K A Knight - [Her Monsters 01] - Rage

by Knight

  “Brother.” I nod, genuinely happy to see the fae male.

  The land on this side of the glamour is so much more than I could ever explain. Colours that do not exist within the human realm are dotted all over, and everything here is alive and powerful. The land itself vibrates under my feet, welcoming me. The trees lean closer to shelter us from the sun, and the flowers open up again.

  The same bridge is still here, of sorts. It isn’t broken now and it is made of fae metal, the strongest in existence, infused with magic— a crossing to their world and plane. It’s also a point where fae can transport themselves to if they have that power.

  Beyond the bridge lays their land and their castle. It is a strange place, because it both exists in our world but does not at same time, and the castle looks nothing like any of the human creation. Gothic, and infused with nature, it is said it is possible for the castle to actually move. Transforming into whatever you need, or whatever it wants. it only answers to the royal line and the rightful heirs, which is how they decide who will lead them. If the land does not welcome you, then you do not lead.

  “The king is expecting you,” Ashera calls, walking closer until he embraces me in a warrior’s hug. You do not touch the fae unless they first touch you, or you are invited to. Ashera is tall and willowy like most fae, with distinct pointy ears and cat-like eyes, in a stunning emerald green. His hair is long, blond, and held back with weaved braids. He is strong though, as the king’s right-hand man he is one of the strongest fae to be born in centuries.

  He steps back, nodding at his guards who fade back into their positions, and I join him as we walk across the bridge, side by side. “Then he knows why I am here?”

  Ashera nods but does not speak, which isn’t unusual. He only says what he feels must be said, nothing else, and unlike most fae, he does not speak an untruth.

  All fae are incapable of lying, but they can twist the truth easily enough. Ashera does not, he believes any twisting is a lie and will not do it—not even for his king. It’s one of the many reasons I like the fae man, you get what you see with him and he is honest.

  As we step down from the bridge on the other side, I let myself relax with the trees creating a canopy above us, leading us straight to the heart of the castle. There are many myths and stories of the fae themselves. Some are true, some are...exaggerations.

  Within their land different courts do exist, but only two. The Night Court, also known as the Winter Court, and the Light Court, also known as the Summer Court, but you are not necessarily born into that court. Your magic decides for you, as does the land. No fae is welcome in both, and strangely enough it creates harmony. Oh, don’t get me wrong, they warred for a long time when a terrible queen sat upon the dark throne and a greedy king sat upon the light. It was when I first moved to the land and they both ordered me to pick sides.

  The loss of life was great, both courts lost their powers, and the land started dying, sick of all the bloodshed and death. Only then did both leaders realise they were dooming their race by fighting. The humans were already killing enough of their territory, they did not need to do it between themselves. So I stepped in, and together we made a pact, a deal of sorts. One that even today is unknown to most people, a secret buried so deep that I will take it to my grave.

  A baby.

  Born of both courts, their bloods mixed and welcomed in the light and the dark. Tested by the land and named queen in both. She will one day take the throne, not that she is aware of her heritage. Not yet, it’s not time. Only when she comes of age will she unite both of the courts, creating peace. One sought for a thousand years. One girl to save them all...because they are dying. Humans, metal, and magic, leading to less and less babies every year. Their magic is dying out and watering down. It was the only choice.

  But that is a matter for a different day—now, we must figure out who was brave enough to step onto my lands, and I must see if they saw anything.

  “You are different,” Ashera observes, breaking the silence.

  Looking over at the man, I notice the difference in him too. Where I once saw a boy, now stands a man with the scars, and a hard stare to prove it. Has it really been that long since I have been here? Maybe I was letting things slip before Dawn came along.

  “As are you,” I reply.

  He nods, his face still serious, no laughter or smile there anymore. Once he would have—what has changed?

  “I have found my mate,” I confess with a grin, and he stops and looks at me.

  “Congratulations, brother,” he cheers, embracing me again before stepping back. His face once again stoic.

  I incline my head and we continue our walk, the trees opening up as we cross the drawbridge into the castle grounds. There, in the center of the square, or the heart as they call it, is the mother tree. I tap my heart in greeting and step towards it. A branch breaks away and moves through the air towards me. I don’t move, I stand still as it wraps around my finger and pricks it, taking my blood.

  Everything with the fae includes sacrifice.

  I turn and follow Ashera again as he leads me through the twisting corridors, always seeming to know his way even as they shift right in front of him until we come out into a sitting room.

  Ashera breaks away from me and heads over to the wall, fading against it, as a silent protector. Taking the seat opposite the king, I wait for him to speak.

  The room is filled with the scent of oranges and flowers dot the walls. The ground is not steel, concrete, or stone, it is hard dirt. Four sofas sit in a square with a table behind one of them and chairs. It is an informal sitting room, which bodes well. Even the room the fae deem to see you in is a choice. If this had been the throne room, or worse, I would have known they were being coy with me, or treating me as a stranger or an enemy. This lets me know I may speak freely.

