Fable of Happiness Book Two

by Pepper Winters

I second-guessed everything.

  If this goes wrong, everyone you love dies.

  I clutched my blade and marched out of my bedroom to Quell.

  I didn’t remember much after that.

  It was nothing but a blur.

  I was dancing.

  Liberating.

  Killing.

  Killing.

  Killing.

  No, saving.

  Saving my family, my loved ones.

  I worked my way down the corridor, my bare footprints leaving crimson tracks on the expensive carpet. As each one of my family members were freed, they fell into line with me.

  They watched my back as I ended all eighteen guests and turned the bedroom floor into a tomb.

  Thanks to our mostly blind master and his two dumb-as-fuck guards, the muffled screams and cries for help as I stepped into rooms, threw myself on the members of Fables, and massacred them where they stood, were written off as groans of passion.

  The corridors always echoed with screams on nights like this.

  It was no different.

  Only difference was the guests were the ones bleeding tonight, not us.

  Once the last throat was cut, I looked at my half-dressed, shock-induced family, and commanded them to stay upstairs. “Stay here until I say it’s safe to run, then go to the dormitory, pack what you need and be ready.”

  I had three more murders to commit.

  Alone.

  Maliki and Jareth stepped forward. “We’ll come with you.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’ve got this. You need to find Wes. I cut him loose earlier today, but I don’t think he’ll have made it far.”

  “Wes is still alive?” Nyx squeaked. They’d shared the closest bond. Far closer than sister and brother like the rest of us. I’d always pitied them, finding love, connection in a horrid place like this.

  “He is. He’s been kept in the cabin.” I tried to keep impatience out of my voice. “He’s heading toward the cave but needs help.”

  Nyx immediately tugged Sarez toward the stairs. “Come on. We need to find him.”

  “Not yet. Stay here until I’ve dealt with Storymaker,” I growled. “It’s not safe yet.”

  “I’ll help you kill him,” Neo hissed.

  “No, I’m doing this alone—”

  “Kas, let me—”

  “I said no. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Not waiting for more arguing, I slinked down the stairs with my butcher’s blade high.

  The guards would be the hardest part of tonight. They were trained. They had guns. However, after so many years of no real issues and only the occasional discipline required, they’d grown lazy and unprepared.

  It just took speed, that was all.

  Speed that I committed to as I reached the bottom of the stairs and broke into a run. I bolted through the foyer, skidded into the library, and sliced at the guard on the left then the one on the right.

  I struck their arms, rendering only wounds instead of death.

  But it gave me enough time to snatch one of their guns and shoot.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  Storymaker leaped to his feet, his alcohol-induced snooze shattering into pieces. “What the—”

  The scuffs of footsteps and quiet whispers of victory sounded behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed my family. “I thought I told you guys to get ready to leave.”

  “We want to watch,” Elise muttered, wringing her hands, rope burn obvious on her wrists.

  “Yeah, we need to know it’s finished,” Sarez murmured. Her sweet gaze caught mine. “Please, Kas?”

  I’d planned on dragging Storymaker’s demise out.

  I wanted him to know what it felt like to be carved open by a knife, to struggle in handcuffs, to beg for his life.

  I’d already lost my soul to this.

  I thirsted for his death. Stuart Page, the goddamn Storymaker, was mine. I wanted to bathe in his screams. To sink into his misery.

  But I wouldn’t taint my family with more tyranny. Watching death was one thing. Watching torture might scar them even worse than their current wounds.

  “What the fucking hell have you done, Kassen?!” Storymaker bellowed, finding his voice after gaping like a fish at his deceased guards.

  I spun to face him, loving the presence of my family behind me. “I did what you all deserved.”

  “You’ll fucking pay for this.” He raised his hand, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “Go to bed, all of you. You’ll be suitably punished in the morning.”

  A few stifled moans sounded behind me. Conditioned psyches needing to obey. “There won’t be any punishment, guys,” I whispered. “You don’t need to fear him anymore.”

  “You do. You have so much to fucking fear.” Storymaker stepped toward us, his eyes on the gun I held. He’d always prided himself on training us so well, he didn’t need to carry a gun to keep us afraid.

  Bet he wished he hadn’t been so arrogant now.

  “Don’t move,” I seethed.

  I was the gatekeeper to his hoard of slaves and there was no fucking way I would let him lay another finger on them.

  My head tipped down, my eyes locking onto my hands.

  Blade or gun.

  Both weapons waited to be used.

  The blade would be more satisfying, but the gun would be more efficient.

  I wanted out of this place.

  I wanted my family free.

  Raising the gun, I smiled icily. “Your disgusting club and membership have been revoked, you sick son of a bitch.”

  A cold laugh echoed over my shoulder.

  Jareth.

  I would recognize his barely restrained violence anywhere.

  And then, I squeezed the trigger.

  Not just once.

  Not just twice.

  I emptied the entire fucking clip, bullet after bullet, filling our diabolical master with lead.

  I ended the entire establishment.

  I turned to my family.

