Malignant Transfiguration (Endeavor Series Book 2)

by A E M

  “What are my master’s orders?” The dwarf’s lips twitched.

  Eminente snapped his fingers three times and the hob immediately put down the papers and vanished. The Lieutenants who were quietly planning in the back of the room filed out into the hallway and shut the door. “Kill the fauns. You have a week to be ready.” He smiled wickedly. “I want it done in one night.”

  “Master,” The General bowed after he quickly tried to cover a moment of shock. “What of Philip?”

  “I haven’t decided yet, but I will deal with him personally.” Eminente smiled. “After all, he’s family. I should be the one if it comes to that.”

  The General nodded. “Yes, of course.” He jumped from the desk and opened the heavy door to address a Lieutenant. “Get me the messenger. Now.”

  1

  The Girl and the Storm Within

  Once upon a time there was a princess.

  She lived in a tower alone.

  She woke to her own screaming.

  She woke to fires she set with her own skin.

  She woke to memories of blood and killing and death.

  Deep down she knew she wasn’t a princess anymore.

  Deep down she didn’t know what she had become.

  There was a chill in Charlotte’s bones that she was afraid would never leave her. No matter how hot she burned on the outside, deep within her remained a chill. It bit her on occasion, those memories of killing, of hopelessness, of important people leaving her. It was the chill that covered a life once beautiful and uncomplicated. There once were good times and good people and good memories. All these things were there, dying under the chill. The first few days that the cold came creeping in, she would wince as if she were being physically harmed. But those moments came fewer and farther between now. Was it because she was used to the hurt now, or could it be vanishing? Was it too hopeful to believe that someday the chill would be gone?

  The heat in her body still burned. It had built from the small ember that had remained after she burned it away last time until once again it roared and raged and she could no longer control it. There was a burned field behind the castle now full of half melted pots and quarterstaffs burned to a crisp. She had tried running again, but physical activity didn’t help this time. She refused to let another person get scarred from her touch, so every single day she collapsed in a different bed, exhausted merely from having to keep a watch to make sure nobody ever got too close. When her sheets went up in flames one night she started sleeping on the floor. She knew everybody had finally learned to keep a good distance from her when they no longer reached out to her by habit. She learned quickly to smile and carry herself in a way that she could manage politeness when really all she wanted to do was scream and pull her skin off.

  The Alliance would meet soon. She hoped she could burn off the energy by then, but Barnabas had assured her that he had made plans so she could retain her seclusion for the safety of others and still be allowed to participate in the meeting. She, Barnabas, Alcott, and Phoebe would be leaving in three days. She was leaving the hobs in charge as Wilhelm continued some repairs and added a hospital to the grounds, and one of her cousins was on his way to help in some way.

  Despite the fight between cold and heat that swirled into storms inside, she did find happiness in a few things. Training with Phoebe was one. She found it easy to befriend the leather-loving faun with a ponytail and piercings. Phoebe, like every faun she had met, was blunt. The bluntness might put others off, but Charlotte had grown to enjoy knowing exactly what was on her mind. Phoebe didn’t hold secrets, and she wasn’t afraid of Charlotte. Every day they battled in the fields, filling the air with the smacks of wood against wood or wood against flesh. Today Charlotte’s mind was feeding a small flicker of hope that she would see Leander and Laila at the Alliance meeting and hear some small news of her parents. Her thoughts wandered as she fought until a smack of Phoebe’s quarterstaff against her already bruised thigh brought her back to reality and she attacked back with fervor.

  “About time.” Phoebe chided her as she blocked. “I thought I was battling a corpse this morning.”

  Charlotte didn’t even bother rolling her eyes. “You are as bad as your father was, you know that?”

  “That’s a pathetic comeback.” Phoebe said as she slammed into Charlotte’s quarterstaff.

  Charlotte gripped the wood tighter and dug her heels into the ground. “And how would you define joking about corpses so soon after being in a field full of them? After seeing your parents bodies cold on the ground?” She asked as she pushed back at Phoebe to separate them.

