Page 16 of The Great and Terrible

A gleeful smile spread. “Excellent. When you’re ready to leave, open the compass. Keep it with you afterward. It’s your ticket to the City of Lux.” The other woman climbed from the pool, sauntered to a bench, and crooked her finger at me.

I emerged and marched over, intending to find a towel. But I’d fully dried from head to toe while walking. Another occurrence I couldn’t explain. “What compass?”

“Why, the one you’re wearing around your neck.”

My hand flew to my throat. I expected to find nothing. Except… Gasping, I ran my fingers along a chain I hadn’t sported mere seconds ago. A rusted compass dangled from the center.

“No need to worry someone will steal it from you,” she said. “Substitutes are allowed to keep their possessions, and theft doesn’t happen in this world.”

As I reeled, Iris helped me into the barely-there genie costume picked by the servant. The low crop top, glossy panties and transparent pantaloons was made to entice, and I hated it. She anchored strappy sandals to my feet and braided my hair. Tasks the water maiden completed in a blink, moving at a dizzying speed I failed to fully track.

“What kind of favors do you usually demand?” I asked.

Iris smiled. With a wild glint in eyes of the deepest magenta, she said, “When you are released from your contract, you’ll have a three-minute head start. No more, no less.” Of course, she mentioned nothing about the favors. “Remember my words.” She kissed my brow—and vanished.

I blinked, searching the chamber for her, and suddenly found myself standing before a pair of elaborately carved doors. Reeling…

What just happened? Where was the pool?

Heart pounding against my ribs, I pushed insideand scanned my new surroundings. Another office. This one reminded me of a mythical fortress with gritty medieval harshness tempered by opulence. Dark green panels covered the walls. Display cases held fancy weapons I wished I could steal. A light sage marble floor complemented antique furnishings carved from wood stained a deep jade.

Two velvet chairs perched before a crystal hearth and—oh,dear heaven! Two massive, winged beasts flanked it. They were hideous, and they were an exact image of the monsters I had obsessively sketched and painted most of my life. The ones my mother had described in her bedtime fairytales. Creatures of unfiltered rage and unbridled hatred, covered in molted fur, with crimson eyes and fang-filled snouts. Gnarled wings stretched over their shoulders, the tips sharper than any dagger. Thick claws extended from bony fingers and twisted toes.

Breathe. Just breathe. They could be real. But what if they were? Did that mean…was it possible… Prickles of dread and confusion sped over my nerve endings. Had my mother visited this land? At the very least, she’d known someone who had.

I clutched the too low bustline of my top and backed away.

“Ghastly, aren’t they?”

A man’s voice. Unfamiliar. Stiffening, I spun to face the speaker. He sat behind an elaborate desk with bees carved throughout the wood. Leaning forward, he abandoned the shadows to enter the light.

He was more beautiful than Jasher, and he was smiling at me, revealing a mouthful of perfect pearly whites. Thick dark hair framed the kind of face I’d dubbed “lady killer” on campus. Bedroom green eyes with heavy upper lids. A nose that could serve as the perfect after photo for any plastic surgeon’s portfolio. Lips most people must envy. Strong jaw as flawless as the rest of him.

He wore an emerald suit, with a starched white undershirt. Henry West?

“Honestly?” I replied, acting as though I hadn’t spent the past few minutes examining him. “They aren’t the worst thing I’ve encountered today.”

“Ah, yes.” He lifted a letter opener I longed to confiscate, pressed the tip against his index finger and lightly twisted themetal around and around. “Attending a public execution for the first time can be jarring.”

Among other things. “What are they?” I motioned to the creatures. The word ‘dreadful’ had been used to describe my drawings, but such a tame description failed to do the in-person incarnation justice.

“They are called monstra,” he said, “and they are what come in the storms.”

I wondered if Mom had called them monstra, too, but I’d heard monster. She’d described the creatures so feared, they turned ordinary villagers into a bloodthirsty mob. Not drawn by storms, not in the stories, but fear and greed. My chest hollowed out.

“I’m Henry West, by the way. And you are Moriah from Kansas.” He set the letter opener down and waved to the cushioned chair on the other side of the desk, then poured himself a glass of something—shocker—green. A plate of frosted desserts topped a stack of folders. “You aren’t our first otherworlder, so I know how confused you are. I’m happy to clear up matters.”

With a last glance at the beasts, I eased into the seat. I had business to attend to.

Leaning back, he swirled the ice in his glass. “If you have questions, ask.”

Refusing to be intimidated, I did to him what I’d done to my dates. Stared him down until he shifted in his seat and tugged at his collar. Well. At least my effect on males hadn’t changed. “How do you live with yourself, knowing people are killed on your behalf?”

“How do you?” he countered, and I narrowed my eyes. “I’m told you stole an elixir from a hardworking vendor.”

“I intended to repay him.”

“Ah. Intention. The enemy of many a good deed,” he said. Up close I noticed the frost in his emerald irises. Not as much as the executioner possessed, but somehow worse. “A substitutedied to stop a storm you caused, just as others have died to stop mine.”

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