by Quinn Loftis
“Are you going to just stand there and stare or do you actually want to prove how stupid you are?” Myanin asked, her voice sounding bored even to herself. Inside, she was anything but bored. She was a boiling volcano close to erupting. She didn’t care if these people were near her when she did. In fact, she welcomed it. The power inside of her, the one that didn’t belong to her because she’d stolen it from another, was still seeking a way out. The magic acted as if it knew its host was not its rightful owner, and Myanin felt she was fighting a constant battle to keep it in check. She wondered if she could appease it if she used a tiny amount. And by tiny she meant miniscule. No more than it would take to power a single light bulb.
The fae held out his hand and a sword appeared in his grasp. “Those are some interesting words, considering they come from the lips of one who killed one of her own, an elder no less.”
The words were a punch to Myanin’s gut, though she showed no outward reaction. A reaction would appear as a weakness, and looking weak in this bunch made you a sheep among wolves. Myanin might have been a lot of things, but a sheep was not one of them. For the first time since having fled the djinn realm, she felt shame, even if only a small amount, concerning her actions. Her opponent was lumping her in with the Order. Traitors to their people. The lowest of the low. She’d never had a high opinion of humans, but she’d also never had the desire to subjugate them. What kind of conqueror did it make you if you only conquered those who stood absolutely no chance against you? That wasn’t power.
Myanin had no idea how the fae knew about her, but she really shouldn’t have been surprised. All it would take is one pixie hearing about what she’d done and the entire supernatural world would know. Hell, the djinn elders had probably put a bounty on her head.
“You’re standing in the middle of the Burning Claw headquarters talking to me about betrayal?” she scoffed. “How many of your people have you killed, fae? I bet it’s more than just one.” His lips tightened further. He didn’t mind pointing the finger at another, but he sure didn’t like having that finger turned on him.
“I am doing what is necessary to help our people. It’s not my fault they cannot see their own folly,” he growled at her as he crouched into a fighting stance and began to circle her.
Myanin moved her feet in time with his, her eyes bouncing from his eyes to his waist and down to his feet, looking for a tell—a subtle movement that preceded his attack. Everyone had a tell. When her eyes met his again, she saw the small shift in them right before he lunged. She crossed her swords above her head, catching the center of his blade. She couldn’t help but smile. This was what she needed. Finally, she felt her own blood pumping through her veins instead of the constant pulse of the magic inside her. Though she wasn’t surrounded by a raging battle, she was still getting to use her abilities—skills she’d honed over the centuries.
He was strong, but then, she wasn’t using her power. She was simply fighting with her martial art skills, as if she had no supernatural power at all. Depending on how much of his own power he used, she might have to pick up her speed or risk a slash to her gut.
The fae lifted his sword away quickly and then swung it down and across. She jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blade. She bounced on the balls of her feet while the fae leered at her. Okay, more power it is. Myanin rolled her neck, loosening up the muscles that had been so tense when she’d woken up. She’d have to be careful. She’d have to give most of her attention to controlling the magic, which actually might be a good thing. It gave her something else to focus on besides the anger the fae’s words had stirred up and the shame she sure as hell didn’t want to feel.
Myanin didn’t wait for him to attack. She moved at a speed almost impossible for even the fae eyes to track. Her swords whipped through the air as she turned, flipped, ducked, and dodged her opponent’s moves. As soon as she picked up the pace, the fae joined her. He was moving just as fast, his sword meeting her own beat for beat. She saw an opening, so Myanin slid toward him and ducked under his sword arm. She twisted and flung her elbow back. It hit the fae squarely in the face. She lunged away from him and turned, blades ready, but no counterattack came. The man wiped blood from his nose. He looked at the red liquid on the back of his hand as if it was a foreign substance. Had he never seen his own blood? Based on the small amount of shock in his grey eyes, perhaps he hadn’t, at least not at the hands of someone he clearly thought beneath him. Myanin smiled. She felt a strange need to taunt him but also thought it beneath her to engage in such a childish tactic. Instead, she simply waited.
“I’m curious,” the fae said as he once again began to circle their sparring area.
“Curiosity can be fatal for cats. It probably isn't much safer for fae,” she said, despite the fact that she’d told herself she wasn’t going to taunt him. Perhaps a little taunting wouldn’t hurt.
“Why did you come here? We’ve never had a djinn join the Order.” He stared at her, his gaze hard as if he were trying to pull information from her mind. “Are you really here because you believe supernaturals should be able to live out in the open instead of hiding in the shadows like rats? Or are you simply hiding yourself?” He stopped moving and then added, “Like a coward.”
“Tsk, tsk, fae,” Myanin said in a soft voice. “Tis not nice to call others names. It makes you look weak. After all, what kind of warrior has to resort to words instead of simply using his blade to prove himself?”
Rage entered the man’s eyes. The fae growled like an angry wolf and thrust his sword at her. It was not a smart move, but an emotional one. He should know better than to allow his emotions to enter a fight. Emotions caused mistakes, and mistakes made you dead.
