by C. S. Wilde
“Yes, as is customary.” No body meant less questions, less evidence, which was why most assassins got rid of their kills.
“That’s kind of you,” Bruce admitted before taking a dejected breath. “Be quick, then.”
It was evident the wolfman wanted Bast out of there stat. If the detective realized Bast knew about Michael, he would morph into a wolf and put up the fight of his life.
Stupid of him, really, to assume a trained assassin would’ve missed the existence of his son.
Bast’s magic swam forward and wrapped around the wolfman’s wrists and ankles. After a moment, Bruce wobbled on his feet, his eyes closing and opening slower and slower each time.
Almost there…
Just as he was about to fall, a young boy rushed out from a kitchen closet on the right. “Papa! Papa!”
Sobbing, he wrapped his arms around his father’s legs.
Bast wanted to deal with Bruce’s son later, mostly because he hadn’t yet gathered the courage to end such a young life. He’d seen the kid from a distance, but now that Michael was standing there, crying his eyes out the same way Stella did when Idillia died…
Fuck.
Bast’s breath caught midway in his lungs, his throat knotting, and his hands shaking. He clenched his muscles to stop it, but it was no use.
Halle fuchst ach! An assassin with a trembling hand. That was a first.
“Michael!” Bruce grumbled, despair taking over him.
Glaring at Bast, he began the shift, his fingers growing into claws as gray fur bloomed on his skin.
It wasn’t enough. Bast pushed his magic forward, and soon Bruce’s shift retreated.
The detective fell to one knee, the kid still clinging to him.
“P-please,” he managed. “I beg of you.”
“I didn’t want to take this bounty. I’ve never killed a child, but an assassin doesn’t choose,” Bast admitted quietly, an apology in his tone.
“Don’t,” Bruce begged as he crouched on the wooden floor. “Please…” His eyes rolled to the back of his skull and he slumped forward, his body thumping against the floor.
Bast would regret this, it was the only certainty he had.
Still inside the apartment, he waited for sleeping beauty to wake up. It was taking him too long, so Bast poked Bruce’s face and chest.
“Papa says you shouldn’t wake a sleeping wolfman,” Michael remarked from Bast’s back, his chubby fingers digging onto Bast’s shoulders as he tried to push himself up.
“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled, and with one hand, he pushed the puppy upward. Michael promptly wrapped his chubby arms around Bast’s neck. “You good?”
He felt the little one nodding from behind. “I climbed the mountain!”
A chuckle twittered in Bast’s chest. “You sure did, pal.”
When Bast turned forward, Bruce was glaring at him with a mix of fear and confusion. “What on the heavens?”
“I’m here papa,” Michael assured from behind Bast’s back, giggling in the same carefree way Stella used to when she was his age. “We’re safe!”
Raising his shoulders and his brow, Bast sighed. “So… we have a problem.”
Chapter 8
Still in the past…
* * *
It first started as an itch a few days after Bast left Bruce and Michael, an unending scratch in his blood that intensified with each passing hour.
Torture had been a part of his training. He could withstand the highest of pains, had remained strong while other fae lost their minds, but the burn of a broken bounty went beyond everything Bast knew.
It was as if his night consumed itself underneath his skin, corroding his flesh and bones at a slow pace. No, this wasn’t torture.
It was one of Danu’s hells.
Bast bellowed. He cried. His throat hurt because screaming was all he’d done for the past… hours? Days? Weeks?
Hard to say.
Writhing on the bed, he roared in agony, but what came out was a weak, cracked sound that hurt his pride. His chipped nails caught on the sheets as his fingers dug into the mattress, which was drenched with his sweat—and maybe some pee.
He begged an unknown force to end it all, but his pleas remained unanswered.
Cruel shig, whomever they were.
Stella came rushing from the kitchen with a wet cloth and a bowl of liquid that smelled awfully like aloe vera and chamomile. As if that could save him.
