Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

CARLA

That arrogant, cold-hearted monster.

Carla shoved the stolen sweet roll into her mouth, determined to not appreciate it in her anger, but the combination of buttery dough and almond-like filling was too good. That monster had no business being an amazing baker. In what kind of world did that make sense? Everything he touched should turn as black as his heart. That made sense, not ooey-gooey perfection all rolled up and covered in icing.

She dragged a sweet berry through a simple syrup, trying to mop up all the sugary goodness. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a zombified prisoner or was having an adrenaline crash demanding fuel, but this was the best breakfast she had in ages.

Cooking a delicious meal. Ari’s a monster.

She tried reasoning with Ari. Threatening. Flattery. She appealed to sentimentality, but he stared at her like family love was an alien concept. Yeah, someone had baggage and she was going to leave that alone.

She even begged him to help—literally begged on her knees—and he had the nerve to ask her why she bothered.

Well, it was a fair question. She should take his money and go live her best life. No guilt. It was survival, and she was a survivor. Anyone would take the gargoyle’s money.

Anyone except Poppy. She wouldn’t abandon her. Not for money. Not for any reason. She’d do whatever it took to save her, even going to Tavat’s supervillain lair and rescue her zombified ass, like a proper hero.

She wasn’t hero material. Sure, she had skills, but they were more people-oriented, all about reading a room, placating egos, and distracting a mark by batting her lashes or being gross and playing up the helpless little human. Those weren’t even villain skills. They were support-villain skills, and none of them translated into kicking down doors, shooting zombies that needed to get dead and stay dead, and otherwise being a badass.

Well, she wasn’t helpless, and she had badass potential. So much potential.

Fine. She’d do it herself. He said his resources were at her disposal. She’d dispose the hell out of his resources.

But there wasn’t anything she could do about it immediately, as much as she itched to get started on the badassery.

Carla threw herself onto the bed, resentful at how comfy it felt. Staring up at the ceiling, she planned. Two hours, Ari said, until the ship arrived at the settlement. She’d take his money, hire a team, and rescue Poppy. Until then, she had to be patient and wait.

A full stomach and a brief nap helped clear away the doom and gloom feelings. She made her way back to the treasure room, taking her time to explore the ship.

Lush barely scratched the surface of how luxurious the ship was. Opulent. Sumptuous. All accurate. Also garish and just a wee bit over the top. Oddly, all those adjectives also described the gargoyle.

Carla peeked into the cabins as she made her way down the corridor. The other cabins were furnished but too neatly arranged, ready for a guest but not currently in use. The bathroom she shared with the cabin next door was clean and fully stocked, though.

She found a saloon furnished for entertaining but clearly never used. It was too clean. The pillows were too neatly arranged on sofas.

Mainly, she noticed how quiet the ship was. Perhaps it had something to do with quality materials—solid walls, thick carpets in the corridor perfect for muffling footsteps, velvet wall hangings to dampen sound—but she suspected it was because the ship was empty. The place felt hollow.

She made her way back to the treasure trove without encountering another person or evidence of their existence. Despite having been in the room before, she was still dazzled by the collection. It was like stepping into an illustration of Aladdin’s cave. It was floor-to-ceiling treasure. Just gold, silver, and shiny gems. It was too much to comprehend.

Where did Ari get this?

She quickly realized that she didn’t want to know. Nothing good. She didn’t want to know the kind of person who acquired this fortune, and she certainly didn’t want to know the kind of person who hoarded a literal dragon’s hoard of treasure. Well, gargoyle’s hoard. Not a thing, yeah, yeah.

Just grab a piece.

A necklace. Nothing big, just flashy enough to sell and use the money to hire someone to rescue Poppy. How many necklaces did it take to hire a pair of mercenaries? Two? Better make it three so they didn’t have to skimp on bullets. Good thing her jumpsuit had lots of pockets.

Carla pried open a promising black velvet box. Sure enough, it was filled with jewelry. Were any of the pieces particularly valuable? She couldn’t tell but had a vague idea that a truly precious piece would be in its own case, not jumbled together. She grabbed a fistful and shoved it into her pockets.

Great. Now time to get out of Dodge.

“You are a thief.”

She jumped at Ari’s voice. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Pardon me. I forgot how rude it is to interrupt a person while they’re robbing me.” The gargoyle took a menacing step forward, his wings flexing out as if to block her from escaping the room.

Good call. She would run, given a chance.

“You said I could have anything. This is anything.” She flashed a smile, hoping to soothe the situation.

“You are stealing. From me.” He sounded so scandalized that Carla almost felt bad.

