“This is a business, not a charity. If you can’t make your payments, you shouldn’t have signed the mortgage.”
“But Mr. Fontaine, we just need more time. We’ve paid on schedule for fifteen years, and never missed a payment.”
“Until the past six months. You’ve been late or short for half a year now.” Adam sat back in his grand leather chair and eyed the next late contract on his massive mahogany desk. His mind was already onto the next task; he’d lost his patience for pleading long ago. He’d never be caught sounding as pathetic as the people who called his office daily for an extension on their loans. “I’ve been more than patient. You have until the end of the month, and then we’ll start the eviction process.”
“But, sir!”
Adam hung up on the caller, as he’d done four times that morning already.
“That was rude,” chided Audra. She slid slowly into his office atop a tea tray, using her magic to control its trajectory. Though she’d lost her arms and legs long ago, she managed to move around the castle easily enough in the form of a teapot.
Adam glared at her bone china face. “That was business. Something you will never understand.”
Audra’s china base clicked as she teetered toward him, hopping from her tea tray to his desk. “I understand well enough. You’ve gone from unpleasant to downright surly ever since Rory stopped coming to visit.”
Adam’s fist tightened on his pen. “Don’t pretend that you know what it’s like to be me.”
“Are you having a laugh? I’m one of the few who understands completely what it’s like to be you. I’m confined to the castle even more than you are. You won’t leave because of vanity’s sake. I can’t leave, for fear of people stepping on me and throwing me out with the garbage.” Then her tone softened with the maternal coo she couldn’t help. “Maybe Rory will come today. It’s the first of the month, after all.”
“I don’t care if she comes. She’s probably off with her new husband, boring each other to tears. Henry will be by later, and that’s that.”
Audra shot him a pained look that shone through on the white teapot with pink rose embellishments, a few of the golden swirl designs shaping themselves into eyes and a thin mouth. All the servants had suffered for their failed attempt at a counter-curse. They’d been turned into common household objects with voices only Adam could hear. He’d tried in the beginning to convince doctors and friends that the servants had become the objects, but no one believed him. Even Rory and Henry had offered up sad smiles and pacifying head-nods. He was labeled mentally ill by doctor after doctor – hearing voices that, according to everyone else, simply weren’t there.
It had taken slashing mortgage rates to the bare minimum to keep his company afloat, ensuring clients didn’t jump ship on him. That actually turned into a brilliant business move, making the company the most stable of all its competitors, despite its unstable owner.
Adam was deformed now, and as much as people like to claim it’s what inside that counts, his new outward appearance had people looking the other way instead of leaning in to listen and help. With the loss of his looks and a diagnosis of major depressive disorder with psychosis, he had only his servants to keep him company. Henry and Rory had stopped by once a month to try to get him out of the castle for nine years, but after Adam let his pride keep him from going to Rory when she’d been in need earlier that year, she’d finally turned her back on him, as well.
Now there was only Henry. Adam knew they were only keeping on with these visits because Henry was a decent person, not because either of them enjoyed each other’s company anymore. No one came to visit, scared of the man whose chestnut hair now looked closer to fur, and covered his shoulders, chest, back, legs, arms, and cheeks. His once commanding physique was now a beacon for a body that was still man, but was slowly turning to beast, with a puffy upper lip that made his expressions appear animalistic.
Audra tipped her spout after summoning a teacup to sit on the desk. She poured Adam a steaming cup of Earl Grey and righted herself. “You should call Rory and apologize.”
Adam scoffed at the suggestion both of them knew was futile for her to suggest. “You should mind your own business.”
“That girl is my business. She was a good friend to you. You need people in your life, Adam.”
“What do I need people for when I’ve got a talking teapot who prattles on incessantly?”
Audra glowered at him and huffed as she leapt back onto her tray, scooting it toward the exit as the doorbell rang. “That’ll be Henry. Best put on a smile.”
Adam snarled, knowing that when he bothered with a grin, his fangs were too visible. “I’m busy.”
“You’re bossy. Those are two different things. You’ll come down and greet your only friend, Adam.”
Adam grumbled, but ultimately obeyed. He stomped through the dusty, unlit hallway and moved down the doublewide staircase that had once been grand. The gold fixtures had long since lost their shimmer, the air was thick with cobwebs and dust, and it had been ages since anyone had run a vacuum. None of his servants could manage an appliance of that size, so some of the chores had been left to Adam, who couldn’t have cared less.
When he threw open the door, his eyes immediately scanned to the side of Henry and behind him, searching for Rory. When she wasn’t there, his shoulders fell, frustrated that he’d been foolish enough to hope she’d forgiven him. Worse was that he actually hoped for the clemency, which was almost as bad as admitting aloud he’d been wrong – something he had no intention of doing. “Hey,” he greeted Henry, and then turned around without pretense of a handshake or hug.
