Page 70 of One Bad Knight
The sadness that swept over my uncle’s face was real. Which made me want to kill him with my bare hands. “Your mother was a lovely woman. And she did help bear the weight of our blessing, our curse, when we realized what Kurt would need to do to win a seat in the Senate.”
I understood then that John’s wife hadn’t abandoned their family either. She’d secured his seat in the Senate where my father had failed. And judging by the demeanor of my cousins from ten minutes ago, they knew as well.
Their linked hands, their low monotone chanting. They were calling the demon forth together.
My vision swam. I was going to be sick.
“What about Wanda?”
His spine stiffened. “You know about Wanda?”
“Is she my father’s twin?”
John nodded. “Indeed. She’d somehow found out about the cost of the greater good at a young age. She ran away from home when she was fourteen. But Kurt managed to lure her here, twelve years ago. I’m not sure how he did it, but Wanda came. It would have broken his heart if it would have had to be you at such a young age.”
“Gee, isn’t that nice?” I sneered.
“Don’t be crass, Katherine.” My uncle twisted up his face as he poured himself some of his best scotch. “I tried to throw you the best going away party I could. I’m not sure yet if we are going to explain your absence as a surprise flight to Europe where we can create a paperwork trail of you going around for months before you disappear. But then again, explaining that you were taken by a demon would put me in a better position to handle the crisis in our society today, and is more truthful in any case.”
“Gatsby killed my dad to save my aunt?” I said, voicing the thing I knew to be true already.
A harsh breath forced out of his nose. “That boy has caused more problems than I can count at this point.”
I’d heard enough. If I couldn’t get out of the room, I’d do what I could while trapped in here. I kicked off my heels, picked up my skirts and marched over to my uncle.
He blinked just before I slammed my fist into his face. He went careening backward off his executive’s chair, rolling across the room.
For a moment I thought he’d been moaning. Then I realized he was laughing. Holding his nose and covered in his best liquor, he laughed at me. “Well now, we must go with the demon attack story. I was trying to gift you your tickets to Europe, which are already booked, when the dark spirit came. I tried to save you, but it swatted me aside.” He stood again, brushing excess liquid off his jacket.
Disgust rose in me, as I realized he would use every mark I put on him as a martyr tale in the media.
My leg connected between his legs. His breath whooshed out of him as he bent over, reaching for his bruised privates. I hoped I sent his nuts straight up to his throat.
The smell of sulfur filled the room, and the lights flickered. Fear raced up my spine. A dark presence filled the room though I couldn’t see it. I covered my torso and backed away until my heels hit the wall of bookshelves.
A massive book appeared from out of nowhere, hovering above my uncle’s desk. Thick, black binding that dripped with tar at the edges slowly rotated in the air. The book opened almost violently and the pages flipped. I got glimpses of red script inside. Then the pages of the book stopped turning, left open on a half-filled page. I recognized my father’s and uncle’s names as the last several on the list. The book floated over to my uncle, who had gotten to his feet. Before I could intervene, he touched the page.
A groan of pain came out of him as blood shot forth from his finger, signing his name without him moving. The book floated away, then slammed shut with a bang that reverberated through the room and my bones.
The lights dimmed to an eerie level, and I felt a presence. My breath turned to shallow pants.
The dark mass of my nightmares seeped out from every corner of the room, gathering at the center. I shook violently as I stood before the demon I’d seen as a child all those years ago. My soul shuddered in fear for what I already knew would be a fate worse than death.
A crash came from the double doors to the study. I threw my arms to protect my face and crouched down as a blast of wood exploded into the room.
A motorcycle slid into the desk, smashing it into the solid wall behind the curtains.
Heavy boots crunched over broken detritus.
Blinking against the dust, I looked up to see Gatsby standing there in his leather jacket, without a shirt underneath. A cigarette hung from his mouth, while he gripped his sword. He looked like a renegade angel on fire, with a fury harvested from the depths of hell. But I didn’t fear him. He was my savior. He always had been.
“Miss me, princess?” Gatsby asked, holding his free hand out to me.
30
Gatsby
Kat took my hand in an instant, and I pulled her up. The sound of ripping went through the air as she stepped on her own dress, tearing some of the skirt.