The Forsaken

by Laura Thalassa

  “I doubt the devil does it very often,” I said.

  That muscle in Andre’s jaw ticked. “He took you and he tasted you, and you lost a full day somewhere in there?”

  I sucked in my cheeks, then nodded.

  Andre brought his hand up to his mouth again and shook his head. I saw the moment Andre truly realized that he couldn’t do a damn thing about the situation. His expression didn’t change, but a drop of blood snaked out from the corner of his eye.

  I reached up and wiped the tear away. Andre caught my wrist and pulled me into his embrace. His arms enfolded me, and his chin rested on my head. He whispered to me in Romanian things he knew I couldn’t understand and held onto me like I might blow away.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said, letting me go.

  I searched his face. “Of course.” My words were silly, careless; I hadn’t planned on telling him.

  Andre gave me a sharp nod and that was the end of that conversation.

  I couldn’t decide whether I was relieved or frightened that he hadn’t made any false promises.

  Andre fished out the remaining bottles of seer’s shroud from his pocket. Unstopping one, he downed it like it was a shot of something strong.

  He held up the remaining two. “I’m presuming these are for your friends?”

  I nodded.

  “Then let’s get these to them. We’ll all be safer once they drink this.” He turned away from the edge of the outcropping.

  “Hey Andre?” I said, stopping him.

  “Hmm?”

  “What did you do while I was gone?”

  Andre’s face darkened. “Hestia placed an enchantment on the church. I couldn’t leave it. I destroyed what I could before she bound me up with magic. Then I seethed.”

  “Ah.”

  His evening sounded almost as fun as mine. Almost.

  “What is it?” Leanne asked, when we returned back to where she and Oliver rested.

  She held the bottle of seer’s shroud up to the moonlit sky. I almost laughed; there was no way her human vision would make out details of the liquid in this lighting.

  I swayed a little on my feet as a wave of dizziness passed over me.

  “It’s called seer’s shroud,” Andre said, casting me a concerned glance. “It hides your movement from seers. Highly illegal.”

  “Breaking the law? Oh, I’m game,” Oliver said, his voice still weak. Limply, he accepted the vial Andre handed him.

  In one smooth motion, he uncorked the bottle, and downed the fluid. I noted the way he forced his throat to push the liquid down. I was perversely happy that I wasn’t the only one who had a hard time drinking the liquid. He grimaced. “Ugh, that tastes fucking horrible. Like unwashed asshole.”

  It wasn’t that bad. Even the girl without an appetite could attest to that.

  “Ugh, Oliver,” Leanne made a face. “I still have to drink it.” She hesitated. “Highly illegal?”

  “Highly,” Andre confirmed. “You do not have to drink it, but for Gabrielle’s safety, you cannot travel with us if you’re not under its protection.”

  Leanne chewed her lower lip. “I understand. Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes, her breath deepening.

  As I watched her, I grew lightheaded.

  “She does nothing by the seat of her knickers anymore,” Oliver stage-whispered. “I’m telling you, that doppelganger fucked her up.”

  “Shhhh,” she said, overlooking the barb. Beneath her closed lids, her eyes darted back and forth, watching our phantom futures play out.

  Darkness crept up from the corners of my vision.

  When she finally opened her eyes, she nodded. “Oliver and I should be fine.”

  She unstopped the bottle and chugged its contents.

  Blackness swallowed my eyesight as another wave of dizziness slammed into me. I stumbled forward.

  “Soulmate?”

  I reached out for Andre, but I never felt his touch before sweet oblivion consumed me.

  Chapter 14

  When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the tang of blood at the back of my mouth and the arm that cradled my head.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I stared into the dark, concerned gaze of my soulmate, who held me in his lap.

  He handed me a blood bag with a single command. “Drink, love.”

  Using the tube at the top of the bag, I began pulling the thick liquid into my mouth, not stopping until I’d finished the bag off.

