Phrygia looked up at Lore with the first glimpses of hope on her face. “So, you think that’s it? Lucitari is Murder’s mate?”
“It would seem so. I actually came here to find out why he never told me he was my sister’s mate, and to take him with me to find her. She is missing, by her own choice, and I need him to locate her so that we can bring her safely home.”
Phrygia got to her feet, taking deep breaths and sniffling away the last of her tears. “I’m sure he must have figured it out and that’s why he left so quickly.”
“Lily said he came to her looking for Lucitari. Which makes me believe you are correct — he must have realized the truth,” Lore said. He looked at Phrygia, her eyes puffy from crying, but a little calmer now. Then he made a decision. “Gather your things, Phrygia. I’m taking you home.”
“Home? Home where?” she asked, alarmed, not wanting to go to Hell.
“To your Gaston. Murder made me promise to make up for my past behavior to you in any way I saw that I could. You are greatly unhappy. You are wanting Gaston. I am able to remedy that. Go get your things,” Lore said.
“Will Murder be angry? I don’t want to hurt him. He’s done so much for me.”
“No, he will not be. And furthermore, if he comes home with my sister in tow, it is better if he does not have another female already ensconced in his home.”
“True,” Phrygia said, looking nervously about. The makings of her uncooked breakfast were still laid out on the countertop. She just couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment though. “Are you sure it will be okay?” she asked again.
“Trust me. I shall make it okay. If you are sure that Gaston is yours, and you are his, come, it is time to go home,” Lore said, holding his arms out, his mists already swirling around his knees.
“I’m sure and I don’t have anything to gather!” she answered, going into Lore’s arms without further hesitance.
Chapter 18
Aubreigne sat at her table sipping her tea and taking a moment for herself before Deaumanique woke, and the day actually started. Her sharp ears picked up slight sounds outside her cottage. She rose from her chair and walked to her windows looking out over the back yard, where her clothes line and her vegetable garden were, then out further to the tree line, almost as far as one could see from her cottage. Her eyes widened and blinked, unsure of what she was actually seeing. Again she peered through her window, not believing her eyes. There were people out there, people that usually didn’t interact with the rest of Whispers. Yet here they were, in the distance, watching her home.
Aubreigne turned and went to her front door, tying her hair back as she went. As she rounded the corner of her cottage, she saw that some of them had moved closer. She slowed her approach and regarded them, as they regarded her. “Can I help you?” Aubreigne asked, looking from one to another of the ‘people’ who'd assembled on her property.
One of them stepped forward, a tall, quiet young man with jet black hair and violet eyes. He was almost too beautiful to be male, and his allure was strong. But Aubreigne recognized him for what he was and was easily able to ignore the allure the male wasn’t consciously trying to tempt her with. “We hope you can.”
Aubreigne was confused, she’d always kept to herself, she had no idea why these people would come to her. “What is it that you need?” she asked, eyeing a few of the other inhabitants of Whispers who’d stepped forward to stand behind the beautiful, violet-eyed male.
“We need you to save us,” he answered, looking at her with his glittering jewel-like eyes.
“From what?” Aubreigne asked.
“From sin,” the banshee said, speaking over the young man before he could even answer.
“I don’t understand,” Aubreigne confessed.
“We’ve come here, some of us a very long time ago, to live in peace. Not all of us were deserving, but we’ve made every effort to become better, to be better. And with him here, the temptation is so great that it’s hard to ignore. We need that temptation removed, and there is only one that can do that. Only one that can tame him,” the male said.
“And you think that’s me?” Aubreigne asked, a skeptical tone in her voice.
“We know it is. We’ve watched. We’ve seen him watch over you. We’ve heard him claim you aloud. You can control him, Siren. We need you to accept him, claim him, change him,” the banshee said in a harsh whisper, trying to keep her shrieking voice from deafening anyone near.
“I will not claim any who is not my mate. You should go to Enthrall, explain, he’ll help you,” Aubreigne suggested.
“Enthrall can’t control him as you can,” the male answered. “And some of us are here without his permission. But we do follow the rules,” he hurried to add.
