Page 16 of Beneath Swan Lake (Deadly Endings #2)
Odette clings to me when we shadow hop out of the kingdom, her arms behind my neck and her face buried into my chest. I can’t get a read on her, but I don’t have to be concerned about getting separated from her in the shadows when she’s holding on this tight.
It’s not until I’ve hopped us three times that I stop and let us return to solid form. I’m glaring backward towards the castle, thinking of the spirit there.
Dima. Try as he might, he can’t get away from me. Killing him was satisfying, but I wish I’d had the time to stretch it out. All I’ve gotten since the spirit rose from his dead body is sarcasm and rage.
When we stop moving, I don’t let Odette put space between us, Instead I keep her braced against me, turning to press her against the nearest tree. Her one eye opens wide, and she stares up at me in the night. The waning moon offers enough light that I’m sure she can see the hardness in my face, and I reach out to grip her chin.
She tenses immediately, clenching her jaw as our eyes lock together. “Show me.”
“Show you what?” she grits out.
“Enough games, Odette,” I all but growl. I’ve waited as long as I can stand to dig into her for answers, and running into the guard derailed my plans. “Dima is dead-”
“And you have yet to reap him.”
I grit my teeth. I knew that might be an issue, but it’s not just for selfish reasons. Sending him on before I know if he could be of any use is a waste of possible help, and we can’t afford to be rash right now. “No, I haven’t. But he is at the castle, and even if he’s drawn to me to pass on it’ll take time for him to reach me again. He’s not out here. Now show me.”
She hesitates before swallowing, dropping her gaze. “What… what exactly do you want me to show you?”
“The scars,” I tell her, reaching for her thigh. The dress doesn’t have a slit, and I’m not touching her bare skin like I want to be. I’ve seen her naked but I’ve never been able to focus the way I want to on what he did to her. “Whatever marks Dima left on you.”
Her cheeks lose color, and she starts to try and shake her head. I don't let up on her chin, and there’s not enough fight in her movements to break my hold. “Why?”
I narrow my gaze. “Because he thought the way to control you was to hurt you. I’m going to prove why he’s wrong.”
Odette grows quiet, and I grit my teeth again to keep from snapping at her. He gloated enough in the clearing that I know he did something awful, and Odette’s lived with the reminder ever since. There are too many questions, and if she would just lay it out for me I could breathe before we decide what to do next.
“You have to let go of me,” she says, his voice soft but firm. “The marks are on my legs.”
I don’t bother commenting that I already know that. Instead I let go and step back, swirling my fingers in a semi-circle so the shadows rise. It offers a bit of a barrier out here at the border of the woods, and I certainly don’t trust what might be lurking out there.
Blowing out a breath, she drops the bag she brought with. Her eye is still tucked safely in my cloak, and that’s something I’ll be mindful of until it’s fixed.
She shifts around and hikes up her dress, dragging up both sides. The feathers slide over her skin until it reveals the marks I’ve felt before.
Kneeling, her breath hitches when I trace over the first scars I see. Some of them are thin lines that reflect in the moonlight, others are deep abrasions that left the tissue torn and uneven. I study one leg before shifting to the other, noting that none of the marks start until high on her thighs.
My gaze flickers up. “Why are they only here?”
Odette’s one eye looks away. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m not sure if it’s real or imagined, but I think I want to share.”
I don’t say anything, letting her struggle through her thoughts in her head. She’s at war with herself, and I keep tracing the marks as she thinks.
“I think… I think I’ve been beneath the lake.”
My fingers pause, and I frown up at her. “ What?”
She worries her lip, that hesitation back again. “When… when my suitor died it was on my twentieth birthday, and he came out for the celebration and tried to woo me. We were traveling through Ravens Wood before he died. I remember Dima tearing my eye out-”
Odette cuts herself off, looking away, and I don’t push her. Instead I keep dragging my fingers along her skin, learning every mark. She’s pretty guarded when it comes to her secrets, and I can’t help wondering if this is the first time she’s shared the whole story. “I… I was missing for three days.”
My touch hardens a little, not enough to hurt her but so she can feel my reaction.
