The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6)

by Richard Raley

  Ageless eyes met dirt eyes, just like they always used to. Mine had seen a lot since the first time we met in my parent’s kitchen all those years back. Ceinwyn Dale had been the one constant in my life since then, and the nine or so months we hadn’t talked weren’t so enjoyable for me. Took a lot out of her to admit the Council might be wrong about the Divines or the Anima Quota, maybe all of it. Was taking a lot more out of her to bend the rules and not call in ESLED for this.

  Wasn’t fair to keep lying to her.

  Time to trust her. Not just with the go ahead, but with the truth.

  Time to pull that last stitch.

  Got out of my chair to do it, down to the floor in front of her, on my knees. A supplicant before the Queen of Fates. “I trust your judgment. I didn’t for awhile and I made a horrible mistake because of it. A mistake I still haven’t corrected, but I’m trying to right now.”

  Somewhere behind me, I felt Val tense up.

  Here it was.

  Another jump.

  Ceinwyn cocked her head, trying to figure out how King Henry Price could possibly act this serious unless there wasn’t some joke at the end of it.

  No joke.

  Only truth.

  The evil truth.

  “I was confused,” I tried to explain, “I didn’t know what to believe, or who to believe. I found out that dragons were real. I found out there are other worlds with black pointy-eared bastards running around in them. I found out Isabel had . . . used me for years and years while we were at the Asylum. I was confused, very confused. I told Val about it, was there with her for it, but there’s something else I found out that I didn’t even tell her. It scared me more than dragons or the elves. So I kept it to myself and only myself.

  “By the time I started to think about telling anyone . . . well, then I found out about the Divines, and blood gods, and Moshi’s Stables, and Nii-Vah’s ward, and the little, blond-haired girl that Annie B babysat, spoiling her rotten the whole time. I doubted you, I kept finding all these truths out in the world and you didn’t teach us even one of them at school. You lied to us. You left us weak, left us in thrall, unaware of how strong we could be or how terrible our world really was.”

  Ceinwyn motioned for me to stop, like this was all old news and forgiven and unneeded.

  “Knowing what only I knew,” I continued, raising my voice, “I started to wonder if maybe you were in on it somehow. If you were lying to everyone about what happened all those years ago. Then I said his name. When I saw your face, I knew you weren’t. But we were fighting about other lies by then and . . .”

  My mouth clamped shut on its own accord and my gaze left hers, finding the carpeted floor.

  “King Henry, what are you trying to say?” Ceinwyn asked.

  “He wants this,” I whispered, “he knows it will hurt you more than revealing himself to you ever could have. He wants me to do it.”

  Ceinwyn took my jaw in her hand, turning my face back up towards hers. “Who?”

  “The Curator,” I said. “He’s tall, spindly. Blond-brown hair you can’t decide which is which. Hard face, in his forties now. Wears a lab-coat over a perfectly tailored suit. Has a satchel at his side to carry all his little artifacts.” Ceinwyn’s hand pulled away from me, bunching into a fist over her heart. “No left arm, no left leg, since someone dropped a mountain on him. Eyes like diamonds—”

  “Stop,” Ceinwyn begged in a gasp. Val appeared by her side, arm wrapped around Ceinwyn’s shoulders.

  “Eyes like diamonds, but they’re broken now. The Broken One is what the fairies call him,” I continued. “The first time I met him, he told me his name, since he never expected me to leave that warehouse alive. It took me awhile to remember it, but eventually I did. Heard more since. Sniffed about with Plutarch, since he taught the man. Stole his file from this building. Had conversations with the Curator himself, about Moira Jenkins and Amis Valet and . . . the woman he only refers to as her.”

  Ceinwyn shook all over, her hand wrapped around Val’s, her fist so tight it was white. Ceinwyn Dale, the master herself, and if we weren’t in the Pit, stray aero-anima would’ve been flying all around us.

  “I didn’t tell you, because I knew it would cause you—”

  “Paine,” she finished, the shaking coming to a stop, her body eerily still. “Is alive? Obadiah Paine is the Curator? And you didn’t tell me for over a year? This entire time, Obadiah Paine has had you in his sights and you said nothing because it might hurt my feelings?”

