Page 5 of House of the Beast

By his side was the woman with the elaborate bun who had tried to stop my father in the temple, her dark red lip curling in distaste as she gave me a slow look up and down.

The old man brandished a silver fork at the sight of me. “There she is! Zander’s bastard. Step closer, girl, and tell me your name.”

Remembering my father’s instructions, I walked slowly closer to the table.

I couldn’t help gawking at the fine spread set out on top of it—plates stacked with rich, fatty meats, glistening buns, beautiful porcelain bowls of fruit cut to resemble flowers.

It was more food than I’d seen on a table in my life, and all just for breakfast.

I tore my eyes away and said, tremulously, “My name is Alma,” before I found myself unable to continue. I did not want to introduce myself as Alma Avera. So I trailed off, shuffling my feet awkwardly in the expectant silence.

The old man—the Antecedent—squinted at me through his gold spectacles. “Alma? Hmm. Good bone structure. No outwardly obvious deficiencies. A swarthy complexion—no doubt she’s spent too much time in the sun. I suppose you have made your own assessment of this already, Zander.”

“I have.”

“You were overly eager, I would say.” The old man hummed disapprovingly. “To rush off on your own like that, with nary a word to us or to Euphina.”

“It’s shameful,” cut in the woman. “He’s let his ambition blind him to all sense of propriety.”

“For House Avera’s sake, I had thought it prudent to secure an heir,” my father replied evenly. “I don’t see why Darantha is opposed to my doing so.”

Darantha bristled. Up close, there was something about the color of her bright blue eyes that unsettled me.

“We all know why you are doing this, Zander,” she snapped.

“You want the title of First Hand for yourself. Well, it won’t happen.

The falling star does not reach us for another eight years, and by then Kaim will be old enough to take Maximus’s place. ”

I looked toward my father, confused. Everyone in Kugara knew about falling stars, for every elder god was once a star.

Whenever one descended upon our world, it marked the opening of a gate to their domain.

The townsfolk sang hymns about such events, and I had glimpsed depictions of them in the stained-glass windows of Merey’s temples.

But I did not understand how that had anything to do with me.

My father did not look back at me. “If you’re so convinced of this, then I do not understand your reason for distress,” he responded to Darantha easily.

“You conniving—”

“An heir,” the Antecedent mused. He speared a quail’s egg on his fork and popped it into his mouth. “Yes, it is always good to secure the blood. Girl. Tell me, where are you from?”

I nearly jumped, surprised at being addressed directly again. “Merey.”

“Merey!” the Antecedent chortled. “That’s in House Metia’s domain. I expect you are pleased by that, Darantha.”

Darantha could not have looked less pleased if she tried.

Her ireful gaze landed on me, and with a jolt I realized that one of her eyes wasn’t real.

The color was a shade too bright, the iris just the slightest bit misaligned.

She must have had an eye taken out but not given back—which meant that she was a descendant of the Heavenseer’s vessels.

One who had failed to pass muster. I realized I was staring and tried to look away to avoid being rude—but it was too late.

“What are you looking at, girl?” she snarled.

“Now, now, Darantha,” the Antecedent soothed. He smiled at me. “I suppose you grew up worshipping the Heavenseer, hmm?”

I shuffled, suddenly feeling even smaller than I had before. “No, sir, I didn’t.”

“The Lady, then? Or, stars forbid, that forsaken Tinkerer and his Things?”

“No, sir.”

“Then our great destroyer, our dark hunter himself, perhaps?”

I swallowed and said one more time, “No, sir.”

Behind those golden spectacles, his eyes narrowed. “How strange.”

“See?” Darantha hissed. “She does not belong here.”

“On the contrary,” my father interjected smoothly. “Her mother may have kept her from worship, but that only means she is now free to dedicate herself to the Beast. In fact, it may have been His design all along.”

“Yes,” the Antecedent said slowly, not taking his eyes off me.

“Yes, the Beast must have known.” He wiped at his mouth with an embroidered napkin.

I saw then that his left hand was metal, like my father’s—but unlike my father’s, it was made of solid gold.

“Very good. Once the girl has recovered, we shall have her fitted with a hand of her own. The Beast has chosen to take hers, and His word is final.”

