“Hai, human male I do not want to crush.”
Samuel chuckled.
Lorken’s odd pupils slid from side to side. “We divvy opponents?” The goblin’s brawny neck and shoulders swelled until it seemed his anger would burst through his flesh. His voice deepened to a cavernous rumble. “The Horde asks for highest rights to the vampire Queen.”
“Get in line,” Wasp spat in passing, Gunarr yapping irately at her back. She spun to him. “I don’t want or need your help.”
“Devlin would not have wanted this for you. We ran for a reason.” Gunarr noticed us. Wiping the emotion from his face, he glared at our lack of discretion then stalked off strong-arming a ranting Wasp with him.
Baako watched them leave with jealous eyes. His desire to follow was tangible, yet he restrained himself.
Gritting his teeth, he focused on the discussion.
“Allow personal vendettas to decide who goes where, and we’ll end up fighting each other,” Daphne said, pragmatic. “I suggest we divide the city into north and south using the river as a marker. The shifters, humans and goblins blend well enough, so they should focus on whittling the zombie presence in the north.” Daphne wound a braid around her finger as she spoke. “The Nest is located on the south side not too far from the Coven Wyld. Considering the magical traps the witches scatter around their home, I think the fairy Knights have the best chance of survival.” She glanced at Kian. “And fairies stand the best chance against vampires.”
“And the wolves?” Kalicfer strode up to us. He looked haggard, yellowed eyes devoid of emotion save resentment.
Daphne shot him a look of respect. “I’d guess your missing shifters are on the south side since that’s probably where the Loa are.”
He nodded grimly. “Then that is where I will go.”
“A good plan,” Kian said, eyes lit with praise.
“We all have moments of untouchable genius.” Daphne studied her nails. “I experience them more than most.”
“Modest,” Samuel said. “Isn’t she?”
Lochlann stared. “You have commanded forces before?”
She slanted him a look under her lashes. “Curious?”
“Undeniably.”
As the group drifted towards the encampment talking spiritedly, I swallowed a bellow of frustration and slowed my step.
Baako’s head lifted, and he sniffed the air. He twisted to stare at me pointedly. I waited for him to growl, giving me away, but he nodded in understanding and kept walking.
Relieved, I leaned against the cold stone that used to form an outside wall, and scanned my surroundings. Satisfied I wasn’t watched, I slipped around the ruins and waited.
No cry of alarm went up.
I cannot endure another second of waiting. I go alone.
Jaw clenching, I shut my eyes and visualised where I needed to be.
Opening my eyes, I ignored the startled gasp of the witch reclining on a bed of cushions and jumped off the dais to scan the room.
The Coven Wyld changed.
The nature Cael forced to flower inside the building radiated the unnatural taint of black magics, but this was different.
Heart stuttering, I tripped over my feet rushing to reach the female who consumed my dreams and waking thoughts since I’d first known of her existence.
No wonder Cael looked shaken when he spoke of her.
Rae sat beneath a dying tree. Leaves twirled from the branches and fluttered to the ground. Creeping vines grew over her limbs. Flowers entwined in her hair and sprouted at her feet. A stone statue, she sat still. Her hands lay limp on her lap, her sad eyes open and staring.
“I cannot get her to hear me.” Tomas materialized beside Rae holding her wrist. “Her pulse is faint but steady.”
I couldn’t find it within me to be angry with him.
If anything, I felt grateful she hadn’t suffered alone.
I crouched and cupped Rae’s cheek. It was cold and grey in colour. So was her skin. The only part of her retaining hue was her eyes, still molten gold though the life in them had frozen.
I trembled, overwhelmed to be near her.
The godlings gathered behind me, but I felt no immediate summoning of power to threaten my life mate or me. I ignored them, preferring to focus on the reunion I’d teetered close to bludgeoning my loved ones over if another moment’s delay prevented its occurrence.
“I love you,” I murmured. “Madly. I never should have let you go thinking otherwise.”
“She’s gone,” Marinette said softly, settling beside me.
