CHAPTER SEVEN
LETTIE
“God, I hate the craptastic shitfest that is my life,” I muttered to myself as I entered the building with Connor’s brother not far behind. I kept seeing the betrayal and disgust contorting Connor’s beautiful face. Worse, it was like I could feel it too. As if each revolting revelation he overheard was too painful, and the hurt reverberated back to me. I had known he was there too; he had such a pull, a presence. That very first week I’d noticed I was always aware when Connor entered a room. It had helped me ready myself to interact with him. It wasn’t going to aid me that day though; it only sealed my fate and took away my one chance at making my stupid plan work without losing him in the processes.
“Aww, I know growing up in the Order probably sucked, but there must be something good in your life, a cat? Dog? Devoted boyfriend?” Falcone, Famine of the Five Horsemen of legend, a man created to help balance the world and prevent devastation, was riding up an elevator with me to learn my fate for deceiving them… and from his tone it seemed as if he was trying to cheer me up. Or I could be reading it wrong? My mind wasn’t in the best of places.
I rubbed my eyes under my glasses, and then took a deep breath to center myself enough to answer, “Yeah, pets were useless attachments and a waste of money in the Osmond household. And I’ve already lost one of the only two people who has ever loved me, the other… well, I assume my brother will choose the Order and Lord Decay over me when he learns what I’m about to do.” Clenching my fists, I heard the venom in my voice as I spoke of the organization and their leader.
It wasn’t missed by Falcone either. “Sorry, hon, but your brother didn’t seem like much of a loss. He was a bit of a tool.”
I had no idea know how Falcone did it, but I actually laughed. It was short and more of a snort, but it was as if everything was instantly a little better. I almost felt I could survive whatever came next.
I relaxed and leaned against the wall just outside the elevator on the invisible thirteenth floor. Most thought it just didn’t exist as a superstitious architecture choice. “I just need a moment before I go up against the firing squad, if you don’t mind.”
He was kind enough to nod his acquiescence and leaned against the wall across from me with his hands in his jeans pockets, his long legs crossed at his ankles. Him, in that pose, was wet dream material. Growing up, my heart and fantasies had always been for Connor, but… shit, I wasn’t blind. If I had to rate Horsemen yumminess—which in my free teenage time, as a horny book nerd with no friends or prospects, I may have had the occasion to—Falcone was definitely my second choice. He was tall, smart, and looked like Prince Charming with those gorgeous blond curls that were just long enough for a girl to get her fingers lost in. I needed to fill the air with words, hoping it would settle my anxiety. “The idiot you saw down there is my older brother. I believe my father may have dropped him on his head a few times. It’s also possible Daddy dearest laced his formula with steroids. I have a younger brother I love very much, but his recent promotion in ranks at the Order has caused a strain in our relationship.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I too know the pain for a brother you wish dearly to help but don’t know how.” We stared at one another in heartfelt understanding. I knew he meant Lord Decay. I guessed at some point long, long ago he was just someone’s little brother too. The look in Falcone’s eyes said that the pain may one day become manageable, but the loss never went away.
It was then, as Falcone and I stared at each other, that Connor came out of the stairwell and found us. “What are you doing to her?” he growled, right up in Falcone’s face.
“What the hell is your problem? We were just talking. And we’re like a good three feet apart. He isn’t doing anything to me.” I grabbed Connor’s arm; a shock ran through my hand where I touched him. Still, because I was peeved I ignored it and pulled back on him until he gave in, then shook me off.
“Just talking? Then why did you feel… why do you… why were you two giving each other gooey eyes when I walked out, huh?” he shouted at me incoherently, only to turn back to his brother, stick his finger in Falcone’s face, and squint as he snarled, “She is not yours. You hear me? Not yours.”
“I don’t know, Connor, maybe fate got it wrong this time. How can you be sure?” I could see the teasing glint in Falcone’s eyes was lost on Connor as his face turned feral, and he looked about ready to lunge for his brother’s throat. What the hell are these two talking about?
