Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I take off, running down the hall and the levels of stairs, taking them two at a time until I finally get to the stairs to the crypt and the dungeons. The hallway is shrouded in darkness, lit only by glowing blue torches placed at even intervals along the stone walls. The floor is made of smooth, polished black marble that reflects the flickering light, giving the illusion of walking on water. High arched ceilings stretch above, adorned with intricate carvings of skulls and bones.
Here, I come face to face with Hanna.
For a moment, I think maybe I’ve been wrong about the whole thing. Perhaps this isn’t an imposter or twin at all, and maybe this actually is Hanna. Maybe this was Hanna’s plan all along. After all, her father was a powerful Shaman. Maybe they arranged for him to be kidnapped and for Hanna to take his place, a way to infiltrate the Underworld right under our noses.
But even though I don’t know Hanna well, I know a girl from the Upper World when I see one, a mortal stuck in this world, part of a noble bargain. My father is smart, smart enough to see when someone is playing him, and the way Hanna acts around my father tells me she has true feelings for him.
That also means Hanna wouldn’t fall for my father’s Shadow Self.
Therefore, the person who’s standing in front of me with Hanna’s face isn’t her at all. Especially not when she smiles, with teeth sharper than they should be.
“Tuonen,” the not-Hanna says. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Is that so?” I ask, taking a step back.
“Yes,” she says, still smiling. She reaches out and grabs my arm, her dagger-like nails digging in through my top. “You’re looking rather delicious today.”
I swallow hard, wondering if punching her in the face would get me in trouble.
I try to take my arm from her grasp, but her nails dig in deeper until I feel them draw blood.
“Let go of me!” I bellow, finally ripping my arm from her hold, though her nails create a long tear in the fabric.
She just continues to grin at me and then takes her nails, wet with my blood, and slides them across her tongue.
Her black tongue.
“Hanna!” I hear my father’s voice bark from down in the crypt. “Bring my son to me.”
Oh fuck.
I’m about to turn and run when suddenly, everything starts to spin a little. My arm feels like it’s on fire, and then it feels deadly cold, like ice is creeping up it, taking over my limbs. I stare down at where her nails dug into me and see black swirling underneath my skin, like my veins have been injected with smoke.
Immediately, my horns punch through the cap on my head, and I feel myself doubling over as the cold blackness starts to take over my body.
“I was just subduing him,” not-Hanna calls out as she reaches up and grabs me by the horns, forcing my body to twist as she leads me down the narrow, winding stairs to the cellar.
I grind my teeth together, trying not to cry out, to show any fear. I feel like that might only anger my mother as not-Hanna leads me past the wine cellars and dungeons into the crypt and the chapel of the Sect of the Undead.
Down the aisle, lined with pews and snakes and statues with bleeding eyes and razor crowns, is my mother in my father’s body, standing at the altar.
With horror, I see she’s not alone.
Sarvi is beside her, manacles over each hoof, weights on both wings, and a large collar around their neck, the chains leading to the ceiling. On the altar’s table lay jars and potions next to a broadsword with glittering red gems on the hilt.
“So, this is where we got married,” my mother/father says, nodding at not-Hanna as she brings me down the aisle toward her. “Pity I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
I try for a moment to fool her, to pretend I have no idea what’s going on.
“Father,” I manage to say. “What’s going on? What did Hanna do to me?”
My father’s eyes narrow at me, and for a moment, they glow green.
She is coming through.
“Oh, Tuonen,” he says, though it’s turning into Louhi’s voice now. “You are such a terrible liar. It’s hard to believe that you’re my son. Your father has corrupted you too much with his goodness.”
If neither Sarvi nor I were in such a predicament, I would have laughed at that. I don’t think my father is known for being the epitome of good, but I suppose, compared to my mother, he will always have that distinction.
I knew my mother was bad, but seeing her like this, knowing the truth, I realize I’ve deeply underestimated her.
Still, I try.
“I don’t understand,” I say, trying to twist away from not-Hanna’s grip on my horns, but the ice in my veins barely lets me move. “What are you doing to Sarvi? They’re your most loyal servant.”