The Awakening (The Bryn And Sinjin Series Book 6)

by HP Mallory

  “Members of the court?” Jolie repeated, surprised lacing her tone. “I don’t know, Bryn.”

  “Well, I’d say the women in the breeding programs should be rescued and allowed to join us, no questions asked,” I explained, and she immediately nodded. “Regardless of whether or not they used to be warriors, they aren’t now. And I’m sure their hatred for Luce runs strong.”

  “Yes, I have no argument there.”

  I paused. “I’m not completely sold on whether we grant the same favor to the men, either.”

  My sister narrowed her eyes at me. “These men are the same ones who… raped you, Bryn.”

  “I’m well aware,” I assured her and swallowed hard. “And some of them deserve to die, just for who and what they are. But I’m not convinced that others were and are acting according to their own will. And I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that some of them don’t enjoy the role they’ve been forced into.”

  “And how do you decide who gets a second chance and who doesn’t?” Jolie frowned. “Well, if it’s even possible to make the truth known to them and, more so, if they even believe it.”

  “Right, that’s the sticking point,” I answered. I honestly had no idea how we would enlighten my former Tribe about their true background. “But for now, we’re playing devil’s advocate, right?”

  “Okay, continue.”

  “As far as drawing a line between who is allowed a second chance… I think we ask the women once we liberate them. And they tell us their thoughts. We go to the source to find out which, if any, of the men are still good souls.”

  Jolie nodded. “That’s an interesting thought.” She pursed her lips and then opened her mouth again. She seemed to be considering her words very carefully, choosing the right way to phrase what she wanted to say next. “Bryn, do you remember what you were like when you first arrived at Kinloch Kirk?”

  “Yes, I was awful,” I admitted. “Rude, churlish, argumentative—I don’t know how you all put up with me,” I said, only half-joking.

  Jolie laughed. “Yes, you were a little difficult,” she replied, seemingly relieved that I was willing to acknowledge my shrewish ways without forcing her to insult me.

  “You think they would be the same way?” I asked.

  “It stands to reason they would?”

  I thought about it. “Maybe and maybe not. When you took me prisoner, I was still convinced Luce was right. I still bought into his lies. I’d never been told the truth.”

  “We tried to tell you the truth, but you didn’t believe it.”

  “Well, let’s just say if I’d come here after having accepted the truth about Luce, or after having been kept in a cage for God only knows how long, I probably would have been more willing to listen to your point of view and adapt my own.”

  “That’s likely true.” Then she was silent for a few minutes. “What do you think changed you, Bryn? What inspired you to believe us and become one of us?” she asked, giving me the distinct impression that she was trying to lead me somewhere with her questions.

  I decided to play along, trusting that Jolie had a goal with all of this. “It was spending time at Kinloch, meeting all of the wonderful people here,” I told her, both feeling and sounding wistful. “It was realizing there was another way of life, a better way of life. It was realizing that Luce had been lying to me, and that being a warrior wasn’t everything he’d talked it up to be. I think learning about love is what changed me the most,” I added, overwhelmed by the gratitude I felt for the members of the Underworld court who had gone out of their way to welcome me as one of their own.

  We sat together for a few moments, neither of us making a sound, when it finally hit me. I would still have been a Tribe member if I hadn’t had the opportunity to live at Kinloch Kirk and to learn about another, kinder way of life. I would still have been willing to fight in Luce’s army and call him my Supreme Leader if I’d never started to suspect, just by spending time with other members of the Underworld court, that Luce was a liar.

  “So am I living proof of the likelihood of Tribe members becoming better people?” I asked.

  “I think you’re proof that it’s possible,” Jolie answered. “Obviously, the women will most likely want to join us, because they’re being treated like sub-humans. It’s the men I’d be worried about.”

  I nodded agreeably. “Well, some of them wouldn’t be given the option.”

  “And we’re still jumping over the question of how we would even relay this information to them—and whether or not they’d believe us, anyway.”

