Page 92

Epilogue

Before the collapse of the House of Holtzfall, Trudie Junge had never tasted champagne. Now there was a whole crate of it below her desk at the Bullhorn . The wine cellars of the Holtzfall mansion had been raided within hours of the Grim victory, as celebrations rolled out across the city. And tonight they were celebrating another victory. The Bullhorn was the last newspaper left in Walstad.

First, the Herald had gone. They’d accused the Grims of being dictators, running a headline that read: NO ONE VOTED FOR YOU! WHY SHOULD WE OBEY? That was the end of them.

The Gazette had followed.

The Charmed City Times had been shut down for printing a picture of the three surviving Holtzfalls on the front page, suggesting that they were in hiding somewhere, planning their return. But it had been months, and they hadn’t returned. They were dead, everyone knew that, claimed by the woods like so many others.

What was left of their rule was being dismantled. Their knights, who had been drugged to sleep by one of their own the day of the Grims’ attack, were being held for trial. To see who among them were truly loyal and who had only been trapped by their oath.

One by one, in the three months since the coup at the Holtzfall mansion, one paper after another had tumbled. Now all the news in the city came from the Bullhorn .

A cork popped loudly, flying into the ceiling as the assembled staff cheered. The fancy glasses they were filling had been taken from another house in the 1st circle. Karl, who used to write obituaries, downed his drink before smashing the coupe on the floor to cheers from the bullpen.

Trudie sipped her champagne slowly, enjoying the heady feeling of the bubbles. When she’d moved to Walstad from her little farming town, she’d imagined a life in the city of sipping drinks in glitzy dresses and dancing the night away. Now, with no more Holtzfalls hogging the city’s luxuries, she had the life she’d always wanted. Trudie wasn’t even sure she liked the taste of champagne all that much, but she liked the feeling of holding a drink that would’ve once cost her a whole day’s salary.

Out of the corner of her eye, Trudie caught sight of August Wolffe.

He was just coming into the office, head down, ducking around the celebrations, seeming deep in his own thoughts.

“Did you hear the news?”

August looked up as Trudie came to the edge of his desk. “The news?” he echoed. For a moment, she had the strangest feeling that he was looking at her but seeing someone else. And then the confusion on his face was gone. He cracked that sideways smile that always made Trudie flush. “We make the news.”

“Oh, no.” A little bit of Trudie’s champagne slopped out of the glass as she transferred it from one hand to the other. “It’s a turn of phrase. You know, like an expression or—”

“What news?” August asked, cutting her off before she could start to ramble.

“We win!” Trudie beamed. “We’re the last newspaper standing!” She raised her glass to cheers August before she realized he wasn’t holding a glass. “Oh, let me get you some champagne!”

She followed his eyes as they drifted to the case under her desk. The Holtzfall crest stamped on it had split in two when they’d pried it open. There’d been rumors floating around about August and one of the Holtzfall girls. One of the older journalists swore up and down that he’d seen August in a bar with Honora Holtzfall the night of the election.

Which was totally absurd, of course.

Holtzfalls didn’t consort with journalists.

“I don’t drink warm champagne,” he replied. His mouth tilted up again, as if enjoying some private joke.

Another cork popped loudly. After that, Trudie lost track of him.

By the time their glasses were empty, it was far past Trudie’s normal leaving time. The sun had set, even now at the height of summer. Some of the streetlights flickered as she made her way home, hoping the air might clear her head. The lights had been doing that lately. But Trudie was sure the Grims would fix it soon enough. If LAO had always managed to keep the lights on, so could the Grims.

Brehmer Street was lined with people waiting for their dose of magic. The Grims had promised magic and money for all, and they were upholding that promise—you just had to wait your turn, was all. Trudie cut down a small side alley to avoid the crowds. A lot of people were looking to move now that there was no more rent to pay.

After all, Mercy Holtzfall was gone, so no one owned the land they lived on.

But Trudie liked her little apartment. It was a short walk from the office. And now it was all hers. And that made all the difference in the world.

“Help…” The small voice startled Trudie out of her tipsy thoughts.

It had come from the mouth of the doorway up ahead. “Hello?” she called back warily.

“Help me.” The voice came as a reedy whisper this time. A child’s voice. Night had fallen fully now, and she couldn’t see into the shadows of the doorway ahead.

Suddenly Trudie was a little girl again, her mother tucking her into a warm bed next to the hearth, telling her stories. Stay out of the woods, little one , they all began. There you will find dangers you do not yet know how to face.

There weren’t many woods near Harlund, where she’d grown up. It was miles and miles of grazing land for the cattle, no trees in sight. But Trudie had still been frightened by the tales of the things in the dark trees that used to hunt little girls. Before the Holtzfalls and their ax came to keep them at bay.

All of those tales were hundreds of years old.

But…there had been rumors recently.

Things that looked like the Nokk swimming in the waters of the Wald.

Scratches like claw marks gouged into buildings.

Screams in the night. Some of Trudie’s neighbors had started to whisper that Walstad had forgotten the things they feared before the Holtzfalls. But when she’d heard August mention it to Mr.Vargene, he’d brushed it off. And since they were the only newspaper in town, that meant it wasn’t news for anyone.

“Help me,” the little voice whined again.

Trudie took a wary step back, her breath catching in her throat.

And then a small figure stepped into the light.

It was a child. Small and pale, with large haunted eyes. It was clutching something that looked like a ragged doll to its chest. All at once, Trudie’s fear gave way to a sudden rush of embarrassment.

Was she really such a little girl, still afraid of the dark, that she would run away from a child in distress? She took a step forward, crouching down unsteadily on her heeled office shoes. “Are you lost?” she asked.

It was only as the child opened its mouth to reply that she saw its teeth. Rows and rows of sharp teeth bared at her in a nasty grin, caked with blood. Trudie stumbled backward, her anxious heartbeat picking up to a panicked pace as she scrambled away.

“Help me.” The child cackled.

Then it leaped.