Because of rush hour, the drive back to Pasadena took well over an hour. It felt like six hours too long. She had plenty of time to remember every experience with Severin in lingering detail. To remember his habit of stalking people, and his enjoyment of suffering. The way he’d frightened her, and how he’d saved her. How he’d used her, and his hands as he’d held her. The way he exploited vulnerabilities with an emotional scalpel. How easily she hated herself when he was around.
He was a kaiju, and as far as she could tell from late night drunken conversations with Marley and Simon, that was his particular flavor of monstrousness: pulling out the bowels of your deepest shame and giving you a guided tour of exactly how awful you were.
But he was happy to hurt people in other ways, in a pinch. Branwyn had horrible memories of his hands crimson with blood as he’d tormented one of her guides through Faerie.
She’d been involved with killing him once. Simon had swung the knife, but she’d woken the blade and taught it her hatred.
And now he’d found her family.
She drove faster. Her phone buzzed and it wasn’t her family, it was Titanone, complaining, I don’t like talking to Leonard very much. He’s too bossy.
She ignored him. Titanone’s opinions on his programmer were the least of her worries.
The journey’s stress was the worst once she’d gotten close to her family’s home: all the city streets, all the lights and stop signs. She ran what she could, until she got to the final intersection. Then she let the car idle while she ran her hands through her hair and scrubbed at her face. She had to be calm and controlled when she went in there to drag him away. She had her hammer; she was far more armed than she had been last time he’d stalked into her life.
The drive had been too long. She couldn’t seem to get herself together. She couldn’t find the calm she needed. The way he’d intruded among her family, he had to know she’d come running. He’d be too pleased to see how upset she’d become during the drive. She couldn’t let him have the satisfaction.
But he was with her family, even now. Kicking his heels, maybe getting bored. Her smoothing of her hair became tugging. She gave up and finished the drive.
As she got out of her car, her long hammer in one hand, she looked at her house. It was after six on a weeknight, and almost everybody was home. Nobody was screaming. That was a good sign. She hoped.
She went up the porch steps and her grandmother opened the door before she got there. She wasn’t a tall woman, although Branwyn only remembered that when giving her a hug. The unquestioned matriarch of the Lennox clan, she always loomed in Branwyn’s mind.
Branwyn gave her a hug now. “Where is he, Grandma?”
Tara Lennox raised her eyebrows. “In the dining room. Why are you bringing that past the coat room?” That referred to the hammer.
“Because he isn’t my friend.”
Tara nodded. “I wondered. Don’t upset Holly and the children.”
“That is the very last thing I want to do,” Branwyn promised. And if was true. If she was the only one upset, if she was upset about him personally, it was possible she could lure him away. It had worked before. He homed in on distress like a shark smelling blood in the water. But that was a plan of last resort, because that could go a thousand places Branwyn never wanted to be.
They sat around the remains of a meal, everybody except one of her brothers present. Rhianna was also absent, apparently still only stealth-visiting. The kaiju called Severin sat in her brother’s place, his back to the entrance and his chair tipped back. Branwyn put her finger to her lips as her younger sisters looked over at her, roused her hammer from its light slumber, and then walked up behind him and rested the hammer’s head on the kaiju’s shoulder.
The contact should have burned him, or at least disoriented him; Branwyn didn’t quite know what contact with a Machine fragment felt like to a celestial, but she knew they didn’t like it. The Machine wasn’t touching him directly; it was the black gem embedded below the head—but the whole of the hammer was constructed to channel the power of the fragment. And she hoped, oh, how she hoped that he’d flinch, or cry out or show some reaction.
Instead he tilted his head back, so he was looking at her upside down. He smiled, unsettling, familiar. “Hello, cupcake.”
The table fell silent. Sweetly, Branwyn said, “Hello, Sevvy.”
Holly, Branwyn’s mother, said softly, “Oh,” as if she suddenly understood something. Then she stood up and started to clear the table. “He was very helpful, Branwyn. Meredith was so dazed when he brought her to the door; she was barely able to tell him our address.”
