by Smith, HD
“What the hell is she doing here?” Sage asked.
I shrugged. “No idea, except I think it has something to do with my strategy to replace the curator.”
“What strategy?” he asked.
“Still trying to figure that out, but it’s been approved, so there is that.”
In a harried tone, Connie started in. “It’s about time you showed up. The crowds are getting restless and management is pissed. They didn’t realize it would be this crazy. The cops aren’t too happy, either. The streets are blocked. This is worse than Fight Night and you know how crazy that can be.”
I was at a loss. I couldn’t just let them all in here—and I had to assume they were all candidates.
Sage jumped down off the stage, meeting Connie halfway. He took the box, plucking one of the papers out, but otherwise ignoring my assistant. “Cin,” Sage called, “I’ll need your help.”
Connie groused. “I better get a bonus for this, or hazard pay.” Turning to Cinnamon, who was now looking over the flyer with Sage, Connie sneered, “Next time, you can print and distribute them yourself.”
Cinnamon drew up to her full height and looked down on my assistant. “Coffee, now,” she said.
Connie pursed her lips together. “This is how it started. No thank you. Get your own damn—” Connie rose off the ground a few feet, making a gasping sound as if someone, like Cinnamon, were choking Connie using her will.
“It wasn’t a request,” Cinnamon said, as pleasant as a nursery school teacher. “It was an order.”
Cinnamon dropped Connie, who barely managed to stay on her feet. “Yes, ma’am,” she said before she scurried away.
Cinnamon plucked a flyer out of the box. “Oh shit,” she muttered and then disappeared. She returned a second later empty-handed
“What?” I asked.
Sage checked his phone and then pointed to something on the flyer. I walked to the edge of the stage, but Cinnamon stopped me.
“You stay. We can handle the crowd. Come, Sage.”
Sage tucked the banker’s box under his arm and hurried after Cinnamon.
“But I need you here,” I yelled after them.
The noise from outside the theater drowned out my words. Connie came running back into the theater through a side door.
She was carrying a small, white Styrofoam cup. “Shit, where is she? Not again.” I pointed toward the front of the theater and Connie headed that way.
I almost laughed. I thought of Cinnamon and asked, Did you give Connie that flyer?
Of course, Claire. I couldn’t have us creating a paradox this early in the afternoon.
Is everything under control?
We’re working on it.
Cinnamon had just set up my curator replacement strategy. She’d taken one of the flyers to Connie on Thursday. I had to trust that they could keep everything under control out there because Mab had just showed up with a very annoyed Faith in tow.
Mab looked down her nose at me. I held up my head defiantly. Her eyes fell on Thanos’s body. For a split second, I saw shock, fear, anger, hurt, sadness, and pain in her eyes. I wasn’t sure why she felt any of this—she was the reason he was like this. The man inhabiting Thanos’s body groaned and Mab’s steely expression returned.
“You’re early,” I said.
She chuckled. “Well, when I realized you overbooked the room, I decided to get this over with.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “How considerate.”
Mab glanced around the empty room, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “There’s a horde of candidates out there, dear. You’ll never be able to fit them all in here or see the ones that do fit in fifteen minutes. Was that your strategy? Reserve a room that can’t physically hold everyone? That might have worked, but if you can’t speak to them all within your window, your strategy fails.”
“Let me worry about that.”
She chuckled. “Claire, you really should have just started killing them.”
Giving Mab a half-smile, I asked, “Have you brought Faith here to answer to the charges?”
“I have,” Mab said, “but what gives you the right to accuse my property of wrongdoing?”
“I’m never sure anymore what you truly consider yours. You throw away so much,” I said, glancing at Thanos. Her left eye twitched, but there was no other response. “He’s mine now,” I said, claiming Thanos. “You tossed him out for caring about me. I won’t let you have him back.”
Her lips pressed into a hard line. “Get on with it,” she said. “I have other matters to attend to. What is your grievance?”
I glanced at the time on my phone. X wasn’t here yet. I needed to stall. “Does Faith deny that she threatened my life?”
Faith issued one of her innocent sorority girl chortles until Mab glared at her. Her expression sobered. In a business-like manner, she said, “Mother, what is the penalty for impersonating you?”
I tried not to show my shock. Thankfully, Cinnamon wasn’t here to give anything away. I didn’t believe Faith actually knew who had impersonated Mab, only that someone had. I played it cool. Faith had no proof.
Mab’s posture straightened. We’d been playing a game before, verbally sparring over my curator replacement strategy, but this was serious.
“Death,” she said, answering Faith’s question. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Faith. “Who?”
“Claire knows, mother.”
I put on my best I-have-no-clue-what-crazy-is-talking-about face. I even tried to add in a little confusion and what-the-hell-is-this-diversion-tactic indignation.
“Oh, don’t you try it, Claire,” Faith said, which meant my look must have been convincing. “You know who has Jayne’s locket,” she said, but then caught her mistake.
I raised one of my eyebrows. I addressed Mab in my best annoyed voice. “What is she playing at? We both know I have Jayne’s pendant. Is this some ploy to try and have me killed?”