  “Right. That’s the sticking point, and we’d have to figure that part out. For now, I just wanted to know if you felt like it was important enough information that could turn the tide of an impending war. I figured, if we could use this to possibly bypass hundreds of deaths, we should.”

  Jolie took a deep breath. “Yes, I think it’s important enough that it’s worth considering and looking at seriously. It’s just the matter of how that concerns me now.”

  There was something in me that rejoiced a bit at hearing her words. I felt like we now had a direction. Our path forward was clear: we had to tell the Tribe members the truth and give them the opportunity to do the right thing. Maybe they would believe us and maybe they wouldn’t, but ultimately, if we ended up going to battle, at least we’d know we tried.

  “Was that it, then?” Jolie asked, putting down her knitting and stifling a yawn.

  “Yes,” I told her gratefully, “thanks for listening.”

  “Of course. You know you can come to me any time and with anything.”

  I smiled and watched her stand up. Immediately, I followed suit, fully aware it was late and we both needed our sleep. She led the way out of the sitting room, and we paused at her bedroom door to say goodnight. Then, I proceeded to amble down the long, stone hallways of Kinloch Kirk to my own bedroom, a space far more simply decorated than Jolie’s.

  The plain aesthetic was left over from my time as a Tribe member, where everything was designed with a utilitarian aim, and beauty for the sake of beauty was seen as wasteful. I didn’t agree with that idea any more, but I still kept my interior design rather simple.

  Some things never leave you; some lessons can’t be untaught, I thought as I crawled into my bed and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bryn

  “Where am I?”

  It was the only question on my mind as I woke up from a deep slumber into a heavy, gray fog. I couldn’t see more than two feet in front of me. I turned to my right—just the same dark miasma. I turned to my left—someone seemed to be walking towards me, stretching their arms forward in an attempt to guide their path. The figure drew nearer, and I prepared to defend myself.

  “Bryn? Is that you?” asked the figure in a sweet voice I knew well.

  “Jolie! Are you okay?” I called out to my sister, who’d somehow also ended up in this strange, fog-covered dreamscape.

  “I’m fine,” Jolie responded, finally making her way over to where I stood, still prepared to fight.

  “Where are we?” I looked around the dreamscape for any sign that might clue me in. The fog grew thinner, but at a painfully slow rate. Jolie shrugged, indicating she was just as confused as I was. I grabbed her hand and guided us a few steps forward, hoping to move toward anything that would allow us to exit this dream.

  We bumped into something that hit me roughly waist-height. It felt like a dining table. The fog had lifted almost entirely at that point, and I was able to determine that we were, in fact, in a dining room. A beautiful silver dining set was laid out on the mahogany table, the chairs were upholstered in the most luxurious purple velvet fabric, and the meal seemed fit for a king.

  It was all incredibly familiar, like somewhere I’d been recently but was just a little too sleepy at present to remember fully. And then I heard a voice call out to me: “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Bryn. Is this your lovely sister, Queen Jolie?”

  I would h
ave recognized that voice anywhere—Monsieur D. He was sitting in front of us, taking his place at the head of the mahogany table.

  He wore a rather old and dusty top hat, made of a dark black material and banded with what looked like alligator teeth. His dark skin sprouted not a single hair, at least not as far as I could tell. His suit was designed well, by nineteenth century standards, and hung loosely on his thin frame. He tapped his black cane on the ground to get our attention, holding its silver handle tightly in his hand.

  “Monsieur D?” I asked, frowning.

  “Mademoiselles, do take a seat,” he said, speaking in a thick French accent and wearing a grin I could only describe as a “killer’s smile.”

  Monsieur D was fae and completely untrustworthy. And the fact that he’d dragged Jolie and me into this dreamscape wasn’t exactly good news. Why? Because we’d lost our home-field advantage. This was his turf and, as such, he could—and would—call the shots.