Prince Henry had been bred for politics since birth and didn’t let his offense show at the lack of cordial greeting. He didn’t come to visit Adam on the first of the month to get friendship from him, but to offer it, since Adam was so deprived of the stuff. “Good morning, Adam. I can see you put on your Sunday best for me.”
Adam glanced down, cringing that he was still in his pajamas. Worst was that he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d worn anything else, or even bothered to shower. “Only the best for the Prince of Avondale. What’s new in the land of all the beautiful people?”
Henry tried not to take offense at the compliment that was meant as a jab. Adam’s curse had left him with a puffy, scarred and hairy face that had swiftly dethroned him as Avondale’s most eligible bachelor. Prince Henry wore that spotlight now, especially since Rory, whom Henry had been betrothed to since her birth, was now married to Cordray Phillips – the man she’d fallen in love with. Prince Henry had never loved Rory as anything more than a sister and best friend, so he was thrilled for them. He’d stood up for her as her Maid of Honor at her wedding, proclaiming to all the eligible maidens in the land that there was no chance he would end up with the Chancellor’s daughter he’d been promised to. The female fervor for him had tripled since then.
Henry sneezed three times at the thick layer of dust that only seemed to multiply over the years. It wasn’t just the rugs that stank of man feet, but the stench had permeated the walls as well, making the whole place something to wrinkle your nose at. “Father’s starting to put on the pressure of marriage, but lucky for him, I’m married to Avondale.”
“Sounds tedious. King Hubert should know you’re not built for settling down.”
“That’s what I told him. It went over about as well as you can imagine.” Henry followed Adam into the kitchen, which was the only room they ever ventured to in the past year. Everything else was too dusty, and filled with neglect. Plus, Adam was touchy about the objects in his castle. It would have been helpful to his claims for mental health if the teapot was able to move on its own when Henry was around, but the objects only moved for Adam, making him seem unbalanced even to his very best of friends.
Adam was patient while Henry talked about the state of the kingdom. There was a big controversy over whether or not Lethals should be able to roam about freely, or if they should be forced to take a pill that would mute all of their powers, thus making them safer to be around.
Adam cared little about it all, since his Pulse wasn’t lethal. The only person in his life now was Henry, so he nodded when expected, and gave grunts of derision when it seemed appropriate. Rory’s new husband was a Lethal, so Adam pretended to care, in hopes it might make it back to her that he was civil. He thought it foolish that she’d chosen to fall in love with a Lethal. Cordray could electrocute anyone with a simple touch. He wore gloves and secretly had to take a double dose of the 30-day Pulse-muting pill to keep from killing her by accident, but the threat of her sudden death was very real. It was love that drove her to largely ignore the danger.
When a knock sounded at the door, Adam straightened, and immediately chided himself for the hopefulness that rose in his chest. If Rory decided to come back and forgive him, that meant there would be two people in his life who would notice when he was gone from the bipedal world.
“Are you expecting someone?” Henry asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.
Adam stood from his stool and moved toward the foyer. “No. Only you and Rory.”
“Rory and Cord are out of town, raising funds for her Foundation.”
Adam frowned. “I’m the largest sponsor for the Johnstone Foundation. Has she truly gone through all the money I donated?”
Henry kept a pleasant expression in place, but his tone lowered to sadness. “She’s preparing, in case the fight between the two of you grows to the point that you pull your funding.”
Frowning, Adam took a step back, affronted. “I wouldn’t do that to her. It’s important work she does, funding the education of literacy and basic education so the government doesn’t have to.”
Henry shrugged. “A lot depends on her making sure the Foundation runs smoothly. She’s just hedging her bets.” Henry jumped onto a different topic to lighten the mood. “Her husband’s a trip. Can’t stand the corporate world, but will follow our girl anywhere.”
Adam didn’t respond. He went to the door and thrust it open, squinting into the sunlight that violated his pupils. “What?”
A mumbly man with salt-and-pepper hair had his hat in his hands, his wrinkled fingers twisting the knit cap nervously. It was positively icy outside, but Adam didn’t offer for him to step inside. “G-g-good afternoon, Mr. Fontaine. I w-w-was w-w-wondering if I might have a word with you. See, I hold a mortgage with your firm, and…”
Adam’s puffy upper lip curled. “Do you have a working phone?”
“Yes, sir. I do, but…”
“Then I don’t see any reason why you’re bothering me. Call the main office with complaints. I don’t handle things like that.”