  The king looks up from the book in his hand, pretending to have just noticed me. When most people think king, they think an older man. Now, Bayard is that, at over a thousand years old, but he doesn’t look a day over forty. His golden hair falls to his shoulders in waves and his golden crown, with flowers and trees, is wrapped around his head. His eyes are the brightest blue and if he was using his power, would most likely blind or stun someone. He is like looking at the sun itself. Now, it surrounds him, glamoured to hide his true power. That also means he intends no harm. If his power was in use then I would be fucked.

  He sits back and crosses his long legs. His body is one humans dream about. “Cernunnos,” he greets, the only man to still use my given name.

  I smile in greeting, making sure not to show teeth. Another strange tradition, but most creatures have fangs and flashing them is a warning.

  “Your Highness,” I greet him formally, knowing how to play this game. Even among friends, you must go by the rules or pay the price. If I had addressed him as King Bayard, the bloodied and fertile, I would have been addressing him too formally. Only calling Bayard shows that I am not giving him the proper respect of his title. It’s the little things that matter with the fae and where many trip up.

  “Please, call me Bayard.” He nods, and I relax even further. It’s a good sign.

  “Then please call me, Nos,” I reply in turn.

  His eyebrow raises and a wicked grin curves his lips. “Nos?”

  I grin back, unable to help myself. “My mate likes it.”

  He bursts into laughter, and the light catches him like a rainbow as a multitude of colours sparkle from him. Many would be mesmerized but I simply wait for him to finish.

  His chuckles die off as the door opens and in sweeps Isla. Her red hair frames her beautiful face, and she has grown as well since I last saw her. Now she is a woman. Her skinny body has filled out and she has curves, but she is still nothing compared to my little monster.

  Her maroon dress is tight around her upper body and cascades in waterfalls behind her, and when I hear a quiet inhale, I look over at Ashera. Interesting. He is watching her, his eyes seeming
ly unable to pull away. Blinking, he drags his gaze away almost reluctantly and meets mine. His face hardens, daring me to mention his perusal of the princess, so I simply wink. I see his lips twitch before I face the king again. I stand and bow.

  “Princess Isla, as beautiful as ever,” I greet formally and she laughs, the sound similar to her father’s.

  “Cernunnos, you flatter me. Please, call me Isla, are we not old friends?” she teases before sitting next to her father.

  He arches a brow at her and leans over, his finger trailing across her ear and coming away red with blood. She bites her lip as her mismatched eyes—one blue and one green—dance in amusement. “Up to trouble again?” he asks.

  “Me? Never father, the very thought,” she quips.

  When she crossed her leg, flashing skin, like her father I laugh. She has never been a normal Fae lady, in fact, most hate her for her spirit and confidence. She can talk politics with the best and wrap them around her finger, but she is also a warrior. She grew up with a dagger in her hand. Her father indulged it when she was younger because the court found it cute, but as she grew up he ordered for it to stop and, as Isla called it, ‘princess lessons’ to begin. I remember when I visited during that time of her life, she used to hide her hair, wear baggy clothing, and pretend to be a recruit to take part in the warrior training.

  Once Bayard realised it would not stop her, he reluctantly allowed her to do both, much to the chagrin of the fae nobles. In their mind, a princess should be nothing more than a figurehead. In fact, many are wishing for the land to choose another, not that it will ever happen, but they do not know that. They do not know we already tested her, and the connection was even stronger than her father’s—at both courts.

  A princess, born of two bloods, during a time of great war. It makes sense she should be a warrior.

  “Did I miss anything?” she inquires.

  “Only that Nos has a mate,” Bayard answers, and her eyes widen and swing to mine, showing genuine happiness in her gaze. I had watched this child grow, her father himself named me Uncle. Another thing which annoyed the court, but I still think of her as family, maybe even the child I never had.

  “Truly?” she gushes, almost bouncing in her seat.

  I nod and a smile breaks out as she laughs again. “It’s about time old man, what is she like? She must be amazing to handle such a grumpy man,” she teases and I hear Ashera snort.

  “Isla,” Bayard warns, but you can even hear the amusement in his voice. He has never been able to control her and he never will.

  “She’s amazing, a skinwalker. Very powerful and a warrior,” I boast.

  “She fights?” Isla asks, and I can tell she loves her already.

  “Of course, in fact I think she could probably beat me. She can be quite scary when she wants to be. That is why I am afraid this meeting must be quick. She is very independent and is currently taking on a crime ring selling women...women both human and supernatural,” I say sadly.

  They both gasp, sitting back, but when they trade looks I know they aren’t as shocked as they should be. “Bayard,” I growl, sitting forward.

  He sighs, and I truly look at him again. Under the power and sunshine, he looks weary. “What you felt on your land is not the first. Somehow, we do not know how, fae are disappearing, all women. We have tried to hunt the source, but we have been unable to. That is why this meeting is so important, my old friend. Our people are disappearing without a trace, from both courts, and no one can figure out how.” I hear the anger in his voice and I sit back in shock.

  For someone to get through the glamour and onto their lands, as well as block any sort of fae magic to trace them—they are powerful indeed. This is so much bigger than I could have imagined and that means Dawn has a bigger target on her back.

  Standing in a rush I growl, “I must get back. My mate is in danger if what you say is true.”

