Carnival of Souls

CHAPTER 22

WHEN KALEB ARRIVED AT Mallory’s door that evening, he was greeted by her stepfather. Adam Rothesay looked like a lot of men who could pass by unnoticed on the street. He was a shade over six foot, trim, with nondescript clothes and nondescript features. He wasn’t remarkable in any way, but he still made Kaleb uncomfortable.

“Mallory isn’t available,” Adam said, coming out and pulling the door to the house shut behind him. “We should talk.”

The way that Mallory’s stepfather smiled genially made Kaleb even tenser. It wasn’t the smile of true friendliness, but the sort of smile that often accompanied trouble. Maybe I’m overreacting. Living in The City made a person suspicious. They were in front of a quiet house in a quiet town in the human world.

Before Adam could say anything further, the door opened, and Mallory herself stood there staring at the two of them. “Daddy? Kaleb?” She smiled at him. “Hi.”

Adam turned his back to Kaleb. “I was just going to talk to him. You ought to—”

“If there’s something to say, I deserve to hear it.” Mallory leaned on the doorjamb.

The displeasure on Adam’s face was undeniable, but his remark was said too low for Kaleb to hear. He gestured for Kaleb to go into the house.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Adam stepped around Kaleb and directed Mallory to a worn brown sofa. She looked exhausted, and a new bitter scent tinged the air around her. It smelled more like magic than sickness.

Is he a witch?

Kaleb glanced again at Adam. The telltale blue-gold witch eyes were absent. There were, however, rare witches who didn’t have blue-and-gold eyes. It was exceedingly unusual, but not impossible. Aya didn’t have witch eyes.

The unease Kaleb felt grew as Adam smiled with the practiced ease of one who hid what he was thinking more often than not.

Kaleb stayed in the doorway, not quite in the living room, and watched the older man warily. Attacking Mallory’s father would cause problems, but the sense of self-preservation that Kaleb had counted on since childhood made him wonder if an attack would be necessary. Something was very much not right here.

Adam started, “I need to fetch a blanket and things, so you—”

“I can get it,” Mallory interrupted.

“No. You rest.” Adam smiled at her, gently now. He bent down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “I’m going to talk to Kaleb.”

Mallory opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but instead, a strange look of calm suddenly came over her. She smiled meekly at her father and then murmured, “Okay.”

Again, Adam motioned for Kaleb to precede him through the hallway. As Kaleb ascended the stairs to where he assumed the bedrooms were, he watched for dangers or traps.

The house was small and, by human standards, modest. Boxes still remained to be unpacked, but what was in place was nondescript and orderly. Three rooms opened up from the short hallway. One door was closed. One open door revealed a bed, dresser, and footlocker; all were equally drab, but serviceable. The third door revealed what was obviously Mallory’s room. A vase of fresh flowers, an iPod, and a pile of books covered a dark wooden dresser. Fluffy slippers poked out from under the edge of a bed that was heaped high with pillows. It was the only room so far that contained any hint that a person lived there. Kaleb wished he could take a few moments to see what she read, what she listened to, what secrets were revealed by what she chose. Hers was a life completely different from his, and he wanted to understand her.

Instead, Adam ushered him toward the nondescript room.

“Grab that blanket.” Adam pointed to a quilt that was folded at the foot of a tidily made bed.

“Sure,” Kaleb said, but the moment he crossed the threshold to the room, he fell to his knees, trying his damnedest not to retch all over the floor.

“Daimons have no business around my daughter, Kaleb.” Adam knelt beside him.

The witch eyes that Kaleb hadn’t seen earlier were now plainly visible. “You are a witch.”

“Yes, and she is my daughter by law.”

Kaleb tried to stand and failed. “She doesn’t know she’s a dai—”

“No. All that matters is that she’s my daughter.” Adam added an extra jolt of pain to the already agonizing sensations with a whispered word in the strange language of witches.

As Kaleb pulled his knees to his chest, curling into a fetal ball, Adam picked up the quilt as if he weren’t torturing Kaleb at that very instant.

When Kaleb looked up at him, Adam said, “We’ll go out there, and in a few moments, you’ll tell Mallory that you’re feeling unwell, and you’ll leave. I won’t tell her what you are or injure you in front of her, and you’ll keep your mouth shut about what she is and stay away from her. Do you understand?”

“If I don’t?”

“I have been killing daimons for centuries.” Adam whis-pered another of his witch’s curses, and the pain increased. “What purpose would it serve anyhow? Mallory has been raised to hate your kind—”

“Her kind,” Kaleb corrected. “What do you think will happen when she finds out?”

