The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

I stare idly into the fire until the cloak falls from my shoulders, leaving my arms stinging in the frosty wind.

Plans for where I’ll go next skitter across my thoughts. My father’s house, the Red Oaks, then maybe the hill Scarlett’s house used to sit on.

The thought of reliving her death makes me cold inside. Inhuman, even. It’ll take a lot to convince me that I could benefit from seeing her again. From seeing that day play out in front of me.

But my father’s house must hold important memories. When Kane took me there, he gave me that jewelry box that held my parents’ locket. It’s where Kane was able to find the envelope that evidently had proof of Masten’s betrayal. How could my father have known that?

That house has to be the source of most of my missing memories.

Chunks of time lost.

I’ll sleep here, then head back to the Bear Traps north of the Red Oaks. Giving myself a schedule—a mission—is the only thing holding me together. Because without it, I’ll want to curl up in that tree house again, go to sleep for hours, and pray I won’t wake. I’ll want to wallow until the life slips from my lungs. Let it pull me into the darkness until there’s nothing left.

And, oh, how that darkness is tempting.

I sit with my back to a heavy log, unable to sleep. My mind races. My stomach growls. And frankly, I don’t have the guts to skin those dead animals that Asena killed. I’ve never been a hunter.

Even though there isn’t any sound to signal that I’m no longer alone, I can feel his presence. An old, familiar flutter against my skin. A sweet warmth down my throat, like hot chocolate. It nudges me to look, although I don’t have to.

I see Chekiss walk toward me in the corner of my eye. He carries a mug and a large wool blanket. It isn’t clear if this is a memory or not. And that worries me, not being able to sift through the present and past.

I don’t flinch as he wraps the wool blanket around my shoulders. And he doesn’t say anything, only leans down to drop a quick kiss on top of my head. The action leaves me choked up and wilting with sadness.

Chekiss sits in front of the log next to me, using a wooden spoon to stir whatever is in the mug. “It’s hot,” he says with a hoarse, aging voice.

I look down as he reaches the spoon close to my lips. Steam pours off of it, curling around my mouth. I breathe in the scent of chicken broth. My stomach twists.

Closing the distance, I blow out a little air to cool the soup before slurping it down.

Chekiss continues feeding me. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t ask where I’ve been. He just sits. Taking care of me the way a loving father would.

After I finish the soup, he sets down the mug.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“Warrose and I have been tracking you. We’ve camped half a mile away.”

“And why isn’t he here?”

Chekiss sighs. “He wants to give you space. But… I needed to make sure you were eating.”

I glance over at his face shimmering in the moonlight and fire. His eyes, the color of slimy algae at the bottom of a pond, are glossy, and his lashes are wet.

Something lodges in my throat.

“Ruth?”

“Watching over Niles.” Chekiss clears his throat.

A pang of guilt swells under my chest. “How is he?”

“Hurting, like you. But he’s healing.”

I remember the way Niles screamed when he threw himself through the flames. Sacrificing that perfect, glowing skin just to reach DaiSzek. He’s probably reliving that trauma in his nightmares, only to wake in a violent burning sensation. I wince at the thought.

“It’s selfish that I’m not with him right now. Holding his hand. Feeding him soup.” I swallow at the lump in my throat. I called him my chosen brother, and yet I’m the worst sister. I let him down, just like I let Scarlett down.

“Don’t do that,” Chekiss warns.

I raise my eyes to meet his.

“You’re spiraling,”—he rubs a withered hand over his tired face—“and I don’t know how to pull you back.”

His words thaw a small section of my heart, but only for a moment. A dark instinct quickly takes over, filling the hollowness in my chest with hardening stubbornness. This version of myself that avoids that sincerity in someone’s voice, that wallows in anger, that backs further and further away from their loved ones—it’s all I have left. It’s the only thing keeping me moving. I lift my chin in defiance.

“Then don’t,” I say coldly. “Go home. Watch over Niles. I’m going to spiral. I’m going to hurt anyone who gets in my way.”

I don’t have to look at Chekiss to sense the devastation consuming his expression.

“You won’t like the person I’m becoming. So, please, don’t stay and watch.”

Looking up at my father’s house is like standing before his coffin.

Two stories, painted in charcoal black. The epitome of a horror house. Haunting. Grim. An aura of death. The graveyard for happy childhoods.

The lawn is crisp and dry, the windows are grimy from age and harsh weather. This will be like visiting Kane’s childhood home. I won’t be able to step foot in that living room. The room where he beat me. The room where he took his life.

