CHAPTER TWO

  Rose was in hell. It felt like someone was blindly groping in the dark for something on the floor—except the fingers were sharp claws, and the floor was made of brain matter. Toad hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was glad her body was numb. This was torture. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t even close her eyes. She was stuck staring at the jowls of Toad’s face as he hummed a soft tune, casually rooting through her skull.

  He sifted through her memories chronologically, and when that took too long, he started skipping.

  She was 19, right before graduation. Her girlfriend stood not ten feet away, making out with the captain of the football team—

  She was 15, working at Happy Treat. A customer was yelling at her for spilling coffee on her lap. She went to the bathroom and cried until closing time, then never returned.

  She failed her driving test so badly that the instructor spent half an hour berating her for being the first person to crash into the only car in an entire parking lot. Mick laughed so hard when she told him—

  “—Useless teenage crap!” Toad swore. He shut off the mind flayer, and Rose gasped in relief. “This crap is useless, Prim! This mundane’s only remarkable memory is how unremarkable she is!”

  “Just. Distinctly. Average!” He punctuated each word with vicious kicks to the desk, splintering the wood.

  Prim, for her part, just cooed and petted the spider in her palm, completely ignoring Toad. He swelled again, his bloodshot eyes somehow reddening further.

  “DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID?” he bellowed.

  “Calm down, Toad,” Prim sneered. “I already knew your useless plan would fail.”

  She picked up a chair and sat facing the door, elegantly poised with her legs crossed like some kind of lady at a tea party. “So we pivot to my plan. Just keep our guest secured and let me do the talking.”

  Rose struggled to pay attention to her surroundings. The room was still spinning, and the mind-flaying had left her feeling like someone had shaken her brain, leaving her memories out of order. She was also beginning to feel tingles and needles in her extremities—signs that her body was regaining feeling.

  Doesn’t matter though, she thought. Mind flayers? Assassins? Impossible people are doing impossible things. I definitely don’t belong here. I’m going to die.

  She felt weak from fear, a coldness spreading through her every time Toad so much as glanced in her direction. It sapped her strength and made her want to curl up and die quietly.

  She swallowed desperately as tears threatened to spill. I will not cry! But try as she might, the tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Toad turned to her and grinned. His fat finger came up, and for a second, Rose thought he was going to scoop out her eyeball or something. Instead, he just collected a single tear, brought it to his mouth, and sucked on his finger.

  “Oooh, Miss Howe, what a precious gift you’ve given me.” His eyes were closed, his face enraptured with bliss. “I just love the literal taste of despair!”

  He hummed as he reached for more tears. Rose tried to cringe away, her head lolling in the direction of the door—just in time to see it burst open.

  Mick stood in the doorway, his eyes raking over the details of the room. He saw Toad with his hand near Rose’s face, roared, and bounded toward them.

  Rose’s mouth opened to shout a warning, but it was all in vain.

  Prim flicked her wrist. The spider flew out and sank its fangs into Mick’s chest—

  And he kept right on walking.

  Prim barely had time to register her shock before Mick backhanded her across the face. She slammed into the shelves on the side and sprawled on the floor. She struggled to get up, but the shelves chose that moment to tip over and crush her. She didn’t move after that.

  Toad paled and made a weird gurgling sound, his bravado evaporating like smoke. His eyes darted from Prim’s body to Mick and back again, as if trying to make sense of what his eyes were showing him.

  Mick finally pulled the spider from his chest. It squealed pitifully, its fangs still in Mick’s skin. He barely looked at it before he crushed it, cutting off its cries.

  Toad swallowed nervously. “Perhaps we have been a bit impolite…”

  “Why are you here, frog?” Mick asked. His voice was dangerously low, as if he was trying to keep the anger in check. “Talk quickly, and I might only tear off one limb instead of all of them.”

  “I—I mean, Prim, got a job searching for the Heart of Nox… I protested vehemently, of course, but she insisted,” he blabbered. “Practically dragged me here! I should be thanking you! You’ve allowed me an opportunity to finally rid myself of that pustule and regain my autonomy! My most sincere thanks, Mister Stanley, for freeing me.”

