I sensed her reading my body language, my tone of voice, and probably a million other things I wasn’t consciously aware of. Callie was like that—able to read a person down to their soul with only the slightest morsels of information to go on.
Which was why I needed to overact my part and get her out of here. If she stuck around long enough, she would catch onto my game. Or at least know I was lying—which would make her wonder why I was lying. And that maybe she needed to visit St. Louis to help.
Alice saved me by skipping up to the fire, tugging Last Breath behind her by the paw. He was very careful not to make direct eye contact with me, which was for the best, really. Alice scrutinized Callie, cocking her chin as she pointedly stared at Callie’s forehead. Callie visibly squirmed, even though she hid it well. She gave Callie a long, appraising look from top to bottom, seeming like she was using her power as a Seer to assess Callie’s intentions or secrets. I wasn’t sure if I liked where this was going, but I couldn’t stop her without making a scene. Callie would probably just yell at me for yelling at Alice.
“I’m Alice,” she said abruptly by way of introduction. “Nate took me on an adventure. We had a fairy tale story with backwards dragons and knights. Have you decided what you’re here to do?” she asked sweetly.
Callie blinked at her onslaught. “Yes,” she finally answered, looking as if something had just clicked in her mind. I began to think that maybe I should have left Alice back in the Armory.
But it was too late for that now. Last Breath studied the two attentively.
I folded my arms behind my head to lean back against a stump, feigning amusement in hopes that Alice would change the subject. Now.
“Why are you wearing Demonskin?” Alice asked. “You’re supposed to be royalty. It’s confusing. Unless this is a masquerade ball.” She turned to me, frowning. “This isn’t a masquerade ball, is it?”
I had to force myself to turn back to Alice and shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.” Try as I might, I didn’t notice anything strange about Callie’s appearance, and I’d never heard of Demonskin.
“How do I take off my…Demonskin?” Callie asked, looking very interested in the answer.
Alice frowned. “It’s not my Demonskin. How would I know how to take it off? It’s tied to your soul, and that’s about as tangled up as I’ve seen in a long time. Worse than his was.” She shot me a long-suffering look, and I realized I was grinning at her dedicated little act of showmanship—because showgirlship just sounded wrong. Alice turned back to Callie, looking as if she didn’t know why she even bothered asking me things. “You must have big family problems to go to such great lengths.”
I could tell that the simple statement cut Callie deeply, although she hid it well. “I’ll try to take care of that,” she said softly.
“Your forehead is dusty,” Alice pressed. “Royalty should keep their crowns clean,” she said, eyeing Callie’s forehead again.
I coughed into my elbow, trying not to laugh at Alice’s attempt to get Callie the hell out of here. A few more questions and comments like this, and I thought Callie might just run back to Kansas City for an appointment she’d forgotten to cancel.
This time, I thought I knew what Alice was talking about. Callie had an unseen brand on her forehead—written in Enochian script. But I quickly buried the thought, realizing it would lead me down a path I didn’t want to think about right now.
“I’m not sure how to clean it, Alice,” Callie replied with a thoughtful sigh, seeming to have also read between the lines of Alice’s comment. I remembered Pandora mentioning toys collecting dust on a shelf. And crown was another term for head.
Except Alice hadn’t heard any of Pandora’s conversation with Callie, which meant that she was definitely seeing something, and seeing it correctly. Last Breath’s gaze continued to bounce back and forth between the two females like he was watching a riveting tennis match.
“You don’t clean it,” Alice said, sounding exasperated. “You must dominate it. Like he did. His shines like the sun, now.”
I blinked. “I have a tattoo on my head, too?” That was news to me.
Alice nodded absently. “Different, but the same language as hers. But you have so many other problems going on,” she huffed, gesturing in my general vicinity without actually looking at me, “that I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
I shot her a dark frown, even though she wasn’t looking at me. I really should have left her home.
“It seems being royalty is harder than I thought,” Callie said.