  I couldn’t think to say anything that would make it better, so I just nodded.

  A hug wasn’t exactly even in my top ten list of expected reactions from her, but suddenly Ceinwyn was on the floor with me and had both of her arms around my shoulders, thin-fingered hands pressing my face to her breast like I was a little child in need of all the love in the world. “You went up against Obadiah Paine? Alone?” she said breathlessly. “It’s worse than I ever imagined . . . I almost lost you, you fool, I almost lost you like . . .”

  Pretty sure she was crying.

  Ceinwyn Dale crying.

  Not mad, not scared, but crying because the boogeyman didn’t kill me.

  “Ceinwyn . . . this is too much positive emotion,” I started freaking out a little bit.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered into my ear. “You deserve it. You’re an idiot, but you deserve it.”

  “Also if you push any harder I think you might start breast feeding me,” I said into her chest.

  She let up, but just a little bit. I felt her hand motion for Val to join us and a second later my girlfriend had her arms wrapped around both of us.

  “Okay . . . I’m about to puke from too much Hallmark moment,” I told them.

  “Shut up and enjoy it,” Val sighed in perfect contentment. “It’s our first group hug.”

  My mouth started to open—

  “If you try to ruin it with a threesome joke I’ll paper-cut you,” Auntie Badass warned me.

  “And a few Fireballs of Doom on top of that,” my Boomworm agreed.

  My foul mouth shut for once.

  Hugging.

  So this is what it feels like.

  Can’t even remember when I had my last.

  Huh.

  “Well,” Ceinwyn eventually said, “now I wish we were killing the son-of-a-bitch.”

  Session 175

  Val and Ceinwyn were long gone and all I had to do was wait for Watson to arrive.

  Watching the clock.

  Tick tock.

  Massey gonna be so pissed when they find me missing in the morning.

  Massey and his fucking Artificial Court. Not arrested! Just a hearing! Become a Guild member or else! Seemed so important a day ago. Surviving it without getting censured, staying independent. The price I had to pay to steal the truth. Had the truth now; glorious, glorious truth. Everything I ever wanted to know and some of it I never expected. Wasn’t doing me a bit of good in my present predicament. Chest of gold on a desert island kind of shit, where all you want is a simple glass of fresh water.

  All I wanted now was Susan safe. Was I ever really leading you, Fate? Or were you just setting me up for the long con? Got me by the balls like never before, don’t ya, Bitch-Queen?

  Kept thinking about how much this week was changing my life, but it was never enough. Change coming so quick it raced on by me. More and more, whirling around, out of control, unstable, about to explode and who knows if I’ll survive it.

  “I could be dead in two days,” I confessed some hard truth to myself and only myself . . . in that lonely apartment built for some ancient king, not the modern one inhabiting it, only dirt to his name. “Any one of my friends could be dead in two days. All of us even.”

  I thought some more. About Susan. About what I wanted to say to her when I got her back. After Mom died a lot of the incentive to cure Anima Madness had vanished from the world. Turned into a obscure future I was aiming towards. That vague one day that traps all the
cogs in lies. With Susan slowly deteriorating it all gained a lot more clarity, a lot more urgency. Curing Anima Madness: something I needed to accomplish in the next five years, not the next five decades.

  “Never would’ve made it five decades anyway,” I did some more confessing. “Settle for five days at this point. Settle for making Val laugh one more time. Settle for one more of Ceinwyn’s nods means she agrees with me. Shit, even settle for T-Bone having one of his little hyperventilating fits when I pop back into Fresno.”

  Kept thinking of that hug. Wasn’t something I was used to. Remembered it from when I was little. Before the ‘Bad Days’ piled up. Remembered a few from Susan even, that tired Big Sis hug where she didn’t know what else to do but to try to show me some affection. Back before I got too old and started pushing her away. Prepubescent me wasn’t too big on showing emotion, just on causing havoc.

  Repress, got to repress it all.

  Emotion is weakness.

  Can’t let it out.

  Let it out and . . . well, there’s King Henry Price plunging through the Void.

