Page 20 of Carnal: The Beast Who Loved Me

Serene and Free both continued to look expectant, like they were waiting.

“Oh. No. She’s not sick. She’s going to Farsomething.”

“Farsuitwail.”

“Yeah.” Rosie smiled. “So I’m in charge. Until Scar comes in. Of course.” Serene and Free exchanged a look that Rosie couldn’t decipher. “I know how to do the work,” she said defensively.

“Of course,” said Serene. “No question about that.”

Rosie grabbed a popover, stuffed jam inside with a spoon, and said, “Gotta go.”

She was out the door and opening up the Commons within five minutes. There was only one thing that would be done differently than when Dandy had the helm. There would be no nasty kitties on or around the bar.

Everything went like clockwork. Many of the diners had begun to acknowledge her. Some even called her by name. Even the kitchen staff was friendlier than usual and she began to wonder if Dandy really needed to go to market or if it was a ploy to get the community past the cold shoulder stage. It was hard to tell with Dandy because she was the least evocative person Rosie had ever encountered. Effusion would have been as alien to her as the dragons of Emboldt.

By late afternoon everything was in order. The floors were swept and mopped. The table tops were clean. The bar was polished to a shine so perfect she could see herself in it. The glasses were spotless and stacked. The mugs were neatly shelved. Four green logs were banked on the fire pit so that there would be embers to start the evening fire.

Looking around, she was satisfied that Dandy would be pleased. At least she’d have no cause for complaint. Rosie was moving toward the galley hallway to put her apron in the bin and end her shift, when the door burst open. She turned when she heard the frantic sounds of alarmed voices, gruff male voices. Though there were perhaps only seven or eight Exiled who rushed inside, their energy filled the space to capacity. One of them, whom she couldn’t see, was screaming something and it was a sound that sent a chill through her system.

She heard Free give an order to someone near the door. Just as Charming nudged inside, Free said, “Nobody else comes in!”

By the look of them, Rosie surmised that she was looking at a clutch of active warriors. She moved back behind the bar and stood still, hoping to not be noticed, because whatever was going on was very bad.

Over the screams, she heard one of them tell Free, “They killed his crew. Cauterized the wounds so he wouldn’t bleed out. Left him like that to send a message. By the gods, Free. These creatures. They’renotlike us! Blaze was a good male.”

When the huddle parted, Rosie jerked her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. One of the young males, who she knew must have been beautiful beyond compare, was being held upright in a chair. All four of his limbs had been cut away at the body. It was grotesque beyond the worst nightmare imaginable.

He was shaking his head violently from side to side. In between screams and ragged breaths, she heard what he was saying. “Kill me.” He repeated it over and over. “Kill me. Don’t leave me like this.”

The man he was addressing looked up. In the middle of the horror, her mind processed instantly that he had the same tawny hair and yellow-green eyes as his mother and brother, combined with his father’s intensity.

It was hard to make sense of what was going on through the chaos, but something told her that the imposing figure, with anguish written all over his beautiful face, must be Carnal, the infamous older brother. He was covered in a mixture of desert dirt and blood, but underneath that was an undeniable magnetism.

While he was trying to sort between his emotions and the right thing to do, his gaze found Rosie and remained there. The starkness of the grief in his eyes made her want to plunder every promise and use her talents to ease his pain. If he’d continued to look at her like that, she would have. But his attention was wrenched back by the pleading screams coming from what remained of his friend.

During the few seconds before he tore his eyes away, he’d seemed to be searching for an answer. For a reprieve maybe. Or for someone else to take the responsibility. She watched the emotions change the expressions on his face. First resignation, then determination.

Carnal put his forearm around the neck of the screaming man from behind, then whispered into his ear as he applied pressure.

Rosie read his lips. He said, “Because I love you,” before swiftly wrenching the neck he held locked in his arm so that it separated from the spinal cord. It only took a glance for Rosie to read the depth of his devastation before he turned and walked out.

Free turned to one of the men with Carnal and said, “Follow him. Keep him safe.” The male nodded and hurried toward the door.

Rosie moved around the end of the bar to where Charming stood motionless. She caught his shirt in both fists. “What just happened?”

Charming turned his head toward her, but didn’t seem to actually see her through glazed-over eyes. “That was my brother, Carnal. The guy he just killed was his best friend.”

She released Charming’s shirt. Her eyes scanned over the silent warriors who looked stoic but utterly defeated as they stood over the remains of their comrade. It was evident that, at the least, he’d been respected by all of them.

Free stepped forward. It was so quiet in the room that there was no need to raise his voice. He spoke softly, but was heard clearly. “Prepare Blaze for his wake. We’ll burn the body at sunset tomorrow.” Without waiting for acknowledgement or looking back, he exited the same door his oldest son had passed through minutes before.

Rosie looked at Charming. “What kind of people would do a thing like this?” She searched Charming’s face for an answer, knowing there wasn’t an answer to that question.

He looked at her like he hadn’t realized she was there before and shook his head sadly. “The Rautt. They like torture. They delight in this kind of thing.”

Rosie’s eyes drifted over Charming’s boyish features that suddenly seemed incongruent with the expression he wore. “How many times have you seen something like this?”

“Too many.”

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