Page 101 of The Master and the Marionette

He hums in curiosity. “Ahh! You must have a block then?”

“A block?”

“Yes, yes! A block. It makes perfect sense. A block is a curious thing, indeed. Very hard to locate and even harder to remove. But it allows you to shut out the side of you that falls apart. Oh, but dear girl, if I removed it… do you even realize what would happen?”

I shake my head. I wish I could see his face and understand the expressions that hold his motives in a glass jar.

“Of course you don’t. I’ll inform you. If the block were lifted, your emotional floodgate would burst into billions of unearthly pieces. No one would be able to contain the universal explosion that would happen to your insides. It would be magnificent. Magnificent!” He gasps again. “That’s probably how you’re able to escape in your mind when bad things happen. Did someone teach you how to do that?”

Another quick shake of my head. “No, it just happened.”

He’s silent for a solid minute. His breathing becomes heavy. “Are you sure about that, dear?” His hands fold over his kneecaps, fingers drumming against them. “Have any holes in your memory that you’re aware of?”

Even though I know better by now than to ignore a question or refuse to interact with him, I can’t answer. I bite down on my lip and attempt to find a decent response.

“When my father beat me and hit me over the head with a club… I think he might have left me with some amnesia.” I sigh.

Hands clap together. “Fascinating. Truly. I can’t wait to learn more.”

Before I can respond, the walls shudder. The chandelier vibrates like it’s attached to a large piece of machinery. A teacup falls to the ground, crashing into pieces, sending a piece of glass gliding across the floor, hitting my cage. I reach through the bars, pick it up and look back at Albatross for answers. I hear him shift in his seat. His knees are pressed together. And there’s a moment of searing silence that passes through this room like a ghost.

Another shudder rolls through the walls and furniture, followed by a boom. The sound of a strike of thunder. I grip the bars of my cage. What’s happening?

The door flies open and Absinthe is holding a crossbow. The skin on her cheeks is flushed, the color of wine. And she’s so sweaty, her thin forehead covered in a runny sheen of oil.

“We need to take the girl to the panic room,” she pants, looking at Albatross’s corner.

I can hear him stiffen.

“Why?” he asks through his teeth.

“He—” Absinthe gulps, face pinching in discomfort. “He decapitated thirteen soldiers. Their heads are on spikes around the mountain.”

He? He, who?

“We’re firing the perimeter but haven’t found his body.”

My eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“He won’t get in,” Albatross tells her.

Absinthe laughs, a strained old woman laugh. “You still feeding the girl that story?” She cackles some more, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Guess she hasn’t seen your face yet, or she wouldn’t have believed you.” Absinthe looks back at me with a wicked smile. “You really are a stupid girl,” she says with spite.

“What is she talking about, sir?” I ask Albatross.

A grunt turns into a shout and he slams the palms of his hands down on the leather chair.

Absinthe leans against the cabinets, the crossbow in her left hand, and holding up her weight with her right hand. She squeezes her eyes closed, like she’s in pain, then unravels a whiny laugh that howls like an old violin from her chest. Tears bulge from the corners of her eyes as she crows harder.

“Oh, goddammit,” she chokes out between fits of laughter. “Were you going to hide it from her forever?! Did you really think she would want to be with someone in a shadow?!” Her laugh grows scary and aggressive. Albatross remains concealed in his corner. Without so much as a flinch.

Absinthe pushes off of the cabinet and rushes over to his side. “Get up, you little coward! Your father would roll over in his grave that he raised such a recreant. A craven! I let you play your little game of hide-and-seek with her, now it’s time to be a fucking man!” She reaches down into his chair and snatches his arm. I see his hand dangling from her grip in the light. “He’s coming for us now! Show the girl what he did the last time you pissed him off!”

What is she talking about? I sit up straighter to get a better look as Absinthe yanks Albatross from his seat. At first, I see that he is dressed in black slacks, a white button-up, and a red velvet robe wrapped around him. She heaves her body backward again, and he is fully in the light. My jaw falls into my hands and I gasp, loud and impolite.

Albatross has shiny red hair, the shade of a carrot. He is, by all accounts, skeletal. With gaunt cheeks, pallid skin, and small, mouse-like eyes. But my eyes fall first to his mouth, then his forehead. Above and below his lips are deeply indented lines with holes at the top and bottom of each line. I blink a couple of times, realizing they are markings of someone who has had their mouth… sewn shut.

I suck in an unsteady breath and my eyes travel to his forehead. Something written. Pink scars across his brow line. I have to squint my eyes, crank my neck forward to make out what it is.

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