Eville's Most Wanted
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“That’s not true!” Hammett argued. “Don’t you dare repeat what that woman just said! She has not in any way, shape, or form assisted the UEL in any such investigation! Do not repeat that.”
“That’s all I can say right now! Hush, hush, you know!” At last Serene disappeared behind the doors, her voice echoing through the building.
It took several more minutes for Hammett and the New Brasov officers to finally restore order, sending the media on their way. “These two are your responsibility!” Hammett barked at Vega, thrusting his hand toward Alex and Moody. Then, cursing with every step, the Cyclops entered the building after the inventor, accompanied by the police force, as well as Snotwaddle, who somehow managed to squeeze himself into the throng.
“I shouldn’t be shocked, knowing Serene and all, but I still can’t believe what just happened.” Alex shook his head, an exhausted smile on his lips. Moody stood to his left, arms crossed, knuckles red — she had managed to punch several reporters who “invaded her personal space” in the pandemonium. To his right Vega kept a watchful eye, appearing as composed as always. “Never a dull moment. God, I’m beat. I have never been so exhausted in my life as I am around that freaking woman.”
“Well, I’ve never been so freaking starved,” Moody replied. “I can’t even remember the last time I ate. Let’s go see if we can round up something edible. If we’re lucky we might even find a small kitchen in there to whip up something simple. I’ll make a decent meal for us.”
“Really? That sounds great. I haven’t tasted your cooking in so long,” Alex said with a glimmer of nostalgia in his eyes. “Hell, I never thought I’d ever look back at my time in the mansion as the ’good old days.’ God, my life sucks.”
“Ah, get off it. We’re still alive and kicking, right? Quit stressing all the time.” The little hunchback lifted up on her toes and wrapped her arm around Alex’s neck, squeezing tightly. “It’s going to be all right, little man. But just remember: in the kitchen, I’m the boss. You get too uppity and you’re likely to lose a finger.”
“Yeah, yeah, as if you’d ever let me forget.” Alex laughed. “All right, sis, lead the way.”
“Whatever. I am most certainly not your sister. Don’t even joke about that.”
“Oh, come on. You couldn’t ask for a better brother than me. You should be thanking your lucky stars.”
“You help me out one time and your head swells up like a blimp.”
“Are you kidding me? I totally saved your ass! That was a seriously mean freaking harpy I shot.”
“More like sickly, pansy-ass harpy. It was undoubtedly the runt of the litter.”
“Moody, you are so full of crap. I swear.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just keep your mouth shut, little man, and help me look for food. Hey!” Moody paused at the door, arm still around Alex’s neck, and turned to Vega who followed quietly, an amused smile on his lips. “We may be stuck with you, but that doesn’t mean you can stand around like a statue all the time. I expect you to work for your meal, you hear? Trust me, though, it’s worth it; you haven’t tasted real food until you’ve had my cooking.” Vega smiled with grateful acceptance, following Alex and Moody into the station.
Chapter 40- Epilogue
His long shadow danced on the smooth stone floor, warping and twisting as the crackling fire popped and sizzled within the ornate marble hearth. At his feet lay a beautiful crystal goblet, now cracked, a puddle of thick, burgundy liquid surrounding it. His piercing brown eyes burned as violently as the fire in anxious thought. The beautiful bronze nudes, delicate vases, and other expensive decor carefully displayed about the room now littered the ground, thrown, stomped, crushed, torn in an unrestrained rage. Clenched tightly in his right hand was a memo, recently delivered by his assistant, Emil.
The news turned out to be worse than his grimmest imagining. That damned bloodhound had acquired Necrosia, whisking her back to the very town where his forces were humiliated. The media were running reports that she claimed to be aiding the UEL in a secretive CN investigation. This new twist, however inaccurate it might be, would only compound his conflict with the other houses. They would blame him without hesitation. And then there was Vasile — that spineless, sniveling pustule. He must have thought himself so incredibly shrewd, hiring goblin mercenaries to do his dirty work right under everyone’s noses. Fool. It remained unclear how much Vasile had learned of Necrosia’s device, but whatever the case, that maggot would have to be dealt with…quickly.
Regrettably, his house still reeled from their disastrous defeat in New Brasov, and his most lethal weapon had vanished into thin air. If only he knew what had become of Luminita. It seemed unlikely that she could have been killed, but there was no way of knowing her fate one way or the other until she made contact — if at all. She was unquestionably his most valuable tool, and yet, like the unpredictable flame, she could burn him as handily as his enemies if not properly controlled. His world crumbled around him, his machinations backfired. The next move would be critical, and could very well define House Constantine’s ultimate fate. These and many other dark thoughts overwhelmed his mind as the long, lonely minutes of the night ticked away mercilessly.
* * * *
In a dark, cold cavern, deep in the earth’s belly, malice gnawed incessantly. The raspy sound of her hissing breath mixed with that of cold steel sharpened on stone. She did not need light to see the picture laid at her feet: that ridiculous woman standing next to her hunchback and the young man. She stared into their faces, hatred growing with each motion of her dagger. And that fool Cyclops. Yes, him as well. All of them would drink of her wrath. She traced her finger along the wound stretching across her face, slowly, relishing every agonizing cry pulsing from her severed nerves. The hunt, the kill, it had always been a game, played with a detached coolness. Now it was vengeance. Now she understood the true meaning of hatred, and she felt more power from that rage than she had ever known before.
And so our story continues…
So...who is this Holand Peterson fellow, anyway?
Word on the street is that this curious scamp makes his home in the wild, exotic realm commonly known as Boise, Idaho. He lives with his dear wife Cheri (Nefarious Queen of the Harpies!), along with an insidious menagerie of hell-beasts masquerading about as common household dogs and cats.
When Holand is not wholly engaged in pouring out the absurd and bizarre ramblings of his imagination onto the page, he makes time for the higher, dignified pursuits of watching movies/animation/TV shows, playing video games, reading comics/graphic novels/books, and many other similar mature, refined activities befitting a man of his breeding.
Feel free to contact him at holand@holandpeterson.com
Also by Holand Peterson:
Eville