[Through Time 02.0] Whiplash

by Claudy Conn

  He grimaced at her, didn’t answer this, and said, “You shouldn’t be here, but since you are, you just stay close.” He put a finger to her face. “I won’t tolerate your disobedience in this realm. Even at risk to my mission, I will return you to Faery if you disobey me.”

  She nodded and said, “Sure, sure, whatever.” She took a good look around and decided this had to be a castle. The long corridor was somewhere in the Dark Royals’ castle. Whew, she breathed as that sank in.

  The walls, the floor, everything about where they were had a medieval ‘feel’, except for the wall sconces, which appeared to be powered by electricity—or whatever energy they had in their Dark Realm. That surprised her. She had expected to find candles and torches, not this modern convenience, and she said out loud, “Huh.”

  “Shush,” he ordered.

  Repentant, she went silent as she scanned the walls, which appeared to be made of thick stone. The flooring was made of some flat stone similar to the flagstone that could be found at home. The ceiling also appeared to be made of some kind of stone. Everything though felt bleak and barren, and although she saw no ice or snow, it felt as though she had stepped onto the North Pole.

  In spite of the knit hat and dark navy ski jacket she was wearing, she shivered again.

  Trevor pulled on her gloved fingers and brought her close to his body as he moved towards a long, lead-paned and arched window in the middle of the narrow corridor.

  That window displayed a bleak world. They looked out on a horrible, dead landscape, dimly lit by an unusual moon. The scene was misty and barren, with nothing but dead and strangely warped trees and shrubbery making up the landscape of cracked, gray earth.

  “Wow,” Jazz said. “Everything has died here …”

  “No, not died—been killed. The Fae abominations have sucked the life out of everything. And it is perpetual dusk here—no sun.”

  “Horrible.” Jazz shivered again. “Where are we exactly? What is this place?”

  “Queen Morrigu’s castle. The Dark King left it to her when he took his human as a consort. He left her here with the Dark Princes he had created. I am told she is quite mad.”

  “Well, yeah, poor thing—left here like that,” Jazz said, looking around. “I don’t think I like this Dark King. He seems a selfish brute without compassion.”

  “She chose to follow him. He did not ask her to, but Morrigu followed the Dark King here when he first banished himself. He was wretched that his war had resulted in Queen Bridget’s death. He never wanted that. Morrigu thought if she became his mistress, they could rule here … but then his experiments all went wrong. She turned to dark magic, and it took over her thought processes, and although he wanted to return her to Tir, he couldn’t because of what the dark magic had done to her.” Trevor shrugged. “I am told the Dark King thinks on another plane,” he said. “Never mind all that now. We have to—”

  “Have you ever been here before?”

  “No,” he answered and pulled her further along the corridor.

  “How will you know where to go?”

  He touched his head with his pointer finger and grinned. “You do not give us enough credit, Fios. I have all that I need already implanted by the queen, right in here.”

  “Like a set of blueprints?” Jazz asked, impressed, and then she stopped and clutched him. “Do you feel that?”

  “What?”

  “Dark Fae—everywhere … Dark Fae. I can sense them. It must be built into our DNA from ancient times when we had to alert the villagers before the Fae arrived.” She eyed him with a smirk. “Seems I can sense Fae approaching even before you can.” Her eyes teased him. “And I feel Unseelie all around.”

  “Well, we are in the Dark Realm,” he reasoned with a grin.

  Jazz was all too aware that she loved his grin. A boyish innocence played in that beaming smile, so at variance with some of the stodginess with which he conducted himself, and so at odds with the fact that he had lived thousands of years.

  He began moving stealthy and said, “Quiet now.”

  All at once, Jazz felt a strange sensation at her back, and her skin got prickly. She yanked at his hand as she spun around and discovered why her Fios senses had been screaming in her head and all over her body.

  A Dark and Royal Fae stood, his arms folded across his muscular and tattooed chest, his expression contemptuous—a Royal, yes, but not Hordly!