“Bast, please,” she begged, tears in her eyes as she wiped the cloth over his damp forehead. “Tell me what to do. Everything my magic heals, the bind to the bounty destroys!”
“You can’t… save me, little sister.” He attempted a smile but winced in pain.
This was the price Bast paid for failing to kill his target; the price that would cost him his life. And strangely, he was fine with it.
“I’ll call for help,” Stella assured.
Pointless. Only Master Raes could lift the magic that tied Bast to the bounty, and he’d never do that, no matter how strongly the old Sidhe favored him.
A heavy, blissful pull of exhaustion dragged Bast into the start of slumber, but he couldn’t sleep yet. He had to ask Stella to stay with him during his final hours, beg her to avoid his mentor at all costs, but he couldn’t keep awake anymore.
He could barely speak.
“Stella,” he slurred.
Bast was too weak to scream, too frail to cry or think. Everything went dark as he plummeted into a void inside himself.
Stella…
“You fool.” Master Raes’ voice echoed through the darkness suddenly, and Bast forced his eyes open once, twice, only to succeed on the third time. “You didn’t kill the target,” his mentor added, glaring down at him with absolute fury.
Bast swallowed, his throat feeling coated in sandpaper and broken cords. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank any water. “I… had to draw a line.”
“Assassins do not draw lines, youngling,” he countered with a tone as dry as Bast’s throat. “Do you regret it?”
That was Bast’s chance, his salvation.
He wouldn’t take it.
Even crushed by a mountain of pain, he grinned. “I regret nothing.”
“Where is he, Sebastian? Where’s his son?” Raising an eyebrow, Master Raes crossed his arms. “I must finish the job to free you from the magical bind.”
“You’ll never find them.” He tried to take a deep breath, but choked on his spit instead. The violent cough took a while to subside. “I didn’t dishonor the League, Master. I would never. The client believes we killed them both.” Bast writhed when another wave of blinding pain impaled him from head to toe.
Halle, breathing, no, simply existing hurt.
“Bast, please,” Stella whined in the back, tears tracking down her cheeks. “You’ll die.”
“I’m okay.” He forced a reassuring smile, but failed spectacularly. “I saw you in that little boy, Baby Sis. I couldn’t do it.”
Grumbling a curse, Master Raes stretched one hand to Stella. A foggy tentacle of magic shot at her, wrapping around her neck. His sister’s eyes widened as she clawed at her throat, her feet lifting from the ground.
Panic set deep in Bast’s chest. “Master? Let her go.”
The old fae scowled at him. “Don’t forget who I am, Yattusei.” He turned to Stella, and a certain pity overtook his features. “I always admired your mother, halfling. Your life was never fair, neither was your brother’s, but I will not tolerate insubordination.”
Bast forced himself up. His flesh hurt, his bones pounded, and he was in so much pain he might’ve pissed himself again, but it didn’t matter.
“I’ll face my destiny.” He opened his arms, his head feeling horribly light. “Just leave my sister out of this. Hurt her, and I’ll kill you before crossing Danu’s veil, I swear it.”
Stupid really, to make such a threat when he couldn’t even stand. His vision blurred, the room fading in and out.
<
br /> Shit.
Bast took a deep breath, his stomach twisting. He’d throw up any minute now, and then he would faint. Surely, he wouldn’t return after that.
Shaking his head, Master Raes finally opened his hand and the magic instantly retreated into his skin, allowing Stella’s feet to touch the ground.
Relief washed over Bast as his sister took in deep breaths. He could plummet into his endless night now.
“He can’t go on for much longer,” Stella told Master Raes, her voice hoarse. “Even after Bast was disowned, you had no issues with him marrying your own daughter. You must care for my brother enough to see this path is destroying him.” Her voice seemed to come from a great distance.
“Sebastian is the son I never had, yes,” Master Raes countered quietly. “This is why you both still live.”