I decide to go in through the back door, trudging through the backyard’s overgrown weeds to get there. I have to shake and jimmy the doorknob before I use my shoulder to shove it open. I’m struck with the scent of decaying wood, leaky pipes, and the soap my father used to wash his clothes with.

My breath remains stuck in my chest as I feel it tugging me away, sucking me into the void. My stomach dips, my eyes go wide, and I brace myself for impact.

The voice of a little girl sets my equilibrium back in place. Soft, shy, and cautious. I grip the kitchen counter to steady myself, searching for the young version of me. For my father.

“Daddy,” little Skylenna mutters, peeking over the kitchen table. Her big green eyes are barely visible with the lights off.

I jolt at the sight of him. Hunched over the stove, dripping in sweat, panting like he’s been running for miles. I step closer, swallowing down the fear that I still seem to have of this man.

He’s tall, an inch or so over six feet. Jack tears off his leather jacket, tossing it to the creaky wooden floor. And he’s mumbling something, over and over again. Ritualistically.

I take another step, leaning in to hear his words.

“I’m hallucinating. I’m hallucinating. I’m hallucinating.” His quiet, croaky voice sets my teeth on edge.

“I haven’t eaten,” little Skylenna says from her shadowed hiding place under the table.

Jack throws his fist down, rattling the silverware drawer. My breath hitches.

“Go hide from Daddy.” Breath whooshes from Jack’s chest like he’s battling a deep-rooted pain. A muscle spasm coming from the pit of his stomach. A monster trying to claw its way out.

Little Skylenna doesn’t move.

“Christ, please don’t let me hurt her,” he wheezes, gripping the edges of the counter as if he might rip the wood from its post. “I can’t—fight it, baby doll.”

Sweat drips from his temples to the sides of his neck. And it’s like a switch. His muscles relax, eyes soften, hands loosen their grip.

And I can feel the terror thick in the stale air before he moves. Like watching a wave build into a wall before it crashes over a boat.

Little Skylenna is that boat.

“Run,” I tell her.

But it’s too late. Jack rushes to the side of the table, plucking her by the long wavy locks on her little head.

“You’re hungry, huh? Do you even know how much I’ve lost because of you? Having children ruined my life! Think about that while you sit in the dark.”

Little Skylenna screams, holding her hair to relieve some of the pain as he drags her to the basement door. Her rising terror becomes a tangible layer in the room. I can hardly breathe, watching her fight against his hold, fresh tears springing from her eyes.

“Please, Daddy!”

My jaw aches as I grind my teeth together. He kicks the basement door open and pushes her in. This time, she doesn’t topple down the stairs. She’s instantly quiet. And I remember why. If she even made a sound, he would strip her of clothes, so she’d have to lie in the cold. Naked.

I look at Jack as he slides down the kitchen wall, staring at the door with several emotions warring behind his eyes.

“You should have fought harder,” I grit out. “Niles’s father did. Why couldn’t you have been stronger for me?”

I don’t wait for an answer. My hand grips the basement doorknob, and I fling it open, racing to the bottom where little Skylenna holds her hand over her mouth to cry in silence.

Nausea churns up my esophagus, and my heart braids in a tight knot.

Living through it was one thing. Watching my hell unfold in a dark basement is another. I’ve worked hard to avoid these memories. I’ve—

Little Skylenna wipes her nose and rises, shuffling over to the back of the basement, deeper into the darkness.

I don’t remember this. The only memory that surfaces is sitting in my own tears for hours or even a couple of days. Or maybe I blacked out that time?

My feet move behind her as she stares at the wall, sniffling, sobbing into her small hand. And she’s waiting. Watching. Displaying as much patience as she can muster. I look at the dark wall as if something is going to happen. But the only sound is a dripping pipe.

Her cries increase in volume as she begins to unravel into a fit. Her small fists bang against that wall repeatedly. I hiss at the loud noise.

“You have to be quiet,” I whisper-yell. “He’ll come back, and it’ll be so much worse.”

But she can’t hear me. She’s hiccuping, howling, hyperventilating. I can feel her hysteria in my bones, in every nerve ending. It dredges up my own buried demons. The panic attacks I’ve had in dark spaces.

I wait for Jack to charge through that door at the top of the stairs. Wait for him to blindside this screaming little girl.

The wall she bangs on makes a groaning sound, a clink, and suddenly a door opens. Sunlight bursts through the dark basement, streaming over every dim and terrifying corner. The wall is an old cellar door.