  He was tall, incredibly handsome, with shoulder-length black hair that fell loosely around his face. His eyes were black and glittering and held a look she couldn’t quite read. Was it amusement? Purpose? Bitterness?

  He wore a silver torque, much like Hordly’s torque, etched to denote both his Royal status and his station as firstborn to the Dark King. His chest was bare except for a set of intricate tattoos. Covering his muscular thighs were black leather pants, and on his bare feet were sandals.

  “Did you think you could enter my castle without my knowing, Seelie?” he said in a similar accent to his brother’s. The Dark Princes evidently spoke another dialect of Danu. Their accents were similar to Trevor’s but not quite the same.

  Trevor’s entire stance was super-charged with hatred, and Jazz felt it fill the air as he breathed just one word out loud: “Pestale!”

  The Dark Prince inclined his head, and Jazz was immediately aware that this one was very different than his brother. This one had a great deal of cunning, a sense of self-worth, and purpose.

  He said, “Ah, no doubt you were expecting a change in me? Tell me, Seelie, did you think the Dark King would really be bothered to re-educate me after I drank from the Cauldron?” He shook his head. “Hordly knew better and saved me from its waters and the years of wandering aimlessly without direction.”

  “I see one change,” Trevor said, his gaze traveling over the tatts on Pestale’s abdomen.

  Jazz could almost see him thinking. He would call for his Death Sword and shift to the Dark Prince. She tensed as she waited.

  Pestale smirked as he opened his folded arms and raised one well-shaped brow. “Ah, these?” he said, looking at the tatts. “They were needed for the very dark magic I have been working with in this last week.” He looked at Jazz and sucked in air as he allowed his gaze to travel over her. She felt as though he had stripped her of all her warm clothing, and she moved in closer to Trevor as he spoke again, softly, so softly. “Lovely creature. I can’t imagine why you have brought her to my castle, but I thank you. I shall be sure to enjoy her quite thoroughly before she dies.”

  Jazz felt her Fios kick in again—more Dark Fae on the move and headed towards them. Two … two male Fae almost upon them.

  She felt their presence at her back as they shifted in. She looked over her shoulder and discovered with a sinking heart that one was Hordly and the other, from the torque around his neck, had to be his brother. They were surrounded. This was so not what she had in mind. She had thought she and Trev would arrive and take the Dark Princes by surprise and by storm. It appeared, however, that the Unseelie Royals had the upper hand.

  She had to do something—all her Fios senses were on the alert and ready to defend—but she waited, looking at Trevor, hoping he had a plan.

  Trevor had to know, of course, they were surrounded, but he did not seem overly concerned to her. Was he bluffing? He should be concerned, she thought worriedly. Lots of reasons to be concerned here.

  All at once Trev was in motion, his Death Sword in his right hand. He swung it from side to side, slashing at air.

  With his other hand, he held her. They shifted, coming up behind Pestale so that all three Dark Princes were before him and she was at his back. She got ready.

  Jazz knew this was it. Here was death staring at them.

  The Unseelie Royals came at Trevor, and although Jazz flattened herself against the wall, she knew she had to do something. Then she remembered just what she could do.

  The first one, Pestale, wasn’t aware she was a Fios, let alone a slammer, and Hord
ly was too busy concentrating on taking Trevor down to bother himself with her just yet.

  This was the moment, as the last Unseelie prince seemed to be just along for the ride and hung about not doing much of anything.

  She centered her magic first on Pestale and Hordly, but as the middle brother inched closer to Hordly, she included him in the set.

  Pestale had managed to get his hands on a Death Sword and was holding it between Trevor and himself, sneering all the while.

  She took his magic, as well as the magic of his brothers, but it was an enormous burden, heavy with evil, and her mind nearly toppled with its weight. She had an overwhelming urge to puke.

  She had to do this, she had to, she told herself. No puking—only slamming.

