“Jana was a liar, lass.”
She looked away. “I keep forgetting. That.”
She looked so fragile, weak. Her face eternally youthful, it would be so easy to see the package and forget that beneath the large blue eyes and innocent smile lurked madness and death. He’d witnessed it for himself last night.
“Do ye ken who the Ten are?”
“The high fairy council?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Aye. They were too powerful, and Kingdom feared that unless they weakened themselves, one could become bloated with greed and a thirst for power.”
Her breathing grew shallow, slow, as if she feared moving or in any way distracting him from talking.
Continuing to toy with the soft flesh between her thumb and finger, he talked. “They agreed to bleed off the darkness. All of them, even the Black Malvena. The night of the purification ritual, they all gathered beneath a large moon on a grassy plain. But Malvena dinna come.”
“Why?” she whispered.
He looked at the tree, absently noting the rough texture of the gingerbread bark. His stomach groaned, gut twisted in knots with hunger. “Because two days prior, her daughter Rose had died and a seed was born in that dark heart. Reanimation. Bringing the dead back to life.”
“Isn’t that forbidden?”
“Aye. It is. And the only way to do it is to use dark sorcery. But on her own, she is nay strong enough. The other nine dinna bother with her, they proceeded on with the purification and dumped their darkness within the land.”
Her eyes looked sad and haunted. “That’s when I was born. I wasn’t born of light at all. I’m evil.”
He grasped her chin, not allowing her to break eye contact with him. “I killed, maimed, and tortured. I’m a wolf. Not born to be evil, and yet, I was.”
Red glanced away and he sighed.
“Just because yer born a certain way, doesna mean that is who ye are.”
“Maybe it does.” She pulled her hand back and jerked his thumb off her chin. “Why have you brought me to the witch’s woods?”
What should he say? Yer aunt told me to come here so that ye can kill the witch by sucking out her soul? But I swear to ya, yer nay evil, lassie. Bloody hell, he hated the fairies at this moment.
“Tell me the truth, please. I can handle it. I just can’t handle anymore lies.”
Bathed in moonlight, she looked ethereal and lovely. Maybe this was how he’d get her to trust him, truth at all cost, even if the telling of it pained him to do so.
“She called ye a soul sucker.”
Her face scrunched. “A what?”
Ewan shrugged. “I don’t know, Red. That was all she said.”
“So I suck out souls? That’s my magic?”
“One of.”
Grabbing her stomach, she leaned forward. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Her face looked splotchy and pale. “I only thought I could heal. Jana told me I couldn’t do magic. I never…”
“She lied, about everything. Jana was a wicked, evil woman. Doona try and make sense of anything ye knew before, especially when the truth is so much different.
“Also…” he rubbed her head, tucking her hair behind her face in case she expelled the meager contents of her stomach. “If yer going to puke, try not to puke on the candy. Ye might alert the witch to our presence.”
“What?” She laughed, and instantly the sickly pallor on her face lightened. “Oh gods, this isn’t funny. None of this is.”
Then she laughed even harder, the musical tinkle of her melodic voice made his lips twitch in return. It took a moment for her to get herself under control.
“Thanks, Ewan, I needed that.”
Everything inside him stopped. She’d used his name, but this time it’d sounded hopeful, alive, and the sound of it was almost as good as tender caress. Heat nestled in his gut, filled his loins. He scooted back, hiding the evidence of his desire, knowing she wasn’t ready for him yet. Nudity never bothered him, it simply was the way of the wolf, but he wished for some clothing now, if only to make her comfortable.
He nodded. “Are ye tired, Red?”
She nodded. “A little. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Neither did I.” His lips tightened, trying to forget the reason why. “I don’t smell the witch, we’re safe to stay here tonight, rest while ye can. I’ll keep watch.”
“Okay.” Glancing around, she spotted a thick cluster of gumdrop leaves and settled upon it.
Planting his hands behind his back, he listened to the eerie night. There was nothing save for the gentle breeze, her soft inhalations, and the steady gurgle of the chocolate stream in the distance.