Time for evasive maneuvers and some freaking answers. “What the fuck are you two talking about?” Okay, I hadn’t meant to shout that aloud. Oops. However, I was exhausted, scared, and suddenly angry, darn it. Still, at least my outburst got Connor to stop and look at me. God, it was so nice to not see the disgust and betrayal there from earlier. For a moment his face only held shock, then surprise, then finally understanding of something I was still clearly missing.
“Are you ladies quite done with this goddamn tea party? I would like to interrogate the prisoner sometime this week. Though why we’re here when all my fun questioning toys are down in the dungeons is beyond me. Julie is going be pissed when we get blood on the walls in here.” This was bellowed from the depths of a room at the end of the hall.
I wasn’t too proud to admit that I may have peed myself a little as my fear of the voice’s owner was confirmed by Connor. “Fuck, Warren, calm your tits. We’re coming already.”
“Have a seat, Nicolette “Lettie” Osmond, daughter of James Osmond II, currently third chair of the Council for the Order of Decay. Obviously, we need to work on our background checks for the hiring process.” Warren’s displeasure at being duped was understandable.
I fell into the seat and placed my hands on my lap, only to move them to the armrests and then back again before shrugging and rattling off, “I don’t know how much it would help. The Order is still stuck in the 1800s. Women are seen as property most times. Most births are home births; the loss of a wife just means you get to upgrade to a new one. Home births and the Order’s private schools, along with a few well-placed followers in government seats, allow identities and relations to become very… fuzzy. Yes, all my paperwork will come up valid, but I will not be the ‘daughter of James Osmond II, currently the third chair of the Council for the Order of Decay,’ as you put it. I will come up as Nicolette Osmond. Mother Maria Osmond and father Jim Osmond, Graduate of UCLA… all very generic.
“We’re not allowed to have a social media presence or any online footprint unless dictated by the Order to further the Order’s causes. I know you have at least six others on staff, but none are in positions of consequence. Still, if you wish, I can give you their names when all this is done.” I finished my exhausting explanation by slouching forward a little and rubbing my forehead.
God was I tired, so drained. It was like my body knew that this was it. That I could be safe and the Horsemen would at least stop Lord Decay and his merry band of devious followers like my father. I was just hoping they’d let me live to see it. Their slack-jawed expressions at my candidness was a good start. At least the murderous vibes I had been hit with when I’d first entered the room had subsided.
The Horseman of War, Warren, sat at the head of the table, as far as possible away from me. Probably to lessen the chance of killing me too soon. My response seemed to throw him a bit, but he recovered quickly and barked out, “See that you do.”
My seat at the table was by the door, flanked by Famine and Death, both in their own seats. Their vibes gave me hope; they felt as though they were offering support with their kind small smiles and relaxed posture. At least I hoped that was what I was reading from them.
I hadn’t seen Connor since I’d sat down; he must be staying somewhere behind me. It felt like he was punishing me for hurting him. Purposely keeping his distance.
It hurt like hell. The distance growing between us was more than physical. If he hadn’t had a natural, sheer magnetism, I wouldn’t know he was even in the room. The emotional connection, something I didn’t realize we had so fully developed, was now cut.
No, not cut, shut down. It was there. At least I hoped, but it felt like he had shut it down. Shut me out.
“We obviously have the wrong impression of you, Lettie. Maybe you can start clearing things up, because we have conflicting evidence. You’re a spy set up by our brother Kayne, but Fal and Con watched you lie to your brother purposely before you come in here, and you volunteered information on other plants in the building. We’re justifiably confused.” Dean reached down to give my hand a gentle squeeze. Who knew Death was so sweet? As I gathered my thoughts, wondering where to begin, I could have sworn I heard a quiet growl coming from behind me. Then I was sure Dean mumbled, “Bring it, bitch,” under his breath. But it was spoken so softly I could have been mistaken.
I squeezed Dean’s hand back before letting go completely. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I went for the jugular. “I believe I know the search starting point and the identity of the forger of the Athame of the Apocalypse.” Well, that was easier than I thought.
Many things happened at once.
