Page 7
CHAPTER THREE
EXACTLY LIKE A NUTCASE
I saw the thing in the chest and braced myself for the onslaught.
I was both relieved and chagrined that Caleb had in fact recovered my bastard of a blood-thirsty axe. Or at least, it looked like he had…
I shot him a look. “What the hell? That looks like Torst, but he’s not talking. Torst never shuts up.”
Christian snorted. “You sound like a nutcase. An axe can’t talk.”
I rounded on him. “Torst can. He’s in my head if I’m even in the same building.” As I spoke, I pointed at my temple, showing him where Torst ‘talked to me.’
Exactly like a nutcase would do.
Christian’s brows shot up into his artfully messy blond hair. “I knew that you talked to Torst, but this is the first I’ve heard of him talking back. And here I just thought you were being funny when you had one-sided conversations with your bloodthirsty pet axe.” I could tell by his cheerful tone that he was making fun of me, which wasn’t a shocker. Christian would stop giving me shit at about the moment his heart stopped beating. He continued, “And what does the chatty axe say to you?”
I glared, but it was half-hearted at best. Having a talking pet axe did qualify me as at least borderline crazy.
“He says, ‘I thirst,’ a lot. And threatens to kill me. And threatens to kill you.”
Christian pointed at himself, letting out his most infectious laugh that was hard not to at least smile with. “Me? What did I ever do to Mr. Thirsty?”
I shrugged, not even trying to keep my smile back now. “It’s not personal. He threatens to kill all of my friends. And ya know, enemies, of course. He’s not particular.”
Christian tapped his temple in exactly the same spot that I had. “You should get some help for those voices in your head.”
“Yes. If by help you mean someone that can dispose of magical, immortal, bloodthirsty axes,” I shot back, unfazed, and not at all optimistic that I’d ever be so lucky as to actually find such help.
Christian opened his mouth, just the look on his face telling me that he was about to say something ornery, when Caleb cut in. “Trust me, this is Torst. Take him.”
“Why is he so quiet?” I asked him suspiciously.
Caleb just gave me dead eyes. “Maybe you should just enjoy the silence, instead of questioning it. Take your axe.”
I eyed the silver chest, taking a cautious step towards it. “Why does this feel like a trap?” I asked the room at large.
Caleb sighed, looking annoyed. He strode to the dresser, the only other thing inside of the strange closet. He opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a huge battle axe that shone even in the dim light of the closet, the brighter basement light behind me setting off the various jewels set into the handle in a rather dazzling display. It was pretty.
Warkitten was a showy axe, to be sure, but still a good one. It had been my favorite trusty weapon for over a decade, and if life sucked less, would be again. It was the weapon I preferred, the weapon I wanted. But I had promises to keep, and lives to save, namely those that Torst would take in someone else’s hands. I couldn’t trust anyone else to deal with the shit-storm that was Torst. I’d had a brief respite while it’d rotted in that storage unit back on Warm Springs road, but I knew I couldn’t push my luck like that again.
Caleb held Warkitten out to me, gripping the middle of the oversized battle axe so I could take the hilt easily.
I grabbed her with a little sigh. Even her handle was perfect, the grip having been adjusted with the softest leather over the hard metal until it was literally made for my hand.
Christian snorted. “It’s like Warkitten is your mistress, and Torst is your wife. You’re in love with the one, and obligated to the other. Weirdo.”
I had to laugh. And not even at his strange little analogy. “You dork. I’m a girl. Torst would be my husband, not my wife, in your screwed up little scenario.”
He just shrugged. “If you say so.”
“You have to take Torst. I’ve bought you about a week of its silence,” Caleb said quietly, not enjoying our not so witty repartee in the slightest. “I can’t keep that thing, as much as I’d love to. It’s not compatible with the hammer.”
I just blinked in surprise, because I’d forgotten about that cursed hammer, and also because what he’d just said was freaking strange. “Our weapons aren’t compatible?” I asked him slowly.
He rolled his shoulders, looking way too agitated about it for my peace of mind. “One person having them both in possession is a recipe for disaster. One wants power, the other blood. It’s been bad. The hammer is the safer bet for me. I don’t trust myself with the axe. As I said, it is a bad combination.”
I felt dread curl in my belly. That kind of a confession from Caleb hadn’t come from nothing. If he said that it had been bad, and Torst was involved, then the gods only knew how much blood had been spilled.