I nearly fall back at the blinding light.

But little Skylenna isn’t afraid at all. She reaches her arms up in anticipation. A pair of tan, skinny arms lower down, hooking around Skylenna to pull her up.

I inhale sharply. What the hell? I don’t remember this at all. It’s as if someone has glued a new chapter into my story. New words. New characters. A new ending.

I bolt toward the cellar door before it closes, climbing out after her.

My eyes water as I try to adjust to the sunny day and the gentle spring breeze. Little Skylenna kneels on the ground in front of someone. I step closer, squinting my eyes to—

Oh my god.

A little boy sits in front of her. White shirt, dark-gray breeches, and tousled chocolate-brown hair. But it’s the eyes that tell me exactly who he is.

“Squeeze my hands until it goes away,” he says, and my heart cracks down the middle. “You’re safe with me. Say it.”

“I’m—safe—with—you,” she stutters through her sobs.

“Harder. Say it again, Skylittle.”

Skylittle?

“I’m safe—with y-you.”

“Good. You’re always safe with me,” Kane says, smiling softly. The warm sunrays trickle past the sycamore tree leaves, spilling into his sweet chestnut-brown eyes, only a little lighter than how I remember.

Little Skylenna takes a deep, calming breath, letting go of his hands only to throw her arms around his neck in a surprise embrace. Kane wobbles for a moment, readjusting his seated position, then lets out an endearing chuckle.

“I missed you too,” he says with a voice I can only guess to be about the age of ten. And if that’s correct, then I must be seven here.

Skylenna nuzzles into his neck. “I hate him,” she whines.

Kane doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, weighing her statement in his mind.

“You hate him now. But when you’re older, you might understand what he’s going through.” He runs a hand through her long, tangled hair. “He knows I’m taking you away every time he locks you in that basement. He knows you get to visit the Red Oaks, play, laugh, and have fun with me. That’s our loophole against Demechnef.”

“But why can’t he just be nice?”

“He tries. But they’re filling his brain with a dangerous chemical. It makes him believe things about you that aren’t true. It compels him to treat you poorly.”

Jesus. He sounds smarter than me, even at the age of ten. I sit down beside them, crisscrossing my legs. I may never get used to being this close to him, yet being so unearthly far away. It’s madness. It’s a sad hole I’ve fallen into. A warped reality.

“How long do I get to keep you?” she asks, pulling away and wiping the residual tears from her blushed cheeks.

“They think I’m in the isolation tank for the next day and a half. I’ll have to be back before they let me out.” He snuck out of the Demechnef mountain. At the age of freaking ten.

This puts a smile on her face.

“But if you’re asking long term, then, I guess… you can keep me until hell freezes over.” A boyish smirk spreads over his cheeks.

“And even then,” she says back, with a rehearsed nod, like they say this regularly.

My jaw drops. I thought that was something we only recently started saying to each other. When he first said it, I replied randomly. I hadn’t remembered this at all. His words must have triggered a muscle memory to say it back. That must be why he looked so surprised.

My heart swells under my chest bone. I can’t believe we have this much history, this many delicate moments buried in my subconscious. But why would my head injury from the age of fifteen only block out the moments with Kane? How was it that selective?

Kane cleans her cheeks with his thumbs. “Let’s not waste time, okay? We have a lot to do. We’ll swim in the lagoon, have a picnic, then start building that tree house we’ve been talking about.”

They rise on their feet, holding hands as they descend into the woods. I stare at them with wide eyes and questions spinning out of control in my mind.

Is he the reason I was never as damaged as Scarlett? He saved me from the darkness Jack would throw me into. Who was there to save my sister?

It doesn’t take me long to find the jewelry box my father left for me. In a wooden chest by the cellar door that Kane opened, I pull out the small box, weighing it in my hand. Why would he fill it with a small fortune I’ll never need? I’ll never escape this mess. I’ll never be a part of that screwed-up society again.

The lid falls back, revealing the locket and the two wedding rings that hang on either side of it, dangling on the golden chain.

I’m afraid to touch it, knowing I might see Violet again. That is one face I swore I’d never confront again. The way she hurt my Scarlett will never be forgiven.

But… I have to learn what he knew. My fingers scoop it from the pile of precious gems, and my thumbnails snap it open. The muscles across my middle clench at the photo. Violet held one baby in her arms, laughing as Jack kissed her cheek while holding the other baby. She must have just given birth to us.

