The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors' Society Book 3)

by Heather Lyons

  Her laugh is bittersweetly quiet. “You are quite the charming prince, Finn.”

  “There is such a person in the fairy tale world called Prince Charming, by the way.”

  “Well, then.” She touches my cheek. “We truly are living a fairy tale then, aren’t we?” And then, more softly, “Are you all right, my love?”

  She’s still on the same page with me. She knows that, once more, I just put a bullet through two of my mother’s murderers’ heads.

  To answer her question, though, I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel right now. Numb, I guess.

  I reluctantly let her go. “We should probably get going.” I reclaim my gun and shove into the back of my pants. “It’s a miracle nobody else has come in, but sooner or later, somebody’s going to find this mess. When they do, we need to have road between us.”

  She wipes her daggers on the rag we used to clean ourselves. “Agreed.”

  We end up finding a back door to the inn and slip out that. Miraculously, the others are already waiting in the barn.

  “Was it Rosemary?” Victor asks.

  I nod. “And Jenkins.”

  The A.D. looks us up and down. “Are they dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Mary’s outburst is fierce. “She was a monster who deserved to die after all that she’s done. First the catalysts, and now killing innocent villagers and turning them into meat pies?” She shudders. “She was a psychopath.”

  Alice says, “No one is in danger of Rosemary’s evil ever again.”

  I turn back to my brother. “Any luck on finding us a new carriage?”

  He shakes his head. “None around here, but I did find a man who is willing to trade us the cart and horse, alongside some gold, for five of his horses.”

  It’ll have to do.

  I pass over one of the golden feathers to Victor, who heads out with the cart, horse, and Mary to meet up with the man. The A.D. takes one good look at both me and Alice before saying, “Let me go nick you some new clothes. You look like you’ve been to hell and back.” He holds his arm out to Grymsdyke. “Mind coming along? Turns out this village is a bit more dangerous than I first imagined.”

  After they leave, Alice says, “I think he’s got that wrong.”

  “You don’t think the village is dangerous?”

  “No, about us having already been to hell. I’m afraid we haven’t seen true hell yet, but we will all too soon.”

  We stand at the entrance to the barn, facing north. The path to hell lies in that direction, leading to a mountain that has been forgotten.

  BY THE TIME WE reach the next inn, the sun has long set. Our horses are exhausted and in need of water and food. And still, despite pushing them as much as we could, we’ve only covered about fifteen miles of ground. During the long ride, the A.D. told us how the Piper’s name struck fear into the villagers’ hearts, as did any mention of the thirteenth Wise Woman. Many made the sign of the cross before turning away from him. But there was one young lady, two tankards of ale into their acquaintance, whose lips were looser than many of her neighbors. Behind the inn, after several kisses and who knows what else they did, she admitted that Hamelin was the devil’s town, and no one willingly went there unless they wished to lose their soul.

  Alice and I, in turn, told our tale of what we learned from both Rosemary and Jenkins.

  “How do we find such a mountain?” Grymsdyke asks from my shoulder.

  It’s a question I don’t have an answer for yet.

  Despite the price we paid for the horses, we still have plenty of money left over. Apparently the golden feather was worth a hell of a lot, and famous, too. Victor claimed that the buyer nearly wet his pants, he was so excited to receive one. So when we check into the inn, we’re able to get three of the best rooms available. We eschew the local dinner, though, instead opting for the food the twelfth Wise Woman packed for us.

  After several hours of discussion, the A.D. once more heads out for information, taking Grymsdyke with him. Victor insists upon yet another check-up, during which I force myself to bite my tongue and allow him his way—that is, until he insists that I call it a night and take it easy.