Myanin simply turned just as the blade would have reached her, causing him to lunge past her. In the blink of the eye, she’d jumped on his back, thighs clamped to his waist and both her blades crossed in front of his throat. “You lose,” she crooned in his ear. She waited for him to magic his weapon away before finally dropping down. She kept her blades in her hands. She might be done with this one, but she wasn’t done fighting. She still had demons riding her back that needed to be excised. The magic that had been temporarily minimized by her own excitement for battle was back with a vengeance—pushing, taunting, reminding her it didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t use her blades on the invisible demons or the stolen magic, so she’d have to settle for sparring with the idiots filling the space around her.
When the defeated fae turned to look at her, Myanin stepped closer, until her nose nearly touched his own. “My reasons are my own. You’d do well to remember that.” She turned from him and called out, “Next.”
Myanin gazed at the group of men and women foolishly sitting around a table arguing about something they couldn’t change. Those present appeared to be some type of governing council for the Order. They were shouting over one another, pointing fingers, and cursing in their own respective languages. They looked like a bunch of overgrown children who’d not gotten their way. Myanin was embarrassed for them. And her embarrassment did not reach to herself because she didn’t see herself as part of them. This was simply a means to an end. Though she was beginning to rethink the choice, considering she was starting to feel like the only adult in the room. She knew for certain Ludcarab and Alston were older than her, and yet they had been reduced to bickering younglings. She leaned against the wall next to the door, always close to the exit, ready to make a swift getaway if necessary, which, considering the company she was keeping lately, seemed only a matter of time. After having spent time sparring with the warriors who were brave enough to step forward, she seemed to have regained a semblance of control. The magic was still there, just under her skin, but it somehow felt a little subdued, as if she’d fed the monster lurking inside of her. The thought made her shiver, and she immediately locked her muscles. You are in control, Myanin. Your power does not control you. That remark was quickly followed by a question in a voice that wasn’t her own, “But w
hat about someone else’s power?” Myanin clenched her jaw as she ignored the nagging voice. As if she needed another reminder that what she carried inside of her was not rightfully hers?
“ENOUGH,” Alston roared, his voice magically amplified so much that it made Myanin’s insides vibrate. “Fighting over what has already happened is not going to accomplish anything.”
“Ya think?” Myanin muttered softly under her breath. She was careful to keep any of her less-than-complimentary comments to a volume that even supernatural ears would not detect.
“We cannot ignore the fact that a single Canis lupus female took out fifty vampires, including the former king,” Shehan said. The female warlock was apparently the highest ranking in the Order among that species, and, as such, afforded a place on this council. Shehan was tall, but not as tall as Myanin, and medium built, sporting an impressive amount of corded muscle on her bare arms. Her long black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, causing her facial features to appear severe and tight. Her eyes were the signature yellow, catlike slits of the warlock race. She was pretty, in her own way, but her eyes were disconcerting in Myanin’s opinion.
Gar, the leader of the trolls who’d joined forces with the Order, growled and gurgled as he spoke. “How many vampires have been lost in total since these wolves began troubling us?”
This was a number that Myanin knew. When she’d stolen Lyra’s power, Myanin had realized she could see history just like Thad. But her betrayal had consequences. History was now jumbled for the djinn. Neither she nor Thad could accurately understand the pictures of history they received. Most of the time, the visions were fragmented and rarely in chronological order.
The day after the prisoners escaped the Order, Myanin had seen a battlefield littered with the bodies of dead supernatural warriors, both the Order’s and their enemies’. It had been hazy and brief, but she’d known it was a piece of recent history, and she’d seen how many vampires had been killed.
Myanin spoke up. “20,543” All eyes turned her way, but her even expression didn’t change. “Exactly.”
“How do you know that?” Ludcarab asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Myanin shrugged. “My abilities are my own. I’m sure you don’t reveal the full extent of your power to everyone here.” She didn’t add that he’d have to pry the information from her dying brain before she shared a damn thing about herself with him or anyone else in the room.
The elf king’s lip lifted in a silent snarl. He looked as if he was about to make a snide comment but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he turned to Cain, “Did you know he had sired so many?”
“I’m actually surprised it wasn’t more,” Cain replied.
“How many have you sired?” Alston asked the newly crowned vampire king.
Cain clucked his tongue at the high fae. “That’s a very personal question. Would you like me to ask you how many women you’ve bedded?”
Ludcarab rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”
“The question you should be asking,” said Cain, “is how many new vampires do we need to sire now that Sincaro and his army are gone?”
Just what the world needs, Myanin thought, more bloodsuckers. She might want Thad and his witch dead, but that didn’t mean she wanted the world overrun with those foul vermin. Was she conflicted about what she was doing? Yes. Don’t judge.
“Pray tell, how long will it take to make another twenty thousand plus vampires?” Finton, a fae, asked.