  She got control as she doubled over and then threw everything she had at all three. The dark power she had momentarily stolen and hurled at them hit them with a force of a small bomb.

  A resounding and thunderous rocket of black power knocked Pestale into both his brothers in midair as all three went flying. They landed hard at the far end of the corridor and were momentarily bereft of energy—it had worked!

  Trevor shifted in close to them, his Death Sword poised and ready to slash Pestale’s handsome, wicked head off his shoulders, but Hordly was the first to recover and diverted Trevor’s purpose by shifting away. With a look of dread, Trev turned, apparently knowing what he would find.

  With a sinking sensation, Jazz felt Hordly’s arms go around her as he pressed her back against his hard body.

  “Back off my brothers, Seelie, or she dies now,” Hordly growled angrily.

  Pestale was on his feet, as was his younger brother, and they stared first at the human girl, clearly wondering just what kind of magic she owned, before turning to Trevor.

  Jazz saw that, for a moment, they were at an impasse.

  * * *

  Pestale surveyed the situation and made up his mind. He calmed himself, for he couldn’t allow his anger to rule him. He made a show by slashing through the air with his Death Sword and said, “What now, Seelie?”

  “She dies? That is your threat?” Trevor said with a shrug, “So she dies. It is not what I wanted. But she forced herself on me even though I asked her to stay behind. And my mission is more important than even a magical human. What I want, all I want, is to kill at least one of you, here and now.”

  “You don’t fool me.” Pestale shook his head. “You Seelie Royals care too much for the humans, and I think you will bargain rather than allow my brother to snap her neck.” Pestale added thoughtfully, “Besides, that would be a loss. She intrigues me with her power.”

  “You are right—I don’t want her dead, but not because of her minimal skills but because I had planned to bed her.” Trevor shrugged again. “But next to killing you and your brothers …” He shook his head. “No comparison.”

  Pestale understood putting the mission above all else. He adored Morrigu for many reasons, but he knew he would sacrifice her if he were in the same position. He believed Trevor but said, “Still, I think we shall keep her alive for the time being.” He looked toward the human woman. “It will be interesting to explore her, use her, touch her pretty body, and see how it is she was able to … do what she did. Hordly, take her to Morrigu’s chambers.”

  * * *

  Bile worked itself into Jazz’s throat. She was pretty sure Trevor could not, did not, mean what he had said, but even so it hurt to hear the words. However, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. She took Pestale’s magic, this time only his magic, and slammed the brother he stood closest to. While both Pestale and his younger brother were still sliding across the stone floor, with all her might she pounded the heel of her boot on Hordly’s sandaled foot. When he yelped with pain, she turned, kicked him in the balls, and at the same time took his magic and slammed him.

  Trevor shifted to her at once and wrapped her in his tight embrace. In the next instant he shifted them away.

  ~ Eleven ~

  TREVOR CONCENTRATED. HE knew he had to focus.

  A looming structure stood before them. It was made of huge blocks of opaque glass in long, thick shards going every which way. One could not see in, but he imagined every room inside could see out.

  It was the only safe haven in all the Dark Realm, but getting inside would not be easy. Danté had had a very difficult time of it when he was here with Radzia. It was the special retreat the Dark King had created for his human love, to keep her safe and comfortable where the world outside was anything but.

  Trevor couldn’t allow anything to happen to his Fios. He couldn’t breathe when she was in danger. She was his Jazmine Decker. She had asked him why he continued to use her entire name, because it sounded so formal, and he had told her it was because he liked the sound. In truth, he loved the sound. He would always call her Jazmine Decker.

  The first difficulty lay in the fact that he couldn’t find a door—anywhere. He had Jazmine Decker’s hand in his as he dragged her along while he searched for an entrance, a window, some way to get inside. His efforts proved fruitless, and he was left standing and studying the building, deep in thought. He knew that when the Dark Princes figured out where he had gone with his human, they would be after them once more.

