There could be dozens upon dozens of them in the library. All ready to pelt us with poo and then ka-bob us with their ka-nives. The baboon’s tail slowly lowered, brushing across Xylo’s face. I slowly shook my head from side-to-side, urging him not to move at all.
All it would take was one faint sound—perhaps even my breath—to make the baboon turn and sense us. Xylo glacially lifted a hand, gesturing with a finger for me to leave. I heard a faint scraping sound as bone scratched bone and my heart suddenly thundered in my chest as the baboon’s tail froze and the creature cocked his head slightly.
I reached into my pocket, setting my jaw, hoping I would find something I could throw down the balcony to draw his attention. I found only the collection of necklaces and my butterfly charm. The baboon slowly began to turn, not making a sound as it moved.
He couldn’t see. As long as I remained silent, we might be okay. Still, my other hand slowly hovered over the katana, fearing to even grab it in case the baboon could hear me drawing the blade or gripping the hilt too tightly. The baboon finally faced us, and I parted my lips in order to balance out my breathing so that I wasn’t sucking air through my nose and possibly making a noise.
Chapter 22
This baboon’s elongated, black nose resembled more of a snout, and the long, fluffy, white hair covering his head and cheeks made him resemble a dandelion. A black blindfold covered his eyes, but I could see his nostrils flaring as they tried to pick up on our scent. He deftly hopped down from the railing, landing on all fours directly in front of me, cutting me off from Xylo. Despite the fact that Xylo had been the one to make a sound, the baboon slowly leaned closer to me, sniffing loudly. But from his lack of immediate reaction, he apparently couldn’t sense me, for whatever reason. Was it the mud from the swamp still covering me?
Maybe I smelled just as stanky as him.
He let out a grunt, jerking his head back and cocking it left, then right, looking confused and agitated, as if he knew something was here and didn’t understand why he couldn’t smell it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The baboon bared his fangs at me, saliva stretching from canine to canine in long, goopy strands. He even stood vertical, shaking his head left and right, his hair whipping back and forth in some kind of threatening warning.
Then, before I could react, even had I tried, the baboon reached back with one hand, took a record-breaking speed-crap in his palm, and hurled it right at my face, following it up with a hissing, silent roar.
Except…nothing hit me. I heard it strike things in the room behind me, but not hard enough to knock anything over and draw any of his allies for assistance, thankfully.
As much as I wanted to, I forced myself not to question it. I just gave credit to God for one of His lesser-known—yet still enforced—proverbs, found only in The Bible—The Uncut Edition.
Those who fling poo at thy neighbor shall be blinded with poor aim.
The second-hand stench of his obviously healthy digestive system now permeated the air, and it was sharp enough to actually make my eyes sting. His fur also smelled like stale sweat, making me wonder how long we could withstand his presence without giving ourselves away by gagging to death.
Xylo chose that moment to purposely make a faint noise. The baboon spun, raising one sai in a blur, and held the blade up to Xylo’s neck vertebrae. He roared directly into Xylo’s face, splattering him with saliva before hopping back a step, brandishing both sais now. I wondered how he could sense him now when he hadn’t before. I doubted Xylo gave off a scent, so how had he verified his target?
He fell back down to all fours—even though he was still gripping his weapons in his ridiculously-long, front feet-hands—bringing his anus about an inch from my nose, which was an excellent way to give me double-barrel pink eye if he suddenly had a rumbly tummy.
I held my breath, not wanting to risk exhaling across his bare skin in case he felt it.
But trying to hold my breath with my nose only an inch away from his smooth ass—the semi-automatic AnusK47 that had just unloaded a fresh clip of feces at me—I couldn’t help but visualize myself as a cowgirl blowing smoke off the tips of my pistols after a duel. I tried biting back my laugh, but it only resulted in a choking snort that sounded as loud as a gunshot.