  I relished in our hard-won freedom.

  But then, the world turned hazy, blurs spinning into colors, colors morphing into a new reality.

  The library solidified around me.

  One night traded for another.

  No more blood. No more death.

  Just a woman with blond hair, hazel eyes, and a rope wrapped tight around my wrists.

  Horror came from nowhere.

  Thick, black, unbearable horror.

  It’d all been a dream.

  A dream where I’d liberated us only to wake and find I hadn’t.

  No!

  Christ, no.

  I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t do this again.

  I couldn’t endure another night, another rape, another moment.

  “NO!”

  Poisonous air strangled my lungs.

  My vision blurred in and out.

  Frenzied fear made me swim in nausea.

  I fought the rope.

  I motherfucking panicked.

  For a second, all I thought about was myself. I was selfish, absorbed, hysterical at my own impending pain.

  But then, terror drowned me.

  Them.

  Nyx and Quell, Wes and Zanik.

  Maybe this wasn’t a dream, after all.

  Maybe I’d waged war on our guests.

  Maybe I’d killed a few.

  But, regardless of my success, I’d failed.

  I’d failed because I’d forgotten one.

  I’d missed a guest.

  One was alive.

  She’d caught me, trapped me, and was ready to make me scream.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  Did she have the others?

  Were they about to be ripped apart for my crimes?

  No.

  I can’t let that happen.

  If anyone would pay, it was me.

 
I wanted to snarl, to curse, to tear her into pieces. To end her.

  Instead, I permitted a lifetime of obedience to wash over me.

  If she had my family, my life was over.

  I had nothing left.

  Nothing.

  I bowed over my knees.

  Eight years of conditioning. A decade of loneliness. A lifetime of pain.

  I’d done everything I could and it wasn’t enough.

  I’d tried.

  I’d died.

  I was hers.

  And she was about to ruin me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “KILL ME, BUT I beg you, please don’t hurt them,” he whispered. Broken, bowing, utterly submissive in every way. “They had nothing to do with it. It was all my idea. Cut me, whip me, starve me, do whatever you want, just promise me you won’t touch them.”

  I stood frozen.

  My tiredness evaporated.

  Shock and dread made me tingle with awareness. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t good. The man I’d fought with, slept with, and tried to save no longer existed.

  He’d switched.

  Changed.

  His head remained lowered, his forehead almost touching his tied hands. His shoulders trembled, but there was a fierceness in him too. A burning fury that was barely hidden beneath his resignation and unbelievable defeatism.

  I didn’t have a clue what to do.

  How did you deal with someone who’d buried everything about themselves under the skin of someone you’d never met before?

  My knees locked as I clamped both hands over my mouth. An ugly sob threatened to break free. I wasn’t equipped to help this man. I could make this situation a thousand times worse if I said the wrong thing.

  “Say something!” he snarled. “Tell me you won’t lay a finger on any of them. Please!”

  I jumped.

  I couldn’t stop my tears.

  Taking a jerky step toward him, I dropped my hands from my mouth and prepared to do whatever he needed. I would give anything, absolutely anything, to take away the stark terror draping him and replace it with peace.

  “Please...” he moaned, swaying in place and once again fighting the rope. Two sides of his personality warred. The dominating man I already knew struggled to be free, but the humbled prisoner kept begging. “It was all me. I did it. You have to believe me. Leave them alone.”

  I didn’t know who they were, but instinct guided me. They said if you caught someone sleepwalking, not to try to wake them. That it was best to go along with their delusion, gently guiding them back to bed and preventing the mind from cracking any further.

  That was how I’d deal with this.

  I would go along with his story until he either fell back asleep or woke properly.

  “I—” My voice cracked, and new tears rolled. “I promise I won’t touch them.”

  Instantly, his shoulders sagged. His bow turned into a prayer, his body rocking over his hands. “Thank you.” His whisper was barely noticeable, so lost, so quiet.

  Keeping a safe distance from him, I tried to prevent myself from asking. But curiosity was fierce. Urgent. “Now that you know I won’t hurt them,” I breathed. “What did you do?”

  He flinched and shook his head. “I killed them.”

  It was my turn to flinch.

  I hadn’t expected an answer.

  And the ease at which he confessed murder ought to have horrified me. Instead, it solidified pieces I’d already suspected, already accused him of. “Who did you kill?”

  He moaned under his breath. “All of them. Every member of Fables.”

  My heart raced, desperate for more, hungry to know everything before he stopped answering. The more I could uncover, the better chance I had at helping his fractured mind. Also, beneath my urge to help lurked a sick inquisitiveness.

  “What’s your name?”

  He licked his lips. “Kas. I mean, Kassen.”

  I sucked in a breath. My blood heated and sang.

  Kas.

  I didn’t know how much I needed to know his name until the second he gave it to me. “Kassen.”

  He nodded once.

  “And who are they? These people I’ve promised not to hurt?”

  “My family.”

  “Your parents?”

  He shook his head. “No. My brothers and sisters.”

  He had siblings?

