Trap

by Mary E. Twomey

  Trap

  Book Eight in the Terraway Series

  By

  Mary E. Twomey

  Copyright © 2016 Mary E. Twomey

  Cover Art by www.goonwrite.com

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition: May 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1540728548

  ISBN-10: 1540728544

  For information:

  http://www.maryetwomey.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  DEDICATION

  One. | Mariang’s Funeral

  Two. | Over my Dead Body

  Three. | Evil Little Ghoul

  Four. | Father on the Floor

  Five. | Sama’s Useful Pillow Talk

  Six. | Scotch and my Bad Decisions

  Seven. | So Much Yes... and One No

  Eight. | Lavinia Vandershot

  Nine. | The Nightgown and the Night

  Ten. | Kings and Grave Robbers

  Eleven. | Danny’s Kiss

  Twelve. | My Upper Hand

  Thirteen | Philip, the Gentleman

  Fourteen. | Far Gone and Fainting

  Fifteen. | Three in One

  Sixteen. | Drunk Guys are Funny Like That

  Seventeen. | From Fierce and Glorious to Slave

  Eighteen. | My New Doggy

  Nineteen. | One Whole Minute

  Twenty. | Too Much Want

  Twenty-One. | Maudlin Confessions and Maugrin’s Attentions

  Twenty-Two. | Finn’s Fiddle

  Twenty-Three. | Bakunawa and Begging for It

  Twenty-Four. | No Place I’d Rather Be

  Twenty-Five. | A Home for the Bird and the Fish

  Twenty-Six. | Honey, I’m Home

  Twenty-Seven. | The Blackness of our Fog

  Twenty-Eight. | The Truth about Sandy

  Twenty-Nine. | The Desperation of Philip and Levi

  Thirty. | What Fathers are Built For

  Thirty-One. | Philip’s Day of Reckoning

  Thirty-Two. | Take me Home

  Thirty-Three. | Blueberry Rhubarb

  Thirty-Four. | Chainsaw and Chin

  Thirty-Five. | Wasting his Love on Me

  Thirty-Six. | Worst Road Trip of my Life

  Thirty-Seven. | Kabayo in a Blond Wig

  Thirty-Eight. | Danny’s Crack House

  Thirty-Nine. | Giving Me the Finger

  Forty. | Checking in and Checking Out

  Forty-One. | Waking up to Home

  Forty-Two. | I Love You, Judge

  Forty-Three. | Tearing and Ripping

  Forty-Four. | Four

  Forty-Five. | All You Need

  Epilogue.

  The End.

  Two. | Stranger Things

  Other books by Mary E. Twomey

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  Also By Mary E. Twomey

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  For Bruce Campbell,

  Not many are heroic enough to warrant

  a ridiculous girl make-believing you’re her own personal superhero.

  Thanks for being mine this time around.

  One.

  Mariang’s Funeral

  Though I’d seen an avalanche of deaths in the past year, I’d only been to one funeral in my life. The first one I’d gone to was for Mrs. Kitsa when I was young. I could still smell the thick pancake makeup on her, marring the cookie smell she’d always traveled with. Mrs. Kitsa had been one of our neighbors who lived two trailers down. She loved to bake, and always had a smile for Ollie, Allie and me. When she’d passed at eighty-two, I’d been only nine. Ollie and Allie took me to the funeral, clothes washed, faces scrubbed and somber. We sat in the back, and I watched with fascination the ritual of a funeral. The praying, the hopeful message, and the mournful family who had never once come to the trailer park to visit their mother, grandmother or great-grandmother. Yet they all cried quietly into handkerchiefs and sleeves, swearing they thought they’d have more time.

  Mama McCray’s funeral was when I was seven, and I hadn’t been allowed to go.