“I don’t know where I was. I remember it being cold, and dark, and there was a lot of blue light. Dima’s magic was my assumption. And there was a lot of pain.”
“From?” I prompt.
She licks her lips. “I think he was experimenting. To what end, I don’t know. I just remember being someplace else, and I’m certain it wasn’t just my imagination distorting reality through the pain. I remember time passing, and my parents mentioned that I was gone for three days. I don’t remember all the details, just blinding pain and occasionally Dima’s face. When I came back to the palace, I had the wounds and scabs to remember the horrors by. I… my handmaid Cindy saw them and I begged her to not say anything. She agreed to honor my wishes, and my parents still don’t know that they exist. ”
Dragging my nails down her leg, I try to focus on anything but my building rage. I already killed Dima, all that’s left to do is torment his soul. And if I go too far, his soul could splinter and he’ll be trapped here as a wraith. I don’t want him, dead or alive, anywhere near my princess. He’s taken pieces of her that he doesn’t deserve, and I won’t give him the chance to do anything else.
His words come back to me. Begged . If she begged him for anything, it was the pained cries of a suffering girl. He got off on hurting an innocent princess, and wanted to gloat about it.
I let him die far, far too easily.
“Raymundo, say something,” she whispers, and my eyes slide back to hers. Her eye is misty, and the grip she still has on her dress tells me she’s terrified of being rejected. I can’t imagine what fears she carries around after an experience like that, but it just brings up more questions.
She’s telling me about the scars, not the moments afterwards.
Leaning forward, I shift my gaze to focus on her skin and press a kiss to the scarred flesh. The abrasions are rough on my lips, but it doesn’t stop me from peppering one thigh then the other, Showing her that, no matter the marks, I adore her completely.
She takes a shuddering breath, and the gentle rock of her hips tells me I’m getting to her. I pull back and stand, because despite wanting to pin Odette down and fuck her senseless this is not the spot to do it. We’re not even past the treeline, and while my shadows might be partially blocking us, anyone could see us off in the distance or from the skies.
My hands grip over hers, and I gently massage my palms against her knuckles. “Let go.”
Her eye is wide, but she releases her death grip on the dress and lets it fall down her legs again. Yes, she’s gorgeous standing there holding herself up for me, but I can ravage her someplace safe.
I lift one of her hands, kissing her knuckles. Her fingers are cool against mine. “We need to get into the trees and set up camp.”
She frowns. “We need to-”
“Tomorrow is a new day, Odette,” I say, giving her a meaningful look. “And we can get to the lake in a short amount of time from here. Tonight, after the whirlwind these past few days, you need your rest.”
~~~
We make camp one shadow hop deeper into the trees. I feel around and manage to find my pixie dust reserve, which works to spark a small fire. It’s a good thing I went back to look for it the last time it fell. It quickly becomes burning coals with the wind, and Odette huddles beneath both of our cloaks and then slides against my side. She’s exhausted, giving me a rundown of the conversations she had in the castle with both Cindy the handmaid as well as the Queen. She’s barely finished the tale before sleep drags her under, her breathing evening out into soft snores.
My fingers drag gently through her hair. I was supposed to return her to her kingdom and go back home. I’ve already taken longer than expected, and if Zarev or anyone else attempted to contact me through the seeing stone since I last spoke with mum I’ve had very few opportunities to check. There’s no way to track when someone has reached out, it simply glows when trying to connect to another of the stones, and mostly it's a stroke of fate catching when someone else is using a different one. The glowing helps, but the stones are rare and if I’m traveling around I keep mine hidden.
I try to contact Zarev, Ban and Lucius in that order, but no one is answering. With a sigh I set the stone back in its pocket and double check the one holding Odette’s eye, wondering if this is a fool's errand carrying it around. I’ve wrapped it in a cloth and the eye itself is now in a little jar to protect it.
The wind blows, but it doesn’t particularly bother me. Death isn’t affected by the elements like a living person, so keeping Odette cocooned in the shadows while I can’t sleep is the least I can do. Watching her rest, my mind starts to drift back to my last conversation with the King.
