WALL MEN: A Vow Broken (The Wall Men 2)

Benicio… I miss him. I need him. I want to go back… Though I know if I do, he’ll kill me.

My overly thin body starts to shiver uncontrollably, and I push my face into the warm crook of Gabrio’s strong neck. Funny, his long golden-brown beard smells like Bard.

Bard… The thought of him jars me right down to the marrow in my bones. Alwar says that Bard died right after I was taken to Monsterland. I don’t know what happened, but I intend to find out.

Bard was Grandma Rain’s live-in handyman, and, well, it’s complicated. He was twenty-two years older than me, but I loved him even if our relationship was nonexistent and contentious for ninety-nine-point-nine percent of my life. But sometimes relationships are what they are. They just don’t fit neatly into any sort of box.

Bard was my first love, my tormenter, and a liar. But he also took care of me with the sort of thoughtfulness of a best friend—like making sure I had enough firewood for the winter or tuning up my snowmobile so I could get to town after a big snowstorm. He cooked—oh God, did that man cook—with so much love that he ruined all restaurant dining for me. His poached eggs or roasted duck was phenomenal, but so were his juicy steaks. He loved to cook on an open fire, which I now know is a Wall Man thing.

Yes, Bard was one of them.

And like all men of Monsterland, they are bound by a vow to never touch a proxy. The human bloodlines cannot mix with theirs. I am a proxy.

Gabrio struggles to open the door to Bard’s wood-shingled cottage just down the hill from the main house. The porch is cluttered with a collection of items you’d find at a hardware store—a few axes, snow shovels, bags of salt, and snow boots. A cord of wood is piled up under the window looking into the living room.

“It’s okay,” I say between chattering teeth. “You can put me down.”

“No…” Gabrio grunts. “I got this.” The door flings open, and he steps inside, setting me on the soft brown couch. Master rushes in behind us and hops up next to me.

The cottage looks like it’s been ransacked. Pillows and blankets are on the floor. Pieces of the chairs belonging to Bard’s handmade pine table are in a pile next to the fireplace. Pots, pans, and empty containers of baking ingredients are thrown all over the kitchen.

“What happened?” I ask, instantly feeling the sting of being here. I’m not ready to face the memories of this place. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, pushing away the urge to grieve.

“I prefer to sleep on the floor. Bardolf’s bed is much too soft, and soft things make soft men.”

I guess I’m not surprised. Everyone in Monsterland—regardless of whether they’re a vampire, troll, shifter, or some other nightmare of a creature—loathes modern comforts as much as they disdain kindness. “And the mess in the kitchen?”

“I’m a three-hundred-year-old Wall Man. You think learning how to cook for a human was easy?”

Gabrio’s three hundred years old? The information sends another spike through my heart. This Wall Man has been alive for centuries, and soon his life will be coming to an end.

I shake my head with regret and look out at the spindly branches of naked beech trees through the living room window. The snow from the last storm has finally melted, leaving behind muddy puddles and piles of decaying leaves. I hate winter, but I hate this more.

Gabrio is going to die soon. Because of me.

I was very sick when I escaped the Blood King’s palace. I needed food and water, but unfortunately, Monsterland cuisine isn’t edible. Not even if you’re dying of starvation. Fearing I was too sick to cross the bridge home, Gabrio volunteered to make the journey and scrounge up supplies to send back over the bridge. A kind gesture, but also a death sentence.

The Wall Men and their people, the War People, took a vow never to come to our world. And making a vow in Monsterland is a big fucking deal. When you break your word, justice is usually swift. The No Ones come for you, and there’s nowhere to hide. Not there. Not here. Because the No Ones are like ghosts. They go where they want, when they want, which makes them perfect for enforcing the laws of Monsterland, which they do in exchange for food.

We, the living, are their food.

I draw a slow breath, needing to get something important off my chest before it’s too late. The No Ones could show up at any moment and take Gabrio for his “crime.”

“I know civility and kindness are frowned upon in your world,” I say. “In fact, Alwar warned me that I would be dishonoring you if I said how I feel.” Still seated on the couch, I look up into his emerald-green eyes. “But we’re in my world now, and here, the rules are different. I have to thank you. I need to thank you.” If it weren’t for him coming here and finding food to send back the last few days, I wouldn’t have made it across that bridge. He raided our meagerly stocked cupboards here at the manor and walked all the way to the store in town, some twenty miles. He hunted on our land and made stew. He even figured out how to cook pancakes.