  “How little you know of fauns.” They stopped fighting physically then. “We simply don’t care the way you softie races do.” Phoebe nodded towards the castle. “Speaking of softie races, here comes one of your hobs.”

  Charlotte’s attention shifted to the rear of the castle where Chime exited the kitchen’s Dutch doors with a tray. She tossed her quarterstaff down on the charred ground and frowned. She wasn’t sure if she could tolerate another round of Chime vs. Phoebe. She loved them both. Chime was her childhood friend sewn of dolls and dresses and dreams. Phoebe was her new friend forged of battle and losses and victory. She needed the night and day of them both. Charlotte stretched her arms and legs. She reached for the gloves she had left on the ground and slapped them against her legs to knock off the dirt and ashes. “We should call it quits for the day. My cousin will be here soon and I need a bath.”

  “That’s another thing you should stop doing so frequently.” Phoebe said as she spun her quarterstaff before tossing it in the air and catching it upon its return. “Every now and then I find a good lake or river—”

  “And drown yourself?” Chime cut in sweetly as she neared them. “Good idea. But in the meantime, have a lemonade.”

  “Thanks, Chime.” Charlotte slipped her gloves back on and took a glass.

  Phoebe and Chime glared at each other, but Phoebe nodded thanks and grabbed the other lemonade. When Charlotte had invited the remaining fauns to stay at the castle, she had had no idea what she was getting herself and everybody else into. Josef nearly had a breakdown twice a day now, and Basil had turned in his notice to her that morning in between her pieces of toast. She wasn’t sure what that signified since the hobs were tied to the castle and her family, but she would have to talk to him this evening. She supposed she could ask the fauns to leave, but she hated to go back on her word. It was Spindle, Chime’s husband, who had reminded her in the middle of one of Phoebe and Chime’s arguments the day before that it was likely the fauns would leave soon anyway. It was not their nature to stay in one place for long.

  Chime was beaming in her slacks and button-up blouse. Her short brown hair fell to just above her first tattoo. She and Spindle had both had “Forever” tattooed across their shoulders. Marriage looked good on her. Charlotte wondered if it would look good on her someday. A familiar warmth crossed her cheeks, so she turned her face toward the forest. The thought of him made her breath catch, and she didn’t want her friends to see the blush on her cheeks and launch into a debate again. Every night it was the same argument. Chime would encourage Charlotte to marry Beau sooner rather than later. Phoebe would encourage Charlotte to abandon the idea. Charlotte was sick of the back and forth between the two. Beau was the one she really needed to talk to, but he was back home with his people until the meeting.

  Chime turned to Charlotte. “Charlotte, your cousin sent word that he will arrive by the portal in an hour. However, Alcott and Barnabas are having fits with it. His arrival may be delayed.”

  “Chime, remind me to ask Alcott if we can possibly move that thing once it is repaired. I don’t like it being hidden away in a closet. It needs to be somewhere open and protected.”

  “I’ll see to it myself.” Chime said pleasantly. She had been working with Josef a lot lately. Charlotte suspected that with her father gone, Josef was preparing Chime to take his role someday soon.

  Pho
ebe returned her glass to the tray. “Why did your father put it in a closet anyway?”

  “He liked things old fashioned.” Charlotte explained. “It was a passion for him. We had it because it was necessary, but he wanted it out of sight.”

  “How quaint.” Phoebe smirked. “I suppose you just went along with it, didn’t you?”

  “I have a device or two from college hidden in my room.” Charlotte said with a shrug. “He was my Papa. I loved him. I guess I never really had any reason to want life to be different than it was.”

  “Yet here you are anyway.” Phoebe said.

  “You’re lucky I’ve already put my quarterstaff down.” Charlotte snapped at her.

  Chime stepped in between them. “He was a good man. I hope you hear something from them soon, Charlotte. I wish I could go with you to the Alliance meeting.”

  “Oh, do you?” Phoebe laughed. “But you are staying here to clean the castle and have little hobs who will grow up to clean this same castle. Honestly, you hobs are completely boring. Haven’t you any aspirations?”

