Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Kathryn Kingsley (best e books to read .txt) 📖

with her innocence in the circumstances surrounding his death, he is likely using her as a psychological lifeline to his own morality. Something to cling to in his newfound darkness.”

Great. I’m a glorified stuffed animal.

Lydia frowned. The blonde woman didn’t wear a mask, much like Lyon. Turquoise esoteric writing, with jagged points and dangerous-looking spirals, wandered down her cheeks and from the corner of one of her eyes. It was beautiful, if bizarre. “There’s no other way?”

Aon stood from the chair and moved to the wall. He picked up a black burlap bag from where it rested in the shadows. Opening the drawstring, he reached in and pulled out a large object. It wasn’t until he threw it onto the table, and it rolled, off-center and bouncing in a strange way, that Ember saw what it was.

Everyone at the table recoiled.

It was a human head.

And it was still alive.

Well…alive was relative.

Its single remaining eye was open, bloodshot and wild, its mouth opening and closing as it tried in desperate futility to attack the warm flesh that it could sense.

Lydia groaned. “I told you Maeve was going to bring just a head. Why does she always bring back just the head?”

“While these creatures—zombies, drengil, call them what you will—are not impossible to kill, they are problematic in their tenacity and their voracity.” Aon stood by the table, his hands clasped behind his back, the burlap bag abandoned on the floor.

All the while, the head gaped and bared its teeth uselessly from where it sat, plopped on the table like a hideous animated roast.

“As far as I can estimate, the bodily functions are reduced to electrical signals that originate from the brain.” Aon sat down in his chair casually, as if nothing had happened. “The poison lives inside the soft tissue of the skull and commandeers the body. But while this might appear as a plague or as a simple disease…it relies, like all our woes, on the power of an Ancient to drive it. Otherwise, the brain would be starved of oxygen and other requirements to continue sending its signals to the body. This is not a purely mathematical condition.”

“That is why destroying the brain disables them.” Maverick leaned forward to examine the severed head closer. “If we cannot engineer a cure for this, then what do you recommend?”

“I never said that.” Aon leaned back in the chair, his featureless masked face looking toward Ember. She tried not to shrink back at the sudden shift of attention. “I said it was not a purely mathematical condition. We have part of the solution sitting with us this morning.”

Ember shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Once the poison has overtaken the mind, my blood doesn’t do anything. It isn’t a cure once the person has died.”

“Yes. But you are assuming that I am a creature of limited intelligence like those who designed the serum that changed you.” Aon chuckled. “I assure you, I am not.”

“Sometimes I think if you were ten percent less smug, you might cease to exist.” Lydia shot him a look. “So, what’s the plan, then? Are you going to use her as a science experiment, or use her as bait?”

“Both.”

The room groaned at Aon’s reply.

Lyon looked the most exhausted by the conversation. “I do not like sacrificing her to either you or Rxa.”

“Noted. But as the young girl said herself, she is not likely to survive for long in Under on her own. We all know how ill-fated a mortal can be in this unwelcoming world of ours.” Aon gestured toward Lydia. “Don’t we?”

“Don’t bring me into this.” Lydia picked up her glass of wine and got up from the table, walking over toward the fire. “Stop using me as an excuse, Aon.”

“I am merely citing example.”

“You—” Maverick began, clearly gearing up for an argument.

“Stop!” Ember shouted. The room froze. All heads turned to her. “Stop it. All of you. I’m agreeing to this. He asked, and I agreed. To all of this. My life was always meant to be a short one. My life was always meant to be sacrificed. That’s the end of it.”

No one spoke for a beat.

“Thank you, Ember.” Aon sounded quite pleased with himself.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I politely request to be present when you…do whatever it is you plan to do to her, Aon,” Lyon said quietly.

“Why, so you might nag me for my cruelty?”

“So that I might provide support to the girl.” Lyon clenched one of his hands into a fist briefly. For a moment, he honestly looked frustrated. He looked like he might care.

Why? I’m nobody to them.

“Very well. You can hold her hand all you like.” Aon pushed up from the chair again and picked up the head from the table that still sat there, grotesquely mouthing at the air in a desperate attempt to kill them.

He tossed it into his fireplace.

“The rest of you are dismissed. Lyon, Ember, with me. I find myself eager to begin my work.”

“What about all the people gathered in your ballroom?” Lydia asked as she stood from her chair. “What happens to them?”

“If we survive Rxa’s attack, then you can take them south to the Temple of Dreams with us as we take him there to imprison him. As for now? I care not. Make them finger sandwiches if it amuses you.” Aon took the fire poker and jabbed at the head, rolling it farther into the flames.

The Queen of Dreams pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

“I am what I am, my dear. As I have always been. Now, let’s adjourn. We have work to do, and not very much time to do it.” Aon set the poker back into the set with the sound of metal sliding on metal.

Ember sighed. What have I gotten myself into?

The walk down into the basement of Aon’s estate was a quiet one. Lyon wasn’t one for casual conversation, and it seemed Aon was more than