First, I heard a loud thud behind me at the same time as, directly across from me, Warren’s jaw damn near slapped the table—it hung so low—and he made an ungodly wheezy whiney noise, his eyes bugging out of his head. I took a chance to see what the thud had been behind me, to find Connor in a stunned pile on the floor. I guessed he had been leaning on the wall, and my announcement had knocked him on his ass. I would definitely take joy in that at a later time. I turned back and found Falcone’s and Dean’s matching dumbfounded expressions. That was till Dean looked beyond me to see Connor on the floor. He fell out of his own chair, laughing, tears streaming down his face.
“I thought Julie was bad. You. Are. So. Fucked. Ninja secretary spy… so fucked,” he got out between gasps and giggles. Oh my, Death giggles?
“I’m not really a secretary. I’m a librarian. I’ve been in charge of the West Coast Chapter for the Order’s library for the last four years.” Sometime while I was talking, Warren stopped making that horrid noise, but still looked like a stroke patient. Dean also seemed to gain a bit of control and had righted his seat again.
Falcone had a gorgeous smile waiting for me when my attention turned back to him as he said, “You don’t say! Where did you study? How’s their inventory? Do they have anything on the Mayans? I’ve been trying for years to get my hands on a proper calendar.” I smiled back, it couldn’t be helped; I loved history. This could be fun, comparing inventory and notes. I was about to answer, but he turned to Connor, who was in the process of picking himself off the floor. “Are you sure, Con? I seriously think there might be a mix-up here.”
“Fuck off, Fal,” Connor bit out before literally dumping Falcone out of his seat and onto the floor. “Move over. Now.”
All reseated, I still didn’t get to answer Falcone’s question because Warren was clearing his throat. He seemed to have returned to reality and was trying to regain control of the questioning. “Start from the beginning so we may ascertain your truthfulness. Please,” Warren clipped, though a bit of the previous bite to his words was now missing.
“The beginning, huh? Okay….” I paused to consider where that should be. “You all obviously know my father in some capacity, but you most likely don’t know who my mother was. Maria Osmond was born into the Order and married off as a broodmare, a status piece. My mother had no choice. She was passed liked any prized possession from one owner to the next. She wanted more for her children, especially once she gave birth to her own daughter. She did everything she could to make freedom for her children a possibility one day. It’s not common for women of the Order to exceed the educational requirements of a GED certification. My older brother is so much of an idiot that my father had to pay for his high school diploma and military acceptance. So when my mother put the earworm to my father, suggesting how it would make the Osmonds look better and fetch more valuable suitors if I were smart and educated, he took to the idea like a fish to water. Little did he know it was more like a lamb to slaughter, as he himself paid for the tools I needed to escape that hellhole.
“Mom died while I was still in school. She had cancer, and my bastard father couldn’t be bothered to care for her. Ready to trade up, I guess. He was ‘kind’ enough to at least pay for the painkillers to keep her relatively comfortable as she lived out her final months.” Remembering how she spent the final weeks withering away, only being able to visit her for two days between classes and praying she’d be there when I came back the next weekend, it still hurt after all these years. I shoved my hands under my glasses and rubbed my eyes hard. I was not crying in front of the Horsemen. My elevator breakdown was enough for one day. I righted my glasses and continued without looking at their reactions, carefully avoiding Connor. I didn’t deserve his sympathy, and it would kill me if I saw the opposite—indifference.
“I spent the last few years looking for something, anything that would bring them down and set me and my younger brother free. I almost lost hope when Liam became Lord Decay’s second-in-command and moved into his personal residence to better serve as his teacher and confidant. Then I was tasked with finding the Athame of the Apocalypse.”
“Is that its proper name? We have no records of any such item with the power to destroy one of us. We honestly thought it was a joke,” Dean asked.
“Not surprising. From my understanding, none of you were ever meant to know of its existence. It was meant to be a safeguard that would never need to be used. After many months of research, I believe that the Navah native who forged the athame was Wayland the Smith.”
“He’s credited as one of the first weapon makers. The whole family were all famous weapon makers, if I recall. Wayland is particularly famous for forging the fabled Excalibur, Joyeuse, and Durendal, the swords of the heroes like Arthur, Lancelot, and Charlemagne. There’s actually a very long list of enchanted and powerful swords accredited to him. Hmm… she may be onto something here.” At least Warren seemed appeased with my choice.
