Page 99 of Our Little Monster
“More like a wizard with a god complex,” Thorne muttered, his hands deftly buttoning up his shirt.
I gave them both a wry look, knowing too well the weight of the chains we all felt tightening around our wrists with every summons.
“Before we go, how about a little liquid courage?” I suggested, moving to the small bar in the corner of the room. I picked up the crystal decanter, pouring the amber liquid into three glasses with an unsteady hand, already feeling sick at the thought.
The vervain petals were already on the counter, and I dropped a few into each glass, more than normal, watching them float before slowly sinking. We had slowly built up a tolerance over the last few months, but it was still always awful having to force it down.
“Here’s to playing the game,” I said, lifting my glass. Thorne and Nox clinked there glasses with mine.
“Cheers,” Nox said as we all took it down in one go.
The familiar burn trailed fire down our throats. It was a pain we welcomed, a small rebellion in the form of self-inflicted agony. A few moments passed before we were able to gather our bearings once more. Our bodies drained and weak but standing.
“Alright, let's not keep the man waiting,” I said with a sigh as we all headed toward the door.
The warehouse came into view, its large, rusted doors yawning open, an abyss waiting to swallow us whole. But as we approached, something felt off. The usual hum of activity from Victor's changelings was absent. Instead, there was silence, a void that set my nerves on edge.
The quiet in the warehouse was a living thing, thick and heavy around us. We stood our ground, waiting for Victor. The shadows seemed to stretch and grow longer in here as the sun dipped below the horizon outside.
“Ah, there you are. I need you to go clean up a mess for me,” Victor’s voice cut through the stillness, each word sharp like shards of glass as he appeared from the opposite side of the room.
There was no sign of struggle or haste in his movements, just the cool, calculated steps of a man who owned the world and everything in it.
“Of course,” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
There was a ritual to this, a dance we'd done a hundred times before. Victor calls, we answer. He commands, we obey—or at least, we pretend to unless the compulsion was just too strong on certain days.
I glanced over at Nox and Thorne, seeing the same resigned resolve etched into their features.
“Good,” he said, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I trust you'll handle it with your usual… discretion.”
“Always do,” Nox said, but his words felt hollow even to my own ears.
Victor's next words fell like a guillotine. “Excellent. I need you to go make sure the Velikas are dead and clean up the mess.”
Dead. The word clawed at my insides, cold and final. My mind flashed back to Serina and her dad, their smiles warm as they sipped on milkshakes at Mickey's the last time we saw them.
I caught Nox's eye, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. His hands, hidden in the pockets of his pants, were probably clenched into fists. Thorne stood beside him, a statue carved from pain, his gaze flickering with the kind of fire that could either save us or doom us all.
“Excuse me for questioning, Victor,” I started, my voice low and steady despite the storm raging in my chest, “but I thought the Velikas were our assignment? Why are they dead? What happened?”
His casual shrug was a cold blade sliding between my ribs. “Well, I figured since they were in town, I could go ahead and take care of them, especially after they took out one of my changeling houses.” A hint of pride laced his next words, and it sickened me. “I hope it was painful; the group I sent after them were freshly turned, and I made sure to word my compulsion well. I told them to be monstrous… Hmm.”
That hum—it was like he savored the flavor of their suffering. He found joy in their pain, and that was something I couldn't stomach. Not now, not ever.
“Anyways, the group, or what was left of it, returned this morning and told me they made a mess of things,” he continued, oblivious—or indifferent—to the tightness all three of us carried.
I could see they were struggling with the revelation, each in their own silent battle.
“Now, I'm going to be very clear: Clean up the mess. They were in the woods off of Highway 16…” As he spoke, a shiver ran down my spine, the darkness of his command trying to seep into my soul. “Oh, and Bas, if you come across any hunters alive, kill them.” His eyes locked on mine, trying to drown me in his will.
But inside me, there was a war waging—one that he couldn't see. The compulsion wrapped around me, but I held firm. I'd been fighting these battles for far too long to falter now. My hand trembled from the resistance.
“Understood,” I managed to say, my voice hollow.
We all turned and left the warehouse, the silence among us as heavy as the darkening sky.
Nox flung himself behind the wheel with a controlled ferocity, and the engine roared to life under his hands. Thorne slid into the passenger seat in the car; the tension was palpable.