Aubreigne looked around, taking the time to see all those who stood no more than 10 feet from her, with others still making their way to her, and still more hanging back in the tree line watching to see the outcome. The tall, slender male with the violet eyes - he was fey — dark fey, but fey nonetheless. The banshee was clearly a banshee with her long, tangled, yellow hair and her blood-red eyes. There were sprites, and even a male of the kind the humans called Sasquatch. She knew him on sight, though he went to great lengths to keep his fur shaved away from his face and hands and his hair pulled back. He was very kind and even offered her a shy smile as her gaze paused on him. He at least, she’d spoken to briefly in the past. As Aubreigne’s gaze touched on those nearer the trees in the distance, she could make out several individuals she’d never seen, and still others she’d met a time or two. There was a pretty female with flaming red hair and orange eyes that caught her attention — she’d never seen her before. The female’s skin even seemed to be a pale orange in color, and the air around her shimmered as the horizon appeared to on a very hot summer day.
“Siren?” the dark fey said, trying to regain her attention.
Aubreigne looked at him.
“Will you help us? Will you claim him, control him, keep him, so that we do not fall?” he asked.
“No. I don’t even know who it is you think I should claim. I will not claim any that is not actually mine.”
“What about us?!” the dark fey demanded.
“What about me?” Aubreigne shot back at him. “And what about my daughter? What of her. Am I to sacrifice both of us to save you?” she asked.
The banshee spoke, her voice raspy and quiet. “He didn’t harm you. He didn’t harm your daughter. We don’t think he will. He simply needs to be tamed.”
“Who is it that…” and then Aubreigne stopped speaking. She knew without them even telling her who they wanted her to claim and control. She began to shake her head. “No. I cannot. I am not his. He is not mine. Go to Enthrall. Enthrall will help you. Perhaps he and Lore…” she said before she was cut off.
A male with pale white skin, spikes on his shoulders and elbows, and pupils of ice came rushing toward her and the group congregated outside her home while they spoke. He interrupted her. “It is told!” he hissed. “It must be you! Only you!”
Aubreigne took a step back. She knew on instinct what this male was. A part of her recognized him and the danger he could bring.
He practically spat on the ground between them, looking at her with contempt in his eyes. “I will not harm you, Siren. Or should I call you demoness?” he asked, as though she’d be ashamed of her heritage.
“Whichever suits you best, ice demon,” Aubreigne answered.
He regarded her for a moment longer before repeating himself. “It must be you. You have the power to save us all. We do not wish to turn away from all we’ve fought so hard to achieve. But his temptation knows no bounds. Save us.”
“The Dark One — Is. Not. Mine!” she stated emphatically. “My song controls him. If he were mine, he’d be immune to my song.”
The ice demon smiled sardonically at her. “Do you truly believe that every little fable you’re told holds an element of truth?”
Aubreigne shook her head, confused — drawn to the Dark One, but not — and suddenly questioning everything she’d ever been taught about her songs and their powers. “He’s not mine,” she whispered.
The dark fey tilted his head just so, then he spoke. “Isn’t he, though?”
Almost as one, the group that had approached her home began to move away back toward the trees. They seemed to melt into the tree line and become undetectable. The last person she saw was the shimmering form of the girl with the flaming red hair and the orange skin. She smiled at Aubreigne, genuinely smiled at her, then she lifted a hand in greeting before stepping into the trees and disappearing with the others.
Aubreigne stood there a little longer, shaken, not quite wrapping her mind around what had just happened to her. They wanted her to mate the Dark One. Make him hers. Aubreigne shook her head. There was no way. She wouldn’t even if she believed he was hers. She would never expose Deaumanique to him and all he represented.
“No,” she said to the now quiet morning. “I can’t.”
