Page 77 of First Snow
Is he talking to the spirit? Is it possible that the creature they are fighting is actually Lord Briar’s wife?
As if recognising the name, the thing turns toward Arttu. The shape of a woman’s body under flowing black rags becomes more visible, and, from the mist surrounding its features, something like a human face appears. It focusses on Arttu, snarling.
The little distraction is all Jareth needs to gather his strength. Roaring a spell, he reaches for the power of his ancestors.
Lady Briar grabs at him with clawed fingers, but she’s too late. Her ghostly shape is encased within a storm of blood-red rose petals, cleansing and crushing her essence. She shrieks as her cursed existence flickers out like the light of a candle. One moment it’s there, and the next it’s gone, taking with her the oppressing stench of her dark powers.
Rose petals rain down onto the ice cave, their sweet smell filling Jareth’s nose. If it helps keep Arttu safe, Jareth thinks he might be okay with House Blackrose’s heritage.
“Shit. Fuck. Jareth, are you okay?”
Rushing to his side, Arttu’s hands skim frantically over Jareth’s chest, as if searching for a hidden injury.
“I’m fine, sweetheart.”
Arttu kisses him then, desperate and sweet. How does Jareth deserve this man?
“Is she gone?” Lord Briar cowers behind a stack of books, watching the whole scene with horror.
Anger blazes in Arttu’s eyes as he turns to him.
“How long has your wife been like this? Has she been this spirit thing for twenty years? What have you done about it besides letting her write her toxic spells and bringing harm to other people?”
“You don’t understand,” Briar laments. “We were searching for answers to the ultimate questions of life and death. What happened to Eliose was an accident, but it has also brought us forward in our studies. The power she possessed!” Briar turns to Jareth. His gaze darkens thoughtfully. “But you’re even more powerful.”
Briar lifts his hand.
“No!”
Arttu shoots before Jareth can even react.
The ornate skull of a ram slips from Lord Briar’s limp fingers.
Dazed, Arttu takes a step towards the slumped body, his weapon still raised in case Briar is still alive. But he lies motionless, blood oozing from the wound in his chest, his eyes staring blankly into space.
Arttu aimed for the heart. A neat shot. Lowering his gun, Arttu stumbles.
“I-I thought he had a weapon—I—”
“Shh, sweetheart.” Jareth turns him away from the corpse, pulling him into his arms. “Don’t go anywhere near him. Thatwasa weapon. A cursed object. You saved me yet again.”
Arttu buries his face against Jareth’s chest, his fingers digging almost painfully into Jareth’s skin. This is probably the wrong moment to tell his beloved how much he enjoys hunting with him. But Jareth is so proud of him. So elated to finally,finally, be able to share the burden of his doomed heritage with someone.
“Shit,” Arttu sniffles. “Viljanen is going to have my head. And what about the poor boy? I—Ohgod, I killed both of his parents.”
Pale as snow, Arttu looks like he’s going to be sick. Jareth won’t see him suffer, he did a good deed after all.
“No,” Jareth growls. “Listen to me, Arttu.Wekilled his parents. And the young Lord is going to be better off without them. If he’s clever enough to stay near Emily, his sorry existence might even take a turn for the better.”
Arttu sobs, tears finally starting to run down his face, but he hangs on Jareth’s every word, as if they’re the only thing keeping him afloat. Jareth can’t wait to make him feel better.
“As for your asshole of a boss, I’ll make sure that she’sverypleased with your work.”
Chapter 25
Arttu
Snowflakestumblingfromthegray sky, Arttu rearranges his scarf against the biting wind. It’s late Friday afternoon, but Viljanen graciously allowed him to take the weekend off. After he was able to lead his unit to the remains of Scott, Suotanta, and Mikael, and served them the presumed killer—the conveniently deceased Lord Briar—on a silver platter, he was in her good graces.