I had no illusions about the shadowy world of crime my father and I operated in. There were few innocents, and I always had enough time to research my subjects before taking their lives to satisfy myself that none were in that category. I had enough blood on my hands at this point; I knew I wasn’t an innocent either. But my mother had been, so I respected life and told myself I’d never accept collateral damage.
Still, now, the buzzing red rage burning through my veins thinking about my uncle’s betrayal. . . I open my eyes, shaking.
I understand my father more than I ever have.
I want to kill my uncle and everyone he’s ever loved. And I don’t want to do it quickly. I want to make him suffer. I want him to beg me for mercy. Then I want to deny him it.
I look down at my second knife, which immediately calms me. It’s almost as beautiful as the first, though it’s a more obvious weapon. Bigger and shorter, though not heavier, it has a sharp, tapered point and a hook crafted into the steel.
It’s a knife made for gutting.
I set both knives on the bathroom counter and stare at them, my mind calming. Yes, I will make my uncle suffer before the end. And I will make whoever helped him watch helplessly before I do the same to them.
I pace the small bathroom, then shake my hands out vigorously as I look at the door. Even as my heart thumps for revenge, it’s strange to come back to my body and the here and now and remember I’m in a castle surrounded by monster men.
First, I have to escapehereand get backthere.
I quickly pull on the other woman’s clothes, frowning at the bright colors. There’s a turquoise sweater with peach-colored circles, but at least the jeans are dark blue. I’m European. I prefer dark colors. And considering my job, I usually only want to stand out when I use my assets as a distraction. It can be helpful to be a small, pretty blonde woman sometimes. No one ever expects the gutting knife until it’s twisting and pulling their intestines out before their very eyes. And usually, by then, they’re too choked up on their own blood to express their surprise.
It’s too cold in any room without a blazing fire to linger long, so I pull the sweater over my head, intentionally not looking in the mirror.
I look at the knives on the counter instead. Carefully, one side at a time, I stick the unsheathed knives into the pockets so theypierce through the fabric. I smile at the ease with which they slice through the material.
Then I pull them back out, sheathe them, shove the sheathed blades into the pockets, and pull the jeans on. The woman and I are close to the same size, and I don’t care if the monsters can see the sheaths through the fabric of the jeans. They can apparently crumple steel with their hands, so there’s no point hiding them anyway. Tomorrow, though, I’ll be gone from this place, and if I face another creature like that lynx, I want my blades within easy reach.
When I emerge from the bathroom, the big two-faced man with wings and a tail is there. I jerk, about to slam the door in his face, when he’s yanked backward by the one with all the arms.
“I am sorry for my brothers,” he says, jerking two thumbs toward the other one. I’ve noticed that sometimes his arms do that—move in tandem with his speech. It’s curious. I suppose I don’t think about moving my arms, so maybe it’s the same for him. Has he always had them, or are they some sort of lab experiment gone wrong?
I’m still not sure I actually believe in magic. People do nutty things with genetic experimentation these days, and I more than most know that people are doing all sorts of things on the black market. . .
“Dinner’s ready,” says the grinning one of the two-faced guy, popping up behind him. “May I escort you to dinner, beautiful?”
I frown harder in his direction, but it doesn’t seem to turn him off. If anything, his maniacal grin only gets brighter. My hand strays towards my pocket and the knife there. Maybe it’s only the lion-goat brother who can crumple steel like a tin can. If Two-Face attacks, I know I’ll at least try to get in a well-aimed slice or stab first. Those necks look awfully sliceable.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’ll be joining us for dinner!” The woman from earlier hurries forward when she sees me, and I withdrawa step. I pull my hands from my knives in my surprise, especially when she comes barreling towards me. “Oh my god, it’ssonice having another human around. I’m Hannah. I can’t remember if I introduced myself earlier.”
I watch her teeth as she smiles big at me. “Come on, I’ve got the table all set. Abaddon’s getting the baby settled. Have you met baby Raven yet? She’s an absolute doll! I was so scared when I came back from getting her up from her nap, and Romulus told me they’d just sent you out into that cold. Are you a hugger? I’m a hugger.”
She comes towards me with open arms, and I back into the bathroom door, a noise like a squawk coming out of my throat.
Immediately she drops her arms. “Shit. Not a hugger. My bad. I’m so sorry. I haven’t been around other humans in awhile, I forget about personal space. It’ssonot a thing with these guys.”
I stare at her, my shoulder hunched defensively and remember something I don’t usually have to think about: I’m not good with. . . people.
The grinning one bursts out laughing, a high, manic laugh that makes me want to reach for my knives again.
“Remus,” barks the woman. “Don’t be an ass. Look, I’m sorry I’m being too much. I’m embarrassed. I’ll tone it down, I swear. Why don’t we all go over to the table? I cooked a really delicious meal, and it’ll be totally calm. We’ll all behave.”
“Speak for yourself,” says Remus, and Hannah smacks him on the arm.
“Is it literallypossiblefor you not to be an ass?”
Then the six-armed one steps between me and them, blocking my sight. I’m grateful. I look up at his chin. “What is,” I start hesitantly, “your name?”
“That’s Thing,” says Remus. “He came out of the forge, and our Father said, ‘What is this Thing?’ And it stuck.”
I frown, not knowing if the mean one’s being sarcastic. I’m bad at telling when people are joking. So again, I look at the six-armed one’s chin. “Is he joking?”