Enough time passed he’d thought her asleep, when she said, “I’m scared.”
Her face was covered in shadow, her red dress looking like a sea of blood upon the ground.
“I know. Me too.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve waited so long to know ye, the thought of losing ye now is more than I can bear.”
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t think she would. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, but truth at all costs…
“Are ye going to try to kill yerself again, Red?”
A second ticked by, then another, until finally she shook her head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t really want to kill myself, I knew I would heal from that wound. I didn’t actually cut my vein, just cut deep enough to make it bleed really bad.” She sighed. “I wanted to hurt you.”
“Don’t do it again,” he gnashed his teeth, letting the pain leak out, letting her hear the depths of his plea.
She didn’t say anything, but their gazes locked and he knew she understood. Her lashes gave the barest flicker before she turned and rolled onto her side. Eventually she fell asleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Several hours later he noticed her shivering, drawing her legs up to her body and wrapping the dress tighter around herself.
Calling the unbecoming, he got up and trotted to her side. Scooting in as close to her body as he could, he shared his wolf’s warmth with her. She sighed, her fingers ran through his pelt and his body trembled.
“I don’t like this place,” Red grumbled as she knelt by the thick viscous stream. “There’s no water to wash myself with. Nothing but this chocolate I cannot even touch.”
He grinned. “I donna think this place was created for the likes of us.”
She glared at him, her blond brows drawn into a fierce scowl. “Food everywhere and I can’t even have a bite. I hate sweets, and right now I think I could gobble an entire tree.” She stared at a gingerbread elm longingly.
Grabbing her hand, he helped her stand. “Trust me, lass, ye dinna want what the witch has to offer. All is not what it seems.”
She curled her lips, huffing, and dusting sparkling bits of sugar off her luscious rear. “I’m hungry and irritable. Let’s go find this stupid witch, before I forget myself and dive head first into that chocolate river.”
Red stood there, staring down at the stream with a sad, pitiful expression. She’d barely eaten the day before, only picking at her food. Ewan wanted to provide for her, but to do so would mean backtracking, which he could not do.
“C’mon, Red,” he tugged on her finger. “Doona look. Walk away.”
Sighing, she turned her back on the stream and he gave her a swift tilt of his lips. Calling the becoming, Ewan quickly switched forms. They resumed walking, Red within the forest itself. She seemed possessed with a natural instinct to shy away from being easily spotted. Preferring to traipse through the rougher terrain, so as not to be exposed to the elements of the unprotected trail he walked on.
Not that he didn’t want to join her, but he sensed keeping his distance for a while might help her better acclimate to not only her strange surroundings, but also him. Ewan wanted to ravish her, take her, drive into her and roar to the heavens that she was his mate. It wasn’t easy controlling his baser instincts.
Huffing, he attempted to ap
pear nonchalant. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, looking like little more than a stupid dog that had wandered down the wrong path. His size was a dead giveaway that he was definitely not a dog, but he hoped the act would keep the witch from immediately going on the offensive once she spotted him.
He knew Red was supposed to be the one to take the witch on, but it was ingrained in him to at least help ease his mate’s way into the battle. Give Red a little time to study the witch before the witch noticed her.
Hopefully.
The closer they got, the faster his heart pumped. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, she was so small and the physical scars of her encounter with the other wolf hadn’t fully vanished yet. Faint and pink, bisecting her belly and breasts, he couldn’t help noticing them the night he’d pressed the stone of veritas (truth) to her chest.
Red’s stare was wide and panicked, her pupils dilated. Even in the shade of the trees, he could see her pulse beating frantically upon her pale throat. Forcing a calm he did not feel, he shook his head and pressed on, giving her no choice but to follow. If he pretended all was well, maybe she’d panic less.
Before long a gingerbread house crested the horizon, a faint plume of gray smoke undulated like a charmed snake through the air.