Mab narrowed her eyes at Faith, who visibly shrunk back. Then, as if she remembered her talent, she stepped forward, hand outstretched in a placating manner.
I shoved her back with my will. “Don’t let her touch you,” I warned.
Mab’s brow furrowed and I remembered Faith saying Mab believed her power was only a parlor trick.
“Well, unless you like being read like a book. She has a strong level of psychometry that works on people and things. You might not want to risk it.”
Faith growled at me. How cute.
Mab looked disgusted. I almost expected her to leave, so I breathed a bit easier when X and his entourage appeared in the theater.
Mace and Sorrel looked stronger than before. Sydney looked ready to bolt, but Ronin had her by the arm. Mab sucked in a quick breath when she noticed the girl.
“What is this?” she snarled.
“That problem you wanted handled,” I said. “Sydney, are you okay?”
She nodded, but I could see her fear. Her eyes widened when she noticed Faith. I’m sure it wasn’t the happy reunion she’d expected when she learned her sister was alive.
“Where are Cinnamon and Sage?” X bellowed from his end of the stage.
“Outside, holding back the masses,” I said. “You’ll give me my people back now.”
Are they alone? Mace asked telepathically.
Yes, I answered, not taking my eyes off X.
Mace grabbed Sorrel and disappeared.
“What the hell?” X snarled. He grabbed Sydney by the hair and yanked her close. “Get them back in here,” he said. “Or I’ll kill this one.”
I held up my right hand and dropped the locket, letting it dangle from my fingers by its chain. “Everything you really want is in this room.”
Mab pointed at me. “You set this up?”
X held a knife to Sydney’s throat. Glancing at Mab, he said, “We’ll get to you in a minute, babe.”
Mab’s eyebrows rose and the temperature in the room dropped at least ten deg
rees.
“Don’t hurt her,” I said. “You’ll never get what you want if she dies.”
Faith cackled from behind Mab. “Claire, you’re such an idiot. Don’t you know what he is? He can’t be bargained with. He’ll kill her and end it all, you fool.”
Mab looked at Faith. “What are you talking about? Who is this man?”
“He’s the lost son,” Faith said. “The one that ruled the fourth realm after your precious sister—you know, before you and your brothers destroyed it. He wants his memories back. Boohoo, poor baby’s about to lose them again.”
“Shut up, you witch,” X barked. “I’ll have your head for this. You’ll return the rest of my memories if you want to live.” He snapped his fingers and Ronin positioned himself, as if ready to attack when commanded.
His work ethic was really starting to piss me off.
“Stand down, cockroach,” Mab yelled. “Your time ruling the Fallen realm has come and gone. Your death will be at my hands if you harm what is mine.”
“Enough,” I said, trying to break the tension. “I don’t believe Faith has what you need, but I’m willing to help you. First, let the girl go.”
X laughed.
“Claire, don’t,” Faith warned. “He truly has no ability for compassion. His only MO is to conquer and destroy.”
“I’ll save you,” I said to X.
His eyes narrowed.
“Just let the girl go?”
Ronin turned to face his employer.
“Face forward, slave,” he commanded.
Blinking my sight, I saw a tendril of red energy whip out at Ronin, but it had no effect. Ronin had been given the cure. He was no longer X’s puppet.
The door at the front of the theater banged open. Seeing his chance, Ronin lunged forward. With no hesitation or apparent remorse, X drew the knife across Sydney’s throat before slashing at Ronin, raking a deep cut across his chest.
“No,” I screamed, blinking away tears as Sydney’s lifeless body hit the floor.
Faith cried out, clutching her throat. In a flash, her druid bodyguard appeared and whisked her away.
Chapter 36
I stared at Sydney’s dead eyes, using every ounce of my strength to keep the power within me in check. I wanted to suck the life out of X, but that would show my hand to Mab. I would not let him win this way. Faith was right: he had no compassion.
“The prophecy,” Mab whispered, finally realizing what was at stake.
Ronin was back on his feet, his chest wound bloody, but healing.
I felt the warm sensation of Death wash over me just as Connie’s high heels clacked up the stage stairs, breaking the silence. She handed me one of the flyers.
“Cinnamon told me to give you this,” Connie said. “She said it’s time.” Glancing around, my assistant finally took in the scene on the stage. She covered her mouth and ran as fast as her high heels could carry her, disappearing behind the curtain.
“You owe me a favor, bitch. You failed to meet the terms we agreed to. The Dragon is gone,” X growled, still clutching the bloody knife in his hand.
I wanted to throw my will at him and crush every bone in his body, but that wouldn’t pay the debt.
Glancing at the flyer, I checked the time. I scanned the room. Other than Mab, Ronin, X, an unconscious Thanos, a hidden Death, and me, the room was empty. Connie had run off and Faith was gone. There were no other candidates and I had two minutes to pick a curator or start over.
“Are you listening to me?” X said, getting my attention.
I let the green shine run across my eyes. “What do you want?”
“As agreed, I claim the power you control as my prize.”
He’d killed Sydney before I could explain to him how I was willing to help. I had no idea if I’d be able to merge him with his obviously better halves, but I was willing to try. Now, I just wanted him dead, but there were other forces at work and I owed the jackass a favor.