“There seems to be a problem with the paperwork, and no one can help me. I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong. I’m Fabrice.” He paused as if waiting for a hello, but then rushed onward when it was clear no greeting was coming. “It’s my mortgage. I’m late for the second month now, but the sheriff...”
Adam ran his hand over his face, tracking each deformity to be certain he still had ample reason to be cross with the world. “You people are getting more zealous every day. I mean, coming to my home?”
The man had a roundish structure to his face, but his cheeks were sunken in from malnourishment. He had bags under his eyes, and his fingers were covered with torn knit gloves. His old jeans bore a rip across the knee, letting just enough of the chill into his pants that he shivered uncontrollably. “I’ve tried your mortgage hotline, Mr. Fontaine, but I’m not getting anywhere with them. We’re two months late, and…”
Adam’s eyebrows pulled together as he fisted the side of the door to lean against it. He opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did, the howl of a wolf sounded in the distance. Adam stiffened at the warning. The pack was always coming around, reminding him that they were there – that they were his future. He’d angered them quite a few times over the years by setting traps to keep them off his property, so the howl was meant to remind him of his doom. Once he was one of them, he would not be welcomed into their pack.
A cloud of anger replaced any curiosity that might have occurred. “It takes six months before the eviction process starts, not two. I suggest you bother the office then, and not my home.”
Just when Adam was about to close the door, the old man held up his hands and did something so shocking, Adam merely gaped at him. Fabrice got down on his creaky knees on the snow-covered porch and clasped his hands in supplication. It was clear he feared the wolves by the dodgy glances over his shoulder, but his worry over losing his home was even greater than that. “There’s an eviction notice posted on my front door, but according to our contract, we still have four months to make up the late payments. When I called Sheriff Aston, he said he was expediting our eviction.”
Adam’s nostrils flared, but Henry had heard enough. He pushed past his friend and helped the man off his knees, leading him into the foyer. “What’s this about the local law making its own rules? Do you have proof of this?”
Fabrice’s wide, watery eyes took in the man who helped him inside. Henry was taller in person, and Fabrice looked small and stooped with the cold. Everyone had watched the young prince grow into the political leader beside his great father, King Hubert. “Prince Henry?”
Henry flashed one of his dazzling grins, Pulsing a touch of congeniality into Fabrice, so as to put the man at ease. Such was his Pulse, but when paired with his charming demeanor, one might guess that he scarcely needed magic to draw out amiability in people. “Adam, get your client here a blanket or something. Start up the fireplace. He’s frozen!”
Fabrice’s teeth were chattering, and his joints were rigid with a deep-set arthritis that was exacerbated by the cold. The snow had started to fall only a week ago, but already Mother Nature was making her claims on the last vestiges of autumn. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to b-b-be a b-b-bother. I just can’t lose my home. I’m one year away from paying it off. I can’t lose it this close to the end.”
Henry patted Fabrice’s arm. “Of course not. Adam will pull up your contract and see to it all right now. He wouldn’t want you to get torn apart by wolves. The Lupine can get quite hungry this time of year.”
Adam opened his mouth to argue, but instead he stomped off in the direction of his office up the stairs. When Fabrice made to follow, Adam whirled on him. “You’ll not tail me and snoop around my home. You’ll stay right here, and try not to get my floors all messed up. I’ve got my mud stains exactly how I like them.”
Fabrice looked down at his shoes that were in the last stages of decay, and grimaced with an apologetic bow of his head. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Fontaine. Thank you for looking into my case. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You can start with never bothering me with this kind of thing again.”
“Yes, sir.” Though Fabrice was easily several decades older than Adam, he didn’t hesitate to pay respect. He stood in the foyer, his clothes cold and wet as he shivered.
Henry’s eyes tightened around the edges as he watched his friend’s ascent up the wide and winding staircase. When he turned to Fabrice, his smile was in full swing. “You’ll have to forgive him. He left his company manners in his other castle.”
Fabrice held up his hands and shook his head. “Oh, no offense taken. I’m a stranger, showing up uninvited. I’d be cross, too.”
Henry didn’t quite believe Fabrice was capable of such a thing as surliness. Fabrice had a congeniality to him that rivaled Santa Claus, and a lightness to his obviously burdened shoulders that reminded Henry of his own father, years ago before the kingdom was perched so precariously with too much division.
Henry offered to take the man’s useless coat. It was too thin and wet to offer any sort of warmth. Just holding it over his arm gave Henry a chill. “Would you like a cup of tea while we wait?”
Fabrice’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together. “I wouldn’t say no to that. The Prince of Avondale offering me a cup of tea? My daughter won’t believe it.”
“Then you might have to lie and tell her it was the best tea you’ve ever had. I’m honestly not sure what Adam’s got in his cupboards.”