To be entirely honest, it’s not something I want to think about right now. It’ll get me worked up and angry, and I’ll just be tempted to go find Dima’s spirit and take out the aggression on him. It’s the least he deserves.
Instead I feel around in my cloak, finally finding the little book I keep reading on and off. If I could focus I could read through the whole thing, but I don’t know if I can take in that much information in one sitting and process exactly what the book is trying to tell me.
Thumbing through the pages, I find the spot I left off previously about Swan Lake:
Swanling is one of four points to bring Bugaboo back. Each throne holds its own secrets, and the truth about Swan Lake is knowing how to find and access Swanling. When the pool is found, it can connect to other looking glasses and allow for travel across great lands in mere seconds. The pools must be clear and still for the best results, and if the water is disturbed it may cause the traveler to be torn apart along the way.
When Death is calling, the dead must rise. If the Mad Queen is to be stopped for her tirade, the King of Diamonds must return to the Court of Cards.
Blinking, I flip back to the cover. I thought this book was extremely old from its condition, but really if it mentions the Mad Queen and King of Diamonds it had to be written, or at least updated, during my lifetime.
The Court of Cards is what the Mad Queen’s court used to be prior to her evil tirade. When the King of Diamonds was alive, he helped to even out the wickedness of the Queen. With him gone, the Queen spiraled out of control. Even Wonderland’s occupants flee to the borders and beyond when they can. Her idea to sire Flowerborne and her cruelty with prisoners makes her the type of ruler no one wants.
Bringing back the Court of Cards is nothing but a dream. It cannot happen with the King long dead. I look back at the text again.
The only way to right true sin is to go back to the beginning and let evil expunge itself. When the nightmare rises, so will the final purge:
Trapped beneath stone so cold,
Only here can power hold.
From the stone will blades arise,
To reap the soul’s last surprise.
From the darkness can come light,
To reap the soul’s final goodbye.
I sit up straight. This is too weird. Those words, I heard the shadow man say them the day we died and rose as the Reapers. My Hell Brothers each heard the words from the shadow man too, and we’ve never known what to make of them.
A Bugaboo… how does it tie in?
Dim light catches my attention, and I glance down before digging into my cloak. The seeing stone is finally glowing, so someone decided to try and contact me.
Zarev’s severe face greets me. “Did you kill a wizard today?”
I blink. Hours have passed since Dima died, and I have no idea how Zarev would figure something like that out. “I have.”
He groans, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Pray tell why did you kill a wizard? ”
I give him a very brief summary of the last few days, mentioning Swanling enough that I have him curious. But ever a pessimist, Zarev focuses on the negative parts of my tale. “Did you reap him?”
“You’re starting to sound like me when I kept asking if you reaped Rapunzel,” I jab back.
“This is not even close to the same thing,” he grumbles. “Arthur knows you killed the wizard.”
“ How ? Camelot is on the other side of the country. His body is barely cold.”
Zarev huffs. “The wizard was Dima I assume.” I nod, and he rolls his eyes before continuing. “Dima knows Morgan.”
“Who is Morgan?” I say, thinking back to something the King said to me before leaving Swan Lake. It’s best I gather what I can from Zarev and figure out what’s going on before I start confusing facts. Zarev finally bothers to contact me and he decides to speak in riddles. I might just shoot him the next time we see each other and see if he likes being messed with.
“Morgan le Fay. She’s Arthur’s half sister.”
“Huh.” I scratch my head. “I’ve never cared to know that much about the happenings of Camelot.”
“Well she’s also a scholar. She handles all the literature in Camelot and keeps it catalogued. She’s kind of like the librarian.”
Librarian. That makes me think of the Captain, but I push the thought aside for now because I’m more interested in what Zarev has to say. “That sounds incredibly dull. Does Arthur even read? ”
His glare is more than enough of an answer for now, and he goes on without addressing the question. “Did I mention she’s an enchantress?”
He hasn’t, but Odette mentioned something about it. “No. For some reason you skipped over that detail.”
“You can blame Cyrus for that,” he says with a groan.