I swiftly closed my hand around the hilt of my katana, ready to draw it and shove it down his barrel in hopes I could at least slow him down or wound him. But I froze before I even drew my blade. And then I blinked.
The baboon hadn’t heard me. I glanced down in confusion and immediately stifled a gasp.
I had no visible legs or hands. I was just a faint, almost unnoticeable mist.
Just like when I had used my Horseman Mask for the first time. If not for the still very serious danger of the situation, I might have started to cry in sheer joy. I had some power back! Finally! I didn’t understand how, and I honestly didn’t care. To be even more honest, it had kind of ticked me off that Xylo had been able to interact with my Horseman Mask when I couldn’t. So this was doubly rewarding—a soothing balm to my petty jealousy, and a healing poultice to my confidence.
Because a small part of me had entertained the fact that maybe I had failed—that the Mask had deemed me lacking, finding more value in an undying skeleton than it did in me.
I shook off the thought and considered this new development, wondering how I could use it to help Xylo appease the baboon. Because the baboon was glaring at Xylo, eager to rip his head off.
“Ruby!” the baboon barked in a guttural cough.
My eyes widened. Ruby. The baboon couldn’t sense me, but he could sense Xylo—a skeleton. And skeletons were sometimes used to deliver messages across the castle. At least that had been one of Xylo’s jobs. The baboon wanted proof that Xylo had permission to be here.
The monkey was asking for ID, and apparently one of Dracula’s rubies was a VIP ticket.
I quickly closed my hand over one of the amulets in my pocket and pulled it out, not bothering with caution since the baboon obviously couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t sure how long my mist was going to last, though, so I didn’t want to risk more movement than necessary. I kept my eyes on the baboon’s shoulders as I crawled over to Xylo and carefully hung the necklace over his hand. He didn’t flinch or react at my touch, leading me to believe he could still see me somehow, despite the mist. Perhaps it was because he shared an affinity with the Mask of Despair. I let go of the necklace and hoped for the best.
Xylo didn’t waste a moment. “Here is my Ruby,” he said in a soft, low tone, raising the amulet up. But the baboon had sensed a change in the air the moment I let go of the chain, chuffing softly under his breath. For the first time, I realized I had grabbed Mina Harker’s necklace—the most ornate of the four ruby amulets. I really hoped that wouldn’t backfire—that the baboon wouldn’t recognize it as belonging to Mina and instantly accuse Xylo of theft.
The baboon sniffed the air several times and then abruptly leapt over Xylo’s head to land on the railing. He sheathed his weapons behind his back, tucking them into his sash again, and turned his head slightly, directing his ears at Xylo.
“Sorry I question,” he said in choppy English. “Wear ruby, no hide ruby. Library closed. Even for you, Death Spinner.” Then he simply dropped off the ledge, obviously satisfied by Xylo’s stolen ID. Maybe the baboon had recognized just how powerful Mina’s necklace was and had chosen to take a long lunch in case Dracula showed up demanding to know why one of his most valued residents had been interrogated like a criminal.
Dracula didn’t seem like the guy to put a written warning into his employee files.
His employee files probably consisted of death certificates—and only so he could keep track of the employees he had promoted into unpaid, eternally-indentured, skeleton slaves.
I wondered if Dracula had any skeleton baboons in his service—making use of them even after they died, like he did with Xylo’s brothers.
Blind warrior baboons were bad enough, but undyin
g warrior apes?
No thanks.
And what was a Death Spinner? One look at Xylo let me know he was just as baffled by the title as I was.
I also wondered why the baboon hadn’t sensed the other necklaces stuffed inside my pocket. He’d gotten right up in my face and hadn’t felt them, but Xylo holding one up a few feet away was noticeable? Was it because of my mist?
I realized Xylo was staring at me. Not knowing how to turn the mist off but not wanting to stick around, I waved at him. He waved back slowly.
“Can you hear me?” I whispered, surprised.
He nodded.
That was a relief. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve used up all of our luck.”