Death snuggled up to me, but I quietly shoved him back with my will.
I’d never give X my power. There had to be something else, something that would fulfill my oath and clear the debt. And I needed him in a safe place. Part of me didn’t care anymore, but the other part of me still wanted to restore time, and X had to be reunited with Tarik and Callum for that to happen. I had no clue how I’d do it or how quickly his memories would fade once he began to lose them. I needed him in a controlled environment, where I could run a few tests—painful tests. He deserved nothing less. But first I had to give him the power I controlled. Glancing down at the paper again, I had an idea. Two birds, one stone.
Mab was still on guard, but I noticed her scanning the empty room. I checked the time on my phone. It was after 2:45 PM, which meant I needed to pick a candidate. A candidate that would be tucked away in a nice secure locale where time ran so slow it almost went backwards.
I steadied my eyes on X and said, “I confer upon you the title of Curator of the Great Museum, although I would prefer that you rot in Hell.”
“What?” Mab said. “That is not how it’s done.”
Turning my gaze on her, I said, “You all agreed that my strategy was approved. He’s here in the theater after 2:45. He’s qualified. I pick him.”
“You will give me your power. Your throne!” X yelled.
I laughed. “The power I control is the power to confer upon you the title of curator. It will also give you time to remember, so don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“No,” he snarled.
“It will give you the ability to retain your memories for years,” I said. “It’s an acceptable alternative.”
Mab’s eyes narrowed. “There will be a vote.”
“What?” I said. Did she mean a vote about the curator position? I wouldn’t let them snow me with that candidate-approval bullshit anymore. Or did she mean a vote on whether the assignment was an acceptable alternative to X’s owed favor? Just then, I remembered the comments in Jayne’s spell book. If I lost the vote, I’d have to give him his original request, which was impossible because Faith was gone and I had no ability— or desire—to transfer my own power to him, plus another favor on top of that.
Mab smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There are reasons we do not give favors we cannot honor, my dear. It is best you learn this lesson now, while you’re still young.”
Was she kidding? X needed to stay in the museum until I could figure out what to do with him and his disconnected parts. He needed to keep his memories for that to happen—I was sure of it, and there was no more perfect place than the museum’s time vacuum. Of course she’d just seen Sydney die by another’s hand, and she had no clue what her petty attempt at hurting me would do. In her mind the prophecy had restarted. Even if I could still return what was lost by the Ancients, she saw me as irrelevant. It was a good thing I didn’t give a shit.
Squaring my shoulders, I said, “I vote that it meets the alternative criteria.”
Mab laughed. “You may not vote.”
Fuck, I’d forgotten.
“The only ones who may vote,” Mab continued, “are Thanos, Ronin, X, and myself. Who votes that it is a fair alternative?”
Ronin raised his hand. I looked at Thanos’s still form. He had no way to vote.
“I will vote in his stead,” Mab announced. “He votes against.”
“No,” I corrected. “I have claimed him. I will vote for him. He is for, not against.”
Mab, in a very un-Mab-like move, rolled her eyes, but accepted his vote. “And those opposed?”
She and X raised their hands.
Without missing a beat, she continued. “As there is a tie, the highest ranking member of the four great houses gets to break it. That would be me,” she said.
“What? You’re voting twice,” I yelled. Mab was about to argue with me, but I stopped her. “There’s another. He’s been here the entire time. He will vote.”
“Who?” she asked, then gasped.
&n
bsp; “Holy Jesus!” X exclaimed as Death materialized on the stage.
Ronin averted his gaze and X went pale, letting the knife in his hand slip from his fingers. Mab recovered first, but she averted her eyes as well.
“I agree with Claire,” Death said, draping his arms around me from behind. “It is a fair alternative; therefore, there is no tie to be broken.”
Mab narrowed her eyes at me. “Why is he here?”
Death glanced at Sydney’s body.
“Very well, take it and leave,” she said.
Death cloaked himself and Sydney’s body disappeared, but he didn’t leave.
I shoved Death off as Ronin came to stand by my side. “You need to start working for me. I’m tired of dealing with your crazy bosses.”
He smiled. I noticed that his chest was almost completely healed.
Mab summoned Harry and The Boss, who arrived almost instantly. She lowered X to his knees with her will. His face was still white from the shock of seeing Death. I didn’t care. He was going to be the new curator, which was better than he deserved.
“Claire has chosen this man to be the curator,” Mab said, indicating X.
Harry studied X for a moment. “Is he qualified?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Not that it matters,” I added, calling their bluff.
The Boss’s lip turned up in an almost smile, then circling X, he said, “What’s wrong with him?”
“He saw Death,” I said.
The Boss raised one of his perfect eyebrows.
The doors at the front of the theater opened. The quads had finally decided to join us. They’d all changed into kick-ass versions of themselves in head-to-toe leather, gloves with claws, and boots tipped with spikes. It was a bit like “Beyond Thunderdome” meets “Rollerball”, but hey, whatever worked to keep the candidates out.
Not a line many would cross, I thought.
Not a line any would cross today, Cinnamon confirmed as she and her brothers made it to the stage. Mace stood by my side.
