by Emma Hamm
The others were finishing the remaining scraps of dinner. Firelight lit their faces with a soft glow. He realized that in a short amount of time these people had become important to him.
Priscilla shuffled over to him and eased down. Jasper heard her bones creaking.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
He took the tankard of ale she held out to him. “I am.”
“That’s good to know.” She smiled. “We were hoping you would like it here.”
“Is that so? Well, I thank you for welcoming me. This has been an experience I never thought I would see in my lifetime.”
“I received a message for you, from an old friend.”
He froze with the tankard raised halfway to his mouth. “A what?”
“A message. She said she had told you before but wanted me to reiterate it.”
“So I know your friend?”
“I doubt anyone knows her. But we have always shared an age. She said to tell you that you must learn to control her before you have to find a leash.”
He instantly remembered a different time in a swamp and a house that appeared out of nowhere. But more than anything, he remembered a wrinkled face tucked beneath a mound of blankets staring at him.
“The Crone?”
“It is one of the names she is known by, yes.”
“I wouldn’t have put her as the type to have friends.”
“We have known each other since we were children. She helped me realize that it is not such a bad thing to always be an old woman.” The Hag paused to stare into the flames before she cleared her throat. “Might I ask a question of you?”
“I don’t think I could say no to you.”
Jasper was pleased when her cheeks flushed red. “Was she speaking of Mercy?”
He was almost certain the answer was yes, but how could he say it? The Hag was Mercy’s friend. Who wanted to hear that someone they cared about needed to be leashed?
And yet, he owed Priscilla this much for all she had done to help him. “I believe so.”
“Hm,” Priscilla muttered and raised her thumb to her mouth. She nibbled at the nail with her cracked beak before she responded, “Has she fallen that far into madness?”
“She did in the prison. But here, she is different.”
“That’s because she’s with us. We calm her, and allow Ignes to run on his own.”
“Did he create the lava pool?”
“Safely away from all of us, yes.” Priscilla studied Jasper, her eyes surrounded by fine laugh lines. “But she cannot hide here forever. She is meant for greater things.”
“Have you heard the prophecy of the Five?” he blurted out.
“No.” Priscilla sounded surprised. “But we do live far away from civilization.”
His voice deepened as he repeated the section he was supposed to solve. “Forgotten in moss is the creature that sees. One who destroys, ruins, and decrees.”
“And you believe that is Mercy?”
“She could be one of the people meant to save us from Malachi.”
Priscilla nodded sagely. “Well, let us hope you learn to control her, after all. She needs a master, all Phoenix do. It is her last bit of humanity that rebels against it. If you ask Ignes, he would be all too happy to have someone telling him what to do. It makes their lives much more simple. Running free makes them dangerous.”
“That I have seen,” Jasper murmured. “But I can’t easily convince her to allow me to be her master.”
“Nothing good in life is easy.”
A shiver ran down his spine. He’d heard the phrase before, but the way she said it echoed with power. She wasn’t offering him advice. She was giving him an oracular prophecy.
Priscilla’s grin widened in further wrinkles around her eyes, and she reached out her gnarled hand to grasp his wrist. Not long ago he would have shivered to have the Hag’s hand on his skin. But now, he saw past the curled fingers, warts, and wrinkles. Now, he only felt paper thin skin and comforting heat.
“I will not be around forever to help, but I can offer this at least.” She shifted her hand slightly, gripping him tight.
His forearm burned. Jasper looked down to see green vines appear underneath her hand. They twisted and twirled up to his elbow. He could feel them writhing against him until they slowed, flattened, and dulled.
“What—” he whispered.
“It is a ward,” she said as she patted his arm. “It’s not much, just a small protection spell. But a ward is still some kind of assistance.”
“I—I don’t know—”
Bluebell’s voice interrupted what he was going to say. “It is a gift, Jasper. You should say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
Priscilla’s eyes crinkled further. “Thank you, little Fairy, for recognizing a gift when you see one. I wish you luck on your journey, Jasper.”
“You say that like I’m not going to be here much longer.”
She did not respond. Her wise gaze remained upon him for a few moments longer before she shook her head firmly. “No more dark talk. Tonight is for celebration.”
“Why?”
“You have been here for one month. It is your anniversary of meeting us.”
“A month?” He straightened in shock. “Has it been that long already?”
“Time does not pass the same when you are working every day.” She stood up and clapped her hands. “Tonight, we gather as friends. We drink. We make merry. And we dance!”
The others lifted their tankards of ale and shouted their excitement. One of the creatures he had not met before, an Elf it appeared, took up a violin and began a hearty jig. Even Tiny lifted the barrel he was using as a cup and gave a mighty yell.
Jasper shook his head at their antics. Laughter burst from his chest, making him rub his ribs. He joined the others as they threw their food and plates aside.
The Centaur struggled to his feet, although Jasper noted that his four legs weren’t working quite as well as they usually did, weaved over to Priscilla, and patted his rump.
“Oh, I’m not that drunk yet,” she scolded.
He did not relent. Jasper’s eyebrows raised as the old woman managed to spryly leap onto the Centaur’s back. She placed a hand against his shoulder and tossed her head back to let out a cackle.