  Rose stared at the audacity. To throw his partner under the bus not ten seconds after her death was remarkably callous, and somehow, her opinion of this creature had fallen even lower.

  “Please, I shan’t sully your regal countenance any longer! Allow me to make a swift exit, and I promise I shall never darken your doors again!”

  Mick didn’t move. He folded those massive arms of his and regarded Toad coolly, his eyebrow raised. “It’s a good thing I rescued you then, but I think it’s only fair if you answer some questions. Not to worry, I’m sure Imelda will be appreciative of your cooperation.”

  As if summoned, Aunt Imelda walked in.

  Her face was a mask of cold fury.

  Rose couldn’t help but feel a little cowed under that glare, but it was nothing compared to Toad’s reaction. The moment he laid eyes on Imelda, he somehow paled even further, his round, beady eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. He stepped back until he unwittingly bumped into the desk, jostling Rose a bit.

  “Who sent you, Toad?” she asked calmly.

  “I don’t know…” he answered immediately.

  “Why were you searching for the heart here?”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “The client told us to start the search here. Seemed strangely sure it was in this club. We thought it meant in the office. Office was meant to be empty.”

  Mick cursed under his breath. “Bastard riled up the wolves, knowing we’d set up a meeting.”

  Imelda narrowed her eyes, considering. “A good plan. I wondered why the gangs were fighting… and whoever they were knew we’d set up a meeting here in neutral territory. Whoever this is was not only meticulous but also has the knowledge to come for the map here.”

  Her gaze fell on the mind flayer. “It’s a good thing you came prepared, Toad. I think I’ll have a look around in that mind of yours. Just in case you’ve forgotten an important detail about this mysterious benefactor. You understand, of course?”

  “No! I’ve told you everything I know! I swear!” Toad blubbered desperately. His round eyes darted between Imelda and Mick, trying to convey his earnestness. But his pleading was met with nothing but cold indifference. Mick even smiled grimly as he crossed the room.

  Toad’s eyes landed on Rose.

  A sick sense of dread crawled through her stomach as she met Toad’s desperate stare. She saw the wheels turning in his head.

  Mick must have realized it too because he cursed and started running.

  Imelda shouted, “Don’t you dare—”

  But Toad was already moving.

  He seized Rose’s throat with one hand, the other clutching her shirt, lifting her until she was forced to sit up. Then he got behind her, pressing his chest against her back.

  “STOP! Or I snap her pretty little neck!”

  Mick and Imelda froze.

  Toad’s fetid breath washed over her, and his harsh breathing was all Rose could hear.

  Rose’s eyes locked with her aunt’s.

  Her heart clenched at the exasperation she saw there—the naked disappointment.

  That’s right, she thought bitterly. She’s been looking at me like that my whole life… like an inconvenience. Even now, when my life is in danger, she’s probably more annoyed that I’m in the way.

  As Rose thought about how her aunt regarded her, something inside her shifted. Anger flared, sharp and unrelenting. It burned away the last traces of fear and cleared her thoughts.

  She tore her gaze from her aunt’s disappointed stare and turned her attention to Toad. He was still busy negotiating for his life, but his grip on her throat never wavered.

  Think, Rose! No one is coming to save you but yourself.

  She took stock. The numbness in her body had faded slightly. She could move her arm, if only just a little. She flexed the fingers of her right hand experimentally. Not ideal, but it would have to do.

  Her eyes darted across the desk. The letter opener was too far… but her fingers groped blindly. She strained until her fingers bumped into something. They closed around something familiar.

  The mind flayer.

  Her grip tightened around it.

  Imelda’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t taken her gaze off Rose. She probably wanted her to sit tight. To wait. To let her fix this as usual.

  Not this time, Rose thought. Sorry, Auntie, but I’m going to help myself for once.

  She took a deep breath—

  And plunged the mind flayer into Toad’s bulbous eye.

  Hot blood spurted onto Rose’s face as Toad roared and scrambled back, clutching at his face.

  The moment she felt his fingers leave her throat, she threw herself sideways, rolling away from his reach.

  Mick launched himself at Toad, and they went down in a tangle of limbs.

  Imelda was by Rose’s side immediately. She turned Rose from her sprawled position and cradled her head.

