“Oops, sorry.” I cover my mouth real quick.
One of his hands mirrors the gesture, covering his own mouth. It’s endearing.
He reminds me of some of the pit bulls we’d get at the shelter—totally scary-looking but actually sweethearts once you got past the tough exterior. All bark, no bite. Well, unless you really pissed them off.
“I’m hoping I can come hang out with you every day,” I tell him. “Get to know you better. We can go super slow, whatever works for you. Can I ask you something, though? Do you actually like being stuck down here?”
This elicits a strong reaction. He snorts loudly and shakes his head emphatically. A definitive refusal. My heart aches for him. Of course he despises this place. How long has he beenimprisoned? He’s clearly intelligent, locked away in this dark, squalid cell.
“I understand,” I say gently. “Abaddon worries you can’t control your impulses.”
At Abaddon’s name, Thing’s head snaps up, and he releases a furious growl. Abaddon roars back and cracks his whip menacingly. I can’t believe he grabbed it again!
This sends Thing into a frenzy. I barely manage to scuttle backward as he charges forward, only to be jerked brutally short by his restraints. Abaddon’s whip strikes his bicep, drawing blood and eliciting an agonized howl.
“Abaddon!” I cry out in horror.
“Leave!” Abaddon bellows. “I warned you this was futile!”
Cackling laughter echoes from the rear wall as Remus awakens. “Oh, the pretty consort has a soft heart.” His head has rotated unnaturally, revealing a maniacal grin beneath stringy, filthy hair. His tail rises behind him like a serpent. I hadn’t realized he could speak. “Perhaps you should let me play with her, brother.”
I grimace and back toward the exit.
Thing snarls and lunges at Abaddon from his chains, prompting another vicious crack of the whip.
“Stop!” I shout at Abaddon, who stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Between Remus’s cackling and Thing’s constant struggling against his bonds, the situation is deteriorating rapidly. I head for the stairs.
Abaddon follows, slamming the dungeon door and sliding the iron bars back into place. I climb to the main floor, pausing in the foyer to collect myself.
“Are you satisfied now?” Abaddon growls when he reaches my side. “I told you it was hopeless.”
I turn on him with my mouth open. “Are you kidding me? You totally provoked them.” I throw my hands out. “And whowouldn’t be goaded with you whacking them with that damn whip thing every other second. You made Thingbleed!”
Abaddon looks astonished. “He’s a monster! He was about to attack you.”
“We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you inserted yourself.”
“Nice conversat—He said one word to you.”
“How many does he usually say to you?” I cock my head.
Abaddon’s silent.
I exhale furiously. “You saw him shake his head. He hates it down there. Of course he does. He’s a thinking, feeling being. And you’ve got him locked up in the dark. It’s atrocious. I can’t believe you, of all people, would lock your ownbrotherup like that!”
“Me, of all people?” he growls, then moves into my space, backing me up against the wall. “Why? Because I’m a monster, too?”
I look up into his intimidating features and his frankly barbaric behavior. I place my hands on my hips, refusing to be cowed.
“Yes,” I say right into his lion’s face. “Exactly that. And because I’ve seen the whip marks on your own back underneath your wings.”
He roars and spins away from me.
Then he launches himself through the window and takes flight.
“Fine!” I shout after him, gripping the window ledge for balance. “Just fly away instead of discussing this like adults! Real mature!”
Once he’s gone, guilt immediately floods through me, and my shoulders deflate. Obviously, mentioning his torture is a sensitive subject. It must have been inflicted by their father,who was clearly an abusive monster. No wonder Abaddon thinks violence is the only method that works.