“These people are crazy.” Bluebell sighed. “I love them.”
“Yeah, you aren’t alone.”
Around the bonfire, the creatures danced. A Hag atop a Centaur, a Thunderbird wheeling and diving in the air, a Giant making the ground shake with his tapping feet, and a Korrigan jabbing his fists into the air.
“Mercy!” Tiny shouted. “Fireworks! This calls for fireworks!”
Jasper hadn’t seen her nearby during dinner. He straightened, looking for her now, and froze when he saw her. She stood apart from the others, fire in her eyes as she stared at Jasper. He was certain that fire burned for him.
“Mercy!”
Tiny’s repeated yell snapped her out of the trance. A slow smile spread across her heart shaped face, and she held her arms out. With a twist of her wrists, tiny fireworks spread around the creatures. Lights popped above their heads and showered sparks down upon them.
The Korrigan immediately whooped. His hands grasped at the air as though he could hold the lights like fireflies.
Jasper’s eyes widened as the little man managed to do just that. Pointed ears twitching, the Korrigan held the sparks in his cupped hands and blew. Magic charged the air with static. It grew until Jasper’s skin itched and then even further.
When the Korrigan opened his hands, he released dozens of birds into the air. Not birds made of fire, but real birds. They trilled, spread their wings, and took to the skies.
Priscilla clapped her hands and giggled so hard she nearly fell off the Centaur. And, though Bluebell’s shrieking laughter had his ears ringing with mirth, Jasper wore a broad smile.
“You’re all crazy!” he called out to them.
&nb
sp; “No!” The Thunderbird’s voice boomed all around him. “You are crazy for not joining in!”
He looked down to see that his tankard was still half full. He hadn’t drank nearly enough to keep up with them. So, instead of standing, Jasper raised his cup towards the sky and shook his head.
“In time, my friend,” he said. “Soon!”
The drink made them all tire quickly. The Centaur listed to the side, eyes almost crossed, before he plunked to his knees. Priscilla hooked an arm around his neck and gestured towards Mercy.
“Come, entertain us, my child.”
“Oh, no.” Mercy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ve done it before!”
“That was then; it was a long time ago. I was young.”
“You’re still young! Don’t be shy. We love watching you dance.”
Jasper again raised an eyebrow. This time, his gaze sought hers across the bonfire. “Dance?”
Her jaw tightened. He could fairly see the tension that rode upon her shoulders. His mind grew foggy as he thought of the numerous ways he could ease that stress. Maybe the drink was stronger than he’d thought.
“I don’t dance,” Mercy announced.
“Only in dreams? Child.” The Hag tsked loudly. “If you don’t live in this life, you don’t live at all.”
“I’m immortal.”
Priscilla tossed her arms in the air. “Then live multiple lifetimes for all of us! Dance!”
The creatures began chanting the word “dance” over and over until Mercy finally lifted her hands in defeat. “All right, all right! My goodness.”
She reached underneath her shirt and pulled Ignes from beneath it. Jasper watched intently as she lifted the lizard to her lips and whispered something to him. When she set him upon the ground, he lost his lizard form and turned back into flames. Ignes funneled himself into the bonfire until it was taller than a man. The Elf changed his tune to something far more sultry.
“You wanted a show?” Mercy lifted one arm gracefully over her head. “Then you shall get one.”
Jasper didn’t know what he had expected. Perhaps a gypsy like dance where she clapped her hands and delicate footwork carried her over the trampled dirt. He should have known better. She was far more dangerous than that.
Mercy raised her hands over her head, flicked a saucy glance at the crowd, and snapped her fingers. Jasper’s world turned upside down.
What clothing she wore was replaced with flames. White hot, they were both smoke and heat as they licked over her body and into the cooling air. He was both amazed and alarmed.
He could not have prepared himself for what came next as the fire did not stop. She lowered her arms and wrapped them around her body. One of the creatures near him started plucking a guitar, but he couldn’t look away. Her hips were swaying in tune with the music. Her makeshift clothing had a life of its own as it undulated.
Ombre eyes stared into Jasper’s soul, and she snapped her fingers again.
She was gone. Not gone in the sense that she wasn’t in front of them, but her body had disappeared. She was a woman made of nothing more than fire. He could see the outline of her features, but there was no flesh underneath. Only magma, heat, and illusions.
Jasper gasped, but then she truly began to dance. She did not move like a human. She used the fire as ribbons, banners, strings, and then she gave it life. Around and around the bonfire she moved, her feet leaving scorch marks as she leapt and twirled.
From the bonfire she pulled creatures. Wolves. Birds. Horses. All answered her call. They existed for only a few moments until their fire died. But they only made the show all the more impressive.
And then, just as Jasper had set his tankard onto the ground, Ignes stepped out of the fire.
He was a great red pillar stretching far into the night. Before him, shadows fled and darkness crept back into its hovel. He reached for Mercy with open arms, and she stepped into the cradle he offered her.
Together, they waltzed. Completely in unison and startlingly unnatural. Their bodies twisted until they were nearly intertwined. Jasper felt as though he had been given a gift to see such a sight but also as though he were intruding upon something sacred.