“She isn’t going to find out today,” Adam snarled. “She needs to be calm while she heals. Exposing you to her would upset her.”

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had started. Kaleb wasn’t ready to try standing yet. He marshaled his strength as Adam waited. The witch didn’t offer him a hand up, but he didn’t strike Kaleb as he stood.

“The Watcher. Whatever the Watcher did peeled back your spells. That’s why she’s sick,” Kaleb said, thinking of their unexpected encounter with the daimon woman the last time he’d seen Mallory. “Her body is rejecting the magic you’ve wrapped around her.”

Adam smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the quilt. “My daughter is none of your business. I can handle the Watchers and you… and him, too, if he is foolish enough to come here.”

“So you do know who her father is,” Kaleb pointed out uselessly.

“She is my daughter by law, daimon, and until she’s eighteen, he can’t come near her, and if he sends his lackeys, I’ll kill them.”

“Then why aren’t you killing me?”

“Because it would upset my daughter, who is sick right now, but if you come back, I will. You only get a pass today because it’s what’s best for Mallory. You can walk out of here with no harm if you don’t speak of any of this. I’m giving you a chance to live. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kaleb said.

“Daddy? Kaleb?” Mallory called from the living room.

Quilt in hand, Adam walked past him. “Come.”

Kaleb followed. The temptation to strike the witch, whose back was to him, lasted for only a moment. Killing her father was a sure way to chase Mallory off. Retreating made sense, but every instinct in him rebelled at the idea. He hadn’t fought so hard in his life to walk away from a challenge without at least trying.

As Adam went into the living room, he said, “I’m afraid that Kaleb can’t stay. Right, Kaleb?”

Kaleb lifted his gaze to stare directly at Mallory as he answered, “I can stay.”

She glanced between them; her expression of concern made clear that she was unhappy. “Daddy?”

“It’s fine, Mals.” Adam covered Mallory’s legs with the quilt, and then he glanced over his shoulder at Kaleb. “Are you sure, Kaleb?”

Bracing himself for the pain that would come, Kaleb looked briefly at Adam. “I care for her. That’s why I’m h—” The wave of pain made it impossible to speak for a moment, but even so, his resolve strengthened. He’d experienced more than his share of pain in The City. The challenge was in not vomiting on the floor or blacking out. He spread his feet to brace himself, shuddered, and then said, “I’m here because I like you, Mallory.”

The words weren’t even fully formed before he felt his guts being torn open. He glanced down and saw that his skin was intact, but the sensation was convincing enough that he still put a hand on his stomach, needing to feel that his internal organs weren’t spilling out. He stared directly at Mallory. “I want to be with you, Mallory. I will be.”

“Daddy? What’s going on?” Mallory started to stand.

Adam stopped her. “No.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered to her father.

Kaleb didn’t hear the witch’s reply. He closed his eyes as a fresh wash of pain, sharper now, hit him. He thought he had known pain, but nothing he’d felt in his life came anywhere near the agony radiating through his body. He started shaking, and his vision blurred.

Then Mallory’s voice was all he heard. “Kaleb!”

He shook so severely that he began to flail about and found himself on the floor. He turned his head so that he was looking up at Mallory. She had her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide with horror.

The witch reached down and pulled him to his feet. Adam’s touch felt like brands searing Kaleb’s skin. He pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. If not for Adam’s grip, he would’ve pitched face forward on the ground, but the same grip that held him upright was the source of the torture.

In a calm, falsely friendly voice, Adam started, “Mals, I’m going to take him—”

“No.” Kaleb pulled away from Adam, almost falling to his knees as he did so. Going with Adam would be a death sentence, but staying wasn’t likely to end well either. As much as it galled him, Kaleb knew that his only option was retreat. For now. He met Adam’s gaze. “I’ll go.”

The pain vanished, but Kaleb knew that the reprieve would be only temporary if he tried to stay. He smiled at Mallory. “I’m sorry.”

Mallory’s eyes looked wet with tears, and Kaleb felt even worse at seeing her sorrow. He didn’t want her to hurt or to see him so weak, but he couldn’t overcome Adam. Rage filled him to the point that it took effort not to let his claws free. If he could fight back, he’d show Adam that he wasn’t a pup to be tortured. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that revealing claws would disturb Mallory.

Kaleb swayed. “Don’t hate me, Mallory. I really do care about you, and there are very few things I want more than to be with you.”

“You need to say good-bye. Now.” Adam took hold of Kaleb’s arm.

And Kaleb wasn’t able to reply. If he agreed, Mallory would think that meant he wasn’t coming back, and if he attacked Adam, he’d be completely thrashed in front of her — and reveal what he was. All he could do was stumble to the door.