  “Bullshit. I ought to be going out there and—”

  “Finn.” He’s uncharacteristically serious as he claps my shoulder. “You were in a fight today. You’ve been awake for only a little over twenty-four hours. Can you just humor me and not push it?” He gently touches the fresh bandages on my torso. “Hell, you tore open your stitches during that fight, both front and back. I warned you about that, didn’t I? Who knows what kind of infection you could have gotten in that blood bath of a kitchen? For your sake, let’s hope the dosing of antibiotics you had this week is strong enough to keep your immune system in check. I need you to hang tight and let yourself heal tonight. You’re no good to us if you aren’t in decent health, and you know it.”

  A loud crash sounds beyond the door. Victor jerks, his eyes widening until we hear the laughter and jeering from downstairs.

  Alice touches my hand. She doesn’t say anything, but her agreement with Victor shines in her eyes.

  “Fine,” I tell my brother. “But you’ll come and get us if you need us, right?”

  “Of course, although, at this late hour, I don’t think it’ll be necessary.” He tucks his medical supplies into his bag. “Let me know if the tenderness around the stitches increases or if you’re feeling light-headed or unusual pain. We might have to do another round of antibiotics.” To Alice, he says, “Keep an eye on him, please?”

  “I doubt he’ll be leaving my sight.” Her smile is wry.

  Victor finally leaves to go find Mary, shutting the door behind him.

  Alice comes to sit next to me on the bed. “You’re a terrible patient.”

  “You should talk.”

  Her laughter is quiet. “We’re not discussing me. We’re focusing on you. Your brother is right, though. Your good health is incredibly important. I need you by my side in this battle.”

  I take her hand and kiss the base of her knuckles. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Another kiss follows. “But I have to admit, I’m kind of surprised you’re not itching to go out there tonight, too. The Alice I know isn’t one to stay back.”

  She crawls onto my lap. “Perhaps I have a different itch that requires tending to.”

  Did she really just say that? Holy crap, can this woman turn me on like no other. Maybe the twenty-first-century is influencing her more than she thinks. Yet still, I can’t help but tease her. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better since we’ve been sidelined for the night.”

  She lightly drags her nails across my chest. “Finn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and kiss me already.”

  I do as I’m told. My mouth meets hers and every nerve in my body explodes into vibrant life, even though it’s only been a short time since we were last together like this. Alice curves her hand around the back of my neck, tugging me closer until our tongues are practically at war with one another. She reaches down and cups me, and I gasp into her mouth. We’re on the road to hell, but heaven is right here, right now, in this small room. She unlaces my breeches, folding back the flaps of linen. Her cool fingers curl around my heated skin, and I just about lose all rational thought.

  And then she pulls away.

  “I’m entirely overdressed, don’t you think?”

  God yes, she is.

  Slowly, slowly, I peel off the rose-colored dress the A.D. found her in the previous town, tossing it onto the floor next to the bed. She stands there in an entirely too thin chemise, and for a moment, she’s stolen my breath away.

  I gently trace the curves of her hips, her breasts, with my hands. She shivers beneath my touch. Once more, my mouth teases hers as I take my sweet time lifting the chemise up and over her head. I love that her body isn’t hard, that her muscles aren’t perfectly defined. I love that she feels real beneath my hands, that sh
e owns the body she’s in. I’ve been with other women who make a point to work out every single day, hone every piece of their body into what they feel society says it needs to be, but none of them have anything on Alice. She’s strong, she’s smart, she’s capable, she’s gorgeous, she’s beyond sexy.

  She’s the real deal. My fairy tale queen come to life.

  We stumble back to the bed, Alice tugging me down after her. I spend many heated moments tracing each piece of her delectable skin, following each touch of finger with my mouth and tongue. There’s nothing that I ignore, not the backs of her knees, not the soft curve between her legs, not the slope of her neck. She squirms beneath my exploration, her breath and heart racing in tandem. And when she can’t wait any longer, when we’re both to the point we’re nearly insensible with need, she pulls me up for another kiss, allowing me to enter her in one swift push.

  I let her set the pace. Soon, we’re moving in an age-old rhythm, lost to music only we both can hear. I reach a hand down and rub her clit, and I swear, her moans are the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. I’m shaking from holding back my own orgasm until she breaks apart, my name a cry from her lips. I follow just seconds later.