Another wave of exhaustion slammed into Bast with the fury of a tsunami, until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. No, he couldn’t fall asleep. He couldn’t abandon Stella there, alone with Master Raes… but darkness dragged him under anyway.
“Bast?” Stella’s voice echoed faintly through oblivion. “Wake up.”
His eyelids were as heavy as boulders, but he slowly forced them open to see his sister’s blurry form. Smiling at him, she caressed his forehead. “You were having a dream.”
Daylight stung his eyes. His entire body ached, but at least he could breathe right again. Granted, his lungs hurt, but he didn’t feel oncoming vomit every time he inhaled or exhaled.
“Was I?”
She nodded. “You were mumbling about Hollowcliff and fighting for something good.”
Damn you, Bruce.
“Sounds like a load of crap,” he grumbled before slamming a hand on his pounding forehead, the crippling pain only then hitting him again.
Fuchst ach, dying might have been better than this.
“It was beautiful,” she shrugged. “Master Raes lifted the bounty, by the way.”
Bast gaped at her. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, considering he was, well, alive.
He’d never thought of himself as a lucky creature, and yet, there was no other way to describe what had happened.
Sheer fucking luck.
Forcing himself to sit up, his bare feet touched the cold marbled floor. “Sorry if I scared you, little sister.” He nudged Stella’s shoulder with his.
“You really did.” A moment passed while she held his gaze. “Bast, I’m going to the continent.”
“No.” He shook his head and winced, still suffering from the pounding inside his skull. “We’ve talked about this.”
“We did, and I’m going. It’s what my mom wanted.”
“Yes, but Father won’t let you, remember?”
“I don’t care what that baku does. Besides, if you come with me, he won’t do a thing.” She took both his hands, her blue eyes shining with hope. “Don’t you see? Master Raes has never lifted a bounty in his entire life. As long as you’re no threat to him or Karthana, he’ll never go after you, which means the League won’t take the bounties ‘Father’ offers for our heads.”
He chortled. The fact they’d been spared by Master Raes was a giant miracle. Bast really shouldn’t push his newly found luck.
“If that were true, which it isn’t,” he clarified, “Father will hire other bounty hunters.”
“You can take them,” she countered with absolute certainty. The complete faith she had in him warmed his heart. “The king will eventually get bored, you’ll see, and then we’ll start a new life in Hollowcliff!”
“Baby Sis…”
“You gave away your childhood, your very soul, to protect me.” Stella watched their intertwined hands. “You killed, and you killed, and you killed… I think you’ve had enough.”
He blew air through his lips. “That’s nonsense.”
“You enjoy killing?”
He had a talent for it; a gift, but he didn’t take joy in murdering someone. He’d simply become numb to the bloodshed after seeing it—well, causing it—for so long. Besides, Bast had never assumed leaving the League with his life, or Stella’s, was possible. And yet, it might just be, thanks to his relationship with Master Raes. Thanks to the bond they shared, the one he’d never had with his own father.
Bast’s chest lightened and ached at the same time.
“You’re a good fae, Bast.” Stella pushed her shoulder against his. “Enough with death, pain, and destruction. It’s time to be free.”
“It’s not that easy,” he muttered.
“We’re going, period. We can be happy in Hollowcliff, and deep down, you know that, too.”
He swallowed dry, his heart pounding in his chest. “What about Karthana?”
“Take her with us.”
He couldn’t. If he did, she might become a collateral of the Night King’s wrath.
Sure, Bast could protect Stella, but could he protect Karthana at the same time? If something happened to her, Master Raes would kill Bast, but he’d kill Stella first and force him to watch.
So, no. Definitely not Karthana, which raised a new set of problems he would have to tackle. Problems that intensified his headache—was it bad he felt relieved for leaving her behind?
Looking down at his fingers intertwined with Stella’s, Bast wondered if he could ever atone for his sins. Let his blood-soaked hands do some good.
Fight for Hollowcliff…
Forcing himself to stand, he balanced on shaky legs that proved surprisingly reliable.