“I’ll just bet,” said Branwyn, staring down into his eyes. Looking into his eyes was always dangerous; they were normally like holes into nightmare. But here he was, in her family’s house, and she wasn’t going to look away.
“You should have seen Meredith’s bike,” Holly went on, stacking dishes.
He didn’t look away either. The muscles in his shoulders moved, though, and she realized why he wasn’t bothered by the hammer on his shoulder. She knew how fast he could move, how quickly he could kill. She’d watched, paralyzed with shock and horror, as he’d murdered William and a half-dozen of his kin in what had seemed like less than a minute.
“Why are they staring at each other like that, Mom?” asked Meredith.
“It’s probably been a while since they’ve seen each other,” said Holly briskly.
Morgan whispered something to Brynn, who giggled nervously. Then Tara clapped her hands behind Branwyn. “It’s time for homework, children.”
Brynn protested, “It’s July. I don’t have any. And—“
“Then I’ll give you some. Out.” Branwyn’s grandmother’s voice was steel.
Slowly all of her siblings filed out of the room, while her stepfather helped her mother clear the table. Brynn, who had secrets of her own, bumped Branwyn as she passed by and whispered, “Say something if you need help.”
“Never from you, brat,” muttered Branwyn back.
Severin’s smile broadened and he whispered conspiratorially, “They think we’re ex-lovers now. Well done, cupcake.”
Branwyn didn’t recoil from the image, even though she wanted to. Recoiling invited him in. Instead she exhaled slowly and lifted her hammer. Her grandmother moved into the suddenly empty room, sitting at the head of the table with a sock she was knitting, taking on the role of chaperone uninvited.
Severin wrapped his fingers around the handle of the hammer, right below the head where the Machine fragment was embedded. “Ah.”
“Branwyn, if you’re not going to knock his chair over and kick him in the head like you so obviously want to, please be seated like a civilized adult,” instructed Tara, inspecting the lace in the sock.
Severin released the hammer. “Yes, sit down, cupcake.”
Branwyn hesitated, then moved to the other side of the table and sat, putting the hammer on the table between them.
Tara started a new row and continued. “And you, sir. Put all four legs of my chairs back on the ground. Are you a teenager? Show some respect.”
Twin thrills of pride and fear raced through Branwyn as the front legs of Severin’s chair slowly settled to the ground. He gave her grandmother a cool look as he did, his smile fading.
“And don’t you give me your stink-eye,” Tara added, without looking up from her sock.. “I’ve spent my whole life learning to ignore a far more insidious voice than yours so it’s a waste of both our time.”
He looked from Tara to Branwyn, his eyebrows raised. Branwyn smirked. “The voice of the patriarchy, Sevvy. More insidious than a creep like you because it speaks with a person’s own voice.” She adopted as patronizing a tone as she could. “Maybe even you hear it sometimes.”
After a long, slow look that started to make Branwyn seriously uncomfortable, Severin said, “Maybe. But that’s something demons like to talk about. Not my area of interest.” He smiled his shark smile.
Tara sniffed very loudly. Severin didn’t look at her again, didn’t take the bait, and Branwyn was relieved. Tara was like unto a goddess in the Lennox household, but far too precious to risk.
“So what the hell are you doing here?” Branwyn demanded.
Severin’s shoulders rippled in a shrug. “I rescued the little girl. Your baby sister,” he added, as if savoring the words.
“And what a coincidence that was. Wait, were you following her?” She reached over to her hammer. “You stay the hell away from her, do you understand me?”
“I happened to be in the right place at the right time,” he said solemnly. “That’s all.”
Branwyn didn’t believe that for an instant. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to understand exactly how he’d arranged the encounter, and then gave it up as pointless. “And don’t you ever come back to this house after this, either. You want to talk to me for some awful reason, you call me or something.”
