Page 47 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kat

Thean did in fact have a witch’s finger.

A half mummified, rune-covered witch’s finger that had clearly been dug up recently or kept under some preservation enchantment.

How Thean would know a witch that old or where they were buried was a mystery I didn’t have the mental capacity to solve right now.

The house creaked and groaned, clearly unsettled by the sudden stench of rot that filled the study where we all gathered. Rain hammered against the glass dome above us, the fire flaring to paint us all in orange light as if doing its best to chase away the storm’s chill beyond the windows.

I couldn’t help but feel camaraderie with the house’s unease.

Witches had been regulated and historically hunted far more harshly by the King’s regime than the fey.

Mostly because witches were the most mortal-passing creatures.

Also, their blood was potent. One drop in a bloodline lasted for centuries.

They were outcasts with most of their summonings deemed a curse.

Even fey were mostly unsympathetic to witches, seeing them closer to Verr in their otherness and the endless unnatural powers they could amass.

With those rune markings, the finger was old … and so was the brutality of the magic encased in such a creature’s flesh. Withered or not.

‘You’re being too helpful, voyav ,’ Gideon grumbled , eyes narrowed as his aether gave a threatening snap.

Emrys remained quiet at my side – still deprived of his shirt – the only part of the day I wasn’t complaining about.

‘I’m always helpful, darling. You’re just too proud to see it,’ Thean goaded from where they sat in the chair by the fire, swinging the finger that hung on an old knotted string like a strange pendulum. ‘A totem will come in useful, will it not?’

‘Stop fucking waving it around,’ Gideon snapped. Clearly disturbed. I remembered Emrys’s warning about witches. How the power of their own kind unsettled them too. ‘That totem has the potential to wake the dead.’

‘The dead?’ William squeaked.

‘Scry for the location, Gideon,’ Emrys intervened with a strong pat on his brother’s shoulder. Whether in comfort or command I couldn’t tell.

Of course, with the old coin, and a witch’s totem, it should lead us right to the location of Lord Turner’s resting place and that diary. That didn’t seem to settle Gideon. But he begrudgingly snatched the offending item off Thean.

‘Put some bastard clothes on,’ Gideon groused over his shoulder at Emrys before he went to work at his desk.

Emrys’s lips twitched but clearly thought better of showing his amusement and excused himself. The same moment William decided what would make this whole situation less tense would be a tray of tea. A clatter from the bookcase told me the house agreed.

‘That’s the second time today he’s been in a state of undress. You should give him a break.’ Alma crossed the room to me, her shirtsleeves rolled up and dark curls perfectly pinned – green eyes sharp and serpent-like.

I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from my lips. ‘I had no part in this instance of undress . ’

‘You’re all right?’ She took hold of my forearms, eyes running over me as if some great injury could have befallen me. Grateful perhaps that the only thing currently wrong with me was my windswept nature, and unease about the things I’d learnt. ‘You look flushed and you reek of …’

‘Tobacco?’ I winced.

‘Amongst other things.’ She wrinkled her nose as if I’d caused it great offence. ‘Where in the ancestors’ name did they take you?’

‘To a fighting pit.’ The words came out too quickly, making her eyes go wider before I saw that crease at her brow which was usually the starting point for her fury.

‘I’m fine.’ I dug into my pocket and pulled out the small brown paper bag for her. ‘Here – Emrys got them for you from the market.’

She took the bag cautiously, weighing it. Her eyes swirled to mortal as her bottom lip dropped slightly with emotions I knew she wouldn’t show.

Gideon grumbled another curse to himself, making a different type of worry line her brow as her head came up to quietly consider the now-working witch. ‘The healer appeared to be in a foul mood long before Thean started waving fingers about.’

I rubbed at my temple. Suddenly exhausted and knowing the day wasn’t over. Not with the new gauntlet we’d been set. ‘We had a run in with the Countess.’

Alma’s body went taunt, her scales flashed across her cheek almost in pain before they sunk away. As if fearful of being seen.

Strange. I thought she’d erupt. Bite and spit. Maybe shift into something that could do more damage. Her stillness was something I hadn’t anticipated. How that paper bag slipped from her fingers that trembled ever so slightly. Not a claw in sight.

