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Lowering the bone, Delphine prowled my way. “Now we’re toward the end of this, and the only way you can stay down here is if you follow my rules.”
I’m going to fucking kill you.
“I said to calm down.” Delphine stopped four feet in front of me. “And if you think, you can kill me in this space, you are not as smart as I thought you were.”
My rage stilled.
“Now I’m going to let you talk, but it better be pleasantries and sweet words coming out of that big mouth of yours.”
The invisible force loosened its grip on my throat, and I sputtered, taking ragged breaths as I finally gained control over my vocal cords.
Delphine moved her head to the side. “Get over here, nephew.”
Shuffling sounded behind me, and then Maxwell got to my right. “Listen. . .I don’t really need to be here.”
“As she heals, nephew, you will heal.”
“Yeah, but this scene is not my thing.” Maxwell stirred.
“Sweet words?” I hissed between clenched teeth, my rage simmering just beneath the surface but held in check by the horrifying reality of my situation. “I have nothing sweet to say to you.”
The elephant mask turned my way. “I expected as much.”
Although by her side, the bone in her hand glowed mockingly in the candlelight as if pulsing with energy.
My stomach twisted.
The figures continued to sway and chant near Emily. I had no idea what language the words came from.
Delphine spoke, “Let me tell you a story, Kazimir—”
“Get my mouse out of that circle and—”
“If I pull her out before the first set of healing is done, then she will not be your mouse, and she may shatter some more—”
“And how can I trust you?”
“Too late for that now.” Those holes of the elephant mask glowed.
Maxwell got close to me and whispered, “Maybe, we shouldn’t have smoked before coming down here.”
I tried to lift my hand. “Why can’t I move?”
Delphine shrugged. “Maybe, if you hear the story, you’ll be able to move.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Once upon a time, in a land not unlike our own, there existed a lion, mighty and feared, the undisputed king of his domain.”
I could tell she was smiling under that mask, and it made me even more angry.
Delphine’s voice took on a rhythmic cadence, as if the story itself held ancient power. “This lion believed in the strength of his fangs and claws above all else, convinced there was no creature he could not conquer, no challenge he could not overcome.”
My rage continued to simmer just beneath the surface.
“But then,” she continued, “into his territory wandered a rootworker, a being not of claw and fang but of air and shadow, of enchantments woven with words and gestures.”
“You know what?” Maxwell’s bottom lip quivered. “I actually think I heard this story already, so I’ll head upstairs.”
