Page 33 of How to Woo the Undead

The hurricane snatched the man by the back of his robes, and he disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Sebastian whirled on his boots, lenses of his mask flashing.

“Inside,” he snarled, jabbing a gloved finger at the front door. “Now!”

Austin ducked his head, leading the way back inside the house quickly. Shame crept up through his bones till it was the only thing inside him other than regret. Failure was one thing. But disappointing Lord Rosemont was a whole other thing.

Barely a step inside the front door, and Sebastian snapped, “Austin!”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Austin murmured, whirling to meet his fate.Failure. All your fault. Weak. Useless. Replaceable.All the darkness he’d been running from rushed at him like a gust ofwind. The door slammed so hard, it rattled the wall. But even it’s sharp sound wasn’t loud enough to muffle the roaring self-loathing in his ears. Everyone in the house rushed forward, but Austin took no solace in their concern.

Hedeservedthis punishment.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened—” Dahlia was stopped as she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Sir?” Smith was next. Then Melody, who looked like she was going to say something. One by one till it was only Havershum, Austin, and Hyacinth in the front hall. Hyacinth put up her hands like white flags, stepping back.

“No, not you, Hyacinth. You need to stay,” Sebastian ripped his wet mask off his face. It smacked against the side table and immediately formed a puddle at the base. A tense moment of silence passed. He could feel his maker’s disappointed glare boring through him, but he couldn’t meet Sebastian’s eye. Then, with a sharp snarl, his maker spoke, “Austin,what were you thinking?”

Austin didn’t have a good answer.I was angry that he killed herdidn’t seem to suffice enough. He normally wasn’t an uncontrollable beast, but he’d lost more than his cool there in the rain.Failure. Weak. Useless. Replaceable.The house rattled from the force of the wind, but his shivers weren’t from the bitter wind or cold rain.

“My boy, youcannotsimply go out and fist fight a cleric because he riled you up. We’ve talked about this. You experienced firsthand what they’re capable of. Do you want to be reduced to ash?”

“No, sir,” Austin exhaled, eyes still glued to the floor.Failure. Weak. Useless. Replaceable.The taunting was ceaseless.

Sebastian paced in front of him. His boots squelched with each irritated pass. “Because that is what will happen if you rush into a fight with a cleric of his caliber without protections. Need I remind you what happened to Octavio?”

“No, sir.” Austin peaked up finally, remembering the second undead they’d made together. A dwarven man with an extra set of arms. Nice fellow but only lasted a few months. They ran into some sun god’s cleric and left with blood on their hands and missing their short companion. He’d been destroyed with a snap of the cleric’s fingers. While Austin was old and strong enough by now, that it would take more than a single spell to render him into nothing…it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. A simple touch reduced his palm to sticky paste and bone.

“Youknow better, Austin. I’d like you to actually show me that you do.” Sebastian put out his hand and Austin placed his mangled extremity in it. His maker turned his palm upward and inspected it. “You’ll need a new hand, my boy, this one’s lost too much, it’ll be useless to just sew on muscle and flesh to the bottom half of the bones. Go down into the lab and pick out a new one. I will meet you down there momentarily.”

“What about Hyacinth?” Austin blurted out, looking to the red-haired, wide-eyed woman lingering an arm’s length away.

Sebastian stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then, he sighed, “I wish to speak to her…alone.”

“Sir…” Austin blurted out then regretted it.

“Are you worried I will yell at her too? She did not reach through the protective layer of a fence and snatch the neck of an unknown cleric without consideration or forethought. Hyacinthwill be fine.” Sebastian was seething. Austin only witnessed his maker truly angry a select few times in their long,longlives together. It stung worse than he could ever articulate to be one of the few things that infuriated his maker so.

Austin grimaced, embarrassment biting into his flesh more. He looked anywhere but at Hyacinth as he tried to find his words. Normally, he wasn’t the problem. If anything, Austin prided himself on being the solution. The good kid, so to speak. But it was hard to do that when his body reacted so viscerally and without hesitation.I’ve gone off the deep end. I’ve truly lost it. I’m spiraling out of control. He must think I’m…He exhaled heavily, “I didn’t mean it like that, sir. I just…that man…I wanted—I don’t… Sir, please, let me be here for this part. Then I’ll go find another hand and sew it on myself. I promise I won’t cause a scene again.”

“Alright,” Sebastian sighed, motioning to the tearoom at the front of the house. “Everyone take a seat. Hyacinth, I apologize in advanced.”

“For what?” she croaked, stressfully stroking Snuffles. To the bunny’s credit, Austin could see that Snuffles wasexactlywhere he wanted to be.

“For what I’m about to have to tell you. About how we found your body. And about the priest who means you harm.”

Chapter Seventeen:

Hyacinth

“So,Iwasmurdered?”Hyacinth murmured after a long time of no sound. The tearoom was a long, skinny room with two couches, a piano, a large window covered in ivy, and a coffee table full of forgotten tea. It existed out of time, for it wasn’t the foyer that was full of noise from the storm beating against the house. Nor was it the kitchen that was always full of wonderful sounds of cooking or laughter. And it certainly wasn’t the library with a subtle but steady crackling fireplace. The tearoom was a liminal space that existed in its own realm and made the weight of Sebastian’s words sink into her shoulders like colddeadhands.

“Well, not you-you…but yes.” Austin folded his hands, what was left of them, into his lap as he spoke. Hyacinth tried not to focus on the bones or the gummy flesh. But her mind kept darting back to it.He’s hurt.Blink. Look away.He’s hurt because of me.Blink. Look at the fabric of the shirt.He’s hurt himself and it’s my fault.Stop. Looking. At. It.

“And that man, the one outside, was my murderer?” She tugged at the hem of the shirt, still the only piece of clothing on her body since the stabbing incident.

“One of them,” Sebastian corrected.

“One of them,” she parroted barely above a whisper.