  Was a nice hug all around, even if I’m the world’s worst expert on them. Ceinwyn signing off on at least prepping this plan was even better. Now that she knew the Curator was Obadiah Paine, an edge had descended over her. Just like it always does when I’ve tried to bring him up. Might be we got to that hostage exchange and King Henry Price needed to be the one thinking clearly, cuz Ceinwyn Dale might do something rash. Ceinwyn Dale being the pugnacious one, what the world coming to?

  Besides all the thinking, I put in some calls on the phone Val let me borrow. Put some people on notice, called in a few markers.

  Not as many as I’d like. Not all the troops. Eva was still out of action with being a mancer-shifter hybrid or whatever the Learning Council had decided to call it. As I mentioned, Annie B could barely walk, much less handle a fight. Kept seeing those velvet eyes of hers peeking out from that silver mask she wore nowadays.

  Thought about calling the Divine Falschein, or Iscariot, or the False One, whatever you preferred to call the vampire assassin who I knew was hunting after the Curator. Falschein ain’t a real Divine yet. Just got it on paper, a nice and shiny certificate. Tiny blood god, not the giant angel version. Still thinks of himself as the part that rides in the shell, not the gooey mass he leaves behind.

  “Vampires: more you find out, more disgusting they are. Vampires: more you find out, more you realize the disgusting never stops coming.” Would be a powerful ally to have, but I didn’t trust Falschein, even with all that enemy-of-my-enemy crap. Don’t trust any of them except Annie, and I only trust her when she’s been fed recently. “And hopefully not by me.”

  Called Welf, believe it or not. “I have a meeting with the Curator set up, you in or out?”

  “If this is one of your jokes—”

  “No joke. Can even bring your mommy if you want. Hell, daddy too, except I don’t think he’s man enough for it. Your sister will probably be there, being no one’s alive can talk Vicky out of coming with us. We’ve tried to keep her out of it, but something this big? No chance she sits it out.”

  “Absolutely not! I forbid it, Foul Mouth!” Welf ordered me . . . like that had ever worked out well for him.

  “Better get your ass to Fresno then,” I told him before disconnecting the call. “Bus leaves in a couple days.”

  He’d come. So would Mama Welf. Add two Bonegrinders to the starting lineup, one of them a Maximus. Batting cleanup: Moira ‘Deathtouch’ Welf. Deathtouch, another badass Maximus title. Still not sure if Glassbreaker was awesome enough for my ego. Half of it has ‘break’ in it, so there’s that. Not like . . . Glasssculptor or Glassweaver or something equally weak sauce. Still, fucking floromancers get someone called the Poisontongue. Fuck me is that BAMF material!

  Called Vega, asked him if he could get some kind of posse together.

  We’ll see if he comes to the rescue or if he leaves us hanging. Might get an army, might get five stoned fuck-ups in a mini-van. Never can tell with that man, especially since JoJo’s so damned pregnant nowadays. Saw her about a month back and I already could’ve rolled her down the street like a beach ball. Can’t imagine how ready to pop she looks by now. From what I hear, Vega barely leaves her side these days and only reluctantly. Only when he knows JoJo is about to murder him with all the hovering. Might be cute coming from a normal person. Ya know, if Vega wasn’t a murderous, treacherous drug kingpin. No matter how often T-Bone says otherwise. Sits on the crossroads, like Vega’s a fucking supernatural stockbroker or something. Got to be drugs somewhere out at that Compound. T-Bone wouldn’t know coke if it was stuffed up his asshole so he could mule it past an airport security check.

  Could’ve spread my net even wider. Called in Raj. Or offered Igor some money to play mercenary matchmaker. Still ain’t desperate enough to call in Miranda or Naomi or some of my classmates ain’t cut out for fighting. Had a brief image of Miranda dueling Catherine, much less Paine. Give her five seconds tops, she’d start scolding him for being so mean and rude, then he’d make her explode, nothing left but a pile of red hair.

  So that was it. That was the team. Guess it was just mostly my friends. Me, T-Bone, Pocket, Jesus, Val, Ceinwyn, and the three Welfs. Nine people. To fight the Curator, Isabel, and the Three Queens, plus . . . whatever extra. Got four Maximi on our side, could be worse.

