Chapter 37

ChapterThirty-Seven

Guilt and shame dogged his steps as Alistair brought her to the basement. Namely, because he should have done this years ago. Now that she stood by him, it seemed absurd that he hadn’t faced his fears earlier.

His father had tortured whatever poor creature lived down there, and he had no idea how long the beast had suffered. Alistair was the head of the household now, and he should have released it long ago. Of course, he hadn’t entertained asking it for more power as his father always had, but that didn’t make him any better than the old man.

He’d left it there. Suffering. And now, ten years later, it wanted to kill him.

Thea squeezed his hand in hers as he paused in front of the door. “What are you afraid of?”

“It wants my death,” he replied hoarsely. “It has begged for me to walk down those stairs so many times, I cannot even tell you a number. But every time I felt its magic reaching for me, it was always with the sharp edge of rage and hate.”

“A creature who has been trapped for years can only know hate.” She blinked up at him, those big eyes seeing far too much. “Now is our chance to teach it something other than rage or fear. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

And why was the right thing to do always so difficult?

Alistair squared his shoulders and gazed into her starry eyes. He’d promised himself years ago that if she ever came back into his life, he would be a better man. For her. For their future. For everything that they had seen in the clouds as they gazed up at them from the fields full of blue flowers.

This was the first chain to free himself. The house would fully be his once he faced this creature and made his apologies. If only he could apologize on behalf of his father.

The ghost of the old man stood behind him. He could feel the cold air pressed against his back as Balthazar hissed angry words into his ear.

“You will never be as powerful as I was. This woman will leave you. If you go into that basement, you will fail to bring about anything that you desire.”

But then Thea reached her arms around him, and he felt her wrists move as she dashed them through the air.

“What are you doing?” he asked, awkwardly holding his arms at his sides. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. If only she would let him press her to his heart, he thought maybe they would both be happier.

“I’m getting rid of your father.” Thea flapped her hands one last time through the air, and then he felt all the cold air drift away. “The man is a menace. You’re dead, sir! Go toward the light.”

The absolute ridiculousness of what she said punched him in the gut. Thea, the girl who had been so afraid to come into this house that she had never actually met his father while the man was alive, had no problem now ushering him away from his son. Balthazar likely thought he should be more feared now that he was a ghost.

And yet, this woman walked into all of their lives and turned everything upside down.

He tilted his head back and laughed. The sound erupted from his chest, though rusty with misuse, and seemed to banish the ill feelings from deep within the basement. As though even the creature locked up in there was surprised that Alistair could still feel joy.

And it was joy. He was certain of it. The emotion was rare to feel in this house, even now, but she had brought that into his life.

Alistair hooked an arm around her hips and gently shifted her to face the basement door again. “Shall we?”

“If your father doesn’t mind leaving us alone for a bit, then yes.” She grinned up at him, and he felt an answering half-smile cross his own face.

Alistair lifted a hand and muttered the spell that would open the door. His father had used the old ways to lock it—curses made of blood and hair and vials of slime that came from faerie creatures themselves. He’d spent a foolish amount of money on it, making sure that no one would ever get inside. Not unless he had deemed it appropriate.

Locks slid into place from behind the door. The clicking and creaking was a sound Alistair had heard many times in the middle of the night, but he’d never thought it was this. He’d always assumed the rattling was merely his father walking around or his brothers teasing him. Now he knew.

The door swung open, and a wave of white mist rolled up the stairs toward them. The strangely thick magic sparkled in the light and then disappeared into the gloom of the darkness.

He heard a voice from deep inside the very heart of his home.

“Alistair.”

“It’s there,” he said quietly.

“I know.” Thea squeezed his hand. “I heard it, too.”

Together, they walked toward the stairs and descended into the dark. He should have brought a torch, he thought, and then the passing thought made him shake his head. This was his house. He knew there were light switches down here for people to see.

Except, he froze when he heard chains clanking. A deep grumble started up, the noise straight out of a nightmare. Then he heard the monster’s breath. The beast in the manor who had haunted so many of his family for years. His father had found this god and brought him into the home. Tricked him. Made him perform like he was nothing more than an animal.