  I roll us onto our sides, and she curls into me, her skin slick with sweat. And it’s in this moment, this exact one, where we’re in a fuzzy bliss, our hearts hammering like drums against one another, when I realize I will gladly take whatever this woman has to offer me. Her heart, her love, a home. A future, a child, a family. I knew it before, on some kind of superficial level, yes, but now I can’t deny it’s a bone-deep desire. I want to be the person she turns to, have her be mine.

  I didn’t lie to her when I told her my fairy tale. I’ve been with other women, some of them really amazing people. I’d thought once or twice that maybe I’d found the one, but now I realize lust and love are two very different things.

  I kiss the top of Alice’s head, wrapping an arm around her waist. She, in turn, presses a kiss against my chest. As her breathing slows and steadies, and my eyes droop shut, I realize that being sidelined isn’t such a bad thing after all.

  I wake to the pounding of a door. Alice is still next to me, her bare body warm next to mine. I’m tempted to ignore the noise until I hear my brother call out my name.

  Alice murmurs something, tugging the blanket higher. I quickly slip on my breeches and open the door.

  Victor’s face is drawn. “The A.D. and Grymsdyke have returned, and one of them looks worse for the wear.”

  Fantastic. “We’ll meet you in your room in a few.”

  Alice is already awake when I shut the door, reaching for her chemise. “I really look forward to when this is all over,” she says quietly, “and we can not worry about waking early to unfavorable news.”

  Her and me both.

  Minutes later, we converge inside Victor and Mary’s room. The A.D. is sitting on the bed, holding a wet cloth to his face. When he sees us, though, he lowers the rag enough to give a nice view of a black eye and a split lip.

  “What in the hell happened? You said you were going to nose around last night, not get into a fight!”

  “Yeah, well,” he says to me, wincing with each word, “apparently the Piper has cronies in every little town.”

  “Allow me to speak, thief.” Grymsdyke descends on a thread from the ceiling. “You have done enough talking for one day.”

  The A.D. nods before pressing the cloth back to his face.

  “The first stop we made last night was at a tavern,” the spider says. “The thief was able to charm one of the wenches into fornicating behind the building—”

  “Hey! No need for all the details!” the A.D. cries out indignantly.

  The spider pays him no heed. “She imbibed in many drinks, which eventually loosened her tongue. When questioned about the Koppenberg Mountain, the girl went still, as if she was a statue, for a long time. Her eyes turned black shortly before she attacked the thief.”

  Mary snorts. “Wait—wait. The tavern wench did this to you?”

  “Not all of it, she didn’t!”

  “She sang as she did so,” Grymsdyke continues. “When the thief could not shake her, I eventually dropped onto her back and bit her. Her blood was foul, like the girl in the Queen of Diamonds’ room, only it was different. Less . . . old. She did not scream, though. Not like most my victims. She sang until her last breath.”

  Alice asks, “Did you recognize the song?”

  The A.D. nods, his cheeks flaming. “It sounded like one of those that Rosemary used to sing.”

  “After that,” the spider says, “the thief hid the body and we continued on our quest. The next woman he fornicated with—”

  My father’s assistant is nearly beside himself. “Will you stop with that already?”

  “—actually admitted to hearing about an unnamed mountain years before, but claimed it was a story told to scare children into compliance.”

  Huh. “Did she tell you the story?”

  Grymsdyke coughs. “Children who go there never return, for their souls are forever claimed by darkness. Relating any more than that was too terrifying of a prospect. She left quickly. But the third woman the thief fornicated with—”

  “My God,” Mary says wickedly. “You ought to start charging women a stud fee for your services!”

  The A.D.’s face morphs into a tomato right before our eyes.

  “She told a story of how she lost a sibling to a mountain,” Grymsdyke continues. “Her father went searching for the boy years ago and never returned. According to what she had overheard between her parents prior to his departure, a proper sacrifice must be made to the Weser River before the mountain’s name or location can be revealed.”

