Page 39 of The Puppet Master
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl as she wraps rope around my wrists. “Hey!” I jerk once, head swiveled to watch her. It’s the tiniest amount of fight. Notdesperation. Notpanic.
Just enough to appear confused.
Luna screams as a guy with a bowling-ball head hauls her over his shoulder.
“No, no please—please. He’scrazy. He hurt me.Please.”
“Shut up,” I snap at her.
Pippy slaps the back of my head. Her fingers dig into my hair before shoving me forward.
“Walk.”
We start through the forest. The shadows from the trees deepen as the sun begins to set.
Luna never stops crying, yelling out a plea every ten yards while I mumble obscenities at every Keeper within ear shot.
“Aurelius assured me—” Slap from Pippy.
“You’re interfering with—”Slap.
“If you people would just fuckinglisten?—”
“I want to go home,” Luna sobs. Her voice is too raw, cracked,real.
My heart stutters. I angle my ear and tune in to her voice to pick up the emotion I fucking pray is forced. “Please, I want to go home.”
The plea prickles the back of my neck and freezes tiny hairs that Pippy’s breath then thaws.
No.
Fuck, Luna,stay strong.
“Would somebody shut her up?” I spit.
Pippy’s dainty hand shoves between my shoulder blades. “Why don’tyoushut up,”
I scoff and rip my shoulder away. But in truth, I’m grateful for the excuse to slip inside my head.
My teeth tap in time with the numbers that flash in my mind: a count of each step through the forest. Useless for my memory bank, but extremely effective for slowing my heart. Steadying my gait. Releasing tension through my fingertips.
By the time we reach the treeline, it’s dusk. Luna’s crying—act or not—no longer matters.
I know what to do.
“Take me to Aurelius.” Rope saws my wrists as I jerk.
No response… But I assume that was the plan anyway.
As the trees thin, a mansion rises from the clearing. A gothic manor straight from a ghost story, or tryingveryhard to look like it. Dark, aged stone catches the last smear of sunlight as it rises three stories to a pointed roof, a black metal cross ornamenting the peak. Midnight blue shutters seal each window so thoroughly they may as well be boarded shut.
“Move,” Pippy shoves me when I slow to take in the structure. As we start up a long flight of broad steps, my eyes follow a hairline crack running the length of a somber gray column—a flaw so perfectly placed it looks intentional. Curated decay. Haunted on purpose.
Light spills from the heavy-looking front door as it creaks open—light from a bulb, not a candle or lantern. The chill doesn’t follow us inside. It’s toasty, at least fifteen degrees warmer.
Obviously, this is Aurelius’s home, but it’s only half of what I expect. Large, looming, resource heavy… but with more elegance than I pictured. Tasteful furniture, subtle accents of color—a vase of red roses, a maroon rug. Masculine with little hints of femininity.
Luna’s cries have ceased. Still slung over the back of a Keeper, she lifts her head enough to scan the new environment,analyzing as I have. When her eyes find me, they glint, a subtle confirmation that she’s still with me in this. That she hasn’t collapsed with despair. I’d know by the lack of swelling in her eyelids alone. She doesn’t look like she’s shed a tear.
