Strike at Midnight(27)

“I will. There is no water near Rapunzel’s. She’ll be quite safe.”

“With you? I doubt it.”

Yep. He was probably right.





CHAPTER NINE

Tick Tock, Goes the Clock





Marcel’s horse was called “Gingerbread,” and he had affectionately shortened it to “Ginger.” He gave that animal so much attention that there were times Melody and I had raised our eyebrows in concern. I’d already told him that he might as well marry the mare seeing as he didn’t have any offers on the table, but that had just got me a snarky look and a big “fuck you.” Hey…I tried.

Ginger was an easy horse to ride, but after the dunking incident, I was a little bit wary. She had been a little overzealous that day and more like a predator than a horse. Part of me was a little proud, but she could still be an idiot. Just like her owner.

Dusk had arrived when I finally managed to saddle up Ginger and head out. Rem had been grooming her when I had gone out back, and I don’t think the kid realized how lucky he was for having been given the privilege. He had asked where I was going but I hadn’t disclosed anything. He didn’t need to get dragged into all this drama. At least not unless I needed more information. He was still a kid, and I needed to keep that in mind.

It made me smile at how grown-up I was being. Jacque hadn’t had the same idea when he had taken me into his home. From almost the onset he had started to train me in working for him.

Marcel had trained with us, but he hadn’t put as much heart into it as I did. He was happy to play fight and do target practice, but his interest waned off after the first hour, and so Jacque gave all his attention to me.

Thinking back, I suppose Marcel had a lot to resent me for. But he never had—even if he thought I was a pain in the ass at first. He was probably grateful that his father had someone else to terrorize with the training, and he had fallen into more of the duties concerning the running of the inn.

I loved them both for giving me a home again, even if it was a home with two guys who owned an inn and hunted for a living. It hadn’t exactly emulated the world I had experienced as a young girl, but they had given me a home, a family, and a purpose.

Jacque had told me the night of our first training that I could choose to be a victim or a fighter. He knew I had been through shit, but that was done. He had said that it was time to make a choice of what person I wanted to become as a result of it, and I had chosen to fight.

It had taken a while for me to become any form of mediocre, but I had worked hard, and worked relentlessly to get meat and muscle on my previously starved bones.

Marcel had fallen into a brotherly role, often teasing me and telling me that I was like a rabid dog—especially when he came near my food—but it hadn’t taken us long to bridge the gap. We had been a team, and even though we had lost Jacque and gained Melody, we still were.

The lantern lights of the city started to diminish as I got nearer to the forest, and then I would need to rely on instinct. It was a trait that had been developed from watching my back every two seconds after my real father had died, and one Jacque had refined with our training.

There were many nights he would lead Marcel and I out to the forest and we would have to find our way back home. But he would always come and get us if we got lost. He was a sucker that way, I guess.

It gave me the skills I needed for being a good hunter, though, and he taught me to never only rely on my eyes and ears. He said we had other instincts, magical instincts that came from our hearts and our minds—which sounded ridiculous. The only kind of magic you could get around here was either from a witch, a spell book, or a potion bottle, but after he had kicked my ass with it a few times, I had started to believe him.

He had taught me to fight on all levels, to anticipate, to strategize, and to feel when fighting. Anger was a weak driver in a fight, and he had made sure I had learned the hard way to remain calm when engaging in any form of a brawl. He had said that a clear head made a good fighter and anger made the head hazy. He had taught me a few tricks on how to calm it, and how to use the energy around us to use the “magic,” as he called it. And he had been right. The more fights and takedowns I experienced, the more that made me realize that the hard way.

Shit, I missed him. So much sometimes that it made my heart ache.

He hadn’t been a soft man. Not in the way where he was all about cuddles and bedtime stories. But he had loved us in his own way and he would have protected us to the death. He gave us the skills we needed and picked us up when we fell.

Even after my strange behavior during my first week with them, he had never asked about my past or pried about why I would act out sometimes. He just took it in his stride and let us walk alongside him.

The borders of the forest appeared, and I urged Ginger through. She was a bit wary at first, but I got my head out of the memories and focused on the direction while giving her coaxing words.

We made it through easily enough, but it had taken longer this time because of the dark and Ginger’s wariness. She had done well, though, and she might be due another bucket of carrots for her trouble.

Rapunzel’s tower shone with a light that came from the windows built into the construction. The small windows started from the bottom floor and had been positioned within equal distance until the large one at the top.

She must have lit the candles on the stairwell knowing I was coming, and the thought of those stairs made me curse just a little.