“Cupcake,” he said with a flash of teeth. “Are you giving me your number?” And he laid his hand across the hammer between them, palm open and up.
Branwyn’s cheeks warmed. “Somehow I doubt Simon gave you his number, and you were able to harass him just fine.”
Severin shifted position, leaning back and curling his fingers up. “That was him. This is you.”
Branwyn scowled at him and then flung herself to her feet and over to the sideboard behind her grandmother where a jar of pens sat. Snatching a pen, she grabbed his outstretched hand and scribbled her phone number onto his palm, pressing down viciously as she did. She didn’t manage to break the skin but the red marks spreading out around the numerals gave a petty satisfaction until she looked up again and met his arresting gaze. His eyes were the color of shadow, and they were mirrors that reflected the truths she most hated.
Then she pushed his hand away, resisting the siren call of self-loathing. She was what she was; both her darker nature and her desire to not be controlled by it. She was Branwyn. And she wasn’t this fallen angel’s toy.
“Stop it,” she said, and seated herself again. “What do you want?”
He closed his fingers around the number written on his palm. “I hear you’ve been looking for a certain device.”
“Really? Amazing what the gossip network comes up with. Who told you that one?” Branwyn leaned back. If it hadn’t been her grandmother’s table, handmade for her by her grandfather, she would have put her feet on it.
“Oh, you know how it is. A buddy overhears something while going about his business and passes it along.”
“Ah, eavesdropping plus gossip. We played a game about gossip when I was in summer camp—”
He cut her off, his eyes glinting. “Are you looking for this device, Branwyn?”
“Why do you care?” She narrowed her eyes, remembering her first fear when Rhianna told her somebody had stolen the divinity circuit. “Are you the one who stole it?”
“I think we have overlapping interests, cupcake. Come meet me tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to some of my friends. You can have coffee.”
Branwyn stared at him, shocked into silence. Then she managed, “If you think I’m meeting you anywhere, let alone you and your friends, you’re insane.”
He shrugged. “We could always find you somewhere else. Somewhere less public.” He glanced at her grandmother and then tilted his head as Brynn raced down the hall shouting at one of her brothers.
“I hate you so much,” said Branwyn flatly. “Do you have the circuit?”
“Come and find out.”
She hesitated. “I’d be the insane one if I went to meet you and your horrible friends alone.”
“We’ll be in public,” he pointed out.
“When has that ever stopped you?”
He laughed. “True. Bring some powerful friends, then, if that’s what it takes for you to feel brave. Bring your little sister and the lady of the Key.”
She tried to decide if he had the device, or knew anything about it, or if this was just some stupid game he was playing. She’d met one of his ‘friends’ once, and it ranked as one of the worst experiences of her life, especially when she included the part where she’d had to rely on Severin to heal and rescue her. Every instinct of self-preservation said she ought to refuse and bribe the monster hunter team to prioritize him and his friends.
But—he was willing to involve her family. And if he did know something or, worse, if he did have the divinity circuit, she had to know.
“Fine,” she said. “Tell me where and get out.”
He curled his fingers around his palm again and stood up. “I’ll leave you a message,” he said. “A pleasure meeting you and your family, Tara Lennox.”
Branwyn’s grandmother gave him a piercing look. “Goodbye.”
As soon as he was gone, Branwyn had to leave, too. She was too wound up to spend time socializing with her family, especially when they were full of questions about uncomfortable topics.
As she returned to her car, her phone beeped at her again. The sound sent a bolt of lightning down her spine. Already? She climbed in her car grimly and then looked at her phone. But it was only Titanone. Friendly, innocent, safe Titanone.
Finn got sick after Marley left. Somebody named Skadi came and healed him.
Oh? Branwyn pressed her forehead into her steering wheel, counting her breaths, and let Titanone distract her.
I looked her up in Nakotus. She used to be a monster hunter like Finn and Ice. Then one of her legs was destroyed. So she’s been in Norway guarding something for a really long time.
