Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Gooseflesh seems to form both outside and inside me.
Only one person, one being, can make me feel like this.
My mother.
“Tuonen, my dear, handsome boy,” her raspy voice croons from behind me, sending shudders down my spine I do my best to hide. There are very few people who sound worse the more complimentary they are, but Louhi is one of them.
I turn around and see her stepping out of the darkness, like the shadows are a second skin she decided to slough.
She’s always a formidable sight—her seven-foot height, her wide black wings, her cold green eyes, the horns curling off her head like someone crossed the devil with a ram. She smiles at me, teeth sharp, the curl of her lips cruel.
I have never been what the Upper World calls a mama’s boy, and that is something that has bothered my mother since the day I was born. I’ve tolerated her the way one would tolerate a snake slithering around in their boot. I’ve faked niceties, because what sort of monster hates their mother, even if she’s a monster herself? But I’ve never loved her, and I know she’s never loved me. That’s pretty much the gist of our relationship.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, and already, I feel the hair on the back of my neck growing stiffer. The shock of seeing her made me forget that she’s here at all—where my father and Hanna are—and nothing good can come of that. My mother has basically had an imaginary restraining order most of my life, which has been her word that she wouldn’t ever come after my father in the eons after their divorce.
Her word has never carried much weight.
“I wanted to drop in and see my relations,” she says, slowly walking toward me. “Is that a crime?”
I shake my head. She’s up to something. “Where’s my father?”
Her gaze becomes flinty, and I notice that the earrings she has dangling from her lobes are actually two shiny black beetles that are writhing and making a clicking sound.
“You haven’t come to see your mother in ages, and yet all you can do is ask about your father?” she says with a snarl. “He’s down in the dungeons. I’m sure he’ll be back at any moment. I just wanted to come and say hello to you before he sees me.”
He’ll smell you, I think. He probably already knows you’re here.
“What do you want?”
“I told you,” she says sharply, running out of patience. She comes closer now, the sulfur scent growing stronger, mixed with something bracing like menthol. I can hardly breathe as she reaches for my face and places her palm against my cheek. “I wanted to see you.”
I suck in a breath as the pain of her touch sears me, something so frigid that it burns like fire, and I am mildly proud of myself for not flinching.
“What a waste, my dear son,” she coos, her eyes flicking over me. “Your father treats you like a slave, doesn’t he? Always doing something that benefits him, never you.”
“I like being a referee,” I manage to say, hating how my voice sounds in her presence, like I’m weak.
She pulls her hand away and starts to circle me like a slinking beast, her mouth smirking now. “You tell yourself that, but you only like it because otherwise, you would be ferrying the dead. That’s where your sister is now, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer. I want to tell her that my father is trying to work out a new system to get someone else—Tapio’s aimless son—to take over our job, but for some reason, I feel I need to keep that quiet.
“You know very well that if you were with me at Star Swamp, you would have the absolute freedom to do what you want. I would let you become anything you wanted, let you do anything you wanted.”
I know that’s too good to be true. My mother would never let that happen; she’d want to control me instead. What I really want is to go into the Upper World to check on a certain human I made a bargain with at one point, but that will never be in the cards with either of my parents.
“As I said,” I say, squaring my shoulders, “I’m happy being a referee. Now, why are you really here?”
She gives me a hard stare for a moment, the flames from the wall torches glinting in her eyes like an inferno before she lets out a cheerless laugh. “Oh, I had heard that his new wife was making an appearance, and I had to come check it out for myself.”
“You know her name is Hanna. You’ve met her before,” I tell her. I wait a beat before I add, “She bested you and cut off your tongue.”
Her lip curls in a snarl, and a malevolent, otherworldly sound comes from her mouth, like a growling beast.