Slowly she made her way back inside her home and closed the door behind herself. She went to the kitchen, and without a conscious thought took out the makings of Deaumanique’s breakfast and began her daily chores. All the while in her mind’s eye she saw the drawing of a male, shirtless, on his knee, watching over her, tending her while she slept. “He’s not mine,” she whispered to the empty kitchen. And a small voice deep inside her consciousness repeated the the dark fey’s words to her — ‘Isn’t he though?’.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
Having found Terrus and spoken to him, there was nothing more Murder could do. He took to the air in an effort to get home more quickly. He needed to set things right and the first thing he could do was speak to Phrygia and help her get assimilated in her own home. When he finally set foot on the ground outside his home, he felt both a sense of relief and of dread. He’d at least been able to speak to Terrus, and had a little better understanding of what had happened, but he hadn’t spoken to Phrygia yet. Somehow, he had to find a way to explain to her that she wasn’t his mate, as he’d claimed she was.
Murder opened the back door and walked into his living room. All was quiet. It was still dark inside, the curtains in the windows having not yet been thrown open to allow in the sunshine. And there was no scent of food that might have been prepared for breakfast. Murder’s brow wrinkled as he moved down the hallway that led to his bedroom.
“Phrygia?” he called.
There was no answer.
“Phrygia?” he called a little louder.
Murder opened the bedroom door and went to the window, pulling back the heavy, dark curtains to allow in some early morning sunlight. The room was empty — the bed made. Murder’s heart dropped. “Phrygia!” he shouted throughout the house. But there was no answer. She was gone.
Murder hurried back outside. “Phrygia!” he screamed to the surrounding area. There was no reply. At first he thought maybe she wandered away, accidentally got turned around. But then he remembered the Dark One was about. “No, no, no!” Murder shouted. He took to the sky in search of Phrygia, or evidence of the Dark One; because wherever the Dark One was, he had no doubt he’d find Phrygia with him, taken by force.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
Aubreigne had just managed to get breakfast on the table and Deaumanique to sit long enough to eat it when a pounding sounded on her door. “Oh, good goddess! What now?!” she exclaimed. She stalked to the door, as much as a tiny woman of 5 foot nothing can stalk, and ripped it open without even determining who was on the other side. “What now?” she snapped, her eyes fiery and her skin steadily darkening to the red hue that she took on when irritated.
“Where is the Dark One?” Murder demanded.
Aubreigne planted her hands on her slender hips. “Why does everyone think I know anything about that male?” she shot back at him.
“Because this is where he was last seen,” Murder answered, toning it down a little due to her response.
“No, it’s not! He was last seen over there!” she fairly shouted at him, “past my property, far into the trees. Go look there. Ask those people, not me! They seem to know more about him than I do anyway!” she snapped, then turned on her heel and went back to her kitchen to continue cleaning up from cooking breakfast, leaving the door open, not caring if Murder stayed or left.
Murder stood in the open doorway and peeked over at Aubreigne. Then, he met Deaumanique’s eyes and raised his eyebrows in question.
Deaumanique shrugged her shoulders.
Murder hesitatingly entered Aubreigne’s home, closing the door behind himself. “Let’s start again,” he said.
“If you must,” Aubreigne answered, still perturbed and obviously distracted as she wiped down her counter top in the kitchen.
“Phrygia is missing. She’s just gone. No sign of her at all. I searched all around my home and there are no tracks. I can’t find any trace of her anywhere. I think the Dark One has her. I have to find him and rescue her,” Murder explained.
Aubreigne had stopped scrubbing a hole through her already rubbed to a shine wooden cabinet top. “I am sorry your mate is missing, Murder, but I have no idea where the Dark One is, and I highly doubt he absconded with her against her will.”
“Of course he did!” Murder said, his voice raised.
“Why? Why would he want your mate?” Aubreigne asked, waiting for Murder to answer her with a smug expression on her face.
“Because she was in his service in Hell. He has no allies here, so he found her and forced her back into service! And she’s not my mate!” Murder answered, giving her just as much tone as she gave him.
Aubreigne rolled her eyes. “He does not want her. He does not need her back in service to him! And how have you finally figured out your mate is not really your mate?!” she asked.
“Why do you defend him?!” Murder asked. “And because she’s not! You should have known that when you could still call to me!”
“I did know that, but you didn’t,” Aubreigne answered.