  Omen funerals in Terraway were... different. The grand affair was held at Kabayo’s enormous stone castle. It somehow felt drafty and cold, despite the sunny ninety-degree weather that beat down on the expanse of grass covering the field. Last time I’d been in Silo, everything had been bone dry due to the drought, with barely a patch of green in sight. Now with regular rain coming, there were traces of emerald, jade and olive brushed through the woods, dotting the ground and filling out the mountains. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t really appreciate it, being that we were there for Mariang’s funeral. All six nations were gathered outside the castle. People from the furthest corners of Terraway came out to pay their respects to the woman who’d given everything to make sure they had a chance at survival. Mariang’s body had been magically preserved somehow, but she’d been dead an entire month now. Each day felt like heaviness in my breast that I couldn’t escape. Every passing day that Mariang remained dead, I grew more weighted, the youth gone from me completely.

  The council and kings had been given ornate chairs to sit on, facing the crowd above the stone steps of the castle. The casket was before us, resting on the expansive dais between the royals and the people. I was on the council, and Mason as well, since he was the delegate from Sombi, so we were given chairs, but Von was made to stand behind me as my sentry, staring out at the crowd with a hollow expression.

  The members of the council were dressed in their royal robes or their decorated military gear. I didn’t put up a fuss about being given a long Renaissance-style dress to wear, but I couldn’t stop fidgeting with the revealing neckline, the capped sleeves, or the heavy black and gold material that made me feel like I was wearing curtains or something. The black felt appropriate for a funeral, but the gold swirls that started at the hemline and crawled up like vines to cup and brush over my breasts did not. It wasn’t until I saw Ezra’s matching tie and Ana’s black and gold baby gown that I realized the design must be a family thing. Ezra was seated at my left, his eyes bloodshot and expression vacant as he stared ahead at the millions his daughter had been sacrificed for over and over again. After all of it, she’d survived. It hadn’t been Terraway that killed her, but our world, or nature perhaps. No one had expected her to die in childbirth. The shock of Mariang’s death was still hitting us in waves, and then left us bereft of her grace and kindness that only death itself could silence.

  Von was in a fitted black suit behind me, holding Anastasia Grace with bags under his eyes and a fatherly protective air to the way he cradled her. We hadn’t slept much in the past month. Of course, no one slept well after Mariang passed, but we had been gifted the extra responsibility of taking care of Baby Ana. Danny could barely put one foot in front of the other, and couldn’t comprehend that Ana was very much alive and in need of her parent. Von, Danny, Ana, Ollie and I had been living at my house, with the Vandershot boys rotating to pull for Danny as needed, which was often.

  “Motherhood suits you,” Finn whispered from his throne-like chair on my right. “You look lovely.”

  I responded with a polite, “Thank you, Captain.” Everything I did was being scrutinized by the residents of Terraway, who were all sitting just a stone’s throw away on the grass at the foot of the steps. I didn’t feel the gu
ilty thrill I usually did at being near Finn. My focus was on Von, Ezra, Danny and Anastasia. I hadn’t even been to visit Allie in her coma in days. Ana had a penchant for screaming from midnight until around four in the morning, and intermittently throughout the day, so Von and I weren’t sleeping much. Ollie had even bailed to spend a couple nights at Gabby’s just to catch up on his rest. Apparently braving the “where is this going” talk with his on-again off-again girlfriend was less horrible than a nonstop screaming baby.

  Mason was on the clear other end, sitting next to a man that could’ve been his twin. While the people were still milling about and finding their space on the grass, I got up from my chair and made my way over to my other Puller, knowing he was afraid to get too near the baby – though Ana was now a month old, and supposedly in the safety zone to escape stirring the fetus hunger of Matruculans.

  I knew I was supposed to be some queen or whatever, but I didn’t care about decorum when it came to my Reapers. When Mason stood to greet me, I jogged forward after I passed the casket I didn’t want to look at too closely. I threw my arms around him, squeezing tighter than anyone would have the tolerance for, were he not part The Hulk. Mason possessed that super strength that had a way of making me feel safe. Perched above the whole of Terraway for everyone to observe and comment on, I needed that feeling he instilled in me just by being there.

  I could feel his smile against my cheek, his quarter-inch beard scratching my skin in a way that felt like home. “I missed you, hani. I know you’ve been busy taking care of Anastasia, but I’m worried about you. You’re well? You’re in one functioning piece?”

