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

I dream of the last time I saw Kane before I ate the Phoenix stem. We were hypothetically discussing how things would work if I lost my memory. Sort of daydreaming about the idea, without the pressure of deciding to do it, of course.

But that fear of the unknown lingered; what if I never regained my memories? What if he always remained a stranger? But I had faith. “Will you wait for me?” I asked him.

“Until I’m old and gray.”

I dream of a time when I was only seven, taking a nap with Kane in the forest. He’d hold me in his arms, rocking back and forth as the wind rustled his hair, and he was always in the same spot as I’d wake. Looking down at me with a smile on his young face and fondness in his brown eyes.

I dream of the many times we fought. I’d throw pine cones at the back of his head. I’d call him names meant as an insult, like Kaney-Boy, Mr. Valdawell, or The Demechnef Puppet. He was the one that taught me how to draw the puppet during a panic attack. He was the one that gave me my first piece of charcoal and parchment. And it was all because of that nickname.

And lastly, I dream of the many times he’d save me from the basement. How his arms would extend to me through the thick fog of darkness. How he’d let me squeeze his hands through each panic attack. How he kept a brave face through everything he suffered in training. Never once letting me know the weight he always carried.

The feathery rays of sunlight trickle over my eyelashes. Behind my lids, I can make out a male silhouette, a tall figure hovering over my sleeping body. Heat jolts through my chest, jump-starting my heart.

Has he finally found us?

My eyes pop open with the residual heaviness of sleep. To my horrid surprise, Niles looms over me with an impatient look that would normally make me crack a smile.

“Are you going to explain what the hell is going on, sweetie pie?” He holds up the cross necklace, obnoxiously dangling it in my face. “And why this is so important?”

I groan, sitting up, and realize everyone is already awake.

Ruth looks at me from over her breakfast. “You look better now that the blood is gone.”

I bite my lip. That’s right, they did see me drenched in blood. What ran through their minds seeing me like that? Do they know what I did?

“Yeah, except now she’s covered in mud.” He looks down at his chest. “We’re all covered in mud.”

“There’s a creek nearby—”

“We look and smell like dogs that have rolled around in a pile of shit!” Niles deadpans. This definitely is my fault. He’s using humor to cover up the pain he’s in. Mud crusts over his burns. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.

“Enough, Niles,” Chekiss scolds.

“No. She needs to explain what in God’s name is going on. Now that we believe he’s alive again, it’s time to stop this. I’m smelly, tired, my back aches from sleeping on logs and rocks, and I’m in a constant state of pain from—the fire.” His glistening eyes stare me down without blinking. “You need to come back to us now. Lock away that scary, gory butcher shit for a moment and explain what happened while you’ve been gone.”

It’s exactly what I needed to hear. The truth spills out. The talk Aurick and I had about the experiments. The new way my brain seems to work. The memories I’ve been able to step into and watch like I’m really there. The childhood I’ve forgotten. The history Kane and I shared. And my elaborate plan to wipe my own memory and puppeteer all of this. Dessin’s death. My way to become like him without any permanent damage. My way to become like him without the residual effects that the female subjects are used to facing. And how by touching the cross necklace, I’ll likely remember something important. It must be why he left it behind.

“What about the asylum?” Chekiss asks.

I shake my head. “I—lost it. I needed something to channel my grief and rage on. I needed revenge.”

Niles holds out the necklace again. “Let’s end this.”

I look around the group, waiting patiently for me to touch the cross. They didn’t have questions, didn’t show any doubt of the truth I shared. They’re with me.

I vow to myself that I’ll make it up to them. Everything I’ve put them through. The stress. The secondhand heartbreak. The sadness. I’ll make it right again.

But first, I reach out, grasp the necklace, and allow my body to vaporize, sifting through the void in a galaxy of stars until I arrive.

My hand releases the piece of wood, and I look at my friends with parted lips and chills racing down my spine.

“What did you see?” Warrose asks.

“I’m the one that made this necklace for him…” I trail off, remembering how I found it in the abandoned Demechnef building. “The day I gave it to him, he didn’t come for me when I was locked in the basement. I got tired of waiting and went to the lagoon myself. It was the worst flood and thunderstorm we’ve had in years. But I was only nine and didn’t realize it was too dangerous to swim. When Kane fished me out, he held on to me for hours. And when I asked him how he found me, he said that there was something in him that could sense when I was in danger.”

I stare blankly into the forest, blanketed with the glow of morning light.

“He said that was how he’d always find me.”

“Will you always protect me?” I had asked him as I coughed out murky water. He looked at me then, holding me tightly to his boyish frame. “Until hell freezes over.”

Niles lifts his chin in understanding. “Does that mean…”

“She has to put herself in danger for him to find her.” Warrose looks at me with relief and silent admiration. “How’re you going to do it?”

I close my eyes. It has to be real danger. A flooding lagoon won’t work this time. I have to feel the overwhelming panic I felt that day. Thoughts of places, people, and scenarios sprint through my mind.

“She could go through Hangman’s Valley again? Aren’t Vexamen soldiers still there?” Ruth suggests.

Warrose nods to himself. “They would have resupplied the small force we killed that day, yes.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t we just go looking for him?” Chekiss grunts, pacing the length of our campsite.

An understanding drapes over my chilled shoulders, calm and peaceful. I imagine his face, those dark eyes, that smile. My heart fills with a childlike giddiness. A swell of hope that’s fresh and sweet, like a puff of spring wind and sunlight trapped in my chest.

“I suppose I can ask him that when I see him again.”