Page 68 of Beastly Armory
“Nah. You know me. Once I make up my mind… that’s it. We’re together. From now until forever.” Grasping her hand sitting on the table, I rub my thumb over her left ring finger, imagining it filled with my band, the external symbol of what’s mine. And what I feel inside for her.
She finishes her meal, but her lack of enthusiasm is killing mine. Once I finish up, I wipe my mouth and throw some cash on the table. We amble out to the car, but she sneaks in the passenger side before I can open her door. Pausing my steps at her slight, I continue to the driver’s side.
Tossing my hands on the wheel, I turn to look at her while she busies her eyes, pulling lint off her jeans. “Do you want kids, Livia?”
“It doesn’t matter.” It’s said almost as if she’s used to saying this repeatedly, maybe to herself.
“Itdoesmatter. If you want them, I’ll get kids for you.” I pause for a moment. “That sounded wrong. I mean, we can get kids another way, like adopt or something.”
Finally, she glances up at me. “I’m not sure, Max. I’m really not.”
“Okay. No worries. I’ll be happy with what you decide.”
She quickly grasps my hand before I put the car into gear. “Max, I-I never told anyone that I couldn’t have children.”
“Who told you?”
“A specialist I saw outside of Gnarled Pine Hollow. I mean, I never tested it with anyone, and I always used condoms. But I was having trouble, and the doctor ran some tests, and I can’t have children. That was that. So, I stopped wanting them, or never did, or… I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.”
Running a finger over her warm cheekbone, I try to assure her. “Hey, foxy. We can talk about it or not. As I said, I’m with you. Whatever you want to do, I’m good with it, but that better not stop you from marrying me. I can’t be without you.” I lift our hands and kiss hers as we finish the last leg of the trip to Gnarled Pine Hollow.
Gripping her hand, I stroke the back with my thumb as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the main drag toward the interstate. Once on the highway, she continues to sit quietly like a vast hole pulling all my attention, and I have an overwhelming urge to take away her pain, but I don’t know how. “You said you were broken. You’re not, Livia. You’re my perfection.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles sweetly. “I feel as if I’m keeping you from something you want by being with me. Like you have to give up your future in order to marry me.”
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, foxy. Ever since we were kids. I’d give up everything to be married to you.”
She covers our clasped hands with her free one and squeezes. Livia dozes in the car for the rest of the trip while I focus on the road. Occasionally, she stirs and wraps her arms around her middle. Noticing, I shirk off my coat and toss it over her. Her eyes blink and find mine until she gives me my smile before wrapping up inside it while taking a whiff of the collar.
Pulling up to the Freidenberg manor in the late afternoon, my brow furrows. No one is monitoring the gate. Looking up through the windshield high above us, I notice there are no guards in the towers, either. As the car crawls to a halt, Livia wakes and sits up in her seat, stretching her back. A lazy grin greets me as she reaches over to grab one of my hands with her tiny ones.
“Where’s John?” she asks as she also notices things seem off, head scoping out the scene with me.
It’s not normal for him to be gone, unless he’s changing shifts or doing some rounds. Before we drive in, I pull out my cell phone, but there’re no messages or notifications.
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s on his rounds.”
Jumping out of the Barracuda, the gate easily swings open, the lock unlatched. That’s also unusual. John would never leave it like this. Sliding back in the car, I ease us down the lane, an unsettling feeling causing my belly to tighten with discomfort. Livia sits upright, scanning the grounds, the black tail of her mohawk twisting as her head turns back and forth from her window to mine.
Nearing the house, I lower my window as I spy several workers mulling about the front of the house, but instead of their usual business, all of them stare in the same direction, like ice sculptures. The wind gushes through the trees, picking up fallen leaves and swirling around the windows, some landing inside the car’s cabin. If there’s a temperature to it, I can’t tell what it is, because all my body feels heavy, laden with numbness. Blood rushes into my ears while my heart races, making it impossible to hear over its pounding.
This isn’t normal. Something’s wrong. Slicking my palms over my jeans one at a time, I attempt to dry them from their sweat.
Almost as if she’s in another room, Livia’s voice reaches me in an echo. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. You stay right here and don’t move.” Parking the car far from the manor, I urge my legs to help me stand as I get out. Livia doesn’t stay like I told her and follows me closely behind. My arm instinctively sticks out to the side like I’m stopping her forward momentum. The tightness in my chest makes me pull out my handgun and slide one into the chamber, though I keep the barrel pointed at the cobblestones. Swallowing, I fake bravado and yell into the crowd, “What happened?”
Craftsmen part like the Dead Sea, their heads bowed low as I pass. The only figure in front of me is the large collapsing body of Mrs. Kroft. Her wails ring out in an ocean of silence, a beacon of the horror that lay beyond. The thuds in my chest still until it feels as if my heart has stopped, and my mouth goes dry. As we approach thefront of the manor, my eyes wander slowly across the threshold, but it’s as if I can’t comprehend the image before me. Almost like my brain protecting itself, confusion is the only thing I feel when I analyze the scene.
Black boots, sloppily tied with one lace broken. Dark jeans, ripped a little at the knees over firm legs. Taut and sculpted arms, hanging by the sides of a muscular torso. Hands, each holding a rusted, metallic spike through its center. Neck, crooked at an unnatural angle, with a rope tied three times around it, marking the skin blue and red underneath. Mouth, agog with a tongue lolling out of the side. Eyes, those serious brown eyes… popped from their sockets in their last search for any air.
Doom strikes my soul. The ground meets my knees when I crumple like the old cook, unable to hold myself upright any longer. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Someone has nailed Adal Derichs to the front door of Freidenberg Manor.
Eighteen
LIVIA