Alice sniffed. “We haven’t even gotten to the royalty bits. Those are just the lady bits.”
I coughed violently into my fist.
Alice casually picked up a snow goon’s head and set it in the kettle over the fire to boil. I grimaced distastefully at her theatrics but regained my composure before Callie or Last Breath noticed. “I’ll make some tea for you. Can’t have a decent reunion without some tea. Right, Nate?”
“Right, my lady,” I said seriously, hoping she would wrap this up in the next few seconds.
Alice very carefully set four stone cups down beside the fire. She glanced at me and pointed to one. I nodded, having no idea what she was doing but pretending I did. Then she turned to Callie, pointing to a different cup. It felt like some form of ritual.
The smile that split Alice’s cheeks upon Callie’s return nod made me wonder what the hell Alice was up to.
She then glanced at the other two cups, shook her head, and stood to her feet. “Kitty and I will be in the igloo. Grimm will leave to scout the camp borders and search for threats.”
I’d almost forgotten about Grimm, but I suddenly realized that he was standing directly behind Last Breath, looming menacingly. He snorted, shifting the lion’s thick white mane. “And slaughter them mercilessly.” Then he took off to the skies, obeying Alice without question.
I felt a faint whisper of Fae magic from Alice, but when I turned back, she was already tugging Last Breath away by the paw, leaving Callie and I alone with the four cups. Two of the cups now held tea—courtesy of the Fae magic I’d just felt Alice use. “Be careful with her, Nate,” Alice teased over her shoulder. “She’s seen the Omegabet. You haven’t seen the Omegabet.”
I watched her, scratching at my jaw, wondering again what this Omegabet was. “Sometimes, she says things that I can’t even begin to comprehend,” I murmured to Callie, deciding I could show a little bit of honesty. “She’s been teaching me Fae magic There is a lot to learn. And a very steep learning curve.”
Alice scoffed, hearing my whisper even from across the clearing. She glanced back at me from over her shoulder. “You are only taking twice as long as I feared. Which is quite good, considering my mother gave up all hope with you.” She turned to Callie, scrunching her nose. “Speaking of hope, I would appreciate you saving the murder until after tea.”
Then she slipped into the igloo with Last Breath, leaving me all alone with my would-be murderer.
Chapter 36
Callie was already leaning away, holding up her hands in an innocent gesture and shaking her head reassuringly. “Wordplay,” she assured me.
I tried to consider the statement from all angles. I studied Callie’s face, searching for any hint of deception. Callie gave me a hesitant but warm smile.
She slowly reached down to pick up the cup of tea Alice had indicated for me, and then handed it over. I accepted it, idly wondering how Alice had used her Fae magic to make tea, of all things. Callie took her own suggested cup, leaving the two strangely empty cups beside the fire. As she sipped her tea, she studied the empty cups thoughtfully, like they were a puzzle.
I sipped my tea as I watched her, recognizing the familiar taste from our tin of tea leaves in the igloo. What was actually going on here? Alice wouldn’t have put on that show if she wasn’t trying to tell me something. She would have just taken Last Breath into the hut, giving me the opportunity to find a way to get Callie out of here
, pronto.
So why had she said those things? And what was up with her funky tea ceremony involving four cups, two of which were empty?
“Alice asked if you knew what you were here to do…” I said softly, choosing the less incendiary of Alice’s statements rather than her parting comment about murdering hope.
“About some things, I’m conflicted. About one thing, I’m convicted,” she admitted, pointedly refusing to look at me.
“What are you conflicted about?”
Callie smiled for some reason. Was it because I’d asked about her inner conflict rather than her conviction?
She let out a breath, and I could tell that she was choosing her words carefully. “I have something I need to talk to you about, but I can’t do so right now.” I frowned, opening my mouth to press her on that, but she held up a finger. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that it would require time I don’t have.” I nodded, considering her words. I didn’t have time either. Callie took a slow breath and closed her eyes, as if preparing to say something difficult. “And it would take an objective, non-emotional mindset that you don’t currently seem to have. It would detract both of us from our current…battles,” she said, settling on a word. “You with Mordred, and me with Kansas City.”