Cain leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Well, it’s not something that can happen overnight. But, if we can get the humans we need, the change takes minutes. Finding so many humans that won’t be missed is tricky. Generally, we snatch a few here and there, not thousands at a time. Someone is certain to notice.”
Ludcarab opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a blinding white light filled the room. Myanin saw every being at the table double over, their foreheads laid flat against the table just before she was forced to her knees. Not a word was uttered, not because none of them had anything to say, no doubt, but because they’d lost the ability to speak.
The light filling the room was so hot Myanin thought the skin was going to melt from her bones. The djinn tried with all her might to suck in a breath, but only a miniscule amount of oxygen entered her lungs.
“You are lucky I let you live while in my presence,” a firm female voice said, the sound filling every corner of the room, the force of it rattling Myanin’s insides. “You have attacked my chosen. You callously murdered my righteous ones. You spread lies and evil with your every breath. But as it is with the human Creator, I have allowed the supernatural races free will. You will be judged for your actions. Nothing you do is without consequence, no matter how untouchable you think you are.
“I hereby decree a time of peace—a four-month mourning period for my chosen. If you break this time of peace, the judgment upon you will be swift and merciless. Those who attack my chosen will fall dead where they stand. I am not without mercy. It shall be offered to those who renounce their ways and bow before their Creator.”
Myanin felt a pull in her chest toward the goddess who spoke, but the shame she wore around her was suffocating. She’d been in the presence of the Great Luna one other time, a very long time ago. It had been a much different feeling then. Myanin had been proud to be a djinn warrior. The goddess had spoken to the elders and given praise over the lack of corruption within their race, considering the powerful magic they could wield. Her praise had been like a cleansing rain after a hot day of training. That day now seemed more like a dream than a memory. The peace she’d felt then was nowhere to be found. Instead, she felt the righteous anger of their Creator. There would be no mercy for her, she knew that. Because as far as she was concerned, nothing this goddess could say would sway her from her plan. Even the dreams that haunted her, or the demons that chased her, wouldn’t dissuade her. Nor could the magic that was constantly challenging and taunting her change the djinn’s mind. Myanin had set her course, and she didn’t see how she could possibly alter it. As she thought of her own transgressions, she wondered, Am I worse than those in this room? She’d killed one, while they’d killed hundreds or even thousands over the centuries. Could she truly be lumped together with the likes of them? Her gut clenched at the idea of being compared to Ludcarab, Alston, or any other sitting in the chairs as if they were kings and queens on their thrones.
“Did you ever consider that I have someone different for you?” A voice filled her mind, the same voice that had moments ago filled the room. “Someone who is even more suited to you? There are consequences for your actions, Myanin, but you are not yet lost to me. The earth cries out with your elder’s blood. Is one life not enough to coat your hands? Have you not yet discovered that when you take the life of another, a piece of yourself dies along with them?”
As quickly as the light came, it was gone. Myanin sucked in gulps of air as she shakily stood to her feet. She felt wetness on her cheeks from tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. The djinn hastily wiped them from her face before the others could see.
She saw the others raise their heads and stare at one another, eyes wide, as if they’d just been handed their asses, again. Only this time, it wasn’t by a lone Canis lupus warrior; it was by a goddess. Things had just gone from “we’ve had a setback” to “we’ll be lucky to make it out of this alive.” They didn’t deserve to make it out alive, of that she was sure. What about you? Lyra’s voice whispered in her mind. Do you deserve to make it out alive? She mentally shoved the words away, not wanting to answer them.
Myanin stood motionless for several minutes, clenching her jaw and trying to get her bearings. The flood of painful emotions brought on by the Great Luna’s words was beginning to subside. What remained, the djinn shoved away into a deep, dark corner of her mind, hoping they wouldn’t return. In a matter of seconds, with thirty-four words the goddess had managed to make her question everything, not just her pl
an, but her entire worldview. Frankly, it pissed her off.
“Bloody hell,” Ludcarab muttered under his breath, but loud enough for the entire room to hear.
The air was thick with tension as heads began to swivel, as if the members of the Order thought they were suddenly going to be under attack by the Great Luna’s army.
“This puts a dent in things.” Alston stood from his chair and began to pace.
“What are we going to do now?” Shehan asked, her yellow eyes tracking the fae’s movements. “I, for one, don’t fancy fighting a goddess.”
“She won’t join the fight,” gurgled Gar. “We need to attack while they’re still in mourning.”
“Fool,” Finton, the fae warrior, spat. “Were you not present for what just happened? Do you really think the goddess is in the habit of making idle threats?”
The troll leaned back in his chair. “She said she would kill those who attack. As long as we take some of the enemy down with our own, what does it matter?”
Alston stopped and gazed at the troll. The high fae looked ready to fry the beast. “Do you think our supply of soldiers is endless? We are only as strong as the numbers we have, and even then we are only as strong as the weakest warrior. We cannot sacrifice our warriors on a whim.”