  “Where are we, Bryn?” Jolie asked, and I could hear the worry in her voice.

  I glanced around and started to recognize the place.

  “We’re in a dreamscape version of House Gedde—the home of Monsieur D, who happens to be sitting in front of us.”

  Jolie’s eyes went wide. “Monsieur D?” she repeated, looking at him with interest. He merely smiled in return.

  “The man we bargained with in Louisiana to make it easier to free the women Luce had caged,” I explained by way of introduction.

  “I apologize for not reaching out sooner, mes femmes d’Underworld,” said Monsieur D.

  “And I’m not thrilled with the way you did contact us once you decided to get in touch,” Jolie retorted, surprising me with her antagonistic tone. I was somewhat concerned at the way in which Monsieur D would perceive it. The last thing we wanted to do was get him on our bad side, especially when we were essentially playing prisoners in this dreamscape.

  “We don’t appreciate being forced into this dreamscape with no warning or consent,” my sister added, simultaneously impressing me with her bravery and inspiring in me further concern over Monsieur D’s response. The last thing I wanted to deal with was his legion of zombies.

  “Ah, but mademoiselle, you see, in the Court of Les Invisibles, we consider it far more courteous to make an acquaintance in the dreamscape for it is a more private setting, free from interlopers,” responded Monsieur D.

  “Well, I’m more than happy to allow for cultural differences, even if they run completely counter to what I’m accustomed to,” Jolie replied, offering him a gracious smile. “Now, why did you bring us here, Monsieur D?”

  And that was the point on which I was concerned. Whatever reason Monsieur D had for contacting us, it wouldn’t be without strings. I knew about Monsieur D’s offers: they always came with bargains, loopholes, and hidden caveats. There was always a catch. I didn’t think he knew the definition of the term “straightforward”—neither in English nor translated into his native French.

  “Madame, I would like to offer my services,” said Monsieur D, gracefully waving his black cane in the air, using his hand to manipulate the silver handle to ensure it didn’t knock anything over. He punctuated his next few sentences with an additional wave of the cane.

  “What do you mean by your services?” I asked, eyeing him narrowly.

  “I offer, first, my army of zombus to fight alongside your Underworld court,” said Monsieur D, loudly enough that it was almost a yell. The cane jabbed the air. “I offer, second, my Louisiana hounfour, my most comfortable mansion House Gedde, as housing for both your soldiers and mine, as you are planning an invasion on American soil from Scotland. That will certainly pose difficulties,” he pointed out, and the cane jabbed the air again. “This offer is more than generous, mademoiselles. I would be forced to give up the privacy my hounfour currently provides me were I to share space with such a large military force, even if temporarily.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “It is a generous offer and it would help us quite a bit at the same time that it would certainly put you out.” Suspicious, I kept my gaze fixed on him.

  “It is worth it to me! I aim to help my Underworld court allies, no matter the extreme inconvenience to myself,” he finished. The cane jabbed the air a third time. “So, mademoiselles, do you plan to take me up on incredibly generous offer?”

  Jolie began to reply but I interrupted her. I would not allow my sister to enter into one of Monsieur D’s twisted contracts without first making her aware of all the risks.

  “Monsieur D, I would appreciate it if you stopped referring to my sister, the Queen of the Underworld court, as “mademoiselle,” as she is a married woman and should therefore be labeled “madame.” Actually, she happens to be royalty, so the proper term is “reine,” I believe,” I said pointedly, hoping the little French I’d learned from Audrey, Dureau, and Sinjin didn’t fail me now.

  “Very well,” Monsieur D acknowledged and then bowed to Jolie as if to apologize.

  “Monsieur D, in reference to your highly generous offer, we are certainly appreciative of the offer itself. That being said, what are we giving up in exchange for your undead soldiers and access to your home?” I asked. If he refused to be straightforward, I would be sufficiently straightforward for both of us.

  “I fail to understand your question, mademoiselle,” he answered, seemingly affronted.