I studied her thoughtfully, definitely not pleased, but I was forced to admit she was right. My chosen facade of acting savage had worked better than I had thought. It would only make me look crazier if I suddenly began to defend my sanity. “I…think you may be right,” I finally said, biting down a healthy dose of vile humility. “To be honest, this is about as clear-headed as I’ve felt in quite a while. Which means I’m clear-headed enough to realize how much further I still have to go.”
Callie smiled, letting me know that she wasn’t passing any kind of judgment. “Thank you.”
“Why even bring it up if you didn’t want to talk about it?” I asked. Because my mind was racing with possibilities. Was she talking about my parents? How they had apparently meddled in her life as well? I would have to be very careful that I didn’t accidentally let slip any of the things I had heard in her private conversation with Pandora.
She didn’t immediately answer, focusing her gaze on the fire. “We have both suffered too many lies from those we care about. I have this information I need to share with you, but neither of us can afford to discuss it yet. In my opinion, choosing not to let you know I have this information feels exactly the same as an outright lie. I figured the only way to be honest was to let you know I have it, but that I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Otherwise, if you found out later and thought I had hidden it from you…” she shuddered, and my heart shriveled to see that she actually looked afraid.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Callie. Jesus—”
She gripped my hand suddenly, cutting me off. I froze, my fingers tingling at the unexpected physical contact. I felt like a teenager at his first dance.
“I know you would never hurt me, Nate,” she said in a gentle tone. “It’s just that…I couldn’t bear knowing you thought I had lied to you. So, an unpleasant middle-ground is better than nothing.”
I studied her in silence, struggling to keep my emotions—and hormones—in check. Callie turned back to the fire, releasing my hand.
“Thank you, Callie,” I finally said. We sat in silence for a time, the fire crackling between us. “And what are you convicted about?” I finally asked, averting my eyes so she didn’t feel like I was interrogating her.
She stared at the fire for a long while. I let her, wondering if I was about to dislike her answer. She finally turned to me, her voice bold and without regret. “I want to see it.”
I tensed, my eyes widening. I felt a frown creeping over my face, not entirely sure we were talking about what I thought we were talking about. What—I realized, with a flutter of surprise—I hoped she was talking about. I opened my mouth, but she cut me off.
“I want to see it,” she repeated in a firm, even bolder tone.
I studied her silently. “Why?” I finally asked, fishing for clarification.
A deep smile slowly stretched across her cheeks, making her eyes seem to sparkle. “I need to make sure it matches my boots.”
I sucked in a breath, growing very still. Her boots were magical and could sense demons. They could also change forms with a thought. The elusive Darling and Dear made quite a vast array of magic-imbued leather items. I thought these things in a fleeting second, because I knew that her boots could match anything she chose to wear.
She nodded, slowly pointing at the satchel she had gifted me—also a Darling and Dear product that was seemingly bottomless and made from Elder hide and black dragon scales. I’d been told—by an Elder and a black dragon—that those were impossible materials to work with.
I continued to study her, not moving. Seeing the gleam in her eyes, I knew several things. She believed she had earned this. That she needed this. And a part of me knew that this was the only way I could protect her from afar.
She wanted a Horseman’s Mask—one of the three inside my satchel.
I’d already told her the costs of becoming a Horseman, and until now, she had maintained her distance. I had subconsciously taken that as a denial, but thinking about it from a new perspective…
That was how Callie typically operated—digesting new information in private, and never letting others see what she was truly thinking.
Later, she would often surprise everyone with an extremely in-depth argument for her position, since she had taken the time to process every variable given to her.
Like a master at Chess. You might see them sitting there for a few seconds, and then you might see them quickly move a piece on the board. In basic terms, they had moved a Bishop.