‘Alma?’ I frowned, reaching for her, but her attention darted from me to the packet on the floor. Almost as if she’d been wrenched back into her body from wherever her thoughts had taken her.

‘Clumsy,’ she snapped, her voice too hoarse as she snatched the packet up.

Blinking, seeming to struggle to remember why she had it at all.

‘I’d better put—’ She didn’t finish, leaving the room.

Not even the barest flush of scales at her cheek to tell me what thoughts had consumed her.

Her name was on my lips as I turned to follow but I didn’t get that choice.

‘Why was she there?’ Thean asked, startling me from where they still remained by the fire. Those amber eyes fully focused on me, apparently on every word of mine and Alma’s exchange.

‘Since when did the mad bitch need a reason,’ Gideon muttered from behind his pile of books.

Only Thean didn’t seem appeased by the answer.

Their jaw too tight as they turned to look at the hearth.

Revealing where their own marks could be seen beyond the collar of their shirt.

Whatever dealings the Countess had in the east, the voyav didn’t like it and if Thean didn’t like it …

it felt like a greater threat than any fiend or cursed object.

I moved closer to them, arms wrapped about myself to try and settle the unease biting deeper into my bones.

‘I think she’s after territory in the east,’ I answered. Thean didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink.

‘No.’ Their smile was small, almost in sympathy at my stupidity. ‘What she’s after and what she’s doing are seldom the same thing.’

Of course. Thean would understand her. If a creature like that could be understood.

‘Why would she reappear now?’ Why come out of her lair? She seemed too obsessed with her own legend to rise for nothing more than to antagonise Montagor, to want any part in this brewing conflict.

No, she’d appear at the end when everything was settled. A saviour in the ashes the fey had no choice but to choose.

Then Thean stood, tall and lean as they towered over me.

Only there was no threat in their proximity, or the way they dipped their head so I didn’t miss a word from their lips.

‘You speak as if she’s ever stopped. Poison needs time to spread.

Her type is long and agonising. Her roots are deep, and she’ll do anything to win. ’

There was such hard cruelty in those usually warm eyes, imploring me with the rest of the words I knew they couldn’t say. My eyes moving to that mark on the side of their throat.

‘She wasn’t there for any other reason than to see how her game is playing out,’ Thean answered the question. As if we were all pieces on her gameboard. Even if we wanted no part in the play.

‘Mal Tarour,’ I barely breathed the ancient words, scared they might bind me the same way they had bound others. Thean’s attention was suddenly rapt on my face; they went as taut as a bow-string, waiting.

‘She held the King of the North for a time,’ I finished, all the pieces slotting into place. My father served that monster with the blade I now carried, a blade a creature like Thean wouldn’t miss. They knew who I was.

Yet they hadn’t spoken a word of it. Had kept that secret without being asked. Despite what they could gain. Only they stood here with me, because there was no power to be gained from the Countess’s favour. She took, consumed. But she never gave. Not even mercy.

‘She doesn’t hold him now,’ they replied, voice so soft, lost in some memory. Confirming what I didn’t need to ask.

My father had been bound. He’d unwound himself somehow from that vow and Thean knew it. All this time. They’d stayed for Emrys, for Emmaline, but perhaps for themselves too. To try. ‘You asked me to forgive you.’

Only for what, I didn’t know yet.

They looked back to the fire, dismissively. A mask sliding back across their features. ‘It hasn’t happened yet.’

‘When it does, I’m sorry I didn’t have the answer.’ The words felt too broken from my lips by the regret of the truth in them. Seeing the flash of pain in their amber gaze. ‘No matter what she makes you do. I’ll forgive you.’

Just as Emmaline had. As if knowing sending the voyav on this path would lead them here. That they needed us just as much as we needed them. Even if their help was fleeting, even if their will was never their own.

‘Tea,’ William announced, turning me to the boy. Noticing Alma hadn’t come back with him. Too many loose threads I couldn’t catch.

She wasn’t there for any other reason than to see how her game is playing out. Thean’s words sat uncomfortably inside of me. A warning I felt it might be too late to receive.

While William brought some semblance of peace back to our gathering with a pot of tea, Emrys re-emerged, washed and changed.

Then after three irritated attempts at scrying, Gideon found a location for the Portium door.