  * * *

  “Wh-where are we now? Maybe we sh-should just g-go?” Jazz stuttered with the cold. She was pretty sure her lips were going numb. It was below freezing, way below, and she wasn’t certain she could take much more. She could see Trevor was trying to get her inside, so she didn’t want to burden him by telling him her entire body felt as though she were suffering from frostbite.

  “We have to get inside—it is the only place you will be safe from them. They cannot enter this retreat, as it belongs to Dark King’s consort, Crystal, and is warded specifically against them.”

  “Okay,” Jazz agreed. “But I don’t see a way in. Maybe it is warded against us as well? Maybe we should just go check out the Prison Walls. M-maybe it is warmer there.”

  He eyed her suddenly and took her into his arms. “Are you cold, Jazmine Decker?” He breathed a soft, warm air all around her and said, “There, sweet. That should keep you more comfortable for a few minutes.”

  “Wow, it’s like having my own instant sauna,” she said, impressed.

  He frowned, once again deep in thought, and mumbled, “Breslyn and my brother, Danté, will locate the cracks in the wall from the outside and seal them. I have to find a way to distract the Unseelie Royals, which, thus far, I believe we have done.”

  “When was that discussed?”

  “It wasn’t discussed.” He grinned. “The queen mind-linked with me before we entered the portal.”

  “Huh,” she said to this.

  He glanced at her. “You shouldn’t be here, but you did serve to keep their minds off the walls. Hopefully they will be busy searching for us and we will be inside by the time they realize we have found a way into the retreat.”

  “See, I am an excellent distraction,” she offered.

  He pulled a face at her. “The only advantage I have is that they think I am here to kill them, so they will center their efforts on locating me. You are a distraction for me as well as for them.” He touched her nose. “Keeping you alive will be no easy task, because you are mortal, and in spite of the pendant and Aaibhe’s spell, I don’t like that you can so easily be destroyed.”

  “Hey, don’t make so little of me.”

  “You don’t understand, do you? It is the queen’s directive that I accomplish my mission without killing any of the Dark King’s Royal sons. I, however, would like to find a reason to kill them—one that cannot be disputed. You are turning out to be that reason, but there will be consequences.”

  Jazz decided to change the subject. “Why didn’t the queen tell you how to get inside? Seems like an important detail, huh?”

  “It forever changes. Those who wish to enter are judged worthy or not. That is all she was able to tell me.”

  �
�Huh,” said Jazz consideringly. “Well, didn’t she have any idea what would be worthy?”

  “No, for each of us it is different. The way is different for each of us …”

  “What does that mean, really?”

  “It means that anyone desirous of entering must I suppose pass some kind of test.”

  “You mean we each have to prove ourselves. You mean it might let you in but not me? Not liking this.”

  “Something like that, and I’m not liking it much either.” She watched him as he looked around at the glass structure and added, “This is oddly shaped … look at its protruding angles. It makes the place look like an impenetrable ice statue.

  “What now?”

  “I’ll use arcane Danu and see if I can telepathically communicate with the structure. It is a living thing … it should respond to my status as a Royal Prince of the House of Lugh.”

  Nothing.

  Jazz snickered and said, “It wasn’t impressed with your royalty.” However, at that moment she heard something, and not with her Fios senses but with her human senses, which meant it was something close by. She turned around. Her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

  Charging towards them, looking absolutely magnificent and just as terrifying, was a huge, tawny, horridly menacing creature. The closest description she could give was that it was like a lion, only warped, and this thing was fifteen feet in height and ten feet wide. Something had gone wrong when it had been created; the hulking thing was misshapen and adulterated. Its fangs dripped yellow saliva as it charged towards them, and Jazz realized this thing wasn’t just hungry—it was starving.

  Ordinarily, she would have felt compassion for it and looked to feed it, but the problem here was that she was afraid it had already found food: her.

  It was immortal and starving—forever hungry in a world where food was limited, which meant it was determined. Oh, yeah, she thought, it looked determined!