Cautious, I spared the godling a look. Her angelic face was beautifully shrouded by a complicated arrangement of braids and gold ornaments. Runes of magic tattooed on her cheekbones glowed, revealing the power that flowed through her veins. Her lips pouted, painted crimson to match her extravagant gown, an intricate glamour I saw past to the body beneath.
“You did this,” I gritted through my teeth.
A heavy silence followed.
“She feared you wouldn’t come for her.” Tomas stared sadly. “I told her you would, but she didn’t believe me. She never believes me.”
The sound that tore from my throat was harsh. “I did this.”
Sighing, Marinette touched my arm. I watched guardedly as her skin blackened and withered then plumped with life.
She smiled at my dumbstruck expression. “I am patroness of the undead. You cannot hurt me.” She squeezed my arm. “Now you see she is gone.”
Turning from her, I peered at Rae. She made not even the most infinitesimal of movement. Can she not feel me? I sensed her energy, but it was so muted it petrified me to the core.
“I can lie now,” I whispered, shifting closer on my knees. “I spoke an untruth. I swore I would not follow you, but I did. I always will.”
Restless movement at my back made me tense, and glare over my shoulder.
Damballah stared at Rae. His white brows pulled together above onyx eyes. “This is sad.”
“I know,” Malice murmured.
Putting them from my mind, I stroked my thumb across Rae’s brow. “Rae-love, please, look at me.”
“She came with the phantom,” Marinette said. “Her actions are telling. First she chooses him over you then she withdraws from the world.”
Tomas snarled, glaring balefully at the godling. “He knows you lie, female.”
“Can you feel me touching your hand?” I gripped Rae’s fingers. “Squeeze my hand. I know it is a lot to ask since you have been so still for so long, but do it for me.”
Marinette breathed in my ear, “I desire you.”
Revolted, my lip curled, but I kept my eyes on Rae. “I desire none but her.”
“Pathetic. Weak. Look at me.”
I winced to hear the words I’d used to stop me from following Rae after the argument. The blame lies on my shoulders. Rae told me she took strength from our love. Imbibed power from my affections in a physical way most struggled to understand. The thought of a life with me gave her courage to fight.
I blocked her source of power by walking away.
I’d brought her back from the Otherworld only to cruelly abandon her. She didn’t do what I wanted, didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, so I’d gotten angry and thrown a tantrum.
Rae had been proven right.
I regret.
“I am so very sorry.” My eyes stung. “Come back to me, and I swear I will never leave you.”
“I want you,” Marinette crooned. “I’d never overlook your needs.”
I ran my finger down the bridge of Rae’s nose, a graceful curve that enchanted me. “I’m not going anywhere, Rae-love.” Scooping her into my arms, I leaned her head against my chest and cradled her close. “Let’s leave this place.”
“Her people have come,” Damballah boomed, his white eyes glowing brighter.
Marinette looked aggravated.
Transparent, Tomas briefly met my gaze. “I will tell them you have her.” He faded complet
ely, and I felt his presence depart.
Discomforted by the dying environment, I strolled past Malice who shrugged and pointed to a roughly hewn doorway that used to lead onto a grass-covered cliff where Cael’s Wyld spilled outside. It withered with the rest of the Wyld, becoming a barren wasteland of grey brick and dirty rubble.
My eyes narrowed on the beleaguered movement of the undead below. The streets were battlegrounds I felt loathed to travel though with Rae weakened as she was. I skimmed air, but had no idea if I could do so with Rae in my arms.
“I do not wish you to leave.” Marinette studied the fighting dispassionately. “Stay with me. Your people may leave, but I want you.”
“I’m going to take Rae into the forest. Our fairy traits remain strong in us. She’ll do better there.”
“This isn’t an enchantment or spell to break,” Malice said. “We guided her into the deep sleep. Only she can wake herself, and if your presence does not revive her I doubt anything will.”
Marinette’s cold fingers stroked my shoulder. “Stay with me.”
A shudder of revulsion shook my body. “Why are you like this?” I shrugged her off. “There must have been a time when you were different.”
“I was a Mambo.” Her eyes drifted out of focus. “So long ago. Yes, I was different, softer, but my beliefs remain the same.” Her gaze sharpened and clashed with mine. “You cannot hide your darkness. I feel it and so will they. So will she.”
