me is covered in my father’s blood, and as I watch, he licks a stream of it off his finger.
“My,” he says, “aren’t you a pretty, pretty bird.”
He and the room fade, and the darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter 14
February, seven years ago
My alarm goes off next to me, just as it has been for the last thirteen minutes. I don’t have the energy to untangle my arms from my sheets and turn the thing off.
Today is what I like to call a Hail Mary day. Because nothing short of a miracle can make me get out of this bed.
Most days I’m good. Most days I can pretend I’m like everyone else. But then there are the days when I can’t, days when my past catches up to me.
Days like today. I’m too depressed to get out of bed. I’m being dragged under by all those bad memories.
The doorknob turning. The smell of spirits thick on my stepfather’s breath. All that blood when I finally killed him …
One of my floormates bangs on the door. “Callie, turn off your freaking alarm before you wake up the whole school,” she yells, then walks away.
Somehow I manage to turn the alarm off before burying my face in my pillow.
Not five minutes later, I hear the lock to my room click. I begin to sit up when suddenly, the door blows open, and in steps the Bargainer. If anyone’s out in the hallway, they don’t notice his entrance.
“Get up,” he growls.
I’m still a few steps behind him. My mind’s having a hard time comprehending that the Bargainer is here in my room at this hour. Technically it’s still dark out, so it’s still the time that he reigns.
But a morning visit? That’s a first.
He strides the rest of the way to my side, and just from his expression alone I can tell that he means business.
He pulls my blankets off of me, a comforting hand touching my back. “Up.”
How did he know that me sleeping in thirteen minutes more than usual wasn’t just plain laziness, it was a relapse?
He deals in secrets.
I groan and bury my head back in my pillow. I’m too tired for this.
“You want me to keep showing up every night? You need to take care of yourself.”
And then he had to go and say that.
“That’s emotional manipulation,” I mumble into my pillow. I crave his continued visits more than pretty much anything else in my life at the moment.
“Deal with it.”
I turn my face to the side and grimace at him. “You’re mean.” He also looks hot enough to catch fire in a Metallica shirt that hugs his muscles and a pair of black jeans, his white blond hair tied back from his face.
He folds his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side. “You’re just now figuring this out, cherub?”
No, I had him pegged from day one, but since meeting him, he’s softened up to me.
“Now,” he continues, “up.”
To emphasize his point, my bed begins to tilt, one side levitating. I start to slide off the mattress.
I curse, clutching the edges of it so that I don’t roll right off. “Alright, alright! I’m getting up!” I slide the rest of the way to the floor, glaring at him as I pad across the room.
Des folds his arms, glaring right back at me. The man is remorseless.
I open my drawers and begin removing clothing items. I move slowly, my eyelids still droopy, my body still tired and sore.
“This is never going to happen again, understand?” he says. “You’re not going to stop living your life because some days are harder than others.”
I look over my shoulder at him like he’s crazy. “It’s not like I want this!” For my mind to suck me back into the worst parts of my past. To feel dirty and tainted and unlovable.
Even my annoyance is a pitiful thing right now. I don’t have the energy it takes to truly get worked up over this.
“You feel like this again, you get help, or you call me and I’ll get you help, but from now on, you’re going to do something about it, alright?” Des says. His eyes are hard; I’m not going to get any sympathy from him.
“You don’t understand—”
“I don’t?” He raises his eyebrows. “Tell me, cherub, what do I know?”
He’s baiting me. It’s so obvious. I don’t dare go on because how much do I really know about the Bargainer? And how much does he really know about me?
So instead, I glare at him again.
“Yes,” he says, “That’s what I want to see. Your anger, your fight.” His tone softens. “I’m not asking you to never feel sad, Callie, I’m asking you to fight. Always fight. You can do that, can’t you?”
I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I say honestly.
His entire demeanor gentles with that confession. “Can you try?”
I bite my lower lip, then reluctantly nod. If that’s what it takes to keep him coming back, I can tr
y.
He gives me a smile. “Good. Now get dressed. I’ll get us breakfast before you have to go to class.”
Des spends the rest of our odd morning together doing everything in his power to make me laugh. And it works.
I don’t know how he does it, but the Bargainer beats back my mood. As far as Hail Mary days ago, apparently Des is just miracle I need.
Present
When I blink my eyes open, I stare up at an unfamiliar room. I look around at the deep blue walls, my brow creasing.
“You’re awake.”
I startle at the Bargainer’s smooth voice. He sits in a chair next to the bed, his steepled hands pressed to his lips. On the bedside table next to him sits an empty tumbler.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“We’re in my room—back on earth,” Des says. His arms drop away from me.
His room. The one he hadn’t been willing to show me before now. My eyes sweep over my surroundings, over the framed photo of Douglas Café, and another of Peel Castle. Across the room, a golden orrery sits on a circular table, the metal and marble planets in our solar system hanging suspended around the golden sun in the middle.
There’s nothing about his bedroom that seems worth hiding from me.
And then, amongst my musings, my trip to the Otherworld all comes back to me.
Air hisses in between my teeth, and my gaze snaps back to the Bargainer. “Those children.”
Des grabs his empty tumbler and heads to a wet bar on the opposite end of the room, pouring himself a drink. He throws it back quickly, hissing at the burn of alcohol.
He looks at his glass. “I understand why you crave the stuff,” he says. Carefully he sets the glass back down, leaning against the bar.
“Gods,” he runs a hand down his face. “I’ve never wanted to throttle children so badly as I did when I saw them grab ahold of you. Their fangs came out; they’d been ready to drink you.”
I put a hand to my throat. They were going to drink from me? All I remember are strange, nightmarish images I saw when they touched me
Rhapsodic (The Bargainer Book 1) Page 15