  "You stupid, foolish girl. That could have gone so badly. Never do that again!"

  Rose was about to snap back, but then she saw it—the tears in her aunt’s eyes, the way her voice cracked with worry. It took her breath away. She had to close her eyes to escape the sight of it, to push away the way it made her feel.

  " Hold still," Imelda murmured. "Let’s get rid of that nasty poison."

  She pulled out a square piece of paper with strange symbols drawn on it. The letters squirmed and writhed when Rose tried to focus on them. Her aunt plopped it onto her forehead and whispered something Rose couldn’t hear.

  A rush of warmth flooded through Rose, spreading quickly from her forehead through her entire body. Where it passed, the aches and pains eased. The lingering effects of the poison burned away, leaving her feeling… whole again.

  She flexed her fingers. Wiggled her toes. She was good. She was fine.

  So it came as a complete surprise when she suddenly sobbed. Great, heaving sobs tore from her throat, ugly and raw.

  Her aunt pulled her into a fierce embrace.

  "I’m so sorry, my flower. You’re safe now," she murmured.

  Rose buried her face in her aunt’s chest and bawled like a child. She wasn’t even embarrassed.

  She’d almost died. More than once. And the torture—

  She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories away, but they clawed their way forward, raw and unrelenting. She didn’t know how long she cried. It could have been minutes or hours. Time had lost all meaning. Eventually though, the tears dried up. Rose pulled away and wiped her face hastily, feeling the mess of snot and tears.

  "Sorry, Auntie," she muttered, voice hoarse. "I don’t know what came over me, crying like that—"

  "Don’t you dare apologize, my flower." Imelda’s voice was soft but firm. "You’ve been through something terrible. That was a perfectly valid reaction."

  Rose stared at her.

  Who was this woman?

  Understanding? Compassion? Love?

  It’s too much.

  Her nerves felt scraped raw. The world as she understood it had been flipped on its head. And her aunt, the one constant in her life, was acting like a complete stranger.

  It was way too much.

  "What the hell is going on?" Rose rasped.

  "I understand your confusion. I’ll tell you everything.," her aunt said. "But first, we should—"

  The explosion cut her off.

  Mick went flying past Rose and slammed into the far wall.

  She barely had time to turn before she saw him—

  Toad.

  Or at least what was left of him.

  His skin had turned a deep, unnatural crimson. His body was riddled with gaping wounds and grotesque pustules, oozing thick, yellow pus.

  As Rose and Imelda watched, a wart appeared on his arm—

  In moments it had swollen from the size of a dot to a golf ball, then all the way to a watermelon.

  It burst.

  A tidal wave of sickly yellow pus erupted from the wound.

  Rose scrambled to move, but even without the poison slowing her down, she knew she wouldn’t get clear in time.

  Her aunt—

  Looked bored.

  She calmly tapped her chest. From Rose’s angle, she barely caught sight of a sigil burning with fierce blue light.

  A shimmering shield sprang up between them and the oncoming wave of filth.

  The moment the pus touched it, there was a sizzling sound—

  But the shield held.

  The smell, however, was another story. Like rotten eggs left in the sun, mixed with vomit.

  Rose gagged and turned away, coughing violently.

  That’s the only reason she saw it. That’s how silent it was.

  Prim had changed too.

  Her body had split into two distinct halves. Her upper half had sprouted six jagged, chitinous limbs from her back. Her face was covered in too many eyes, and her mouth had split into writhing pincers. Her lower half was worse. A grotesque, bloated spider’s body, covered in coarse black hairs, its eight legs twitching and restless.

  Rose didn’t even have time to scream before she lunged—

  Talons outstretched.

  Straight for Imelda’s back.

  Rose moved before she could think. The only thing in her mind was a single thought:

  If that talon pierces her, she’ll die.

  Everything else faded away.

  The smell. The noise.

  None of it mattered.

  Only getting there in time.

  She barely felt it when the talon pierced her chest. There was only a numbing cold that spread like wildfire through her body.

  Somewhere, far away, she thought she heard someone screaming.

  By the time her vision tunneled into darkness, she knew.

  It was probably poison.

  Her lungs seized.

  Her heart stopped.

  And then, Rose Howe died.