Darantha trembled with rage. “I will not suffer her presence, and neither will Euphina. You know how this upsets her!”

The old man huffed. “Euphina has no need to see her, and neither do you. The girl is, after all, a bastard. She will take her meals separately and continue living in the guesthouse. Zander will make sure of it—isn’t that right, Zander?”

“Of course,” said my father, bowing his head dutifully.

“Oh, but I am very pleased to have another vessel among us,” said the old man. He waved his golden fingers dismissively. “Take her away now. We have breakfast to finish!”

A hand pressed against my shoulder, startling me.

My father was already trying to usher me out.

I let myself be led out of the dining room as the Antecedent and his seething companion returned to their breakfast. I did not appreciate being steered away to be kept like a dirty secret, but I was glad to leave them.

***

NOW THAT I HAD OFFICIALLY BEEN ACCEPTED BY HOUSE AVERA’S patriarch, my father wasted no time informing me of the role I was expected to play as we marched back out into the cool mountain air and along to our next destination.

“It’s fortunate that I found you now, while you are still young,” he said, as though he was to be credited for my discovery. “We will have eight years for you to prepare.”

“Prepare?” I said.

He turned an incredulous eye toward me. “You must know of the Pilgrimage. Of the umbral gate and our duty to it. You lived in Metia, for heaven’s sake.”

Despite my mother’s efforts to separate us from the Four, I’d heard about the Pilgrimages.

When the gate between worlds opened, the vessels of the elder gods journeyed into the umbral plane, the threshold between realities, where the darkest terrors dreamed up by men coagulated and hungered for mortal minds.

It was the kind of story I’d thought was meant to scare people into worship.

“You want to take me on a Pilgrimage?” I asked, alarmed. This was a task made for godly vessels—not helpless girls like me. I could barely look at the shadows in my room without flinching. What would I do against a true terror?

“It is our responsibility, and our greatest honor,” said my father. “When a star falls to Kugara, it brings with it powers beyond mortal comprehension. We cannot let something like that sit and fester inside the umbral plane.”

“Why not?”

He looked at me as if I were daft. “Because such power would be devastating in the wrong hands. There are people, whole organizations of them, who would happily worship a fallen star in the hopes of being blessed with its power. If they were to succeed, we could have another elder god on our hands threatening the Four.” He shook his head to himself.

“Even left completely alone, the power of a star would wreak havoc upon the umbral gate, which, may I remind you, sits right above the capital. The very foundations of Kugara would be at risk. We are the only nation in the world with a doorway to godhood, and we must guard it diligently.”

Horrified by the prospect of such a monumental task, I answered somewhat haltingly, “So you want us to go through the gate and kill the star inside?”

My father’s expression turned smug. “Whichever Pilgrim does Kugara the service of exterminating such a threat will bring glory to their House. My brother, Maximus, was the victor of the last Pilgrimage; this time, I intend for it to be me.”

It was a spectacle, conjured for the people of Kugara so they could witness the might of the deities they prayed to.

My father explained that I would be part of his retinue when the time came.

An elder god fed on two things—worship and ichor, the lifeblood of things that came from the heavens.

If I were sworn to my father’s service, whatever monsters I butchered upon the umbral plane would strengthen his power as a vessel of the Beast. Power he would need to defeat a celestial body straight from the skies.

And as proud members of House Avera, we were not to be outdone by any of the other Houses.

“It will be my chance to take the seat of First Hand from my brother,” said my father, his face twisting with distaste.

“Maximus is unfit to represent us in the court. His connection to reality grows fainter every year. Yet despite being fully aware of this, he names his young son as heir because Darantha would not let him do otherwise.”

“Why doesn’t she want you to be First Hand?” I asked. If my father could have what he wanted right here, then he had no need for me, and I could return home.

“Because she is a ruthless harpy.” My father snorted.

“She is the youngest sister of Lord Carnus, the current leader of House Metia. The Antecedent believes her marriage to Maximus was a good match; I believe he is a fool for not seeing through her cunning. She already has too much of a hold on our House. Under her ministrations, Maximus will not secede for many years, and the court allows it because they want only a mindless tool to be deployed wherever they see fit, not a competent leader. It is a disgrace. We are a threat to Darantha, and she knows it. I plan to be the change House Avera needs.”