“See what?” Kvigor frowned, kneeling to pluck me up.
“I’m a demon!” I crowed, “but not a stubby tailed one with these,” I pointed to the lumps of disfigured bone stretching my skin on either side of my spine along my back. “Wings! Not the remnants of some, but wings!”
Kvigor blinked, glancing to Adelric. “You see anything when she was down there?”
Adelric grimaced in apology. “Hard to see anything once you get down there, and with this git carryin’ on,” he hooked thumb at Kvigor, “I, uh, can’t say I was paying so close attention as I should’ve.” Or any at all, his expression said.
Kvigor nodded in agreement. “He does run that stubby snout so.” His hand went to his chin where he rubbed it, his gaze darting from the pool to my dripping form. “Perhaps you could try it again?”
“Oh, stand back, let me just see here.” Picking up the sword, turning, I headed for the far wall, grumbling, wet braid dripping down my back, chilling my bare skin, irritated I’d been the only one to see it. I was feeling slightly thwarted and a little worried I may have been mistaken. Doubt, my biggest nemesis, by far. “It’s only a shadow of it, mind you,” I grumbled over my shoulder, my wet, stomping steps echoing in the large chamber, “but you’ll see.” Just give me a moment to focus and it should-”
“Ah... vacha?” Adelric croaked out.
“Hmm? Don’t sound like that.” I waved him off over my shoulder. Naked as the day I was born, rambling about a sword making me a demon, and that was totally sane! “I’m not crazy.”
“Never,” he replied airily.
“Perish the thought,” Kvigor muttered, his voice sounding just as odd and strangely breathless as Adelric’s
Frowning, I turned around to find them staring at me. Nay, gaping. “What?” Lifting one hand, I ran it over my head self-consciously. Everything appeared fine, until I reached back. Eep! Jumping, startling, I craned my neck, gaping at the stretch of skin pulling over a humungous set of leathery black wings. Twisting this way and that, I could see them, touch them, but this wasn’t real! “H-h-h-how? Why?!”
Glancing down at the sword, finding a long, black tail twitching between my legs, my feet oddly dark skinned with claws, every other toe fused on my strange feet. With a shriek, I jumped, my claws clacking noisily on the smooth floor.
“What am I? What am I?” I practically squealed, trying not to panic and failing.
“A demon, the prophecy! The sword! Our savior!” a deep voice breathed, startling me so hard I dropped the golden, shimmering sword glittering like a thousand tiny gems covered it dangling from my limp fingers. Yhem, slack-jawed, wide-eyed and standing in the entryway, slammed his hand over his chest, bowing his head, and dropped to one knee.
“Oh for the love of-” I started, to watch as Kvigor and Adelric blinked and jerked. Scowling, eyes properly flushed black, I lifted a clawed finger to point it at them. “What now? Is it my face? Do I look a proper gargoyle now, hmm? Tell me! I can take it. How bad is it?!”
They both rushed me at once, pausing just before me to glance down at the sword, that blunt, boldly charred color post wild flaming, at my very human looking again feet.
“What the?” I muttered, reaching back to find nothing, no magnificent wingedness, nadda. I was, gratefully, mostly, thankfully, just me again. Ah, well, the new broken demon like me. Whirling, I spun around, wriggling my naked derriere at my mates. “Well? What’s back there? A great lump of a stump or a whip of a tail?” A hairy tail!
Adelric reached out, grinning, giving my arse a teasing tap, pulling me into his arms when I squeaked and jumped. “Just that wee little wiggly stump, luv, but for a moment there it was long and ye had a great pair of wings sprouting out yer back. A hundred percent demon, holding the beast’s sword and everything.”
“Beast’s sword... Is it truly?”
“Forged by the All-father himself,” he continued. “It’s said only a demon could wield it, harness it. Its power was so great it was said to be able to kill the lord himself.”
I recalled a conversation with Vachel about a golden sword, pictures of what it was thought to look like in one of the Tauran books, but the details were a little fuzzy for me.
“Kill the lord himself... you say?” Now that gave me ideas. My face lit up and I wiggled lose from my mate’s hold. Gripping the dark-furred Tauran by his face, I planted a long, pleased smooch on his brutish mug. “Oh, Adelric, I could kiss you where it counts! You’re a genius!”