  I set the empty bag aside and stared up at him. “What happened to me?”

  “You fainted.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I fainted?”

  “Looked like a beached whale too, all pasty and belly up,” Oliver added helpfully.

  “You seem to have made a complete recovery,” I noted, eyeing him.

  He guffawed. “As if there was any doubt. There’s a reason no one messes with fairies. Can’t kill us that easily. Best not to try, really, because if you can’t off us on the first go, we’ll up and go Attila the Hun on you.”

  “Culturally insensitive,” Leanne said.

  Oliver sighed and, with a roll of his eyes, turned to Leanne. “Just because you sacrificed your pettiness doesn’t mean you have to go and slaughter everyone else’s. Geez.” He swiveled back to me and shook his head. “It’s culturally insensitive of some people,” his eyes slid to Leanne pointedly, “to expect a fairy to act like a saint.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “those Amazons will rue the day they shot me. I’m going to be that cold sore that won’t go away. That chlamydia that you accidently picked up from that one time you went to a rave over the summer and decided to participate in an orgy with a bunch of male sprites.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Oli-ver,” Leanne said.

  “Bad idea,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bad idea—but at least it wasn’t the herps, which is what I’ll totally be to those Amazons—persistent and uncomfortable.”

  Andre cleared his throat and gazed down at me. I could tell from his pained expression that he’d only just managed to sit through the last two minutes. For a guy that had lived for seven centuries, one would think he’d have a little more patience.

  “Feel any better?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” I said, sitting up.

  He readjusted his grip to accommodate me, but I noticed that he wouldn’t let me stray far from his lap. It wasn’t like I was dying to leave him. I cringed at the thought; that literally was what was happening.

  Andre’s thumb rubbed the skin beneath my eye. “You need rest, soulmate. All of this running around isn’t good for you.”

  I smiled at that. He was still clucking over me like the most troublesome thing about my life right now was my exhaustion. Considering the horde of supernaturals after my scrawny butt, rest was the last thing I needed to worry about.

  “I fear your body isn’t replenishing your blood the way it should,” he said.

  I worried he was right.

  His hand drifted down my face, his touch soft. It was odd to think that we were equally matched in wickedness—the girl that was promised to the devil, and a living extension of him. And here we were, redeeming one another. If there was ever a case for salvation, we were it.

  I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing. “I want to go back to that tent in the woods.”

  “What tent in the woods?” Oliver shattered our privacy.

  When I opened my eyes, Andre was giving me a heated look … and Oliver’s eager face peered over his shoulder.

  Moment ruiner.

  “So do I,” Andre said.

  Oliver glanced between me and Andre. “What tent?”

  I cleared my throat. “How do you think the Amazons found us?” I asked Andre, getting back to business.

  “No, no, no, Sabertooth, you do not get to change the subject after you drop a bomb like that.”

  “Let it go, Oliver,” Leanne said. “You’ll have plenty of time to badger her later.”


  Oliver huffed, but quieted.

  “The Amazons must’ve used circumstantial evidence to figure out where you were and who you were with. They’re mercenaries—they’re used to finding people who wish to stay hidden.”

  “Crazy bitches,” Oliver muttered.

  “Fairy,” Andre said, “are you well enough to take us to the Isle of Man?”

  “You want to go there? I hate being the voice of reason, but that is not wise—”

  “Are. You. Well. Enough?” Andre repeated.

  “Yes—”

  “Then we need to go—preferably now.”

  Andre’s attention turned to me. “Soulmate,” he said, his tone softening, “we have to leave. Can you walk, or would you prefer me carrying you?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. Heaven forbid I let Andre haul me around in his arms. He’d never put me down.

  “Oh, he gives her the royal treatment,” Oliver muttered. “Real fair, Andre.”

  “I am not fair,” Andre said, his gaze lingering on me. “I am lawless, and I have little empathy for anything other than the woman in my arms.” Aw, Andre was proclaiming his love. Too bad he was going about it as abrasively as possible. “You should never forget that, fairy.”