“Who is Cyrus?”
Zarev swats at something I can’t see, and then I hear a girlish giggle that I assume belongs to Rapunzel. “He’s Rapunzel’s cat.”
“I’m a shifter you oaf!”
Well that answered nothing. “Zarev, focus.”
With a sigh he stands, and I can see the stone bobbing as he moves.
Once he’s seated elsewhere, he drags a hand along his jaw and keeps me in suspense for several more moments. “It took us a bit, but we were able to get into Camelot. Unfortunately it happened because Rapunzel’s palace cat caught us right after we finished fucking in the woods.”
I snort. “Classy.”
He gives me a dark look, and we both know I have nothing I can say about that. I used Odette just the other night in the woods, and she enjoyed every second of it. “Anyway, her cat Cheshie, who is actually a Cheshire Cat shifter named Cyrus, saw us and intervened before we entered the kingdom. Apparently in Camelot there’s a bounty out for the head of any Reaper, and they dared to add Golden Girl to the list.”
My eyes widen. “Arthur thinks he’s going to keep Death out with threats?”
Zarev shrugs. “Who knows. Cyrus happened to cross us, and he mentioned that we shouldn’t be caught.”
“What is a Cheshire Cat doing out there?” I mutter.
“Ray, focus .” There’s a bit of mockery in his voice, and I know it’s because I just said the same thing to him. “Remember I said Arthur has a shady side and is allied with the Mad Queen? Those troops that we reaped at the tavern were meant to storm through Sherwood. Wonderland only has so many civilians willing to side with madness, and Arthur is willing to side with anything that breathes power. He wants to ally with the Queen to overthrow the kingdoms throughout Mystica.”
Immediately, my thoughts flicker to Swan Lake. The King and Queen there are kind, almost too much so. The guards fumbled over Dima and his magic. If a true attack came to their lands I don’t think it would take very much for Swan Lake to fall.
My gaze shifts to Odette. She doesn’t deserve to have her home destroyed. “What can we do about that?”
Zarev huffs. “Well, we were trying to come up with a plan before you killed Dima. Morgan le Fay would speak to him on occasion. She has a whole network of notes all about the weapons that the four of us wield and the magical properties. Cyrus says it’s expansive.”
Right, he’s taking notes from a cat. It almost makes me laugh at the irony. I don’t think I trust anyone willing to align themselves with Dima, but for now I’ll humor Zarev. He’s usually good at reading people, so maybe Morgan le Fay isn’t all that bad. “And what good does that do for an enchantress?”
He hesitates a little too long. “We think the notes are passed on to the Mad Queen. I don’t know what good our weapons would do for her, but if she’s at all interested in them that might make things more complicated.”
I think about the book, and reach over to hold it up. “I might have an idea…”
Zarev’s quiet as I share what I learned while reading, stroking his chin as I finish. “I forgot about that damn book.”
“Handy little thing, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Keep reading and see if it says anything else. If the looking glasses are a big deal, and there’s four points, maybe there’s some truth to the madness. We wield four weapons.”
He’s right. We each have weapons fashioned from the stone that ultimately killed us: I carry my arrows, which are stone-tipped, and the bow that I had the day we died. Zarev has his scythe, and I still don’t fully understand how he tolerates lugging that thing around. Ban uses a staff, something he carried to help with his ice magic before we were changed. He has a small dagger of stone that he keeps on him, or at least he did when I last saw the Reaper. Lucius has a sword, though I’m not certain how often it sees use if he’s holed up in his castle.
That doesn’t explain everything though. Wasn’t the book going on about sixes earlier? I just cannot make sense of how all the pieces are supposed to fit together.
“Perhaps,” I reply, thumbing through the pages again. “I’ll see how much I can read before dawn.”
“And we’ll see what kind of damage comes from the death of the wizard,” Zarev replies. “When this Dima died, Morgan somehow knew. I haven’t gotten close enough to figure out how, but I’m hoping to shadow hop in there soon and do some looking. If Cyrus holds up his end of the deal he’s going to distract Rapunzel for me.”