  “Oh, you mean what your lot does?” Chime narrowed her eyes. “Run around and have fun your entire lives, with nothing to show for it? You have no aspirations other than a lifetime of hopping through the flowers with the bunnies.”

  Phoebe swung her quarterstaff at Chime, who quickly flipped the tray to block the strike. The glasses fell to the ground and shattered. Chime grinned. “Nice try, faun.”

  Phoebe tossed the quarterstaff to the ground. She paced back and forth twice, then sighed and nodded. “Well done, hob.”

  “I’ll see you two later.” Charlotte adjusted her gloves. “Try not to kill each other, please. I have enough on my plate without losing two friends.” She looked at each one for a long moment.

  “Get out of here.” Phoebe said as she stepped forward to not so gently tug one of the white sections of her hair.

  “Your eyes are nearly all the way changed. We will have a wedding by the end of summer.” Chime grinned. “Or will it be by the end of spring?”

  Charlotte thought of Chime’s wedding. It had been small by normal hob standards, but it had been helpful to celebrate something good after all they had been through.

  “Must we really speak of such heinous things?” Phoebe snarled.

  “You’ll have to wear a dress.” Charlotte teased her.

  Phoebe paled. “Please tell me that’s some kind of sick joke.”

  Chime tapped her foot in the dirt. “You might as well get used to the idea. You have certain responsibilities, Phoebe. You can’t run from them forever without risking your species’ survival.”

  “What are you talking about?” Charlotte turned to Chime.

  “Phoebe is the eldest faun now.” Chime explained.

  “I am not!”

  “Philip can hardly be counted on!” Chime argued. “And from what Charlotte has said, he’s had multiple surgeries. It’s up to you now.”

  Phoebe glared. “I wish I had been born later.”

  “It’s not so great on the bottom, either.” Chime rolled her eyes, and then turned to Charlotte. “She must find a mate and they will be the next Faunus and Fauna.”

  “Now you’re joking.” Charlotte laughed. She looked over at Phoebe, who was scowling at the sky.

  “Phoebe?” Charlotte asked. “Is it true?”

  Phoebe grimaced and kicked the dirt. She grunted and looked up, but then ran off into the woods.

  “Chime.” Charlotte said. “I’ve never seen her act like that before. I think you went too far that time.”

  Chime shrugged. “She has a responsibility, Charlotte. Somebody had to say it.”

  “She’ll respect your honesty.” Charlotte said. “But I think she needs a friend to hear her out, too.”

  Chime raised her eyebrows. “Are you asking or commanding?”

  “Chime!” Charlotte snatched the tray out of her hands. “You know me better than that!”

  “Fine.” Chime marched after Phoebe.

  “Alright, good luck.” Charlotte headed towards the castle. She didn’t envy Phoebe. The survival of an entire species was a lot of weight to have on your shoulders, especially when you didn’t agree with how it worked.

  She dropped off the tray in the kitchen, found an empty room near the portal, and quickly showered and changed into one of the three special outfits the fairies had left for her to help control the heat she emitted uncontrollably. Beau also had an outfit, but somehow he was the only one able to touch her skin to skin, so he didn’t wear it. She still wondered what exactly had happened that evening. The scars on Beau’s arms from her violent transformation still haunted her dreams. So did the ones she left on Evangeline during that long ride. She had controlled herself then, but it wasn’t enough. Even the clothes had not been enough that time.

  Alcott and Barnabas were still busy in the hallway closet when she arrived to wait for her cousin. Charlotte leaned against the wall and thought of the day before. Josef had followed her around the castle all morning, eyes darting and hands fidgeting, until at last she had demanded that he tell her what was going on.

  “Your father had a younger sister.”

  She shuffled her papers. “Susan. She died a long time ago, right?”

  “Right. You have a cousin who will be visiting tomorrow.” His voice trailed off.

  “I don’t remember a cousin.”

  “You were very young the last time you saw him.”

  “Oh.” She flipped the next page over and signed the back. “What does he want?”

  “He heard about what happened with your parents and he wants to introduce himself. Offer support. Be family.”