“Huh?” The bewildered yet pleasantly surprised male grunted, a silly half-drunk look on his face, his eyes going a little glazed, glassy.
Bending, I picked up the sword, popping up to lift it up. Slowly, like the charred color was leeching from it, that brilliant, sparkling gold started to glow.
“What of me now?” I asked, squirming in place. There was a pop in my back, not an entirely unpleasant feeling, another to follow, and Kvigor and Adelric went stumbling back.
“Winged and demonic,” Kvigor assured me, that look of utter, stunned fascination slipping over his cool visage. It was like the male just couldn’t help it. Head lifting, he stared up at my wings in awe. “Can I touch one?” He was moving before I’d answered, reaching out to brush his fingers gingerly over the bony top of one.
“It’s this thing,” I muttered, rotating my wrist this way and that, the sword sporting a fetching golden glow. “Think it would really kill a fae?” I asked of my males.
Kvigor looked to me, his hand dropped, a slow grin transforming his mug. “Dunno, but I can think of one we could test it out on.”
Adelric grunted in agreement, thick arms folding over his chest, giving a short nod.
It really was starting to grow on me, that Minotaur smile. I hoped to see many more of my mate. But Kvigor’s retort posed the question, “Even though you’d technically be killing your own father?”
“Sire.” Kvigor shook his head. “Whatever is in there when Robin isn’t, that wraith is no longer my sire.”
“What if it rends the fae from the host?” Adelric said thoughtfully, glancing towards the sword. “And mayhap, should Ekodar perish,” he gave an unconcerned shrug, “Kvigor would take his place, and all would truly be well in hand.”
“Think you not, challenge to lead?” Yhem asked from his kneel by the entrance to the hall.
“Would you stop doing that! I am not some savior-y thing! It is a- merely a ruse, a disguise. This,” I waggled the sword, “is offering the illusion of such. Your All-father couldn’t have seriously thought to- No, he wouldn’t. Preposterous!” Gathering myself, I took a deep breath, stating calmly as Yhem stood, “You may thank your god for handling my appearance so that I might harness this... illusion? But that is all it is, nothing more.”
“I’d like to have had a chance to throw the final blade,” Adelric murmured, smiling as he studied my newest, though temporary, look.
“Or I,” Kvigor seconded.
Eyeing my hands, then my mates’, I shook my head. “How much does it take to be a demon? How much blood, do you suppose?”
“Blood?” Kvigor said slowly, shaking his head. He looked like he was trying to figure out where I was going with this but not liking what he came up with.
“Yes,” I gave a short nod, jerking my chin towards the slash on his palm, “I mean, you’ve mated the human, he’s mated me after the alterations started,” I tapped my sword at Adelric’s feet, “but what of mating to the demon?”
Adelric lifted his marked palm. “I am not averse to trying, should you be willing, vacha.” That possessive gleam in his eyes deepened until that dull bronze lit wild with gold.
“If it should work,” Kvigor offered his marked palm, “we do this together,” he made a point of giving us each a long look.
“Always,” I whispered softly, thinking my dagger would do nicely for the ceremony as opposed to this clunky hunk of shine warming my palm. About to go in search of it, hoping it was in my room and hadn’t perished in the rubble pil
ing Adelric’s, Yhem cleared his throat gruffly, the sound intentionally long and overloud.
“Might I have something to offer?” Yhem came forward hesitantly. “Your sword, it reminds me of something, a scrap I came upon the other day out back of Kerberos forge.” Motioning for us to wait, he left, rushing off to his room. The behemoth of a Tauran was back in moments, a scrap of rolled cloth in his hands. “It was out back in the pile. Couldn’t let it go like that. Assumed it was a misshapen iron of some kind at first. Thought to make another chime with it,” he began to babble, his eyes slowly traveling over me.
It was a full moment, about when Kvigor started to rumble possessively, I realized I was completely in the buff. Gods above and devils below, I’ve gone Tauran, finally numb to it for once. I barely flinched under his curious regard. Kvigor and Adelric, it would seem, were adopting a more human sense of modesty when it came to their mate, their twin warning growls sending Yhem’s curious gaze skittering elsewhere.