  And they all lived here? In this house?

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  He squirmed in the rope. “Is this some sort of trick? You know. You’ve paid your membership to play with us. To abuse us. You know all of us intimately.”

  I choked on disgust.

  So that was what this house was?

  A sexual playground for bitches and bastards? A prison for innocence?

  My hands curled in rage.

  That was why it was hidden.

  Why it had an aura of defeat and debauchery.

  I couldn’t go along with this anymore. I couldn’t let him think of me as one of these heinous guests. He had to know he was safe. That he would never feel pain again.

  Kneeling in front of him, careful to stay out of reaching distance, I murmured, “I’m not a guest. My name’s Gem. No one is going to hurt you or your family ever again. You have my word.”

  His head shot up. Doubt widened his eyes...then suspicion clouded his face. “Is this another trick?”

  I stayed as calm as I could, squashing the urge to grab his cheeks and force him to wake up. To listen. To remember. “It’s not a trick. You’re safe.”

  “If I’m so safe,” he spat. “Why am I tied up? Where is my family?”

  I glanced at the rope knotted securely around his wrists. “You had an accident. You fell off the cliff surrounding this valley. I think you have a concussion, and I doubt you’ll remember this conversation. I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I can’t pretend that I’m one of those monsters in your past.”

  I sighed and swallowed, forcing myself to go slower, to try to make him see sense. “I don’t know where your brothers and sisters are. You’ve been living alone for a while now. No one else is here but you.”

  “You’re here.” He bared his teeth. “You’re not telling the truth. I can see right through you. You’re here, and you’ve trapped me. You’re the same as them. You think you can control me, use me—”

  “I’m nothing like them.” I hugged myself against such a notion. It made my skin crawl with vile disgust. “We met when I entered your home unannounced. We, eh...we’re friends.”

  “I don’t have friends.” He twisted his hands, trying to get free. “You’re lying. This is some new game. I’m done, okay? I’m fucking done!” His twisting grew to yanking at the rope. He scrambled to his feet, only to be jerked down again from where I’d tied the leash to the couch leg.

  His breathing accelerated, his stare drenching black. “Let me go. If what you say is true, let me the fuck go!”

  I shoved upright and stepped back. Fear returned. If he got loose in this condition, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But if I left him tied up, if he didn’t snap out of this fantasy, what harm would it do to him long term?

  “Let me go!” he roared.

  “I’m sorry!” I wrung my hands. “I can’t untie you. Not yet.”

  “Let. Me. Go.” He bit at the rope, looking unhinged and not entirely human. “Do it!”

  “It’s for your own protection. And mine.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Of course, it’s for yours. You know what you’re doing is wrong. You know I will do anything to protect my family. If that means being hurt by you or finding a way to end you, I’ll do it.”

  “Kas...” I breathed his name, uttering it like it was magic to end this curse.

  It didn’t end the curse, but it did do something.

  It made him crumple to his knees again.

  His fury extinguished. His fight erased. He bowed before me, shut down and submissive. “Chri
st, I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” He choked. “Just please, I don’t understand what you want from me. Tell me, and you’ll be pleased. I’ll be whatever you want. As long as you keep my family out of this.”

  Oh, God.

  I rubbed at my aching heart as I watched such a strong, scarred man come apart.

  I fell in love in that heartbeat.

  Not because of his damaged mind or his aggressive ability to make me come alive beneath him...I fell in love because of his selflessness.

  It wasn’t a romantic form of love.

  It wasn’t a platonic form of love.

  It transcended all of that.

  It was love that bloomed in my chest like it would for any creature willing to put themselves in the path of pain for the sake of others.

  I fell in love with his sacrifice.

  And I couldn’t be there anymore.

  Backing away, I mumbled, “I’ll...I’ll go find you something to eat. You need to eat. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

  I ran before he could reply.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MY NEW MASTER PUT food in front of me.

  Strange food that Storymaker’s chef would’ve died before letting a guest eat. Raw carrots with honey and a pile of cut strawberries. No sauce. No freshly prepared roasts or cakes.

  Where were the decadent meals all guests enjoyed? Where was our one meal of deliciousness after being such good toys to them?

  We’d grown accustomed to our reward. The one meal where we were allowed to indulge. A feast for the servants of Fables.

  “Please...you have to eat.”

  I looked up, catching the eyes of the woman who I now belonged to. I couldn’t understand how this had happened. Where were the guards? Where were the other guests? Where was Storymaker?

  My mind was fuzzy, refusing to give me pieces of time.

  It flickered with images of Quell as a little girl when we’d first met to her as a young woman on the night we’d said goodbye.

  It swirled and blended, tormenting and teasing with reality.

  Was this woman Quell?

  They looked similar.

  Could I have been struck over the head while I rescued them? Could I have died like I’d predicted, and this was some form of hell?

  Who is she?

  My wrists ached from the rope binding me. Dried blood smeared over my forearms and knuckles from where I’d tried to get free.

  Whoever she was, she wasn’t my beloved Quell.