by Emma Hamm
“Don’t you know anything about Unicorns?” Ella laughed with her words. “We’re only interested in virgins, and you, my dear, are not one of those.”
His cheeks heated. “Oh. Ah, well then— I—”
Bluebell burst into peals of laughter.
“You’re a fine looking man, Jasper. Any woman would be lucky to have such a comforting person around them. It just won’t ever be me.” She smiled.
He was struck once more by her otherworldly beauty. He wasn’t certain he would ever be able to look her in the eyes, she was so blinding. Any man who fell in love with her would have an uphill battle to fight.
“Ella—” he began.
But he was interrupted by a loud clanging.
“The goons are back,” he muttered.
“Don’t call them that if you like your head where it is.”
He stood and walked to the front of his cage. If they were going to harass the prisoners again, Jasper fully planned on breaking the Shapeshifter’s hand. Fear would not control him. Tall, strong, and angry, he filled the spaces between the bars.
Four figures walked towards him. Three, he recognized; the other, he did not. Shadows coiled around the unknown figure and hid it from his gaze. Jasper’s chest broadened as he straightened to his full height. His wings made a soft whirring sound when they slid across his back. They remained flat against his spine, most did not find Fairies to be intimidating. He kept them close to his hands, just in case he needed Fairy Dust.
“Jasper,” Ella’s voice warbled, “get back. It’s him.”
He didn’t respond. Even if she weren’t so frightened, he would have known who the fourth figure was. Malachi had finally come.
“Maybe we should be careful.” Bluebell’s words cut through him like a knife. She was terrified.
He knew she was right. If Malachi killed him, he would be gone to this world. Bluebell would be drained by Malachi until none of her magic was left. Jasper wasn’t certain she would even go to the same afterlife as he.
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he told Bluebell as quietly as possible. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“I trust you.”
Jasper held back an angry growl as Malachi stepped into the light. He was everything Wren described and more. Of questionable race, his dark hair was slicked back to trail down his spine. The long rope of his braid swayed with every movement as his glittering eyes looked Jasper up and down.
Malachi bowed gracefully. “Welcome.”
“This is not a welcoming place,” Jasper growled. “Why have you brought me here?”
The powerful man tsked as the three guards fanned out behind him. To Jasper’s satisfaction, they did not stand too close to his cage.
“Are we skipping past the pleasantries already?” Malachi asked. “I had hoped we might get to know one another.”
“I don’t think so.”
“But I got to know your friend so well. Wren is a lovely person. I did very much enjoy her presence.” Malachi’s voice was laced with double meanings and lies. The man’s charm fairly oozed.
It was no wonder he had so many people under his thumb. Even if they knew what his final plan was, Jasper had no doubt Malachi could convince a number of people to follow him.
“I have no wish to know you. When I leave this place, I will take your head with me,” Jasper snarled.
“It’s a pity that you are already threatening me. I am not going to kill you, Jasper. You should not be planning to kill me.”
Malachi gestured with his hands while he spoke. His nails were perfectly trimmed, Jasper noticed. They were the hands of a man who avoided hard labor. Long, lean fingers with no callouses, no marks. Just smooth skin.
What kind of man had baby soft hands?
When Jasper did not respond, Malachi’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a thin line. No longer the cajoling, charming man, he became a calculating warrior who was not to be crossed.
“Fine, you want to play this game the hard way. I see that now,” Malachi said.
“I play no games with my life or anyone else’s.”
“Now that’s a limited view. We all play this game we call life. You are on a chessboard whether you like it or not.” Malachi stepped forward to tap his finger against the iron bars. Each tap produced a small curl of smoke. “I’m curious, are you a knight? Or perhaps a rook?”
Jasper leaned forward until his cheeks nearly pressed into the iron. “I am not playing your game.”
Malachi met his gaze for a long moment. He was searching for something. What, Jasper had no idea. Three heartbeats later and Malachi made another tsking sound with his tongue.
“A knight it is then. Tis a shame, I thought you might be more than just another body to throw away.” Malachi shrugged. “Ah well, the pieces never fall where one expects them to fall. I shall move you on my board where I see fit.”
Jasper could not say a word without it turning into an angry roar. Already his fists were clenched to prevent them from touching this man’s slick skin.
Malachi cast a critical glance in his direction. “No response to that, Jasper?”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about your little band of friends and the Five. I know you’re trying to keep me from my purpose. And I know that no matter what I ask you to do, you are going to do it,” Malachi snapped his fingers, “whenever I ask.”
“That will not happen,” Jasper snarled.
“I think it will.”
Malachi lifted his hand. It was a slow movement, quiet and unassuming. Yet as his hand passed through the air, an image materialized before him. Jasper did not want to look at the faded colors and moving lines. He did not want to see what this dark man wanted him to see.
But when he turned away from the glowing swirl of light, he heard her voice.
“Jasper!”
He squeezed his eyes shut for the barest moment before he turned to stare at the image. Lyra. The only person he ever loved was reflected before him. She was tied up in a dark room, and was staring directly at him.