Smiles weren’t going to cut it. She planted her hands on her hips. “Oh, please. Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You literally bought me off the street.”

“It was a bribe, and I liberated you.”

“I wasn’t imprisoned, and people aren’t property,” she said. “I know everyone on this planet seems to think that might makes right, but you can’t just take people. Even if you have good intentions.”

His gaze swept over her, taking in her stuffed pockets and the open casket. He leaned in, his hand brushing her hip. She gasped at the touch.

He tucked the length of a gold chain that had gone astray back into her pocket, a smirk on his face. “This is about the Nakkoni female.”

“This is about my friend Poppy,” she said. “She actually needs to be liberated, and since you’re not going to help me and this is basically your fault, I decided that your money will do.”

“I see. That is quite the justification you’ve worked out.”

“It’s the truth. If it weren’t for you, Poppy and I?—”

“Would likely be dead. If by some miracle you survived, you would still be thieves, stealing from someone else for your next meal.” He shook his head. “Perching on an unstable cliff is no way to live.”

Oh, that condescending gargoyle.

Carla saw red. She reached into the still -open casket and grabbed another handful. This felt like a collection of bracelets, maybe a ring or two. “Every time you talk down to me, I’m grabbing more. It’s my fee for putting up with your ass.”

He huffed. “My ass is fantastic. I should charge you a fee.”

Carla reached in with her other hand. More rings. A few fell to the floor. “Keep going, please, but I’ll need a bag.”

The amused expression left his face. “You are clearly resourceful and intelligent. Surely, you can find better employment than thievery.”

Save her from do-gooders.

The truth was, Carla did start out her life on Reazus Prime with a proper job in a tavern. She and Poppy worked as servers, slinging drinks and doing whatever needed doing, usually scrubbing the floors after closing. It was fine for a few months. Customers didn’t keep their hands to themselves, but Carla never had a problem telling people to get stuffed. Poppy growling over her shoulder helped deter unwanted attention. Unfortunately, the tavern owner had a gambling problem, and even more unfortunately, he thought he could sell Carla to settle the debt. Anyway, long story short, Carla took the cash box at the end of her shift and never felt bad for one second.

“You think this place is swarming with nine-to-five jobs with benefits? That I can just work in an office, and that’s that?” She lifted her chin, stubborn and pissed, and only too late did she notice that stance made her stare directly into his eyes. They were a very pretty shade of violet, like twin gemstones.

“Have you tried?” he asked.

“Have you tried considering that maybe people are doing the best with the hand they’ve been dealt?”

Something sparked in his violet eyes, like a bad idea.

“I have decided to help you,” he said.

Yeah, bad and suspicious.

“Why’d you change your mind?” she asked warily.

“Your argument convinced me.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have a plan to access Tavat’s compound. You merely possess a bag of stolen jewelry,” he said, the forced cheerfulness vanishing for a moment.

Good. She liked him better this way, when he wasn’t pretending.

“What’s the plan?”

“Tavat would never invite me to his compound. I do not merit such attention, but if you were to accompany me?—”

“You mean be the bait.”

“The sweet morsel to tempt the greedy male. We gain access to Tavat’s compound and retrieve your friend,” Ari said, making the scheme sound easy. He flashed a grin full of charm, the cheerfulness back in full effect. She wanted to claim the grin wasn’t charming, but much like his baking skills, it was unmatched. Damn him.

Carla scratched the tip of her nose, thinking. Ari left out a lot of steps, and clearly, he had a motive, though she couldn’t say what. A personal beef with Tavat? Likely. His opinion of the man had not been flattering.

“What if Poppy is a zombie?” she asked.

“My sincere condolences. I would suggest violence as a method to process your grief.”

She laughed. She shouldn’t. The situation was grim, and here this black-hearted monster was, offering her a sweet deal with no apparent strings; it was too much for her to contain.

“And what do you get out of this?” Nothing was free on Reazus Prime.

“The satisfaction of doing a good deed,” he answered.

Yeah, she did not believe that at all. Still, options were thin.

“Before I agree to anything, I need some reassurances. You won’t sell me to Tavat,” she said. Then added quickly, “Or anyone else.”

“Never. Slavery is an appalling practice.”

“And we’ll do this as soon as possible? You’re not going to wait six months when we know Poppy is long dead?” She felt like she was making a deal with a fae, trying to navigate tricky tricks and avoid hidden consequences.

His wings fluttered and stretched. “We cannot act immediately. Tavat’s compound?—”

“His island lair.”

“Yes, his lair has many fortifications. We will need an invitation with a clearance code if we do not wish to be shot out of the sky.”

Generally, she was against that. “I’m not agreeing, but how do we get an invitation?”