  “What kind of sacrifice?” I ask.

  “She didn’t know,” the A.D. says. “No one did.”

  “So if the first woman isn’t the one who caused that black eye,” Mary asks, “who did?”

  He winces. “The fourth lady’s husband. He found us and wasn’t happy about what he saw.”

  Mary chortles loudly. Both Victor and I stare at Jack Dawkins like we’ve never seen him before. Damn, he’s got game.

  Alice merely sighs. She’s probably used to seeing this sort of stuff with the Hatter back in Wonderland, come to think of it.

  “Did the fourth woman actually have anything to add?” I ask the A.D.

  “No,” he mumbles. “She was just quite lovely to look at.”

  “What about you two?” I look to my brother and Mary. “Did you find anything out last night?”

  Mary says blandly, “There were plenty of interesting things discovered last night.”

  And now my brother blushes. Action was had by the entire group, it seems.

  “There was one thing.” Victor tugs on his collar. “Turns out that there is supposedly a well close to the next town that is associated with a Mother Holle.”

  Hot damn, isn’t that convenient.

  “Why a well?” Alice asks.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” I tell her, “the tale says a girl fell down the well and ended up in a new land. She found a woman living in a nearby house, and in need of shelter and food, offered to work for her, doing various chores. The woman was pleased with her work and kindness after a while and rewarded her with riches and a way back home. Her step-sister was jealous, so she took a trip down the well, too, only instead of riches, she got tarred for being lazy and cruel.”

  “Step-sisters always get the raw end of the stick,” Mary says mournfully.

  “You were never a step-sister, love. Just a cousin. That said, your summary sounds about right, Finn,” Victor says. “Katrina always liked that one, remember? She said Holle was not only a fairy tale character, but also one of the supreme goddesses of yore. Something to do with death and birth all at once.”

  “And this is the woman that connects the Timelines,” Alice says thoughtfully. “A goddess who can both hand out blessings and judgments equally.” She lets out a d
eep breath. “Well, then. If sacrifices are to be made, who better to inquire about them to than a goddess who deals in death?”

  “Wait—you want us to go down some kind of mystical well and hope that some woman will just offer up an answer for us?” the A.D. asks.

  One of her slim eyebrows lifts up. “Do you have a better idea?”

  He doesn’t, of course. None of us do. In the end, Alice and I agree it’s best that we go to the well, leaving the rest to stay with the horses in the next town over and try to find anything else about the Piper, his minions, or Koppenberg Mountain. Grymsdyke insists on coming with us, and I’m not opposed to him having our backs at all.

  A NONDESCRIPT WELL SITS next to the road on the northern outskirts of the latest village, a number of spindles and offerings of flowers surrounding it. It’s already midday, and we’re tired from the hours upon horseback. It felt good to stretch our legs and walk here, but now that we’re at the site, I can’t help but wonder if we’re wasting time with this side trip.

  Alice peers into the well, but as it is filled with water brimming close to the top, there’s very little to see. “The Librarian said Mother Holle was featured in two stories, one in 1812GRI-CHT, and one in 1816/18GRI-GT. Do you happen to remember anything of significance for the second story?”

  I shake my head. “A lot of the stories in 1816/18GRI-GT are either really short or fragmented. Katrina didn’t bother reading many of those with us.”

  “How is it we’re to find Mother Holle?” She dips a finger into the water. “You mentioned a girl fell into the well?”

  “It’s been over a decade since I last heard the story, but I think that’s what happened. Fell or jumped.”

  “Your memory is excellent.” She smiles up at me.

  “Spiders do not swim,” Grymsdyke says from his perch on my shoulder.

  “I do,” Alice says. “I’ll go first. If I do not come back up within a minute or so, you’ll know that it worked.”

  The spider coughs. “Your Majesty, many wells are deep. If you plunge in, searching for a bottom to spring back from, you may not reach it in enough time to return.”