Page 52 of First Snow
Arttu whirls around.
She stands only a few steps behind him. He didn’t hear her coming. Her flowy white dress and colorless hair are blending with the snow and making her outline blur. He immediately recognizes the girl who talked to Jareth atThe Worship, and he remembers with unease that she called him Jareth’s slave just like Briar did. And how does she know he’s a cop? At least it’s only the girl, not Jareth.
“We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” Arttu says, scanning her for hidden weapons. She’s ill-dressed for the bad weather, not even wearing shoes, but she doesn’t seem to carry a gun. Good.
The girl grins at him with too-sharp teeth, that look filed to points. What the fuck?
“I’m Diphyllea. But you can call me Phyllis.”
“Phyllis, right.” Arttu can’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “You shouldn’t be running around in the snow barefoot. How did you get here, anyway? Do you have your car parked somewhere?”
She snickers, the sound making his hackles rise. She starts to circle him like a predator, which is ridiculous given how tiny she is. But the weirdest part is that Arttu feels like prey. He shifts nervously, not letting the girl out of his sight. Arttu’s hand closes around the hilt of the combat knife on instinct. Phyllis’ gaze follows his hand with the same uncanny intuition she showed last time, when she could immediately tell that Arttu was awake.
“Aww, you think an ordinary knife can save you? Have you found the other one? The one Jareth took from the puny sorcerer who summoned me. What was his name? Mikael?”
For a second, Arttu is shocked into silence. Her words verify exactly what he suspected about Jareth, which is good. It’s precisely what he needs. But on the other hand, she spouts the same bullshit Briar has been babbling about. What’s wrong with these people?
“Mikael has been murdered. But you know that already, right?” Arttu prompts her.
She giggles again.
“I have no idea what he sees in you. You’re so oblivious.”
“Care to enlighten me?” Arttu snarls. Maybe she’s going to spill some secrets if he can get her angry enough.
“You have no idea who he is,” she hisses.
Arttu narrows his eyes. “Is that so?” He scoffs. “I’d say I know Jareth well enough to convict him. I’ll call my colleagues and they’ll arrest him for the murder of Mikael Laine.”
It’s a risky move to waste time on Phyllis, because if Jareth comes after him and finds them here, Arttu is in trouble. But he can’t pass up the opportunity to make her babble out more incriminating details.
Her face morphs into an angry mask.
“You think you can judge him because you’repolice? You’re unworthy of him, and I’m going to make him realize that. I killed the sorcerer! I did that!”
“What?” Oh, shit. He hadn’t expected that.
She’s pacing now, clearly agitated. “He’s the keeper of The Truce, the champion of House Blackrose. He’s used to dealing with scum like you.”
A feeling of nausea washes over Arttu. Jareth has created a cult. He has made several people believe in a shitty fairy tale, and he’s coerced this poor, disturbed girl to kill for him.
“Did Jareth kill Scott and Suoranta? Or did he have someone else do the dirty work for him?”
She frowns at him at the mention of the names. Probably hasn’t heard any of them before. He didn’t expect that either. Phyllis tilts her head like a puzzled bird while she seems to think over his words. A cruel smile contorts her features. “Well, why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Arttu can’t quite suppress his flinch. He scans his surroundings, but of course no one is there. He blinks, and Phyllis stands suddenly close to him. Arttu can’t fathom how she crossed the few steps separating them without him even noticing. Her hand comes up as if she wants to hit him, or maybe grab his arm. Arttu catches her wrist.
“Stop that,” he hisses.
Phyllis reaches out with her other hand as if to scratch him. Arttu growls in annoyance. He turns effortlessly to deflect her blow.
A sharp pain explodes in his shoulder and the breath gets knocked out of him. Arttu finds himself lying on his back in the snow. He has no idea how he got here. Phyllis stands a few meters away and grins at him. He sits up with some difficulty, the world spinning around him. What just happened?
Touching his shoulder, Arttu flinches as fresh pain shoots down his arm. His hand comes back bloodied. She must’ve pulled out a knife. Only Arttu can’t see her holding a weapon. In the gloom, it looks more like her claw-like fingers are dripping with blood.Hisblood. Adrenaline floods his veins. He doesn’t know what exactly is wrong with her, but she’s a threat. There’s something about her that’soff, like she’s just masquerading as a human but underneath…she’ssomething else.
Arttu gets back to his feet with difficulty. Shit, she only hit him once and he feels like he fought twelve rounds against an opponent two weight classes heavier than him.
She attacks him again, moving faster than should be possible. Dodging her grabbing claws, he hits her full in the face. The blow should break her nose and incapacitate her, but she only grunts. It feels like he’s hitting a plastic doll, as if her face is missing any bones he could break. Phyllis’ hand closes around his throat, cutting off his air. Panic clouds his senses as he claws uselessly at her hands, kicking and hitting her without making her waver, without doing any harm. He’s close to passing out, but he knows as soon as that happens, he’s dead.