Grazing my index finger over the photo does the trick. Dizziness falls over me like a drug. My hands and feet tingle while I shift through the darkness, losing my breath as I float backward into my father’s bedroom. I fall against the door, looking at their faces, their uncomfortable stances around the bed. I have never seen them in the same room. Never.

“I won’t do it! Goddamn you, Jack! We can run away with them,” Violet shrieks, holding a swaddled baby to her chest protectively. Her face is bright red, like she’s been slaving over a hot stove and wet with gushing tears.

“They’re everywhere, Vi. We’ll be caught, and then they’ll both be subjected to the experiment. Skylenna is the only one that can stop all of this. That’s what she told us, remember? You and Scarlett can be free. Have a normal life. They just need to believe you both died in childbirth.” Jack’s tone is calm but tormented. I can see in the dark smudges under his pale-green eyes that he’s lost many nights of sleep over this.

Violet shakes her head violently, shedding more tears. “Christ, Jack! This is barbaric. Some woman tells us that Demechnef is coming to put our family through a psychological experiment, and instead of taking the kids and running like hell, you listen to a man that tells us some fucking prophecy? To split them up and let one of them be tortured and traumatized—by your hand?!”

Jack slides his hands over his face, rubbing his temples slowly. “It’s insane, I know.”

Violet kisses the top of the baby’s head repeatedly.

“But her little boy is going to make sure Skylenna has a happy childhood. We have to trust that she’ll end up okay. The alternative is to run, get caught, and we both get pumped with the drug. We can’t let them both suffer.” I’ve never heard my father sound so lucid, so clear and awake. It’s as if someone cleared his head of the clouds and fog.

Wait—her little boy? Is he talking about Kane? Does that mean Sophia was the one speaking with him? Suddenly, my father unzips his leather jacket, leaning against the bed frame.

My father is—The Leather Man.

I stare at him with wide eyes, like I’m only seeing him for the first time. Sophia and Jack were friends? God, I need to remember that first letter that Dessin had me find in the abandoned Demechnef building. I hardly remember what it says. It made no sense at the time, but maybe it will now.

“We would be putting our trust in a little boy, Jack. How could we even put that kind of responsibility on his shoulders?” Violet sobs, holding the baby close to her cheek. “I can protect my babies. I will protect Skylenna and Scarlett.”

I am suddenly short of breath and unable to stand up straight. Violet is fighting for us. She loved us. How can this woman be so different than the woman I met at Jack’s grave?

Jack drops his head. “Sweetheart, we would die trying. And then Demechnef would have them both. This prophecy—we both saw it, Vi. I don’t know how the Crimson Kres made it possible… but we both saw how it is supposed to play out. We can’t be the reason it fails.”

The Crimson Kres. The colony that went missing. They’re the ones feeding my parents and Sophia the information about the prophecy?

Violet howls in agony. A sound I have never heard before. One that scrapes at my heart with rusty nails. A mother mourning her child before she’s even gotten to know her.

I clutch the dresser for support as Jack takes the baby out of her arms so she can successfully fall apart. A puddle at his feet.

“I can’t leave her!” she wails. “I can’t separate my babies!”

Jack kneels in front of her, holding the baby to his chest. “You’ll see her again one day. You and Scarlett.” My father fails at shoving the pain down his throat. His quiet, quivering voice gives him away. He is barely holding himself together. “You’ll find a home on the other side of the Bear Traps. Stay hidden until this is all over. Find Skylenna, and tell her the truth. Tell her I loved her, no matter what they made me do. Tell her I’ll always be with her, through every hardship, through every battle.”

I huff out a breath, shock coursing through my veins. He loved me. My father loved me. The knowledge reaches every inch of my soul. It warms my chest, tingling behind my eyes. They loved us.

Violet looks up at him through thick tears. “Tell her yourself. You’ll make it out of this too, Jack.”

He smiles sadly, brushing her thick, wavy hair from her forehead.

“We have to leave something behind for them. If Skylenna is like the others, she may be able to look back on this. See that… I wasn’t always a monster to her. See the truth.” Jack walks toward a jewelry box on the dresser, the same one that he left for me in the basement. “We’ll leave our wedding rings with them.”

As they both remove their rings and loop them on the gold chain, I wonder how everything could have gone so terribly wrong. They thought Scarlett would survive this. They thought by separating us, they would, at the very least, spare her from having to go through the experiment. But—they didn’t. Somehow, Demechnef must have found them. Infected Violet with the Mind Phantoms.

And it all went to hell.