  Not sure how . . . again, got a respectable penis size, so there’s that.

  “Six months ago it just would’ve been me standing alone. So I guess we call this progress.”

  Hang in there, Suze, won’t be much longer now.

  [CLICK]

  It’s safe to say Sean Watson is one stupid motherfucker.

  Can’t even blame Fate.

  Chose to take money from the Curator.

  Oh yeah, there were probably some vague threats from Paine and no doubt Watson’s got some imaginary child with some incurable disease makes their skin fall off, just needs that five million so bad to buy ‘em some Noxzema make it all better. Also . . . needs a fucking jet-ski. Not the skinless kid, Watson himself. Needs it. Everyone does. It’s a fucking jet-ski. Where he gonna ride it in London? No idea. Straight down the Thames for all I fucking know.

  Greed.

  Greed got Master Guard Sean Watson killed.

  Dead.

  Greed and choosing the wrong side.

  Dead.

  Deader than his fake, skinless kid.

  Stupidity too . . . huge levels of stupid to actually return and do what he said he was gonna do.

  A smart man forced into this situation gets as much money as he can upfront and flees to Brazil or some shit. Brazil has a rainforest and the longest river in the world, right? Can’t remember, been a long time since my geography lessons as a Single. Assuming it does have a river, that’s prime jet-ski territory if I ever heard of it. Even if the river got anacondas in it.

  Point is: smart man don’t come back. Bet it has something to do with him being a Canadian. Treacherous piece of shit: yes. Rude: never. So sorry I stabbed you in the back, sir, hope you die quickly and it’s not too painful. Also, Justin Bieber? Still our fault. Can’t be rude. Manners. Manners getting some poor fucker killed yet again. Gonna be a good lesson to tell T-Bone about. You know, in the rush to put this emergency rescue mission together I kind of forgot to tell him about what’s going on . . .

  I’m sure it would be fine.

  T-Bone loves surprise.

  At least if he craps his pants at my sudden appearance I’ll get to be there to watch it.

  Speaking of crap, Watson looked like he just might drop a nugget when he opened that cell door and saw me standing there. Damned right I was standing there. Damned right I was ready and waiting. Might have to wait for him to show, but I wasn’t wasting a fucking hour while he broke me out. Could do that shit on my own.

  As for what to do with Watson, well . . .

  Death is the easy out, ain’t it?

  Ju
st ask that Bill Shake-His-Spear fellow. Knows all about the bodies hitting the floor, especially if they’re star-crossed lovers too stupid to notice a bitch just be sleeping.

  Killed my first man by accident. Killed my second man in self defense. Killed my third man cuz I wanted to. Still go fuck yourself Conan Sapa! Hope there’s enough of an afterlife that Jason was waiting for you on the other side. As for my fourth . . . if it did end up being Watson, I’d be killing my fourth cuz it was easy. Simplified my life to see him dead. Yeah, not a good line of thinking. Paine kind of thinking again. Don’t like it. But here we are. Yeah, also ignoring all the Black Elves and vampires and maybe even a blood god I put down in my time. Hard to count someone when you don’t got a face or a name to go with it. As for the blood god . . . she ain’t people.

  Sean Watson, as big of a sellout piece of shit as he was . . . he was people.

  An Intra, but still of the Earth.

  He was people.

  One of my people.

  Didn’t know it, of course, but he betrayed his king.

  So . . . Sean Watson, are you Dead Man Number Four for King Henry Price?

  Guess it’s time to find the fuck out, ain’t it?

  Didn’t give him a chance to run. Reached forward and grabbed him by the throat with a large, craggy-knuckled hand. So fast and quick, I hauled him in before those stone monstrosities still following him around could react. Deal with you later, Salt and Pepper. Survive Paine and you’re damn right I’m coming back to have a word with you, maybe even one with Massey too. I yanked the door closed next, enjoying the way that the metal slammed shut. Cacophony. Ain’t ruminate or epiphany, but it ain’t bad either.

  All alone with my Master Guard, I finished by slamming Watson up against the wall. Superhero probably would’ve said something awesome just then. Me, I just stared at him. Let my dirt eyes do the talking, let them share my feelings about this predicament we found ourselves in.