  “Hmph. Well, not the best response ever,” Oliver said, rising to his feet and dusting himself off, “but I have more important things to worry about, like the horrid state of my clothes.” He reached up to pat his hair, only to pause. “My hair’s a mess too, isn’t it? Dammit, I’m no longer the hottest one of the group.”

  “Are you okay to travel?” Andre asked me, his voice low.

  “I’m fine, Andre,” I said.

  “‘I’m fine,’” Andre repeated. “I learned long ago I should never trust a woman who utters those words.”

  “You really shouldn’t,” Leanne threw in.

  I huffed out a laugh, rising to my feet. “The sooner we get back to the Isle of Man, the sooner I can take a hot shower.”

  And the sooner I’d have to face down a murderous coven of vampires, among other things.

  Awesome.

  Chapter 15

  Wilderness grew over the ruins of the small stone house we stood in front of. Bright green grasses and wooded trees surrounded the four of us.

  “Home sweet home,” Oliver said. “We’re finally back to bloody civilization,” his upper lip curled at the sight of the ruins, “though you’d never know it.”

  For a fairy, he was oddly anti-nature.

  Andre stepped up next to me, taking my hand in his. His eyes scanned the forest, searching for any hints of ambush. While he did so, he brought the back of my hand to his lips and absently kissed it, like affection for me came unconsciously to him. My heart picked up its pace at the action.

  He glanced down at me, arching an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. That only made my heart thump faster.

  His other arm snaked around my waist, and his eyes told me that he was thinking illicit thoughts.

  “You guys done eye-banging, or should I give you another minute?”

  I turned to face Oliver. “You are worse than that little voice inside my head.”

  He raised a shoulder. “I’d like to say I try, but I was just born this fabulous.”

  I turned to our surroundings. “So we’re back to the Isle of Man?” I asked.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Why not exit at the Braaid?” I asked. The stone circle located near the center of the island seemed like the most obvious portal here.

  “Because that’s where the Politia will be expecting you to exit.”

  Oh.

  “This exit is one us fairies exclusively know about.” Oliver seemed mighty proud about that fact.

  Andre stiffened next to me, his nostrils flaring. A moment later he pushed me behind him. “Who’s there?” his voice thundered.

  The wild grass rustled and shifted as though someone moved through it. I breathed in the forest air, but I smelled nothing over Andre and my friends.

  The grass stilled, and Cecilia stepped out from the ruins of the house.

  “You’re late.”

  “Did you sell the bed and breakfast?” I asked, staring at our surroundings. A warm fire burned in the hearth, heating up the small cottage. A cottage that, from the outside, was nothing more than crumbling stones. Just like Peel Academy, Cecilia’s home here had been enchanted.

  The five of us sat in Cecilia’s living room, drinking tea like we weren’t a bunch of savages. We were a ragtag bunch. Andre, with his sheathed swords, Oliver with his blood-caked hair. Leanne with her dirtied face and stained clothes, and me smelling of graveyards and ash. We looked like something the cat dragged in. The sight of us drinking Earl Grey from porcelain cups and eating dainty cookies was almost comical.

  Andre lounged back on a side chair, one leg slung over the other. His foot tapped impatiently on the ground. I guess niceties weren’t really his thing.

  “No,” she chuckled, “I still own it. Like your soulmate, I’ve acquired several homes over the years. The bed and breakfast is one of them, as is this house.”

  Calling this a house was being generous. From what I could tell, the place in its entirety was probably no bigger than two of the girl’s dormitory rooms butted together.

  “Enough of this,” Andre said, leaning forward. “How can we save Gabrielle?”

  “That is a discussion I’m afraid I need to have with Gabrielle alone,” Cecilia said.

  Andre stood, looking menacing. “The last time a powerful woman demanded that, the devil took my soulmate. I will not let that happen twice.”