  “I’m much better, now that you’re here. This whole thing is horrible, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with it all alone. I don’t want that.”

  “Alton said he’d get me a phone, so I was thinking I’d start calling you every night just to check in and make sure you’re alive. We’re not meant to be apart this long.”

  I could feel him pulling for me, and I breathed for the first time in a while. “Mason, I missed you.”

  “You’re a ball of anxiety. Haven’t Von and his brothers been pulling for you?” He ignored the millions of onlookers that were shifting around on the grass. He held me around the waist, moving his head back to examine my face. “You look exhausted.”

  “Aw, you say the sweetest things. You look beautiful, too,” I crooned.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re lovely, as you always are. But you need more pulling than this.”

  I shook my head, making sure to keep my tears sucked back behind my eyeballs. “Danny’s a wreck still, and Anastasia...” I gulped, fishing for the right way to word the issue. “Ana needs her mother. She’s colicky, so she screams a lot. Von’s pulling for her now just so we make it through the funeral. I don’t want to overtax the guys, making them pull for me, on top of all that. I can deal the old-fashioned way.”

  “I see. Well, let’s see what I can do while I have you in my arms.” Mason hugged me tighter, kissing the top of my head and tucking me under his chin. Waves of peace shot through me, making my eyes flutter shut as I burrowed my cheek into his burly chest. I stiffened when I heard the “aw” and the whispers that broke out from the residents of Terraway, reminding me that I had an audience of millions. Mason was a feared and respected zombie killer, and I was cozying up to him like he was a precious bunny. Or maybe I was his bunny. It was hard to tell who took care of whom on any given day. “Better?” he asked, leaning down to peck my lips. He dropped his arms so he could offer me his elbow to hold like a gentleman.

  “Much.”

  “Would you like to meet my younger brother? This is Carter, King of Hayop. Carter, allow me to introduce Lady October.”

  Mason’s double stood, showing off his midnight-colored royal robe overtop his black tunic and matching fitted pants that were tucked into his sturdy boots. He had dreads tied back with a leather string, looking like Mason used to back when I first met him. Carter tilted his head to me and dipped his chin, and I did the same to him, thinking that was probably the right thing to do. I really had no idea about the proper politics of Terraway, and now was a bad time to ask Ezra at what times I was expected to bow. “Pleased to meet you, Lady October,” Carter offered kindly. Carter had a boyish light to his slate eyes that Mason just plain didn’t. Mason had been all Viking from the get-go. Carter had the same build, but looked like he preferred the hard work being done from his throne. “My brother speaks very highly of you.”

  “Oh, well now I know you’re lying. Mason hates me. I mean, one look at me and he starts ralphing.” In hindsight, making jokes about puking the first time I met Mason’s only living relative was probably not the queenly thing to do. But you know, whatever. It was either make playful banter or burst into tears. I batted my hand at Carter’s grin. “But don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual. I mean, would you look at this guy? Barfalicious.”

  “Hey!” Mason bumped me with his hip, narrowing one eye down at me before his smile got the better of him.

  Carter started to laugh, but then covered his mouth with his hand and faked a cough. “Excuse me. I didn’t realize anyone on the council knew how to make a joke.”

  “Who said I was joking?” I motioned to Mason’s perfect physique that shone even beneath his outfit that matched his brother’s, but included gold cuffs around his wrists. “I mean, hit the gym once in a while, am I right?” The gold on his cuffs made it look like Mason belonged with me, with my family. It was a sweet assurance in the midst of the bleakness. I fished around for shtick, so I didn’t plunge back into despair.

  Carter’s eyes were dancing with the light he seemed to travel with. “Oh, Mason. You said she was beautiful, but I didn’t realize she was witty, too. Perhaps I won’t avoid the council as much anymore.”

  “Yes, well.” Mason smiled down at me, and I could feel the love beaming from him that I was making nice with his brother. “If you’re finished bewitching Carter, perhaps you’d like to meet the other kings of Terraway who’ve been too busy to show up for council meetings.”