I drifted—such a strange mode of perambulation since I was mist—back to the room of unused or broken furniture and was about to reach for the door when I smiled. I took a deep breath and tried to press through the door like I had done with the barrier around Roland’s church when I first put on the Mask of Despair.
And I grunted as I felt a spongy resistance. I pressed harder and, ever so slowly, slipped through the door and back outside. I stumbled slightly on the other side and abruptly saw my hands out in front of me. The mist was gone. Forcing my way through the door must have tapped out what little reserves of energy I had stored inside. I should probably figure out how to replenish that, seeing as how it was my only source of power at the moment. I crouched down, suddenly feeling entirely too vulnerable and naked after my stint at being invisible.
The door kicked open behind me and Xylo jumped out onto the stairs with his fists and teeth clenched. His ligaments flared brighter as he looked left and right for any sign of a threat. Then he saw me and visibly relaxed, lowering his hands as the embers slowly dimmed back to normal. He quickly joined me in a crouch, ducking beside the railing so we wouldn’t be seen if any sentries were circling the skies.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I shrugged, taking stock of myself in a clinical fashion. “Fine. I’m not sure how I used the mist, though. The Mask didn’t respond to me back on the bridge when you bonded with it. Well, I was able to sense the power within, but I couldn’t access it.”
He considered that in silence. “That is how I felt when I threw hands,” he said softly, as if startled by the revelation. “With the Sisters. It just happened.”
“Throwing hands means boxing. Fist-fighting,” I explained, biting back a laugh. “You hung the Weird Sisters with my powers?” I asked, having assumed as much upon seeing the dark smoke pouring from his eye sockets, but not having asked the direct question before now.
He averted his gaze, staring down at the ground. “I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to use it without asking. I—”
I reached out and squeezed his arm, sensing the direction he was about to take—some self-defeating comment again. “I’m not angry, Xylo; I’m trying to understand it. If I’m ever angry with you, I promise to personally and directly let you know. You’ll never have to guess.” He nodded in relief, something no man would ever do. “As soon as Samael hit me with the Mark of the Beast, I thought he had also blocked my Horseman’s power rather than taking it away from me. So I was surprised to see you bond with it—and me—but I was even more surprised that you were able to use it in the Gardens, and that I was able to access it just now. I didn’t try to do anything. It just happened.”
He nodded thoughtfully, looking relieved. “I did not try either. I just wanted them dead to make up for our delays.”
“On the bridge, you said something about an echo,” I said, deciding that I’d bottled up that question long enough.
He nodded. “It felt…familiar to me. Like an old friend, even though I don’t have any friends.”
I smiled. “You have me, Xylo. I’m your friend. What else is there?”
He opened his mouth in mute surprise, and I took it as a murmured aww, like one would do if they saw a puppy trip over his own feet.
I glanced around, wondering how long it had actually been since we started. I wasn’t wearing a watch or anything, which I really should have considered sooner than now. I saw the Clocktower through the Terrible Timbers, but it was facing the opposite direction so I couldn’t read it.
“You are right,” he said, reading my thoughts. “We should get moving. Sorry you couldn’t see the library. If I would have been more careful—”
“Stop, Xylo. No more of that, remember?”
He closed his teeth with a click and gave me a resigned nod.
“What is a Death Spinner, Xylo?” I asked carefully.
He shook his head after a few moments. “I’m not sure. Maybe that’s what they call us skeletons?” he asked, glancing back at the door as if considering going back in to ask them.
I watched him for a few moments, picking up on his genuine concern over the question. He didn’t know. Was that a good or bad development?
“Let’s go see the demon,” I told him, attempting to wall off my thoughts from his observation. Because I didn’t want Xylo reading my mind until I was certain my vague idea had any merit, and I wouldn’t know that until I asked the demon some very specific questions. My talk with Mina’s puppet had been more helpful than I at first thought.
I hoped.