“What I am is a consequence of my own actions. The resurrection–”
“Are you certain? The fae enjoy the dark.” She smiled. “I remember tithes performed at the full moon where fairies revelled in blood and death. Human sacrifice was a revered tradition. At such a revelry we crafted the amulets to control the witches.” She cocked her head. “Surely you know your predecessors were much like me.” Her eyes lingered on the runes inked across my chest. “You were Wyld Guardian.”
“The old ways were left behind. Our people are bringers of light.”
“The Tribes have become weak. Tamed. I wish you to embrace what you truly are.” She brushed my wings. “You have old blood in your veins to bear this form.”
“I wish you’d hear me when I say I desire only Rae and our life together.”
“Your friends and family will die. My creatures will destroy them and your precious mate will be so lost she will fade. As will you unless you distance yourself.” Marinette gathered her power and lifted her chin, eyes slitted. “If that is the fate you wish for yourself then please, allow me to indulge you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rae
The fingers nestled under my cheek twitched. Tail curled around my body, wings flat to the ground, I lay on a bed of plush grass. I was at ease. Heat beat down until the sweet yet musky notes of my own skin permeated the air.
Lashes fluttering open, eyes widening with pleasure, I smiled, and rolled onto my back. Stretched until my joints popped.
I was dressed in a backless cotton dress with long sleeves. Gilded cuffs to match my circlet encircled my wrists. My feet were bare. I scrunched my toes into the prickly grass.
A chill breeze stirred the air. I inhaled deeply smelling earth and tasting the sweetness of nectar from blooming flowers.
Across the rolling lowlands of lush viridian, snow-capped mountains paraded across the horizon. Hovering above the jagged peaks floated an overcast of cloud, the sun an indistinct smudge behind it.
That advancing storm frightened me. The thought of it crashing overhead quickened my heartbeat and plunged my breaths into shallow pants.
When I’m scared he protects me.
White-hot pain exploded behind my eyeballs. Enjoyment of the stunning vista shattered. Temples pounding, I feared they’d burst and splatter blood over the lovely scenery. I clutched my head in my hands desperate to relieve the pressure.
A vague memory of drowning in misery assailed me. My heart ached. Throbbed. I felt abandoned in this dream turned nightmare.
Fingers pressed to my face I glared at the landscape, no longer fooled by its majesty. Lies. All lies. “Where the hell am I?”
“How beauteous,” a voice cooed. It was an unexpectedly deep baritone for a female, but utterly feminine in its breathy cadence.
A figure walked into my line of sight and bent over. I saw a black silhouette until she blocked the sunlight entirely.
Gold eyes, and a cascade of obsidian hair contrasted starkly with cream-pale skin. She extended a slender hand. In it was the head of a star shaped bloom.
Hesitating, I accepted the white flower with a side-eyed look of curiosity.
“Silence?” The lady reared in astonishment. I caught a flash of pointed ear. “How unlike thee.”
Conscious the questions eager to trip off my lips might disadvantage me, I asked with amateurish nonchalance, “What?”
“Child, where is thine infamous scowl? Thy charmingly vulgar demands of what I’m about. Is this not how thou customarily precedes?”
“Um….” Plucking at grass with one hand, in the other, the bloom held suspended on my palm, I chewed my lip until it bled. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
The arresting stranger clucked. Smiled and flashed enchanting dimples. The knowing look in her eyes dared me to ask again.
I sat up, shielding the flower, and failed to keep the tremor from my voice. Throat tight, speech was a squeeze. “Mother?”
Her eyes crinkled at the edges as her smile deepened. She sank to the grass beside me with exquisite grace. “Thy skill at perceiving kin improves.”
I just stared.
“Perchance, I am not what thee envisioned.” She arranged her skirts around her legs as if expecting to be judged on how the folds draped across the ground.
Bunched at the top of my thighs, and dipping between my legs, my dress was a muddle of creased fabric. One sleeve magically worked its way up my elbow, and the other felt damp, a grass stain smeared along the embroidery.
