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Warily, I looked about the room, as if it would manifest after staying away for so long. It was a hybrid. That meant it was half bad, half good. Plain as that.
Red Riding Hood’s wolf—Nemewas that—partly red riding hood, partly the wolf.
“Fucking H.” So creepy when facts came out of nowhere. How could a wolf be partly a girl?
I’d hardly had time to assimilate this when Val emerged from the shower, in boxers and a white T-shirt. Sexy legs, and the man moved with such prowling assurance that I had trouble prying my eyes off him. That would be sleeping beside me?
Tension filled the room again.
I started the rattling off the facts I just remembered, saying them out loud for his benefit. Anything for a distraction as he sat. He weighed down the mattress with his body, beer in hand, phone and gun on the drawers beside him. My Ruger and the knife were on mine. If only I had a submachine gun.
The knife takes them out better.
Them.And him, if he was one.
What if I was too?
No, the Cucitrice had been human before I became immortal.
He nestled his back to the headboard. “Keep going.”
“It’s gappy, I don’t know everything—like Harry I don’t know what he is...was. He wasn’t any of the types I’ve mentioned.”
“I think he was a nightmare creature just hidden inside a man. Somehow he was in the driving seat.” He took a hard swig of beer, as if the thought of that bothered him.
“The Cucitrice did that. Controlled her hosts.”
“But not you?”
“No.” I felt my forehead crease. I couldn’t imagine that, the horror of being possessed.
“Well, we killed him. Maybe it was a blessing.”
Maybe. Maybe we could have saved him.
Neither of us said it out loud though; we just sipped our beer.
“Wait!” I sat up straight and rattled off a memory that just then slotted into place in my mind.
“The Immortals are few and were created when the Rift tore at the House. When the creatures came into our world, there were only...” How many were there? “I think it was about nine people who became immortal. The Cucitrice was one.”
“And she’s kind of dead now?”
“Yes. Just memories...” I was the woman’s grave marker. Goosebumps ran across my arms and nape.
I shook off the ripple. Better than Harry—I might be haunted, but he had been possessed.
I shivered, pushing the thought aside and focusing on grabbing the thread of memories again. “There were nine at most. I think. Three of the immortals were soldiers.” More came to me —a lump of memory, intact. “I see images of those soldiers in armor. They spoke Italian and were armed with swords. The ancient flintlock was carried by one, and it became an object. House objects are special somehow. A prisoner was there. And the Thaumaturge.”
“A flintlock?”
“Yes.” Nowhewas someone important. Thaumaturge was his profession but also his name. After the centuries had lost his true name. He’d worked with a manner of magic and also alchemy.
I continued in whispers, sinking into the past, awed by this history that now seemed my own.
“His daughter was there. And someone else. Someone evil. The House was torn and blasted. A terrible light poured from the rift. Debris whirled about us. Time and space had their laws made an abomination, but the Cucitrice and others who became followers of the Thaumaturge vowed to repair the damage, to return the creatures of dream and nightmare to whence they’d come. To eliminate them from our world. To repair the rift.”
I wound down, panting. “But it’s been hundreds of years, and they’re still trying.” I looked to Val. “I don’t think they’re winning.”