  Bayard stands as well. “Please, old friend. One minute of your time then we will take you back to your mate.”

  My heart is torn in two directions, but I know Dawn has Griffin and I should still be able to make it back before the meeting, so I reluctantly sit. Wishing more than anything that she was by my side again.

  “Tell us what you know, and we will do the same,” Bayard implores, and I throw a look at the sun in the window. I still have time.

  I woke up late morning, with the sun already streaming through the window and the bed empty apart from me. When I reach over and feel it’s cold, I sigh, knowing Nos left hours ago. I wish he had woken me. Rolling over, I groan at the sore feeling of my whole body. I might be supernatural but it seems even monsters have their limits.

  Forcing myself from the bed, I grab some clothes and slink downstairs, and into the bathroom before Griffin spots me. I’m way too tired and sore to be dealing with his dirty looks and remarks. Switching on the tub, I decide to relax and have a bath before the meeting later today. I’m going to need to switch skins as well, which will be tiring, so I’m going to rest for as long as I can and hope I can stay in that skin longer.

  There is no bubble bath or anything, so once the tub is full I flick off the tap and sink into the warm water, sighing as it hits my tight muscles. Laying back, I sink in up to my chin and close my eyes.

  I float for a while, letting out the cold water and refilling it with warm before the door bursts open. Without opening my eyes, I grin. “Well, good morning to you to Griffin, please do come in,” I joke.

  The door shuts and I hear moving about. “It’s more like afternoon,” he grumbles, before sitting on the side of the tub. Cracking open my eyes to look at him, I grin when I find his gaze locked on my body.

  “Perv,” I tease, before closing my eyes again.

  He doesn’t speak but I feel his fingers graze my thigh in the water, and I open my eyes to see his focused on me. “Don’t forget about the meeting,” he mutters, glaring at his hand that touched me like it betrayed him.

  “I’ll be ready, do we have a girl?” I ask.

  He nods, looking away. “A human, I spoke to a sheep I trust. He’s lending us one of his hookers for the night.”

  A mix between a snort and a laugh escapes me. “Hookers?” I parrot, and he throws me a scowl.

  “Whatever the fuck you call them,” he growls.

  “Sex workers,” I supply helpfully.

  “Fine, sex workers. We will pick her up on the way.” He stands up and storms out, making me sigh and sink back into the water.

  Every time I think we make progress, he throws another wall up, one step forward and two steps back.

  I left the pilots to deal with the human authorities and got in the car that Mike sent. Luckily it came with a driver, because I wouldn’t have the fucking first idea how to drive.

  Ignoring me completely, which I am happy with, he sits in the front of the black car and I sit in the back. Keeping my eyes moving, I check our surroundings as we drive. There have been too many attacks in such a short space of time, surely the witches will need to regroup soon, and that is my opportunity to disappear.

  They clearly have a tracer already on me, not much I can do about that now, but they should be dying any minute now which will break the tracer. If the demon does his job.

  “Phone for you, sir.” The man in the front passes it back and I grab it with a nod.

  “Speak,” I rumble into it.

  “Really? You had to destroy my plane? And please tell me why one of my blood bags is talking of demons?” Mike sighs, but I hear the interest in his voice.

  “There was a demon, now there is not,” I say bluntly and he laughs.

  “No shit, how did you get rid of it? Usually people just die,” he points out.

  “I gave it something that it wanted more, the witches’ deaths,” I grumble, bored with talking. My voice box is sore from it, I never understood the need for words. Actions speak for themselves.

  “You fucking genius.” He laughs and I hear him telling others what I hav
e told him.

  Looking out of the window, I leave him to his conversation before he comes back. “Sorry, okay, my driver will take you where you need to go. Ring me if you need anything else.”

  “Fine.” I hang up but the phone rings again.

  Accepting the call, I wait. “That was rude, goodbye.” Mike laughs and hangs up. Fucking vamps.

  “How long?” I question the driver, handing the phone back.

  “It will take us three days with stops,” he informs me politely, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Don’t stop,” I growl and sit back, getting comfy. Three days, maybe two, and then I can finally meet my mate.

  Sitting in the middle of the circle of witches, I close my eyes like they instructed, trusting them not to harm me. I made sure to keep half of the payment back first, it should keep me alive and stop them from cursing me.

  Their hands are connected around my head and their voices rise as they chant foreign words. They assured me this would work, so I sit still even as my dragon growls impatiently.

  The first brush of their magic reaches me, sifting along my skin, and looking for an opening before I feel the tendril disappear into my ear. My mouth opens on a gasp as more of it restricts around my body, caging me. It grows tighter and tighter as their chanting gets louder, until it cuts off all my breathing. I feel it stretching in my skin, reaching from the top of my head down to my toes.

  Refusing to panic, I listen to their voices as they reach the crescendo and the magic breaks around me. Exploding outward and throwing me onto my back on the ship’s floor.

  My lungs fill with air as my eyes snap open, locking on the witches as they stumble into each other, obviously exhausted from their magic use. Not wanting to be in a weak position, I climb to my feet.

  “Is it done?” I growl. My dragon is close to the surface after being kept prisoner in my own skin.