Page 131 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

Tareq, luminous in the morning light, right by Giordano’s side, took in the sight with an open mouth and bloomingcheeks. And if Giordano was about to be a more abrupt sort of awakening, Percy and Joe were almost certainly the catalyst.

Waleed said, “I’d like to go home.”

Percy replied, “Sorry, no. We’ve got a lot to do, and no one’s to disturb me or Joe until four o’clock this afternoon. Leo, I assume you found those bodies?”

“I’d like some sleep too,” Leo offered.

“We’d all like things,” Percy dropped, leading Joe into their bedroom.

Molly sat at the foot of the bed with Cleo’s skull in her hands, having some sort of conversation with her. She’d long since finished making apologies, and was now doing her best to become personally acquainted with the woman she knew so well. Zombie Degas was in a chair in the corner, still looking like a desiccated corpse, but far more like a living human than he had before. And Moxie, a relatively normal kitten now, jumped up at the sight of Percy and leapt into his ready arms.

Percy kissed her little head, muttering, “Out. All of you.”

“And stay away from Althea,” Joe added.

Percy and Joe showered, climbed into bed, and with Moxie breathing softly on Percy’s chest, which Joe didn’t mind at all anymore, they slept the entire day.

Given the many hurdles Percy and Joe jumped daily, stealing a woman’s body from a morgue was a relatively simple feat. The one they chose was thirty-five years old, her name had been Anaïs, and she had died at her ex-partner’s hand. Her story had fleetingly made the papers that day, and knowing she left nofamily behind, and that she likely had a post-death vendetta, she was selected to be possessed.

There was no need for much of a ceremony. The body was laid out on Percy’s floor, Molly lying down next to it, the skull between them. Percy slit his own arm open to volunteer the blood that would give Molly the energy to complete the transfer, which she did willingly, easily, and a little too enthusiastically for Joe’s liking when she put her lips to Percy’s cut. But Joe only needed the consolation of a few knowing looks transferred between him and Althea before the wonder of the thing began to replace his animosity.

The eyes on Cleo’s body shut. The silence of death passed through the room. Then the corpse’s eyes opened. Then Cleo’s eyes opened once again, and both women sat up.

Percy dropped to his knee by her side. “Cleo?”

“Percy!” She immediately burst into tears, clasping her arms tight around his shoulders. He held onto her, ran his fingers over her hair, but it wasn’t long until she pulled back, searching over the group for the face that she guessed must have been Joe’s. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

Joe was speechless. He could see she was a different woman. It was in the fluid movement of her limbs when Percy helped her to her feet. The way she held herself. Her relation to Percy. It was everything about her, her voice, her tone. “Don’t be,” he managed.

“Althea?” Cleo found her, her own face stricken, mortified and sympathetic, but Althea made no response, struck dumb.

Cleo, in the skull, had been carried in her arms. Althea had talked to her, she’d heard so many conversations. She knew what she was going to wake to, in theory, but as though her own ordeal wasn’t enough, the accusatory faces that rested on hers now, totally innocent, were a special horror.

Leo said, in a practised sort of way, “It’s good to have you back, Cleo.” Which got a thankful smile from both Percy and Cleo, before Percy’s arm sheltered her, and he led her away from everyone.

But Joe was in fast pursuit. He descended on the couch Percy brought her to, dropping to her side with, “I’m Joe. It’s good to meet you.”

Cleo laughed with a softness that was both kind and miserable as she studied him with her own eyes. “I think this is the worst way we could possibly have met.”

“Probably.” He also laughed, nervously. But he stayed there while Giordano brought her tea. He stayed while Althea circled around distantly, trying to get a feel for her. He stayed even longer than Percy, who was eventually pulled into an argument about whether it was okay for Molly to take out the body of the recently deceased woman and commit the murder of her ex.

Percy eventually overruled any arguments by pointing out how amusing the look on the killer’s face would be when she turned up at his door. And with that, he got his coat to accompany her. Joe was left little choice but to go along, and it was during this long walk that Molly, softened by the features of the dead woman, filled them both in on some of the blanks of Cleo’s past, and her relationship with her husband. And that set their next plan in motion.

The decision was made for the entire group, except for Tareq, Waleed, and Giordano, to return to Scotland.

CHAPTER SIXTY

THE CONCLUSION OF THE VERY STRANGE TALE

Althea insisted on returning to Barmiston Hall to oversee the resurrection of the kidnapped girls. It was a work of awe-inspiring magic that took several months to complete, and she was there to receive every one of the newly risen, to talk them through the situation. Each reacted differently to finding themselves in that strange house, but all were thankful in their own way to have her there. Althea made it her business to get them home or wherever they wanted to go, sparing no time or effort or money to make sure each was settled back into the world in a better position than they had left it.

Leo worked by her side, a master of logistics, and he got her whatever she needed. He knew better than to ask Percy where the money came from. He always checked in before he made any major purchases, but any concerns he raised were waved away.

Percy had money. A lot of it. And it flowed plentifully, with unprecedented ease.

Barmiston Hall was tidied and polished and returned to its former glory, only warmer and more full of life than it had ever been before. Percy and Joe stayed on and on with Cleo, as did Althea and Leo, and Molly and Puss, who now looked, and painted, exactly like Degas. It was a marvel, and many latenights were spent between Puss and Percy, enjoying too much wine, discussing art and Hellfire and dark magic.

Molly and Althea never did heal their rift entirely. Althea developed a solid sympathy for her, honed some quiet evenings when Molly would talk about her past over dinner, recalling, as best she could, the time when she was the owner of Barmiston Hall, back when it was a small cottage. Recalling the very short, very different life she’d spent on the small island. But there was too much blood under that bridge. The two had a tacit understanding that they would never be alone together, and Molly played her part by leaving any room Althea unwittingly entered, unless there was a group to cushion the sharp-edged tension between them.

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