My wings flattened, and my tail curled in shame. In comparison to this female, I felt untidy, weird and stupid. I remembered to shake my head at her question, scratching my throat as if trying to reach my voice box and claw it to submission.
“I suspect thee pictured a mistemper’d seductress. Uninspiring. Selfish.” Her delighted peal of laughter infused the atmosphere with warmth. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Shock seizes thee to know upon a time I was a leader revered and beloved. All beings of creation worshiped at the font of my glory. They perceived my peculiar habits as beguiling.” Her gaze turned inwards, and her smile diminished to a rueful curve of the lips. “’Til peculiar became deviant. I was a most unusual High Priestess.” Her gaze cut me to me. “We are alike that way.”
Dazed, my mouth gaped. “W–We are?”
“We too share a fondness for humans.”
“They raised me.”
“I knew our lives safest among them. I meant us to be with Cael’s father’s descendants. All my children were to journey with me. Conall was….” Voice breaking on a pitched waver her hands folded on her lap. “He was ashamed. Bid me gone with cruel words.” With a flick of the finger, she brushed away the tear dangling from her lashes. “’Tis difficult when thy eldest son hates thee. Thou were a babe, Cael newborn. I never meant … it went so wrong. Cael was torn from me. Conall left behind. Thou moved with me forward in time, but grief overcame my attempt to begin anew. I died unable to mend what I broke. My family scattered in dishonor.”
I derived a morbidly disappointing conclusion from the surreal conversation. “Did I die? Again.”
She sighed prettily. “Nay.”
“It’s just…. I hear you, and it’s a sad story, I mean, I’m dealing with the fall out daily. It sucks. The thing I’m struggling with is that you’re dead.”
“Yea.”
“So, I’m dead?”
“Nay, I tell thee.” A gust of wind blew black strands of hair across Sorcha’s milk-pale face. The imaginary female who fancied herself my dece
ased mother tucked a wayward lock behind her ear, a perfectly formed shell of creamy skin studded with gold earrings from pointed tip to end curve. Puzzled, she swept out a willowy arm, the gesture encompassing. “The splendour of this scene is what thee saw in the Otherworld?”
I licked my lips and darted a look around. “Last time I died I–”
Up her palm flew. “‘Tis best thou not speak of it.”
“Uh, say-so.” I bobbed my head in the direction of the mountains, scared to see if the overcast crept closer. “I’m doing that?”
“Thou art divine. Such a dreamscape is well within thy power. Thee and Brean–”
I made a pained noise.
“–the Guardian,” she adjusted, frowning gently, “conjured a spell akin to this after thee resurrected. ‘Tis an old way to bespeak secrets.”
“The scenery I get. I imagine stuff like this all the time, but you? I’ve never seen you before. That must mean I’m crazy. Or dead. Neither sound good.”
“Thou claims I am a stranger. But!” She placed her hand beside mine. Apart from the lighter skin tone, they were identical. High gods, my hands are teensy. “Upon whose visage did thee gaze when thy bright eyes first opened?”
“Yours?”
She inclined her head.
Mystified, I rubbed my eyes with my fists. “You are a figment of my imagination.” I spoke firmly to myself. “When I look she will be gone.” I opened my eyes.
She studied me. “Does thou think of me often?”
“Na-uh.”
“Na-uh means nay?”
I struggled to articulate past my upset. “Yup.”
Triumphant, she fairly wriggled in pleasure. “‘Tis thine answer.”
“My head hurts.”
“Time lessens. Thou hast naught to ask?”
“I’m supposed to ask you something?”
“Or ask thy self. Does it matter as long as answers are given?”
It was physically painful to think his name. “Breandan,” I mumbled. “If I’m not dead, and I do die after whatever this is,” I rotated a hand over my head, “what will happen to him?”
“A Seer, I am not.” Sorcha shrugged. “He may mourn thee for the rest of his days. Become a harbinger of death. A tainted shadow of what he should hath been.” She clapped her hands to chase the pall settling on us. “Alas, he may cry then find another love. Looking upon thy time together as a sad yet fond remembrance.”
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