“Jasper, help me.” Tears streamed down her face. Lyra never cried. She hated for anyone to see such a compromising display of emotion.
His heart hurt. He didn’t want her to be in pain.
“She wasn’t taken with us,” Bluebell reminded him. “She was with Wolfgang when we were stolen. He wouldn’t let Malachi capture her.”
Jasper knew she was right, but he couldn’t stop staring at Lyra. Bruises appeared on her arms and her face became mottled with dirt, grime, and wounds. He didn’t want to see this. He couldn’t handle this.
“Please do what he says! Help me!” She was pleading now. Almost as though she could see him too.
“Jasper, it can’t be real!” Bluebell shouted.
“That can’t be real,” he repeated as he tore his eyes away from the image.
Malachi leaned slightly to the side and his red irises were stark against the holes of his dark pupils. “Would I lie to you?”
“Yes.”
“But if it were real, would you want to save her?”
“Yes.” Jasper did not hesitate.
“Then you will do what I say.”
“I have no guarantee that you even have her locked away. This could all be an elaborate story to get me to do what you want.”
The image disappeared as Malachi slashed his hand through it. The smile on his face contradicted the violent action.
“You will never get that confirmation,” he said. “If you want her alive and well, you will do what I ask.”
“Jasper.” Bluebell’s voice was anxious. “We shouldn’t trust him. He has already done so much. He lies.”
But he didn’t know if Malachi was lying. All Jasper knew was that Lyra might be hurt. She might be crying out for his help. He didn’t want to fall into whatever plot Malachi was planning, but he couldn’t leave Lyra.
“No! He lies. Listen to me, Jasper. I know
he lies!” Bluebell shouted.
Another slow smile spread across Malachi’s face. The long, full line of his lips was as macabre as a cadaver’s grin. He should have been an attractive man — Jasper was not afraid to admit that — but there was something unsettling about Malachi.
“What is it you would have me do?” Jasper asked.
Ella moaned from her corner, but he did not spare a glance in her direction. His eyes were locked upon Malachi’s direct, red gaze.
“It’s a simple thing I need,” Malachi began. “I heard you are good at…let’s say ‘collecting’ things. You can also teleport. I need you to collect something for me that is very valuable to my game. Nothing more than a pawn, of course, but even a pawn can kill a king.”
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think you’d be going through all this trouble for a pawn.”
“That is for me to decide.”
“Who is the pawn then?”
Malachi’s braid swayed as he began to pace in front of Jasper’s cell. Even his slightest movements were calm and calculated. He was a panther toying with his prey.
Malachi raised a long, thin finger to tap against his chin. “You’ll find out when you get there. All you need to do is retrieve it.”
“Where am I going?”
“I’m moving my pawns where I see fit. Your little friends won’t find you either way. The destination doesn’t matter if you are returning here before nightfall.”
Despite everything, Jasper was disappointed Malachi was playing his cards close. He could have used the information, as the Five should have found him by now. Pitch would have been able to find him, if they had gotten desperate enough to ask for help.
For now, he was locked in here. This was an opportunity to at least find himself on the good side of a very dangerous man. He had trained for years to retrieve items. It was what he was good at.
“Jasper, I’m begging you. Let us rot. This doesn’t seem good. I’m frightened.” Bluebell’s voice shook, but she was easily frightened. He could not make his decision based on her dislike of Malachi.
He rarely listened to the Fairy in his head. Though Jasper would never admit it to himself, he agreed that some of the misconceptions against Fairies were warranted. They were flighty, irresponsible, and rash. He disregarded the fact that they were one of the oldest species for a reason.
“One job. One retrieval,” Jasper finally grumbled.
“Splendid.” Malachi bowed again. “I look forward to it.”
“On one condition.”
Malachi’s eyes narrowed. “Which is?”
“When I complete the task, I go home.”
“Intriguing.” Malachi crossed his arms and tapped a finger against his lip. “And why would I allow that?”
“Because you want me to bring it back alive.”
“When did I say I needed it alive?”
Jasper shrugged. “You wouldn’t be sending me if you wanted it dead. You have enough soldiers for that kind of mission.”
“Good point.” An unsettling smile split across Malachi’s face. “You want your freedom in return for helping me?”
“Yes.”
The dangerous man shrugged. “I suppose I have no need for you after that. Once you bring me back the creature alive and well, I will let you go.”
Jasper was shocked. He hadn’t thought there was a chance Malachi would agree to such outrageous terms. The man had expended much energy to obtain Jasper. Now he was agreeing to let him go?
“And Lyra as well.” Jasper had to confirm.
Malachi nodded.
He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would take this small blessing and run with it. Directly home with Lyra where he would tell her she was wrong. They weren’t just friends; they couldn’t be.
Because thoughts of her were all that kept him alive.
Malachi turned around and disappeared into the shadows. His goons followed him though the Hellhound glanced over her shoulder to give Jasper a nasty glare. It had not escaped Jasper’s notice that her hand was wrapped in gauze. The broken fingers would heal considerably faster for her than for a Red Blood. He knew how painful they would have been to set.