Xylo peered over the stairs, recalculating his path since we couldn’t sneak through the Master’s Library anymore. A few moments later, he motioned for me to follow him back down the stairs. I did, pulling out my butterfly charm and squeezing it in my palm.
Come on little butterfly. Give me some kind of hint…
It might have pulsed warmly—very faintly—but that could have just been my imagination.
I kept it in my palm, remembering how I’d spent a decent amount of time holding it before using it for the first time. Maybe it needed some love and attention before it opened up.
That didn’t explain how my mist had worked with the baboon, but it was the only data I had to go on.
And it was progress. A flickering candle flame of hope that true despair conquers all, or whatever that Corinthians quote had been trying to say.
Thinking of that reminded me of Samael’s comment about why he’d chosen to become my godfather, and I gritted my teeth, deciding he could spend a little more time in the Coliseum for that delusion alone.
That my mother would ever love him back. How ridiculous!
Chapter 23
It didn’t take us very long to reach the area with the Observatory where the demon resided. It was near the opposite end of the Keep from where we had started, but I definitely understood why we had taken the long way around. The area between the two points consisted of broad, open streets and elegant marble structures that rivaled Rome in its prime. Walking down those streets would have been a death sentence.
The only reason it was marginally safe now was because the streets were entirely empty—everyone was out searching for us near the Coliseum and Eternal Gardens. Still, I felt like a million eyes were watching us, even though I had no justification for it, having not seen a single living thing since the baboons.
We crept down the fanciful hedgerows lining the street, peering over them to make sure we weren’t caught by surprise.
Which let us get close enough to at least see the Infernal Armory that might or might not house Dracula’s Bane, along with the rest of his collection of magical artifacts and weapons that he’d acquired over the many centuries that he’d stalked the earth. It was at least the size of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City
And by close enough, I meant we stopped about fifty yards away, at best, because it was teeming with guards. I counted over two dozen of them in a matter of seconds. Most were skeletons like Xylo, but I had seen at least half-a-dozen who looked like men but moved like predators—making them either vampires or shifters. Maybe something even worse than that. Judging by the thoughtful look on Xylo’s face, this wasn’t the usual level of security, which meant Dracula had beefed it up. For my sake? Or
because of the murders in the Eternal Gardens?
What had Mina feared him doing? Wasn’t this whole place his to do with as he pleased?
“That’s where they keep the Eternal Metal,” Xylo murmured, almost longingly.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Your ribs are way cooler, Xylo. And besides, with blades for hands, how would you hold your beer by the pool on a hot, sunny day?” I asked, teasingly.
He glanced down at his hands thoughtfully. “I can’t drink beer, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun.”
I sighed, trying to think of something else hands were good for that would apply to a skeleton. “High-fives,” I finally blurted in an excited whisper. “You wouldn’t be able to high-five without hands.”
I lifted my palm at head level for him to give me some skin—bone.
He stared at my hand, looking confused. “What is this?” he asked.
“Slap my hand with yours,” I urged. “It will make you feel empowered. Happy. Just try it.”
He looked doubtful, but finally slapped my palm lightly.
And upon contact, an explosion of black lightning struck the distant Infernal Armory, obliterating one of the domes and about ten of the guards in a shower of crumbling stone and screaming guards.
A smoking, charred femur slammed into the stone beside us, sinking into the mortar as it melted the stone surrounding it. I hopped back a step, wondering what was hot enough to melt stone.
Apparently, Xylo’s high-fives.
I stared incredulously at both the smoking femur and the damage to the distant structure.
“I like high-fives,” Xylo said softly, staring down at his hand as if he’d never seen it before. “My brothers cannot do that.”
He looked up at me, and I smiled crookedly, not sure what the hell had just happened, but not wanting to kill his buzz. I’d told him it was empowering, but I hadn’t meant anything like that. I noticed that the smoke in his eyes was lighter than before—not as black.
Godless: Feathers and Fire Book 7 Page 14