The home itself was a cornucopia of treats, an enticement to come and gorge and feast upon. It all nauseated him. He’d not be sad to see the crone dead.
Suddenly he realized Red did not pace him. He stopped and spotted her several yards back, gripping the trunk of a gingerbread tree with a white knuckled grip.
She looked at him. “I… I can’t.”
He whined, and jerked his head toward the candy studded home. The chimney, made up of big, fat gumdrops--a bright brilliant red--shimmered like rubies in the sunlight.
“No.” She turned her face into the tree. “I don’t know what to do.”
He huffed, knowing this would not be her first kill.
She scowled. “No doubt you’re thinking about that wolf I killed. Well, it was easy because in my mind it was you. But…” she swallowed hard, “it’s all different now.”
Dropping his shoulders, he sat. Miriam had said it was hate of him that had fueled her power. He knew what he’d have to do. Though the thought pierced his heart with thorns.
“I… don’t know if I hate you anymore. I’m not sure I like you, but…” She blinked. “Ewan?” she cried, finally noticing that he’d begun to barrel toward her. Her eyes were large, round, and filled with terror.
He ran, powerful leg muscles bringing him to her in less than a second. The growl tripping from his throat was the deep throaty inflection of a wolf on the hunt.
Hating to see the fear in her eyes, he willed himself to ignore it. If killing the crone would help her kill Malvena, he didn’t have a choice.
A white ring surrounded her lips and her breathing grew harsh, she pressed her back against the tree. He advanced, predatory. Menacing. Hackles raised and gums exposed. Her breaths were short and choppy.
Then he jumped and she screamed, throwing her hands over her face and glancing to the side.
Ewan sank his teeth into the thick branch beside her head, ripping out a chunk of gingerbread. It settled like rotten meal in his gullet. He knew what these woods were really made of.
A cackle erupted, chilling and foreboding, and then a door slammed open.
“Come here, my pretty,” the ancient voice beguiled, wrapping a breeze like hand around his throat and squeezing hard. The power of the crone, deep and darkly disturbing rushed through his veins, slammed into his skull. He winced against the mind numbing moment of terror.
She was still in the house, but she knew they were here.
Dark clouds gathered high above them.
Her terrible magic was strong. Even he suffered the urge to run away from the cannibal crone.
Red jerked, holding onto her chest. She glanced at the house, then at him. Dangling bits of gingerbread caught in his fur.
“You called her to me?” she accused as he nosed her thigh, urging her forward. She slapped his nose, making him sneeze and lick at the tingling burn. “No,” she gritted out.
Ewan nosed her harder, using his front paw to propel her out of the shelter of the woods and onto the path.
“No,” she hissed.
But he was too strong, he kept bumping her forward, until finally she stumbled onto the cookie path.
The path was empty. The house of candy and cakes stood silent and still. Then he blinked and the old crone appeared, fluidly, like a vapor rolling across water.
She was bent nearly in half, her stooped shoulders large and yet withered by age. The crone stood fifty yards in front of them. Her beaked nose was hooked at the end, warts covered her cheeks and jowls, and the hands she beckoned to them with had thick black claws attached to each fingertip.
Red curled her finger into his nape, tugging so hard on his fur he knew she’d ripped some out. But he didn’t move. Adrenaline seeped from her glands, rushed out her pores and settled on his tongue, thick and bitter.
“Come here, girl.”
There was a quality to the crone’s voice that bespelled the listener. He found himself leaning forward even as his feet tried to turn away.
Black beady eyes turned to him, and the thin mouth curled into a tight little smile. “If it isn’t the Big Bad Wolf,” she laughed, and the sound of it rolled over his body like slithering maggots on rotten meat. “Which means, you...” she glanced back at Red, “are the Heartsong.”
Her fingernails tapped a jarring rhythm against one another.
Violet’s breathing was as rapid as hummingbird’s wings, if she didn’t breathe soon, she’d pass out. Ewan whined, nuzzling her thigh.
She took in a deep breath.
When he turned back, the crone was even closer. She did not walk, or float, she moved as silent as thought.