Murder looked disbelievingly at her, his brows furrowed, his eyes squinted. Finally, he could contain it no more. “Then why didn’t you tell me that?” he bellowed.
That did it, Aubreigne lost her cool. Her skin turned bright red, and her eyes started swirling, the ends of her long, black hair started being flicked around as though by a slight breeze — a breeze that was non-existent. “You will not speak to me in that manner!” she demanded, putting all her powers behind her voice.
Murder knew the little female he argued with needed watching over, he had a history with her. And he’d always watch over her when she needed him. A part of him loved her dearly. But when she was like this, everyone around her needed watching over.
“Ooooo, you did it now,” Deaumanique muttered, taking what was left of her breakfast and retreating to her room, quietly closing the door behind herself.
Murder watched Deaumanique leave the room, wishing he could go with her. He’d fucked up, he knew it. And now he had to deal with it. He looked over at Aubreigne who was still staring at him, ready to blow.
He dropped his shoulders, huffed out a breath, and stalked over to her table. He pulled out a chair and dropped his large frame into it. “I’m sorry, Aubreigne. I really am. I’m just so off balance. I don’t know what to feel, what to do next, who to save, or how to save them.”
Aubreigne didn’t answer, she continued to glare at him, the end of her hair stopped flicking around, so he took that as a good sign.
“Lucitari is my mate. I realized it too late, after I’d already claimed Phrygia. That is what happened at Rowan and Destroy’s party. I realized it the moment I saw her. The pull toward her just got stronger and stronger. There’s no way I could have overlooked it before, and that made it clear that she intentionally misled me, or at the very least did all she could to avoid me. I was angry. I lost my temper.”
“And if I recall, she lost hers as well,” Aubreigne s
aid, pointing at his horns.
Murder’s eyes drifted up as though he could see the tips of his own horns. “What?” he asked, turning his head this way and that. “What do you mean?”
“She threw a bolt of her energy at you, didn’t she?” Aubreigne asked, with a smirk on her face.
Murder glared at Aubreigne, clearly embarrassed that Lucitari had scorched his ass — literally.
“And what of it?” he asked.
“The tips of your horns are blue, now. Intentional, or not, she’s marked you,” Aubreigne explained, still smirking.
Murder got up and went to her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she snapped.
“Looking for a mirror. You have one, don’t you?” he asked, pausing just inside her bedroom door.
“Look on my night table.”
A few moments later a rumble could be heard from his chest as he apparently found Aubreigne’s mirror and had seen the blue tips of his horns for himself. Murder stalked back into the kitchen. “Why are my horns blue if she scorched my back end?” he asked.
“You’re asking the wrong female. Perhaps she did it intentionally to be sure that you and everyone else was forced to think of her when they see her blue tones on your horns. Or maybe it’s just an added bonus.”
Murder only shook his head as he sat again. “I spent all night searching for her. She’s gone. She left Whispers as soon as she attacked me.”
“She didn’t attack you. If she’d attacked you, not even Lore could have helped you survive.”
“Doesn’t matter now. I can’t find her. Lily refuses to help me. And Lore — for all I know — helped her hide the fact that she was my mate from me. And if he did, that’s an even greater betrayal than her intentionally keeping her distance from me.”
“You need to speak to both of them. Maybe there is an explanation.”
Murder just sat there, looking defeated. Finally, after several moments of silence he spoke. “I need to find Phrygia first. Lucitari left on her own. Lore… I don’t want to face until I am in better control of my emotions. But Phrygia, Phrygia I left alone last night with no explanation, rushing away suddenly. When I went back this morning she was gone.” He looked up, locking his gaze on Aubreigne. “She knew no one other than me here, and all I can come up with is that he found her, and took her back into his service. Whether you agree or not, is irrelevant. I promised that I would keep her safe, and I failed at even that. I can’t find my mate, Phrygia is missing, my best friend and brother of the heart quite possibly betrayed me, and here I sit with no idea how to proceed. All I know for sure is the Dark One followed us back from Hell, and I can’t help but feel responsible for all of it,” he admitted in a fit of self-pity.
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