Any hint on what she was guarding? Branwyn typed and then winced at herself.
A tool. There’s more but it’s in a special code I haven’t figured out how to read yet.
Ah, a chance to balance her inquiry. Good. That code means you’re not supposed to read it.
Silly Branwyn. That makes no sense. The words were written long before I existed so they couldn’t mean that. >^_^<
Branwyn contemplated the idea of trying once again to explain information privacy, this time via text messages. But her own ideas in this specific instance were still developing. It seemed unfair and unrealistic to prevent a library from knowing its own contents—but too much of Titanone was like a young child.
It was so easy to just violate her own ethics because she wanted to know, and just as easy to encourage others to do the same thing. She had to find the divinity circuit and then do her best to avoid ever being in this position again.
It’s probably just a special Machine fragment. Senyaza has a lot of those.
I really want to read those files, though!
Go read some Beverly Cleary if you want to read something.
Titanone didn’t answer, and feeling a little more herself, Branwyn went home.
Chapter Ten
Marley
When Marley arrived at the turn-off for Arrowhead Squirrel Hollow Resort, Finn of the monster hunters was already there, leaning against a tree as he watched the road. A Geometric design had been chalked into the asphalt, and a van and a motorcycle were both pulled onto the shoulder.
It was a beautiful morning in the woods, around ten AM. Any of the other hunters would have looked out of place in such an arboreal setting. But Finn blended in, wearing the environment like a glove. Two canteens were strapped over his chest and he had a long knife at his hip, but he looked tired.
He straightened as she stopped the car and rolled down her window. “And hello to you this morning, Marley. I hope you’re feeling better? You were in no condition to be driving last time we met.”
Marley was more than a little surprised to see him, but her regret at getting him sick beat out her confusion at his presence. “From what I hear, nor were you shortly after you helped me. I’m sorry about that. I think we found the same cure, though?”
“Ah, well, perhaps,” said Finn, with a devilish smile. “It wasn’t so bad for me. But you are well? I don’t need to hunt down your f
riends and teach them to take better care of you?”
“I am,” she confirmed. She did feel much better. Almost everything after meeting Corbin in the park had the memory texture of a slowly worsening dream that had ended in agony under Skadi’s hands. She could remember what had happened but it didn’t seem like it had happened to her, especially all the parts where she’d known things she couldn’t know. She’d felt like she was splitting into two people.
She’d extracted herself from Zachariah’s house without too many issues—Skadi seemed to be quite a distraction for him—and Penny had taken her home and put her to bed; she’d been asleep long before Branwyn had returned. They’d coordinated on plans that morning over breakfast.
Finn ran his hand through his hair, and said, “I see you’ve brought the kitten and she’s quite calm. I like that.”
Neath meowed from the passenger seat. Marley shrugged and said, “I have. And she is.”
Marley, Penny and Branwyn had all agreed that Corbin needed to be reassured that Marley was well as soon as possible, especially if others had died. Marley felt particularly strongly about it. But Branwyn’s meeting with the kaiju was that morning too. Neither of the other women had been thrilled about Marley going to Corbin’s cabin without them. Neath’s presence meant at least she wasn’t alone.
She’d done what she could to reassure them about their own, welfare too. It wasn’t as much as she would have liked. Skadi’s cure had stabilized her magic’s wild flares but it hadn’t washed the blood out of Branwyn’s future. It lurked like an itch at the back of her mind, right beside the worry for Corbin.
Right now, she asked Finn, “What are you doing here? And what is that design on the road for?”
“Ah,” he said and stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “That’s wizardry there. To keep the passers-by away.”
“Away from…?”
“Upstairs asked us to bring Corbin home, my darling. So here we are. We had an inkling he might make a fuss, so we did our best to clear the area first. Convinced most of the residents to be elsewhere for a while. Basic protocol.”
Divinity Circuit (Senyaza Series Book 5) Page 11