He flashed that charming grin again. “We attend a party.”

“And you show off your shiny new human pet?”

“Essentially. Tavat’s pride is terribly fragile. When word reaches him that I have you in my possession—” His voice dipped lower, grew greedy, and she shivered.

Not from lust. Don’t be gross. It was from fear. Good old -fashioned run-from-the-monsters fear. Zero attraction.

Maybe a little attraction.

“Tavat will make an offer. We’ll fly to his lair for negotiations,” Ari concluded.

“We rescue Poppy, and you get a gold star?”

His eyes sparkled. “Is a gold star how Earth rewards heroes?”

“Yeah, sure.” If Ari wanted to be a hero, she wouldn’t stand in his way. Maybe it was cultural, like he had a debt of honor to repay or… community service. Something.

It seemed straightforward enough. There had to be a catch, but she couldn’t spot it. Honestly, she didn’t have much of a choice.

“We have a deal.” He stuck out his hand. “Now we do the ceremonial handclasp.”

Not so fast.

Carla took a step back, hands behind her. “Are you planning on stealing something from Tavat? Is that what you’re getting out of this?”

He huffed. “I am not a thief.”

“Are you… a reverse thief? Gonna plant incriminating evidence?” It was a ridiculous suggestion, but Ari’s wings gave a little flutter, as if nervous.

“No,” he said, dragging out the word, telling her that yes, that was exactly what he planned to do.

Oh, this was fun.

“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” she asked in a sweet, singsong voice.

“Do not be ridiculous.” His eyes darted to one side before quickly focusing on her again.

Poor, sweet gargoyle baby. He was so bad at this game.

“What’s the item?” she asked, turning to see where his gaze went.

“That is not important.”

“That is a bullshit answer, and you know it. Whatever it is, it’s hot enough that you don’t want to be caught holding it.” She drifted to a case that held a particularly blinged -out dagger. “This? Some ceremonial object that a cult is desperate to have returned? Oh, is it a murder cult?”

Her fingers brushed against the top of the case. His face remained as still as stone. Not the dagger, then. Shame, a murder cult sounded exciting.

“This?” Her fingers tapped the glass above a golden icon of a saintly spider painted on wood. The colors were lovely, like pulverized gems, but it was a spider. With a halo. With four hands pressed together in prayer, four eyes closed in holy meditation, and the other four open and judging. So very judgy.

No reaction from Ari.

Her eyes rose to the grotesque mask on the wall. It was right out of a horror movie, like someone peeled the face off a gargoyle and let it dry in the sun. The eyes were hollow, black, and sightless. No judgment there, only a haunting emptiness that was way worse.

Curious if the mask was leathery or clay, she reached for it.

“Do not. It is fragile,” Ari said.

Bingo.

“I can see why you want to get rid of this. It’s horrible.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, watching the mask. “The eyes are following me. Super creepy.”

“Do not taunt it,” Ari said, gently moving her away.

“Why? Is it cursed? It looks cursed.”

Ari now stood between her and the mask. It didn’t matter. Those hollow eyes were still watching her.

“It is the death mask of a notable ruler from my homeworld. The Duras government wants it returned.”

She could guess the rest of the story. Culturally significant, if creepy, relic. Government agents with a limitless budget want it back. “And you want this to be Tavat’s problem?”

“Precisely.”

Good. One question was answered. Now for the big one.

“How’d you get the treasure trove?” she asked.

“That is what you want to know?”

“I need to trust you, but right now, I’m assuming you’re in the habit of seducing wealthy widows and bumping them off, so yeah. Explain the obscene riches.”

“A friend found it.”

“Fuck off with that nonsense. How’d you really get the loot?”

“A friend found it,” he repeated. “It was the collection of a notorious prisoner warden. Miriam gave me her share if I would find Darla.”

“The mysterious Miriam and Darla,” she muttered. They were back to good deeds again. Maybe he really did have a hero complex—rescuing lost humans, returning artifacts, and all that jazz. “It seems like you got the better half of that bargain.”

“It was a trick. This,” he spread his arms wide to gesture to the room at large, “is a stone dragging me down. I cannot sell it easily or spend it. It is priceless and without useful value.”

Carla had a hard time believing that a room stuffed with treasure was a burden, but sure. Double-edged swords and all that. She didn’t like him, and she barely trusted him, but he was her best option.

For now.

She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Ari stared at her hand, then slapped the palm of his right hand to hers. He grinned, pleased with himself. “We’re nearly at our destination, and we need appropriate party attire. Can I trust you to behave?”

“If you can refrain from being a condescending asshole, I can behave.”

“As you say, deal.”