It had every right to want to kill Alistair. It should for all that his father had done.

He knew he’d thought the same thing a hundred times over by now, and yet, he still couldn’t stop the words from running through his mind. He deserved this. And some part of that thought felt as though something had cast a spell over him.

Alistair had never questioned if he had a right to be alive. No time in his life had ever driven him to such dark musings, yet the closer he was to the basement, the more likely he was to think those thoughts. As though the creature wanted him to accept what it was going to do before it did it.

Thea’s hand slipped out of his, and he heard her hand scraping along the wall. The faintest click of a switch being flipped and then a line of bulbs flickered to life. Bare bulbs cast harsh shadows throughout the room, but his eyes didn’t linger on those lights for very long.

The basement was long. It went the length of the house, like a too wide hallway. All the way at the end, with no windows to give it light, was a strange creature chained to the wall. The beast was covered in fur from head to toe. However it had a flat face, like a human. Its hair was so long that it dragged on the ground even as the beast lumbered to standing.

Upright, it was easily eight feet tall, though lean. Too lean. Years of mistreatment had created a skeletal mass out of what had once been an impressive creature.

Thea sucked in a hesitant breath. “That’s not a god.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

He lifted a brow in question. “You can see it?”

Though she had her eyes on the standing creature, Thea must have felt his gaze. She nodded, then swallowed hard. “I can. Should I not be able to?”

Because he couldn’t stop himself, Alistair ran his finger along the back of her neck. He drew his touch down past the edge of her bodice and into the hollow between her shoulders. His fingers bumped against a gold chain, just as he thought she might still wear.

Carefully, Alistair drew out her whistle and let it thud against her breastbone. “You should only be able to see it with that.”

The creature let out a roar that shook the rafters above their head. Dust rained down upon them, but Alistair wouldn’t allow the creature to make him fear it. Not anymore. Not now that he knew it wasn’t a god, but a fae creature who had been locked up for far too long.

He started down the distance that held the beast at bay, only to pause as Thea grabbed onto his arm.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To talk with it. It’s been here for ten years with no one but itself. The spells my father put on the door kept out any of the fae as well.”

“So it is one of the fae, then?”

“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the creature who watched him with no small amount of hate. “It’s a domovoy.”

He’d never seen one before and had thought they were myths. No one spoke of these creatures anymore. The people in Wildecliff had long forgotten many of the fae, and he’d only read about the domovoy in books.

“And what kind of fae is it then?” Thea asked, walking beside him until they were a mere six feet away from it.

“A household deity,” he murmured. Alistair lifted his hand and watched as the creature followed it with only its eyes. “They were long thought to be dead, but they are lesser gods. Gods of the household, if you will. People often left meals in the kitchen at night to make sure a domovoy would bless the home.”

“Lesser gods,” Thea repeated. “So he’s quite powerful?”

“Indeed. How my father trapped him is a mystery to me.”

“Might it have something to do with that?” Thea pointed to the side of the creature’s neck.

And there it was. A rune burned into its skin. His father must have fought long and hard to pin this creature to the ground long enough to brand him, and yet, there was the proof that his father was even more cruel than he imagined.

“I do not recognize that rune,” he murmured.

“Oh.” Thea clapped her hands together. “I do!”

And then she took off for the stairs, disappearing into the spear of light from the upper levels of his home.

That left him and the beast in the room alone. The domovoy smelled the air, tilting his head back and inhaling so deeply that Alistair could see his ribs even through the thick matts of his fur. The single bulb above its head revealed all the scars along the creature’s body. So many scars.

He could only imagine what the beast had endured. This poor faerie had suffered so much at the hands of his family.

“I am sorry,” he said, pitching his voice low and quiet. “I know you’ve been calling to me for a very long time.”

The domovoy chuffed out a low breat, like an angry bull.