I had a feeling there was much clothing to be had in my future. More ugly sweaters made with love, just for me. Yippee!
“The find, Yhemen?” Adelric reminded softly.
“Oh, ah, yes, erm.” Shoving the wad of fabric at me, he blustered, flustered. “Charred over, tried to clean it up. Still a good piece. Could recall ye sayin’ Ekodar’d made off with one of hers. Seein’ as he’d been sniffin’ ‘round Bero’s place, figured this ‘un mighta been it. At some point.”
“My dagger?” Unfurling the material, propping my sword at my hip, feeling my demon persona slip, I recognized the handle immediately, damaged as it was. The black was dulled, the fires of the forge chipping away at that pretty, polished veneer that drew one’s eye. Yet it hadn’t melted...
Gripping it, lifting it up, I waited, hoping.
Nothing. Hmm. I had my suspicions about the sword and the daggers, though. This was no ordinary metal they’d been made of.
“Maybe it’s the other one?” I thought aloud.
“Other dagger?” Adelric asked, grimacing. “It wouldn’t happen to be in your quarters, would it?” He sounded so hopeful. “Mine are, ah, not worth searchin’ in at the moment.”
“What are you thinking, Addie?” Kvigor looked from the damaged dagger to me.
“I dunno,” I shook my head, “I was thinking it would be fitting, you know, to use for our bonding. But then what if they’re like the sword. Or better yet, what if I could make them like the sword? You know?”
“Imbue it with demon blood?” Yhem blurted. “Wouldna ye have to die to do somethin’ like that?”
Fairytales always made it sound like someone had to die, some great sacrifice to be made, until it was so complicated you had to wonder who in their right mind would think to try such things. Unless... it really wasn’t so complicated.
“Depends,” I gave a half-shrug, “and I have no idea how much or little would be needed. Or if I can even convert these two any to the point they can wield a weapon such as this, if Tauran blood can even mix with demon.” Eyeing the ruined hunk of metal, I tapped it on my sword. Nothing. Both pieces charred and black. “Surely there’s a marked advantage to looking like this?” Lifting my sword, the dagger hand waved down my form.
“Besides the ability to wield the All-father’s mighty sword, ye be meanin’?” Yhem stated dryly.
Adelric and I shared a look, having already wielded Oberon’s, ah, ‘mighty sword’, though not necessarily in the context Yhem had implied. “Oh, aye,” I said with gusto, eyes only for my dark-furred mate.
When my lips started to twitch, eyes gleaming, Adelric had to fake a cough to cover up the laugh my little inside quip, a bit for just us, produced.
“All the same, worth a shot.” Turning, I handed the dagger over to Kvigor, shoving the sword at Adelric without thought, telling him, “Here, hold this for me. It’s ours, no matter how you cut it.”
“It is?” Adelric sounded confused, though I hardly understood how. “It was yours at the run of it. Can’t just take it from you, so, yes, ours. Mine and yours, big guy.” Feet slapping wetly across the floor, I called over my shoulder, “Need permission? Consider it granted. And, you know, it starts a-flamin’, just toss it at Kvigor, he likes things hot.”
“Very funny,” Kvigor shot back with a chuff.
“Agreed! Thought so, too!” My laughter echoed after me in the big chamber.
Rushing off to my room, I was already halfway down the hall when Kvigor called out to me again. “Uh, Addie...”
“Just be a moment,” I muttered.
“Addie,” sharper.
“Clothes! I know! I know!” Tossing a k’h se around my waist, using another as a wrap, I scoured the room for my boots. There by the door, one toppled over, a metal glint reflecting off the light shining in from the hall making it look as if it glittered, I nabbed it up. That barely there hum greeted me. I was a bit saddened the other had lost its glorious shine, but that hum of greeting, ever present, I’d know it anywhere. Mine.
It was a little funny I didn’t have the same attachment to the sword, though I still thought of it with a sense of ownership. Glancing down at my dagger, I grimaced. I really should share it with my males. This was all of us in this. Three weapons to outfit our little threesome. If I was ever to gift them with weapons, these, magically imbued, whether that proved useful or not, would be the way I’d go. Resolved, wondering how I might restore my damaged dagger to some semblance of its former glory, I came into the chambers with a start.