Henry led Fabrice to the kitchen, apologizing for the state of the dusty and neglected home. He fished through the cupboards, which he hadn’t done in weeks. His heart sank when three of them were empty, and actually had a few spiders taking up residence where the spices and canned goods should’ve been. The fourth cupboard made Henry bite his lip to hold his reaction inside. Where the oatmeal and breakfast fixings should have been were several boxes of dry dog food.
Henry’s heart sank, and he shut the door quickly, hoping Fabrice hadn’t seen that there was dog food, but no dog. Rory had been the one who’d made sure he was eating human food, but she’d stopped coming by earlier that year. Guilt flooded Henry as he donned the politician son’s smile for Fabrice. How long had Adam been living off of dog food? Had he truly given up all semblances of a normal life? There was nearly half a year before his thirtieth birthday.
The fifth cupboard had fixings for tea, though not many. Henry pulled down a teacup and ran water in the kettle, heating it on the stove. He searched around for the teapot, but couldn’t find it. He hoped that meant that Adam had at least been drinking something civilized.
“Here we are,” Henry said when the kettle whistled a few minutes later. “I’m sorry there’s not food to offer you. Adam’s a bit swamped with work, and hasn’t had time to go to the store recently.”
Fabrice waved off the apology. “My cupboards are every bit as scant. These are lean times. I just didn’t think they’d fallen on Mr. Fontaine, as well. Do you really think he can get this squared away?”
“If it’s as you say it is, I don’t see why not.”
“That’s hope I’ll hold tight in my pocket, then. My daughter, I… She does so much to take care of so many people. We can’t lose our home. I’m not saying we don’t deserve a reprimand, but the contract should be looked at when the alternative is throwing a man and his daughter out on the streets.”
“Of course. What do you do, Fabrice?”
“I’m a clockmaker,” he said proudly. “I make all sorts of trinkets, too. Right now, I’m working on a record player.”
“Restoring it?”
“Improving it,” he declared with a twinkle in his eye. He warmed his hands with the cup of steaming tea and sighed contentedly when feeling crept back into his extremities. “When I’m finished, it’ll play music while taking each song and synthesizing a painting based on the notes, instruments and rhythm.”
Henry took a seat at the counter and leaned back appreciatively. “You’re making art out of music? Making art out of art?”
Fabrice batted his hand dismissively. “No one cares about that, but I like it. I’ve won awards for my music boxes. Those, people like. Anything too off the beaten path scares the public, so that invention is just for my daughter.”
“She likes music?”
Fabrice nodded sadly. “She suffered from a high fever and an infection when she was just a baby. It took half her hearing in her right ear. She can hear well enough – no one even notices her leaning in – but sometimes music misses the beat for her. I thought she should be able to see music the way we hear it.”
Henry picked up his teacup and blew on it, enchanted with the sweet old man. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-seven. Though she’s always been an old soul. Takes care of me well enough.”
Henry was enjoying his visit with Fabrice so much that he was taken aback by Adam’s grim presence in the entryway. “Did you want some tea, Adam? I was just getting to know Fabrice here.”
“You should go,” Adam said with a menace to his tone.
Fabrice set down his cup, his lips pursed before he spoke. “I can’t go until the matter about my home is settled. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Adam shook his head. “Not you. Henry, you should leave. You don’t want to be involved in this.”
Henry set his cup down with a heaviness that suggested he was either tired of Adam or humanity in general. “What is it?”
Adam didn’t elaborate, only stood sideways and motioned to the foyer.
Henry bowed his head to Fabrice, and moved toward the front door with a tight frown, not bothering to hold back his frustration with his friend’s lack of civility. Adam would not be moved, though, and practically shoved his last remaining friend out the front door and locked it.
When Adam moved back into the kitchen to tower over Fabrice, he did nothing to stifle his imposing presence. Adam was tall. Six and a half feet would be intimidating on anyone, but with his beastly features and snarl that seemed nearly permanent, it was no wonder that Fabrice shook and took a step back.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the warrant?”
Fabrice’s mostly white eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What warrant?”
“The one on you for public disturbance. I phoned the sheriff, and Gabe himself said that you were to be detained here until he could come take you in.”
Despite the anger radiating off Adam, Fabrice did his best to stand tall. “I’ve never been charged with anything of the sort. Sheriff Aston wants something from me, and he’s making my life miserable until I give it to him.”
Adam cleared the gap between them and coiled his beefy fingers around Fabrice’s shoulder with all the inevitability of a boa constrictor. He jerked the old man forward, not caring if Fabrice was capable of keeping up with his swift footsteps and long strides. “Tell me the rest from your cell. If you think this place is dingy, wait until you see my dungeon.”