  “Andre de Leon, shame on you,” Cecilia said, setting down her teacup and standing as well. “I helped raise this child during the first years of her life, and if my memory serves me correctly I saved her from your right-hand man when he sought to kill her. Do not confuse my intentions for those of some scheming sorceress.”

  Andre frowned. He stared at her for a long moment, then bowed his head in acquiescence. When he lifted his chin, his gaze landed meaningfully on me, and it lingered there for a long moment. Then he turned on his heal and strode out of the cottage.

  “Really?” Oliver said around a partially masticated cookie he’d shoved in his mouth. “After all that huffing and puffing he just … leaves?”

  “Yeah, which means we need to skedaddle too.” Leanne stood, brushing crumbs off her hands.

  Oliver grumbled. He swallowed his tea down and grabbed a fistful of cookies. “This so does not count as dinner.”

  “Really?” I said, eyebrows lifting. “Had me fooled, eating like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Just because your skanky ass is on a liquid diet doesn’t mean you got to go and be rude to the rest of us.”

  Leanne headed over to Cecilia and clasped the fate’s hand. “It was good to see you again,” Leanne said.

  “Oh, you too my dear,” Cecilia said, patting the side of her face.

  My friends left shortly after that, and then it was just Cecilia and me.

  “Mi tesoro,” she said, opening her arms, “you have had a trying few days.”

  I walked into her embrace, breathing in her lavender perfume as I fiercely clung to her. It would’ve been proper to let her go after a couple of seconds, but I didn’t. She had insight that no one else had.

  “I’m frightened,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Good. I’d be worried if you weren’t.” She smiled as she pulled away from me and clasped my cheeks.

  “Is it going to get worse?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said bluntly, “but you already knew this.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded.

  She moved to the scattered teacups and began stacking them on a serving tray. Mine and Andre’s cups were still filled to the brim with cooling tea. “Won’t be needing these anymore, will we now?” she said as she lifted them onto the tray. She didn’t bother asking whether I wanted the rest of tea, and I was grateful that we
were dealing solely with the truth, no matter how unpleasant it might be.

  “Will I get my appetite back?” I asked.

  She made a humming noise at the back of her throat. “Eventually.” She hoisted the tray in her arms and porcelain clattered.

  I hustled over to help her. “Let me take that from you.”

  “Nonsense, mi tesoro. Just give me a second to put these away. And please,” she nodded to the living space, “get comfortable. Mia casa è tua casa.” With that, she took the dishes into the kitchen.

  As she began banging around in there, I perused her living room. Even after all these years, it was still strange to see her living a life completely separate from mine. But to a fate, I must be one small blip in the great expanse of her lifetime.

  I ran a hand along the fireplace’s mantle, noticing the bundles of dried heather. On a side table, a series of framed photos had been placed on display. I moved over to them. What pictures did a fate hold dear?

  It was a strange collection that spanned at least a century. A grainy sepia photo of a stiff couple rested next to a photo from the sixties of a family standing in front of a tinseled tree.

  I did a double take when I glimpsed a picture of my mother. I grabbed the frame, drawn just as much by my desperate desire to see her as I was by the pull of her face. Even trapped in a photo she had that effect.

  Her complexion looked nothing like mine, save for the pale skin. Her hair was strawberry blonde, and the warm eyes that looked heavenward were hazel. The photographer caught her mid-laugh, and even frozen in place, I wanted to laugh along with her.

  Next to her was another girl, her cheek smudged with flour. Their hands were buried in a bowl of dough. The picture was so full of life that it was hard to believe the woman who’d given birth to me no longer lived.

  “She loved you so much,” Cecilia said, stepping up next to me.

  “I know nothing about her,” I said, my thumb rubbing over her face.

  “She was fiery—she could cut a man down with her words alone. Your father was no exception. But God did he love her.” She sighed. “I thought I would have more time to tell you about them.”