  “Maybe an example would be the easiest way to illustrate my point,” I fired back. “I’d like to remind you of the fact that you promised Damek he would no longer age, but failed to inform him that this meant he would be unable to heal any wounds or stop his own bleeding,” I explained, feeling myself becoming angry.

  “Ah, but the magic whiskey I provided the young man solved that issue,” Monsieur D countered, maintaining a poker face.

  “That was an addendum to the contract that was added after the fact and required its own set of stipulations with the Lady Maetta,” I growled back at him.

  “It was not my fault that the magic you requested was quite literal,” responded Monsieur D. “I do not have complete control over magic, mon ami.”

  “I can’t comment on that. But what I will ask is what happens when the whiskey runs out?”

  “I have ensured it never will,” Monsieur D assured me, waving his cane in the air in a relaxed sort of manner.

  I inhaled deeply. “My point is that there’s always a quid pro quo with you. You never do anything simply for the act of doing it.” I took another big breath. “And, on that subject, I’m also curious about the contract I made with you, Monsieur D. What did I give up in exchange for the lessons you gave me in controlling the Flame? Why did you imply my final actions in that cemetery were so important?”

  “Mademoiselle Bryn, listen to me—and listen carefully,” said Monsieur D, as the smile on his face slowly transformed into something of a frown, suggesting he didn’t like being confronted with evidence of his own duplicity.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Now, mademoiselle, you are aware that the devil you know is better than the one you are not so well acquainted with, oui?”

  “Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “I am certainly no devil, and only come with the best of intentions. That is more than you can say for our mutual opponent, Luce.”

  “In this case, I happen to know the devil Luce very well,” I started. “I know his motivations, I know his style when it comes to dealing with enemies, and I know what makes him tick. You? We barely know each other and you’ve already given us reason to distrust you,” I pointed out, laying my cards on the table. I hoped I wouldn’t regret that strategy.

  Monsieur D merely offered a casual shrug in response. “Mademoiselle Bryn, here is the best response I have to your comment. You may not trust me, which is your prerogative. Regardless of your feelings toward me, the fact remains that the atrocities Luce plans—and please be aware, mademoiselle, he now has the numbers in his army necessary to c
arry out those atrocities—will require an army at least as large as yours after my zombus have joined. Nothing smaller will suffice. You may take my help or you may leave it, but please understand you would also leave your likelihood of victory behind, should you turn down my more than generous offer,” he finished.

  I noticed he’d never answered my question about what I’d given up in exchange for his lesson on how to master the Flame. Monsieur D was very good at avoidance.

  “I need to know what we’d be trading in return for your assistance,” I repeated, hoping he couldn’t squirrel his way out of answering this time.

  “Your suspicion offends me,” he started, but my sister cut in before he could say more.

  “We are interested in partnering with you,” Jolie told him. “But I do have one question—what has inspired you to get involved on our behalf?”

  Monsieur D grew visibly uncomfortable at this inquiry. He fumbled the silver handle of the black cane and it clattered on the floor, making just enough noise to put us all a little more on edge than we had been a moment before.

  “What happened to the Unseelie women was wrong. I have decided to make things right,” claimed Monsieur D.

  Jolie held firm. “Monsieur D, we both know there’s more to this story than you’re alluding to. What made you decide to get involved now?” She locked eyes with him and refused to drop her stare.

  “Madame, if you must know, I shall tell you,” spat out Monsieur D after a protracted silence. “A long time ago, Lady Maetta turned all of my fellow members of Les Invisibles into zombus. She spared me alone, leaving me to spend my days in loneliness. Apparently, my people had done something to offend her—who can be sure what it was?” He gave a casual shrug.

  Jolie and I glanced at each other briefly—I could tell we were both certain Monsieur D knew exactly what the offense was but didn’t want to tell us. We waited for him to continue.

  “Luce raided my hounfour shortly after you freed the werewolf,” he went on.