Priscilla had convinced the Centaur to stand. They were dancing an awkward shuffle along to the music he now noticed the Korrigan was creating. The Fairy-like creature must have been a talented telekinetic as he wasn’t actually touching the guitar.
When he couldn’t stand it any longer, Jasper pushed himself off of the log. He was drawn towards them. Even as inhuman as she was now, he had never seen something so captivating.
Jasper hesitated behind the waltzing couple and cleared his throat.
Only when he saw the flame outlined face of Ignes look towards him did he ask, “Mind if I cut in?”
“Do you think you could handle me?” Mercy laughed. A long strand of her hair snapped towards Jasper as she twirled. It left a burn mark upon his forearm.
“I know I would like to try.”
The pair before him stopped. She blinked a few times, and the flames trickled away from her face. He realized she wasn’t completely made of fire. There was a black, hard core underneath the blazing light, a core he assumed was the Phoenix part of her.
She was revealing more of herself to him. Flesh grew back until he could recognize the tan skin, ombre eyes, and blood red hair. He should have known a warning when he saw one.
Instead, Jasper held out his hand.
Her hand sliding into his was as delicate as a bird. Her fingers fluttered against his palm and then stilled. Jasper felt powerful with pride. He had tamed a beast who had never before subjected itself to another. When he looked into her eyes, he knew that Mercy could only be tamed for a short time.
Fire licked at his pants and shirt, but he refused to let his mind linger upon the slight sting. He pulled her into his arms.
The music slowed, and Jasper thought for the first time that the creatures they were staying with might have some kind of plan up their sleeves. They certainly were staring at the two of them with glittering intent.
Her head didn’t tuck underneath his chin as most might have. Well, most came up to his chest, but this was a nice height as well. The top of Mercy’s head was even with his nose. He wasn’t used to that.
Jasper leaned forward and inhaled the smoky scent of her hair. Ah, now he understood why smaller men still enjoyed dancing with women nearly their own height. He could feel the silky softness against his skin, tangling in his beard.
This was why. Because this was bliss.
He shifted his head to murmur in her ear. “They’re watching us.”
“I know. Meddling things.”
“Are you going to stand for that?”
“For as long as it suits me.” Her voice was husky. “Now, are we dancing?”
He spun them around the fire. For such a big man, he had learned at a young age how important it was to know how to dance. Women loved a man who could sweep them off their feet and whirl them in circles until they were breathless.
He thanked the gods for giving him strength. Being near her was almost too tempting. She smelled like a bonfire and felt as though he were holding the same in his arms. She was a captured spirit he suddenly didn’t want to let go of. His arms tightened upon her. For all that he could hold onto her, Jasper knew very well that he would have to release her soon enough.
Mercy was not a creature made to be caged. Even if the cage was his embrace.
She kept up with his every step. He expected her to fight him and try to lead the dance, but she was pliant in his arms. Every move he made was adapted to. Their bodies twined to the music and coiled together as though they had been made for each other.
“Were you made to always be in love?” Bluebell giggled.
He looked up towards the sky and shrugged his shoulders. He hoped Mercy would think he was simply adjusting. When he looked down at her, he had a feeling she understood he was res
ponding to Bluebell.
“You spent most of your life in love with the Siren.” Bluebell spat out the last word. “And now, I dare say you’re falling in love with the Phoenix just when you can’t have the Siren anymore. You’re more Fairy-like than you think.”
He scowled, wanting her desperately to stop picking on him so he could enjoy dancing.
Bluebell grumbled. “Fine. But you should think on it.”
Lingering upon such thoughts was useless. He didn’t need to think about the answer, because it was a resounding yes. He had wanted a family since he was a little boy. Loving and being loved was the only reason for life, in his opinion. The Fairy felt the same way. So she ought to understand how he felt.
He leaned down to dip Mercy, his hand cupping the back of her neck. The back of his neck burned as she held onto him. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving to the music, which swelled around them.
Her ombre eyes swirled with passion and anger. It was an intriguing mix, and he fully planned to explore it.
“Why are you staring at me?” he teased.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“I stare because I found a rare creature. She burns in the night and invades my dreams.”
Mercy snorted. “You do not dream of me.”
“I do.”
“You still dream of Lyra,” she told him. Her hand massaged his neck in a strange bloom of heat. “And that’s okay.”
“I dream of her because I worry they are not doing well without me. But it is you I dream of when I do not have nightmares.”
“What kind of dreams do you have?” Mercy’s eyes sparked. Or maybe it was the shower of red that spread around them like the aftermath of the fireworks.
“I hope the same things you dream of.”
He didn’t consider himself to be particularly good at flirting. Hell, his only practice had been the same person since he was twelve. Anyone else had been a passing fling that had been initiated by a woman who wondered what it would be like with a man who had Fairy wings.
But this was different. This he wanted.
He wanted her.
Jasper didn’t know why it had taken so long for him to realize, but there it was. He wanted Mercy. Fully, completely, so much that it was an ache in his chest he couldn’t ignore.