Sounds, threatening and violent, seeped from his lips.
“You mean nothing to me, mutt,” the crone spat by her bare, arthritic foot. “I’ll make mincemeat of you. But you,” she hooked a finger toward Violet, and something dark and twisted encased Red’s body, lifting her off the ground.
He yelped when her fingers left him.
Violet screamed. Twisting, she tried to reach out to him. Ewan latched onto the edge of her red dress, tugging hard, but succeeded only in shredding off a long piece. He jumped, attempting to latch onto her arm, but a tingling shudder ran like a bolt through him, locking him in place.
“Malvena, told me to call her, bring you to her. But I’m so very hungry, you see.” Her dirt stained green robes brushed the ground as she reached out toward Violet who was now much too close. Cloudy blue eyes filled with an avaricious gleam.
Fear clawed at his brain, Ewan urged his legs to move, to tear the crone limb from limb as he’d done Jana, but he was frozen. Locked in place and unable to do more than howl as the crone dragged Violet closer to her side.
The black miasma circling Violet pulled in tight, forming a thick shadow, so that he could no longer see her. The crone laughed, devilish eyes glinting with glee. Then her hands were inside the shadow and she began to inhale. Every color of the rainbow seeped out from the shadow and the screams of terror turned to moans of horror.
“So much power,” the crone murmured in ecstasy, eyes rolling to the back of her head.
Seeing the crone pull Red’s soul out, Ewan finally understood what Miriam meant when she’d called Vi a soul sucker. He needed to tell her. Straining, heaving against the invisible barrier, Ewan prayed as he called the unbecoming. His lungs had barely shifted, before he was roaring. “Breathe her in, Red. Breathe her in.”
He wasn’t sure she’d heard him, he screamed it louder, hoping to penetrate the fear riding her soul.
But then the scream turned different, higher pitched and frantic.
“What are you doing?” It was the crone and the impenetrable fog that’d bathed Red lifted, pulling back inside the em
aciated witch.
Vi was pale, skin almost blue, as she reversed positions and latched her hands into the crone’s twisted body.
Violet breathed, inhaling through her mouth, lungs expanding as the crone began to twist and wither. A wave, every color of the rainbow oozed from Red’s body, wrapping them in a kaleidoscopic hug.
A pale red miasma bleached Violet’s blonde hair pink, her skin turned to swirling bands of green, blue and purple, her lips a bright yellow. The Ten--represented by their individual colors--bled out of Violet, making her shimmer with a fiery and icy glow.
Entranced, Ewan watched the dance of death play out. Macabre as the crone’s dark soul poured like black venom from her mouth, and yet the swirling colors… so, so lovely.
The witch’s mottled skin turned to paper, nothing but a husk over bones. Her black soulless eyes blazed fear, as she twitched and shook. Soon even that stopped. The screams reverberated long after the crone was gone.
Violet dropped the husk, the green robes fluttered like a dead leaf to the ground. The barrier holding him back lifted, and Ewan was finally free to run to her side.
But the moment he touched her, he felt the stain of that dark soul. It clung to his flesh like a leech sucking on blood. And when he looked in Red’s eyes, only black stared back at him.
“Ewan,” she sobbed, “something’s wrong with me.” Then she dropped to her knees, and retched, but nothing came out. Sweat peppered her brow, her back, her skin blazed fire.
The colors she’d bled while killing the witch, pulled back inside her body. Once it did, he was able to see how pale she’d become. White as freshly turned snow.
“Red,” he gripped her face.
“It hurts,” she screamed, “oh goddess, it hurts so bad!”
Going stiff in his arms, she seized up. Shaking violently.
Desperate, he glanced around. Where was the antidote? Miriam had said he’d know what to do. But he didn’t know.
Bringing her hand to his lips, he licked her thumb. But there was no wound and nothing to heal. So he licked her neck, still she screamed.
[Kingdom 01.0 - 03.0] Kingdom Series Collection Page 36