  I curtsied like I’d seen people do in movies and moved on down the line, shaking hands, bowing and making as pleasant of chitchat as I could.

  Mason gave me one more solid pull in his parting hug when we reached the midpoint of the stage. “This is as far as I can take you. Anastasia’s still too young for me to be near.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll talk to you after.” I leaned up and blessed his lips with a closed-mouth kiss. “Love you, Mason.”

  “Love you, too. Now go shake hands, and tell Von not to listen to you when you say you don’t need more pulling.”

  It was just my luck that Aranya’s was the next throne I came to. Aranya was the jaggoff who’d helped his father lock me in their dungeon in Sakuna, trying to keep me as a prize for Sama. I wanted to punch him, but knew that would probably not be good politics. Lang rose to his feet beside Aranya, along with their sinister sister, Luna. They were dressed in matching brown royal outfits, and a smattering of bees circled almost pleasantly around Aranya’s head. Lang was no doubt anxious I might throttle his tool of a brother right there with a whole sea of witnesses. The three bowed, but I refused to tilt my head to Aranya or Luna. Luna noticed the affront, but Aranya brushed aside the offense, extending his hand to me instead.

  Boy, do I wish I would’ve passed on shaking it. I couldn’t stifle the anger that flared in me. I gripped Aranya’s hand and jerked him close, leaning up on my toes to whisper a threat to him and Luna. “Don’t you think I’ve forgotten the stink of your daddy’s dungeon. Make no mistake, as soon as things settle down for me, I’ll make it my life’s mission to make sure you’re taken off that throne and hurled into your own prison. Then we’ll have some real fun.”

  Luna was snide, not bothering to conceal her snarl. “Step foot in Sakuna again, and you’ll see how fun things can really get when father’s not holding me back.”

  Aranya’s black eyes widened. His brown
skin had been scrubbed of mud, but he still felt dirty to me. He kept his voice low, but I moved on after I heard, “Listen you little...”

  I wasn’t little, and I didn’t have to listen.

  Kabayo rose, his left hand on my back as he shook Aranya’s with his right, leaning in to whisper a threat of his own. He released Aranya with a look of horror on his face that matched his sister’s. “Leave him to me,” Kabayo whispered in my ear, releasing me with a light push away from the man who’d helped abduct me, and the woman who’d delighted in my degradation.

  I gave a slight nod to Lang, which he returned. I tried to appear professional, and not like I wanted to hug him. It was important to his family that he remain loyal to their cause. It could make things sticky for him if they knew we were friends. My upper lip curled at Luna’s pinched nose and waist-length curly brown hair, but I moved on down the line without further incident.

  In the front row of the millions sat Ollie, Lynna, Boston, Graham, Alton and Ms. Vandershot. It was the first time I’d ever seen Von’s mother. I was afraid to look at her directly, though my eyes felt tethered to her face, bouncing back whenever they wandered too far. She’d come in for the funeral, and to meet her first grandchild. There was much of Von in her face, the angular cheekbones, the black hair that was thick and did what it felt like. Her long, dark waves were pulled back and pinned elegantly, making her look like a model for hairspray or something. She was beautiful, and second only to Sama was my fear of her.

  The ceremony finally started a few minutes later. Some guy I didn’t know gave the eulogy in a long black wizard’s robe, performing several herb-centric rituals over Mariang’s body. She lay like Sleeping Beauty inside her clear casket for all to admire. Even in death, she was beautiful. I hated how lifelike she appeared, and gripped my fingers in my lap to keep them from clawing at my arms. I wanted to be there for Ezra and Danny, and knew I couldn’t do that if I fell apart.

  Danny was in a world unto himself, unable to speak, eat or make a decision unless someone helped him. The only time he slept was in my arms after Von pulled so hard, Danny had no choice but to go limp. I alternated between rocking Ana and holding Danny all the hours of the day I wasn’t reaping. Now he stood at the head of Mariang’s casket, facing the people with soulless eyes in a tailored black suit with gold cuffs I knew he’d never wear again.