Ah, so the Golden Princess isn’t onboard with the idea, it seems.
“However he died, Morgan told Arthur, and he’s using it to fuel his people with hate for the Reapers and anyone who allies with us.”
“That's silly. No one allies with Death. We just are.”
He nods. “Exactly. But the people here don’t seem that concerned about reason. They want action, and Arthur and the Knights want to deliver. I think it’s more of a power move to give the people some ease of mind since Modred died. You have to reap Dima, Raymundo. And soon. I saw Modred lingering around the walls of Camelot. He’s turned into a wraith.”
My eyes widen. Wraiths are a mystery. We haven’t had to deal with one because none of the four of us were careless enough to allow a soul to turn into one. Reaping a wraith should, in theory, work the same way as reaping anyone else. “How do you know he’s a wraith? ”
Zarev shoots me a look. “He’s definitely Modred. I can see some of his facial features beneath a dark hood. But his body is billowy, kind of like our shadows. And if I don’t stop him, he seems to eat souls.”
I groan. That complicates things. “Did you chase it?”
“I have to watch Rapunzel,” he says immediately. “It’s not safe for either of us to wander off on our own in enemy territory. Modred wandered off into Sherwood someplace, away from Camelot. I wish it stayed nearby, but he’s gone again.”
As much as I want to berate my friend for being careless, glancing down at the princess sleeping against me tells me I would make the same decision. I’ll do anything to keep her safe. “Very well. We’ll deal with him later at one point. For now Dima is nowhere near turning into a wraith, and I’ll send him onward before that’s an issue.”
Zarev blows out a breath. “Killing Dima is going to have a domino effect, I’m almost certain. We just don’t know yet how things will play out.”
It’s the unknown that makes me uneasy. “I have a bit more business with Odette, then once that’s settled I’ll be on my way back to the tavern.”
“And is the princess coming with you?” he questions.
Honestly, we haven’t discussed it. “To be determined, my friend.”
Zarev shakes his head once more, but there’s a tiny bit of humor in his eyes. It’s nice to see that with the severity of everything else weighing down on us. “I’m not sure when you will be able to reach me again. We have to lie low around here, and Cyrus is almost certain Morgan can pick up on the use of magic nearby. The stones are too much of a giveaway, so I won’t be using mine again until we have answers. I haven’t determined yet if Morgan is a friend or foe, but Cyrus seems to believe we can trust her.”
If he can’t be reached, he’s going to leave me in limbo, and I won’t be able to ask him anything else for a while. I have to agree with Zarev though, I wouldn’t trust Morgan le Fay any farther than I can throw her. Momentarily, I think of the eye. “Is Rapunzel there?”
His eyebrows rise. “Cyrus just convinced her to go grab some food. She will be back soon though. The plan is for me to meet them down there for food and we’ll blend in and listen, but I can bring her back up here if you need.”
“No, that’s not lying low.” I give him a smile. If they are within Camelot, discretion is imperative to keep all of them safe. “It’s fine. The question can wait a bit longer.”
Zarev nods before pressing a hand to his chest, just beneath the collarbone. “Be safe, my brother.”
My heart clenches in my chest. We haven’t said goodbye like this in ages, which probably means Zarev expects this to take a while. Probably longer than it took him to return from Tressa. I copy his movement, bowing my head. “Be safe.”
The stone goes dark, and I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I stare for another moment longer before sliding the stone back into my pocket.
Peering up at the moon, my blood runs cold.
There, in front of the crescent, are the wings of an oversized butterfly. It’s not the normal kind of butterfly; the wings are too large and the pattern is reflecting hearts. I swallow, acknowledging the truth.
I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings. I was focused on the forest during our talk, and failed to look upward. I haven’t seen one of the Queen’s lurkers in a while, but it was foolish to think they wouldn’t be flying around. Ever since the fall of Tressa, I haven’t heard much of the Queen, and that’s never a good sign.
Pressing my lips together, I watch the butterfly disappear into the night. I don’t think it could hear anything I said, but if it did, we’ll have far bigger problems to contend with than the King of Camelot throwing a fit.