“I know,” Alistair replied. “You have been begging for me to help you and I have ignored you. That was a terrible thing to do to one so honorable. It is a mistake I will never forgive myself for, although I’m sure that apology does not matter to one such as you.”

Again the beast chuffed, this time though he was certain there might be a word in there. A word that sounded familiar and yet unknown to him.

“I have no right to beg for my life. I have no right to even ask for your forgiveness after what my father did.” He held his hands up as the creature glared. “All I can ask is that you leave me alive to continue to make amends for what happened. You may go. Find yourself a better house with a better family who will not drain you dry for magic.”

The domovoy lunged at him. The chains held it back, snapping with a harsh crack even after all these years. But the creature was but a hand’s length away from his face now. Alistair stared into golden eyes filled with so much sadness it made his own soul scream.

Footsteps stomped down the stairwell as Thea came rushing back into the basement.

“I found it!” she shouted. “I knew I’d seen that mark before!”

Alistair didn’t look behind him. All he could do was watch in awe as the domovoy seemed to soften in front of his eyes. The creature looked at Thea as though she were a priceless artifact in a room full of sand.

He knew that feeling. It was the same one he felt every time he looked at her.

“Alistair,” she said, her voice much closer than before. “Can you get this grimoire off of me? It latched on when I grabbed the other.”

He turned away from the beast to see that she had a grimoire quite literally latched onto her shoulder. The book had a decent grip on her and grumbled as he yanked it off. She held another one that fluttered in her grip like it thought it had wings and could fly away.

“Oh stop,” she scolded as she flipped through its pages. “It doesn’t tickle that much.”

Bemused, he realized both he and the domovoy were watching her with rapt attention as she flipped through the grimoire and then shouted with glee.

“See?”

He grabbed the book she thrust at him and peered at the notation on the rune that was burned into the domovoy. “A rune of binding that can only be removed with the blood of the caster. This rune was specifically designed to capture fae and similar creatures who will then have to do the bidding of the caster.” He looked up from the book. “How did you remember this?”

“Cleaning rooms full of books is rather boring and requires reading breaks for entertainment purposes.” She looked all too pleased with herself. “The blood of the binder. You just have to put your blood on the rune, Alistair. You can free the domovoy right now.”

Both of them looked at him with far different expressions—hers of happiness, the domovoy’s of complete and utter mistrust.

He couldn’t stop now, however, and he’d told himself that he would stop living in fear of what might happen next.

Alistair sighed and handed the book back to her. His words were for the domovoy. “If I release you, then I know there is a chance you will kill me. You’ve wanted revenge on my father for years now, but you must know that he’s dead. His ghost remains here and killing me will only satisfy him further. You may leave, domovoy. Start your life anew.”

The creature glared at him as though it had no intent on doing so, but what else could Alistair do? He had to let it go.

“Here.” Thea handed him a small pin she unclipped from her bodice. A tear opened up that he hadn’t noticed before. “Use this.”

He’d ask her about the state of her clothing tomorrow. But today, he used the pin to poke a small hole in his thumb and reached forward to press it against the creature’s burned neck.

Instantly, a hundred things happened all at once. A blast of magic shoved Alistair and Thea away from the domovoy. The chains snapped free and struck the dirt floor with hard thuds. Thea gasped. The domovoy lunged forward and pressed Alistair against the wall with a scream of rage that made the entire building shake.

He turned his head away from the slathering jaws, not quite brave enough to look death in the eyes.

But that death never came. And when Alistair opened his eyes again, he was shocked to see Thea standing beside the domovoy with her hand on its arm. The beast was frozen, staring at the gentle touch it likely hadn’t felt in years.

“Come,” she whispered, her wide eyes staring up into the beast’s. “Come with me.”

The domovoy staggered away from Alistair, completely under her spell.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked. “I think you’ve earned it.”

Alistair remained pressed against the wall, frozen, as the woman he loved helped the domovoy up the stairs and into the light for the first time in likely fifty years. And she did it without fear.

He hadn’t ever fallen out of love with her, he realized. She’d always had his heart.