  She dropped the pen. “How did he hear?”

  Josef’s face had gone white. “Your father left me instructions to contact your cousin in case anything ever happened to him and your mother.”

  “Of course. He needs to know.” Charlotte had clenched her fists and shook her head. “I can’t shake his hand, Josef. I’m a mess inside. What kind of family will I be to him?”

  “I think he means to be there for you.”

  Charlotte blinked and wiped away a tear. She focused back on the present and the two dwarves arguing over the portal in the closet. The closet was the size of a small room with a large rectangular platform in the center rear of the room. Alcott had a panel open on one side, and Barnabas was in the front working in another panel. There were four panels on the front, and three on the sides. Each panel had a different flower etched into it.

  “It’s beautiful.” Charlotte leaned against the doorframe.

  Barnabas and Alcott stood, and then bowed low.

  “It’s good to see you, Charlotte.” Barnabas smiled. Charlotte loved how his face was covered with creases and his greying head of hair and beard were braided and tied off with thin strips of leather. He wore his Maguard suit of dark blue with gold buttons shaped like mountains. “The portal was for your father, whether he liked it or not. The flowers were for your mother.”

  Charlotte stepped back out to the hall. “How is it going? Chime says it is giving you troubles.”

  “We are still having problems with it. Some one has been tinkering with it.” Barnabas admitted. “But we will figure it out. Dwarves made the portals, you know.” He smiled and knelt to rub his hand over the top of the portal. “I enjoyed every moment I worked on this for your father. He would never admit it, but he did find it handy now and then.”

  “I had no idea that he even used it.” Charlotte admitted.

  Barnabas smiled fondly. “No, your father wouldn’t have told you much about it, let alone show you how to use it. He didn’t want you stumbling upon it when you were small, and then even when you were older he probably didn’t even think about it much.”

  A voice laughed from the hallway. “No, I doubt it.”

  They all turned to see two men standing behind them. Charlotte’s heart leapt straight to her throat and tears threatened her eyes. The speaker, who s
he guessed to be her cousin, could have been her father’s twin. He had short, wavy black hair and the same sea eyes her father had. He was dressed in a black suit with a striped black shirt and nice dress shoes. Across the bottom of his face was a week old five o’ clock shadow. His jacket was folded across his arm and an easy smile was flung across his mouth. Charlotte reminded herself to keep breathing. And standing. She wanted so badly for this ghost of her father to actually be him.

  Barnabas stepped forward to hug the man. They slapped each other on the back. “It’s good to see you, David. It’s been such a long time.”

  “Ah, years apart are nothing between old friends.” David laughed as they separated. He turned to Charlotte and his eyes softened a bit and a smaller smile lit up his mouth. “I should have thought to warn you, but I’m not sure words would have worked alone. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and extended a hand toward her.

  She stepped back quickly and slammed into the doorframe. She felt her cheeks redden as she stepped to the side and back before addressing him. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must not know. I don’t shake hands anymore.”

  He chuckled and stepped closer, bringing the smell of leather and mint and tea with him. “It’s okay. My friend and I are wearing potholders for the occasion.”

  Charlotte noticed then that they both wore gloves. She looked at him fearfully at first, then forcefully soon after. She shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock. He shook her hand firmly and then covered the top of her hand with his other hand. He squeezed her hand between his own, his eyes never leaving hers. “Now that’s better. I imagine you must miss this part, and what’s family for anyway?” He winked and pulled his gloves off to show her his hands. “Good to go.”

  Charlotte continued her stare as the man smiled and stepped back. His friend stepped forward next and offered his hand. He wore a shoulder length head of red hair and a short beard. He was dressed in jeans, boots, a nice dress shirt and a dark pea coat. She pulled her hand into a fist at her side before releasing it. His hand stayed in the air between them, the offer of touch taunting her. She lifted her hand to his, letting the tips of her fingers graze the tips of his. He slipped his hand into hers and for the slightest of seconds she felt like her fingers were remembering another handshake long ago. She pulled back from him quickly and the sensation vanished. The second man stepped behind her brother’s right shoulder.