Jasper bared his teeth at her. A feral grin. A mad grin that threatened he would find her again. A Fairy had very little to threaten a Hellhound with, but she would always remember the pain he had caused her.
“That was foolish,” Ella whispered. “You should never make deals with devils.”
“He is not a devil; he is a man and nothing more.”
“You have not seen what he is capable of.”
“And you have?” Jasper turned on his heel. “I made the choice I had to make. I need to get home.”
“Malachi is not a man to trifle with. He knows more than any other creature on this planet, and I don’t know how. He can reach inside of us and read all our memories and thoughts. He doesn’t even have to kill us to do it!”
She stood up like an old woman, pained and stiff. This was the first time Jasper had seen her move in a way that was not graceful. Her arms were held akimbo and her shaking thighs made him realize just how much distress she was in.
Without thinking to, he stepped forward a few paces. “It’s the only chance for me to help both of us.”
“I don’t care if you get me out of here!”
Her shout echoed in the long hall. In response, a low rumble of laughter curled through the darkness like a serpent. Malachi had been listening after all.
Jasper lowered his voice. “I will return for you.”
“Do you think that’s what I’m angry about?” Ella asked while wildly gesturing with her arms. “I have no delusions of ever leaving this place. The darkness will swallow me whole and tear me asunder. I know this. Do you?”
“No. I will get out of here. I will find my family again if I have to die trying.”
“You will,” she muttered as she turned away. “You will die trying.”
He had no response to her angry words. In truth, Jasper knew she was correct. He was probably going to perish helping the man he hated more than anyone or anything else in the world. But he had to try.
This was the best plan he could come up with. Lie with the devil and hope that he could sneak away in the middle of the night.
Heat.
It was the beginning and the end of all life. Without the warmth of the sun, nothing would exist upon this planet. Without the flame, humans would not exist as they did today.
Fire was originally thought of as a gift from the gods. It was handed down by a heavenly host who personally delivered man’s salvation. Humans were first awed by the flickering light.
Fire chased away the darkness. It dispelled nightmares. It cooked food, protected weak bodies from harmful creatures, and quelled the biting cold. It gave life.
Until its chains were broken, and it was unleashed upon the world.
Fire was not a savior. It was not a protector. It was a captive, which was capable of great destruction and great pain.
With the smallest of breaths, it could consume an entire forest. It was not choosy, for it would feast upon everything in its path. Man, woman, child, nature. All that stood in its way would feel agony.
And once the fire had died out, nothing was left in its wake but silence and ash. From the destruction a small flicker would come. Not a spark nor a coal. But new life.
For fire was not just a life saver and a life taker, it was also a life giver.
Fire even made dreams dangerous. A dream could be both good and bad, it was a place to experience new things or remember old. However, they were not meant to be a prison.
This specific Dream World, this place of fire and ruin and new life, was host to a single soul. There was no Dream Walker who could enter this dream. The bubble, which was usually malleable for Dream Walkers, was made of iron. No one could find her. She was alone.
Within the dream, a single woman lay in a field of ashes, staring up at the gray sky. Ti
ny white flakes floated above her like snow. But she knew it was not snow, such cold relief did not exist here.
This was the beginning.
The time before time when everything was still and calm. It was her favorite time. There was nothing alive here but her; there never was. Only now was there true nothingness.
She let the breath she had been holding escape her lips. With that smallest movement, the world began to grow again. Tiny green sprouts wiggled between her fingertips. Fuzzy and soft, they would stretch to great heights.
First the ashes would need to clear and the clouds would have to release their rain. The sun always came out after the downpour. A canopy of trees would eventually curl over her head and obscure the sun.
The pattern was always the same. Grow, development, life; fire, burning, silence.
She closed her eyes and wished she didn’t live in a dream. She wished for the millionth time that she could close her eyes and sleep. But she couldn’t do that, this was her prison. This was her pain.
“Mercy.”
The crackling voice was familiar and beloved, but she did not want to hear it.
“Go away,” she muttered. “Let me be. Please, let me enjoy it for just a few seconds more.”
Oh how she longed to enjoy it. If Mercy opened her eyes, she would see a world that was filled with life.
The ground underneath her would be emerald green, the grass soft against her bare feet. It would stretch as far as her eyes could see and sparkle with morning dew.
Far away, she would see the faint outlines of dream deer as they leaned down to taste the glistening grass. They wouldn’t mind that she was watching them. They would ignore her because she was not important compared to the green tasting blades.
Behind them would stand a forest, with trees so tall that three people could not reach around the harsh bark and link their hands together. At the tops, great birds would stretch their wings and fly into the sky.
All this grew in the blink of an eye for her. It was beautiful and kind and loving. Everything she was not. Everything she wanted to be.
Mercy’s punishment was this green world. She existed in a never-ending loop of pain and destruction.
“Mercy.”