But if you had the ability to see the neurons firing in their brain as they calculated five or ten moves ahead before moving that Bishop…you might just die of inadequacy, realizing that you were subhuman when compared to this person.
Callie was like that, in a way. And I’d almost overlooked it. Seeing her now, with the steadfast gleam in her eyes…
This wasn’t a request for a Mask. We were already at the ritual ceremony. And when it boiled down to it, I had only one part left to play. My judgment.
Without speaking, and without breaking eye contact, I reached inside my satchel and grabbed the first thing that came to mind. My heart raced wildly as the coin hanging from my neck seemed to throb, sensing my contact with its sibling.
The Horseman’s Mask of Despair. The same word that Alice had alluded to—the one branded onto Callie’s forehead in Enochian script.
I pulled out the white stone Mask, marveling at how it seemed to glitter like sunlight striking fresh snow. Just like her hair had done when fighting the snowmen. I stared down at it, feeling a smile creep over my face as it purred eagerly in my palms, agreeing with my choice. Part of me felt guilty, because I had denied Gunnar this same opportunity. Not this Mask, specifically, but to become a Horseman.
And here I was, giving it out to a girl I had kissed and wanted to see naked. Maybe I should have gotten a second, more objective, opinion, I thought to myself.
Because when Gunnar found out about this, he was going to kill me. Slowly. Possibly even make chew toys out of my bones for his pups.
I shook my head at the fleeting thought, knowing that despite my feelings for Callie, this felt right. And final in some strange way that I couldn’t accurately explain. I held it out for her.
Callie extended her hand as if anticipating an electric shock upon contact. Instead, the Mask of Despair abruptly snapped to her fingers as if magnetically attracted to her blood. She gasped in surprise, and then her eyes shot wide open, almost rolling back into her head.
Shit.
Then her shoulders slumped, and she let out a shaky breath, her eyes locking onto the Mask in her palms. I felt it purring even from here, perhaps even stronger than it had in my own hand. And I felt a cord of power snap to life
between us, rejuvenating me like a shot of espresso.
In some ways, her Mask was similar to mine. In other ways, it was entirely different. The interior of the Mask was a sort of crystal, looking sharp and jagged with veins of silver streaking throughout. She ran a finger over the interior, appearing uneasy about the comfort factor.
I smiled, forcing myself to remain patient. Because I had gone through this before with my own Mask of Hope.
She gasped as her finger brushed through what probably felt like velvet. The interior stuck to her finger as it moved, attempting to latch onto her fingertip—again, like a magnetic attraction. She shivered.
I chuckled knowingly. Mine did the same thing. “Creepy, right?”
She nodded but seemed unable to peel her eyes away from it. “Despair,” she breathed.
I felt the purring sensation increase, as if the Mask was responding to her voice. She turned it over in her lap, inspecting the front with a sudden smile of approval. In this regard, our Masks were noticeably different. Hers was a highly detailed, beautiful woman’s face—not too unlike Callie’s actual face. A ragged bandage covered the eyes, and from beneath the bandage, three rivulets of silver streaked down the surface from each eye.
Six tears for the Sixth Horseman?
I was smiling for altogether different reasons, though. I had known for a long time that this Mask would ultimately end up in her hands. Well, that it had been designed for her. Because we had experienced a shared dream where Callie had appeared in the flesh, her face looking very much like this Mask, complete with the silver tears and bandage over her eyes.
So Gunnar’s situation was very different.
I hadn’t known whether or not she would accept the Mask, though. Primarily, because I’d offered it to her once before, back when she’d been the power-hungry woman who visited me in Fae, arriving through that strange silver door.
She’d been looking for power, and I’d offered her the Mask of Despair, knowing that Callie was born for it. Except…that woman hadn’t been the same Callie. Not even remotely.
Knightmare: Nate Temple Series Book 12 Page 22