Master Raes would hate him for leaving, and so would Karthana. If his mentor didn’t end Bast right on the spot, he would never forgive him, and that was the best-case scenario.
Leaving Leon and his mom, though… that would hurt Bast the most.
Freedom came with a heavy price.
Bast ran a hand through his hair as variables flashed in his mind. “This is crazy, and we’ll probably get killed.” Still, a smile creased his lips.
Freedom.
“Okay… fuck, okay,” he said as if he were convincing himself to jump off a cliff.
Stella clapped her hands. “Yes! It’s a clean slate, Bast. We can be anything we want!” She seemed to consider it twice. “I’m pretty sure I’d make an excellent healer. I could even go to the Curative University!”
Healing fit his sister’s gentle nature perfectly. Bast had no doubt Stella would excel at it.
As for him? He’d been an assassin his entire life. Doing something other than killing felt wrong, yet, so right at the same time.
“I think…” he started, unable to predict where this might lead him. “I think I want to go after bad people.”
Like Bruce did.
Pursing her lips, his sister frowned at him. “So you’ll be an assassin with morals?”
“Not exactly. Bruce didn’t kill others to find justice. I suppose that’s what I want to do,” he mused.
Her jaw dropped, a certain disbelief in her manner. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I am.” Bast smiled as his entire life, oddly, and suddenly, made sense. “Stella, I want to become a detective.”
Chapter 9
The Night Court’s castle took up the entire upper half of the middle mountain, twirling along the rock’s façade, and blending perfectly with the starry sky—not to mention the island itself. A white marbled titan with teardrop-shaped roofs and open arches throughout its body, it faced the continent like a lighthouse, or a watch tower.
Hard to say which.
“Whoa,” Mera whispered to herself as she followed Bast into the palace.
Forget about the fancy mansions and penthouses from Tir Na Nog. This place was nothing short of spectacular. It somehow reminded her of a giant white dragon snaking around the mountain, defending its nest.
Weaving through ample marbled halls and corridors, they ended up following a spiral, marbled staircase without walls, just thin white columns for support.
The pathway traced the mountain’s s
tone façade, and the view from that high up was amazing. White faerie lights shone softly down below, spreading across Lunor Insul and toward the dark ocean, while neon birds cut through the night. In the distance, beyond the line of water, city lights shaped the coast of Tir Na Nog.
Not that Mera had any time to appreciate the landscape. Her partner was already pulling her toward the throne room; an enormous round construction with a domed ceiling, located at the very peak of the mountain.
“Bast, you’re here as a Hollowcliff detective,” she reminded him when the stairs ended before a great, ample hall with a wooden double-door that had to be at least ten feet tall. “You’ll need to act the part, even with your brothers.”
He frowned at her as if she’d said the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course, kitten.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
He pushed the doors open, which was a remarkable feat considering how heavy they looked. Strolling inside, Bast kept his arms wide open.
“Missed me, malachais?”
Mera slammed a hand on her forehead.
Great. Just… great.
The throne room was open on all sides through giant archways that showed an incredible 360-degree view of the ocean—and the island itself. Wind should be blasting everywhere from this high up, so there had to be some sort of magic shielding the inside.
In the center of the enormous dome, a navy circle had been engraved on the white marble floor with the word “Impernokto” at the bottom.
Three Sidhe stood around the circle. The first, Mera recognized at once; Seraphina Dhay, Bast’s mother—and the reason why he winced in regret the moment he realized she was there.
“Sorry, Mom,” he muttered as they stepped closer to the group.
Giving him a sad smile, his mother merely nodded.
Still in mourning, Seraphina wore a raven black dress that covered her from neck to ankle, and a dark veil that shadowed her face. Her pink eyes gleamed from behind the see-through fabric.
Turning to Mera, she bowed her head slightly. “The weather is lovely today. It will rain flowers, you’ll see.”