“The timeline fits, and I know you’re all proof enough that the legends are never exactly perfect, but I think the pieces match up enough. I believe Wayland and his brother’s first wives were actually earth witches. If so, the combined powers along with the brothers’ own alchemy may have been enough to forge such a powerful blade. Look, I was able to save all my research and wipe their systems. It’s not much, but I didn’t want to continue my research in their facilities in case I was being watched. Not wanting them to catch on I’d found something. Since I wiped the system every few months, they shouldn’t suspect anything,” I explained.
“What I don’t understand is why didn’t you just tell us, me? Why did you lie to me?” Connor demanded from next to me, only he wouldn’t even look at me. I could see him squinting in concentration at the clenched fists in front of him. I was hit with an overwhelming wave of hurt and anger. My own eyes filled with tears. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping aloud. I could see those emotions on the side of his face, but now I felt like I was actually enduring them too. I reached out to touch him, just his fisted hand. I needed it. He needed it.
My answer came out in a whispered choke. “I was scared.” He finally looked up. Dear God, the look on his beautiful face ended me. It pained him to think I feared him hurting me. He would never know how opposite to the truth that really was. At least not the physical way he was thinking. Oh, he could break me, but he’d never hurt me. I shoved his hand open, squeezed, and tried to explain without showing my heart completely. “Connor, I was raised by an organization of villains who told me my entire life that you four were the real monsters and that Lord Decay would be our savior.
“As an adult, I was able to see through their lies, but it still made me leery of trusting the unknown. I saved all the information here.” I twisted and detached my mother’s bracelet, then showed them the hidden memory chip, never once letting go of his hand. It felt too good, like walking into an air-conditioned building on the most humid day of the year. “My mother gave me this bracelet just before she died, hoping it would help us find freedom. She believed in the four of you, that you all would be our true saviors.”
Connor squeezed my hand and graced me with a small smile of encouragement to go on. That tiny tip of his lips was everything to me; it gave me hope that I just might one day salvage something between us. “The day I was wiping the systems and planned not to return, though I still hadn’t worked out how to approach all of you, Lord Decay came for a visit— Ow, Connor, you’re hurting my hand!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, letting go and sitting straighter. He tucked both of hands in his lap.
Trying to hide just how much I missed the physical connection, I followed suit before clearing my throat and continuing. “Umm, so he came to me in the library that day. I thought I had been caught after all. Turned out my father nominated me for a ‘mission,’ and my younger brother seconding this was the only reason I was considered. After meeting me, Lord Decay proclaimed I was perfect for Connor.” That got a round of knowing looks between the brothers. I saw Warren about to interject. Figuring out his question, I preempted him. “And before you ask, yes I am wholly unqualified for espionage. I was trained in basic combat and self-defense. The curriculum and gym classes at the Order’s private schools are geared to how we will best serve the Order when grown. I actually stupidly questioned Lord Decay on this decision. Luckily he was feeling accommodating and decided to answer instead of turning me into a pile of goo. You’ll find this interesting actually, Warren. One of the reasons I was chosen was my lack of skills. I had the education to land and pull off the job, but the fact I had no special intelligence training would mean I wouldn’t behave in any way that would alert you to my presence. I would fly under your radar.”
“This will all need to be verified, and I’m sure you understand you can’t be trusted, ever. You’re now a prisoner of war,” Warren barked out, and again I was back to square one. Shit.
“What a dick. She basically just served you Kayne’s ultimate goal at the end of a beaded bracelet. What the fuck more do you need, Warren?” Dean glared.
“No. It’s okay, Dean. I understand, really. I only ask that I can have the bracelet back when you’re done with it. It’s all I have left from her.” I always knew this could be one of the outcomes. Another was death on the spot. So of the two, being a prisoner left me alive, and maybe one day, I could seek freedom.
“It’s not okay, Lettie. Warren is a prejudiced asshole. You’re welcome to stay with me till we have this all figured—” Falcone was cut off when Connor upended his chair once again.
“Over my dead body. She will stay with me. This is my mess. She was my employee. Mine. She will be locked in my quarters till we figure out something long-term.” With that, Connor stood and turned to me. “Let’s go. I’ve got shit to do. Leave the bracelet here. I’ll retrieve it when Warren is done with it.”