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“No. It was a complete surprise. I had no idea they existed. It explains a lot about my own father, though. And even in my brief time here, I can see the common traits we all share.”
“Did you really kidnap my mother and murder a bunch of women?”
He shoots me a look. “The history between your mother and myself is private, and all you need to know is that I love her more than anything in the world, and she loves me. We have had a glorious twenty-eight years together. Years she’d tell you herself she cherishes.” He smears mud across his cheek. “Also, I do not murder women. I have a personal code. I only kill people who are physically worthy opponents, and who have committed truly evil acts. I’ve never come across a woman who fits both requirements.”
I’m dying to know more, but there’s no point in pushing it. Nobody can make my father talk if he doesn’t want to. “What do you do, then? You used to disappear on a lot of business trips. When I think back on it, Mother always seemed a little worried when you were gone. More so than she should have been if you were traveling for business.”
He heaves a sigh. “I have a compulsion to kill, Bastien. It’s like a drug addiction. It takes over my mind and crowds out all rational thought. If I don’t kill, I start to go insane, consumed by rage, until I’m dangerous to everyone around me. But I only kill very bad people. Your mother helps me select them, and I hunt them. Just like we’re hunting men today.”
Mymother? Who are these people who raised me? I shake my head in disbelief.
“How many people have you killed?”
He sighs. “I’ve honestly lost count. Less than a hundred.”
My mind can’t even process that. Not the morality of it—the fact that the same people who read me bedtime stories also were among the most prolific serial killers in modern history. Because even if my mother didn’t join in, she is complicit in all of it. I’m not angry or repulsed; I’m just astounded at how successfully they wore the mask of sanity.
It also helps to shed light on why they were so tough on me. They didn’t want the same life for me or my siblings. That I can understand. I wouldn’t wish this sickness on anyone. The fear that this will be passed on to my future children chills me to the bone and makes me second-guess that plan.
I can’t think about those things now. Camille and I will choose together.
We start moving again, melting into the underbrush. “Did Artemis show you the charter?”
“Yes, he read it to me last night while I was being held at gunpoint in a cabin somewhere in the woods near here. One thing he didn’t mention, though, was this challenge only involving volunteers. He said that the family council voted on the most powerful men in the family.”
I’m baffled. Why did Artemis lie to him? Why go through all the trouble and risk of bringing my father here?
Then my father holds his hand up for silence. There’s a noise off in the distance. Someone’s making sounds of distress.
We head that way, creeping slowly and quietly, crouch-walking our way through the woods. My father doesn’t seem stressed in the slightest; he’s intent, laser-focused. If anything, I think he’s enjoying himself—as I am. This is where we’re meant to be, in our natural elements, fighting the primordial fight for survival. Not swaddled in silky fabrics and caged in by man-made walls.
We’re home.
We creep forward silently until we come to the source of the noises.
Artemis stands over his son, Paxton, watching him die.And he’s got a gun in his hand – with a silencer on it.Where the hell did he get a gun? He must have smuggled it in here before the challenge. He’s got guards on his side, working for him—the same ones who helped keep my father prisoner and snuck my father into the forest here. I’m sure of it.
Paxton has been shot in the abdomen, and his face has gone waxy pale. He looks up at his father, sobbing. “Why, Dad?” he whimpers.
“Why?” Artemis sneers. “Because I’m not giving up my position for anyone.” He growls, and it’s more animal than human. “And definitely not for a weak little bitch like you. Your cousin Solomon, he would have been worthy. It’s too bad he couldn’t just wait another twenty years or so. He was the son I wished I’d had.” He looks up at the sky, taking a cleansing breath, cracking his neck and looking back down on his dying son. “I’ll kill him quickly.”
Paxton cries harder, tears likely dribbling down his face. “Dad… the gun… why? The charter—”
“Fuck the charter,” Artemis says.
Paxton’s eyes go wide with shock.
“Want to know how I’ll get away with it? You know how I always carve up my kills? I’ll carve you up, hide the gunshot wound, and dispose of the bullet.”
And I think I understand now why Artemis brought my father here. If I’d died, my father would have found out, and sooner or later he would have come after Artemis. My brothers, they’re tough, they can be assholes, but my father is a crazed unstoppable force of nature when he’s crossed. He’s like me, in other words.
But if Artemis had my father assassinated, that would have violated the family charter, and if the council ever found out, they would have killed him for it. He must have at least one other member of the family council working with him because somebody had to recite all the family credo bullshit this morning before the hunt. But I’ll worry about that later.
Artemis kicks his son in the leg, and Paxton howls in pain. “You’re weak,” he jeers at him. “And I’m going to start over. It’s your mother’s fault. I see that now. She gave me weak sons. That treacherous bitch. Robert was my only hope, but he had too much stubborn pride. I’ll claim another bride, and this time, I’ll pick a worthy woman who births real men, and one of them will claim the mantle of patriarch when I’m good and ready to give it up.”
I take a quiet step forward to see Paxton’s face better.
“Daddy…” Paxton’s gone infantile, weeping openly. His face is contorted with sorrow.