Adelric blinked, then blinked again, holding the glowing gold sword shimmering in his hands away from his body like he was waiting for it to burst into flames at any moment. Or him.
“Oh boy,” I whispered, stumbling forward.
Catching my voice, Adelric looked to me. “What do I do with it now?”
“What did you do?” I asked slowly as I approached.
“Just held it.” He shook his head. “Ye said here, take it, it’s ours, then it, I dunno, just started glowin’.”
“Well, I’ll be...” Beaming proudly, I pranced right up to him. “See? It is ours. Told ya.”
“Or,” Yhem countered, “ye simply gave him permission ta use it in yer stead, like your second man, giving him the ability.”
“Maybe.” I had no clue. I was just happy it had accepted him. Looking to Kvigor, I found him lost in concentration.
“What’s he doing?” I asked of the yak-like man.
“Dunno. Looks about to shat himself, ye ask me.”
“Heard that, you ol’ coot,” Kvigor grumbled. His lips were pursed, eyes narrowed, thick fingers scratching at his chin. He was eyeing the dagger I’d handed him. “Think it’s done for?”
Pressing the reddish quartz colored blade I held to the inside of the palm of the opposite hand, I sliced it wide open, making sure the metallic stone soaked some of it up before I snatched the dagger in Kvigor’s hand, trading him. Leaving him sputtering as my blood coated the blade, both blades, I walked over to Adelric and, gripping the handle of the sword by his, pressed the damaged blade into the cut in my palm. My body did the demon thing, two strange pops, and then I was claw-footed, properly tailed, and winged.
“Quick,” I muttered, “press that one over this one.” I held my bloody palm clutching my dagger out.
“What’s this to accomplish?” Adelric’s deep voice rumbled.
“I’m just trying something,” I murmured, praying silently in my head this worked.
“In, best be in all the way,” Kvigor said with a shrug, slicing his palm, pressing the dagger against the flat of his hand, lifting it up beneath mine to clasp our palms together, blades pressing. “You’re mine, Addie-mine, ‘til the suns stop shining and the moons quit glowin’.”
Adelric grunted, drawing our attention, slicing his own hand open on the side of the sword, cupping his bloody palm over mine. “And I am yours, vacha, ‘til the rivers dry up, and long after we’ve all gone to ground.”
Kvigor grunted and huffed. “Always ai
min’ to outdo me, tick infested crotchflap.”
“Skinny arsehole,” Adelric fired back with a grin.
“So romantic,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “And I claim you both, you silly cow-boys. May your fur stay soft, your snoots remain wet, and may we all live happily ever after, under the All-father’s blessing.”
That familiar vibration started up in the daggers clutched between mine and Kvigor’s joined hands, the tremor passing through them enough to rattle our teeth. Kvigor sucked in a sharp breath, gasping, Adelric doing the same as it traveled through me and directly into him. The sword made a chiming sound like someone had struck it on a piece of metal, the sound reverberating throughout the space, not unlike a bell. When that claw-like invisible hand wrapped around my heart I didn’t panic. It was giving me exactly what I wanted. Closing my eyes, breaths nice and even, I let it wash over me.
Adelric and Kvigor made funny groaning noises, jerking. My poor males had yet to feel the full effect of a pact before a fae playing at a god. They were eternal.
“May your matings be fruitful!” Yhem cried out, out of nowhere as the daggers began to glow like the sword of the beast, drawing three wide-eyed looks of stunned disbelief. “What?” he muttered defensively, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Twas a good one. I be thinkin’... Was it not?”
“In which realm?!” I burst out. “Yhem? Fruitful?” My gaze dropped to my stomach, the soft roll ever present no less prominent than before. “You wished me to be fertile? To a bleedin’ fae?!”
Yhem cleared his throat, laughing uneasily. “Ye said All-father. Assumed you meant the lord. No’ a fae.”
“Same difference,” I snarled, about to step forward but feeling a little lightheaded after the whole let’s zap you again, forever until we all die thing.
“Vacha.” Adelric set the sword down, reaching out for me.
“No. No.” I waved him off, my hand, now crusted with dried blood, going to my forehead, rubbing the spot between my horns. “Just need a moment. I’m fine. Bit dizzy is all.”
By the Horns Page 54