by Amy Cissell
“Inconceivable even,” I added. There was another prick in my neck, and I drifted off.
The next time I woke, my skin was burning. I started screaming and thrashing against my restraints.
“Shit! Do something!” Harvey yelled.
This time, the needle prick didn’t result in a blackout, but it did cool the fire and deaden my limbs.
“She’s still awake,” Harvey said.
“She’s barely conscious,” Finn said. “She’s built up a resistance to the sedative. This won’t last long, so I suggest you finish.”
The heat overcame me, but I couldn’t move to fight it. I couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours later when the tattoo gun finally shut off, and Harvey wiped off my back for the last time and unlocked the manacles.
“The cloths?” Finn asked.
“In the bag, like last time,” Harvey said.
“Need I remind you to tell no one about this?”
“Apparently, you do.”
Finn scooped me up into his arms and grabbed a plastic sack of bloody cloths. I could feel the drug leaving my system and called to my dragon. A wave of pain washed over me and the shift did not happen. I was bound.
Finn tessered me to Rebecca’s house and dropped me on the ground.
“I’m sorry, Eleanor,” he said. “I had no choice. This is the only way to protect you.”
“Bullshit.” It felt like I was speaking through a mouthful of marbles.
“I love you. If you’d given me the same chance you gave that dog, this wouldn’t have had to happen.”
“You need to get out. If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“You will see me again, and you will not kill me,” he said.
“Who are you working for?” I was suddenly certain he wasn’t on his own with this.
“Now you’re asking good questions.” He disappeared.
“Fuck!” I yelled. I stood, wobbled my way to the door, and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, the door was ripped off its hinges, and I was scooped into Isaac’s arms.
“Where have you been?”
“You’re hurting me,” I said. “What time is it? Is there food?”
Forty-five minutes and three cheeseburgers later, I told my story and showed off the altered tattoo on my back. There were five Celtic knots covering my dragon tattoo, and I was unable to shift. I could feel the bands on my dragon self at my neck and each of my ankles.
“This removes most of my ability to protect myself, and with all this iron in my skin, I’m having trouble controlling my magic.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Isaac said.
“We should go to Florence’s. Finn’s never been there, so maybe he can’t show up there.”
“Did he do anything else to you?” Isaac asked.
“Nope, it was your basic snatch and tattoo. I asked who he was working for, and he didn’t answer, but I don’t think this was my father’s idea.”
“We should get in touch with Arduinna.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to do that.”
“We may not have a choice. If this is Fae magic, it might take another Fae to break it.”
“Will the iron prevent her from helping?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Isaac replied. “If Florence can’t break it, we’ll need to try something else.”
“Fair enough. I’d rather go to Arduinna for help than stay bound. At least I’m not so tightly bound that I can’t control my anger. We don’t need to put out any fires right now.”
“How are your wrists and ankles?” Rebecca asked.
I looked at the body parts in question. They were raw but no longer oozing. “Healing. Hopefully they’ll be better tomorrow.”
Isaac scooped me up and carried me to our room. As he rinsed me off in the shower, a thought struck me. “Finn has a bag of bloody rags, Isaac. Rags with my blood. He grabbed the rags when I got the original tattoo, too. What is he going to do with so much of my blood? What can he do?”
Isaac stilled for a second before resuming gently washing my back. “Shit, Eleanor. I don’t know. Another question for Florence, and maybe Arduinna. I am unfamiliar with those kinds of magic, but it’s logical that if he went to all that trouble to collect your blood, it isn’t to create a creepy yet harmless shrine to your beauty.” He turned off the water and wrapped me in a large, fluffy towel, then tucked me into bed.
“You’re not joining me?” I asked, trying for neutral but failing miserably.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to have shenanigans tonight.”
“I want you to hold me. I can’t be alone tonight.”
“Of course.” Isaac slid into bed and pulled me into his arms. I turned towards him and tangled my legs up in his, leaned my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes. “I love you Eleanor,” Isaac said. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you today.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect myself.”
“Sleep, Princess.” He kissed the top of my head, and I fell asleep, safe in his arms.
I woke late the next morning feeling hungover from the nightmares that had plagued my sleep. A couple cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs later, and I felt almost myself again. Isaac and I drove to Florence’s and walked to the back yard. Florence was waiting, her face serene in meditation. The moment I cross the patio and my bare feet hit the earth, her eyes opened and she stared at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I pulled off my shirt, unhooked my bra, and turned around to show her.
She ran her hands over the new additions to my tattoo and cursed softly. “What happened?” she asked.
I told the story again, and this time, her curses were louder. “I had no idea he was going to do this.”
“This isn’t what you warned him about?” I asked.
“No,” she sighed. “At this point, it’ll do more good than harm to give you a warning. He is planning on luring Isaac to the land of the Fae and trapping him there to leave you bereft.”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” Isaac said. “I can’t imagine what he thinks will be good enough bait to take me away from Eleanor.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There are days when a nice, rare steak might lure you from my side.”
Isaac punched me lightly in the shoulder. “You’re thinking of your own stomach. I know I’ll never be able to compete with coffee.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back to Florence. “Do you think we can break these?”
“Do you know their composition?”
“Iron-fortified dragon’s blood,” I said.
“The iron is already degrading a bit. He didn’t use enough. If we wait a few days, they should be vulnerable to a hammer blow.”
“You’re going to hit me with a hammer?” I asked.
“I was thinking I would call in my coven, gloss over who you are and why you’re here, and have one of them go with you inside your mind to strike at the chains metaphysically.”
“Oh, much better. I’d rather it be you striking the blow, though. I trust you to aim at my bindings and not my head.”
“For that reason, it’s best that I remain outside your consciousness to ensure that the other eleven don’t figure out who you are and take inappropriate action while you’re vulnerable.”
“Is there anyone in your coven you trust with me in a vulnerable state?”
“There are two that I would trust with my life, but only one that I would trust with yours.”
“I can be there to help, too,” Isaac said.
“Unfortunately, this will need to happen on the full moon. Our magic will be stronger, and we’ll have a better chance of success.”
Florence declared it was useless to practice our magic as mine was so unpredictable now. Instead, she moved on to the physical. Isaac and I did hand-to-hand where my only objective was to avoid getting captured or knifed. After we were soaked in sweat, we took a break before moving on to sword practice. Isaac and I had vastly different styl
es which was incredibly challenging. Fortunately, we had practice blades, so I was bruised instead of bloody. Isaac had managed to get six hits for every one of mine.
“I didn’t know you were an expert with the sword,” I gasped after Florence finally took pity on me and called it quits.
“I am an expert in many things,” he said, winking.
I stared at him, hoping he was admiring my restraint in not rolling my eyes.
Isaac laughed. “I was born a long time ago. Sabers were our primary weapon. You should see what I can do with a pike…”
This time, I couldn’t help myself. I rolled my eyes.
“Okay children,” Florence said. “Let’s call it a day. Tomorrow, we go to Harney Peak?”
“Yes,” Isaac said. “Although I’m old enough to be your ancestor, so calling me child is neither necessary nor accurate.”
“It is when you’re acting like a young pup with his first bitch,” she said.
“Hey!” I objected.
“Figure of speech, my dear,” Florence said. “Much like when you call me a witch.”
“I’ve been doing much better.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you two in the Sylvan parking lot at eight tomorrow morning.”
I gathered our practice gear, refilled my arm sheaths, and headed out to the truck.
I must have fallen asleep on the way back to Rebecca’s, because we were in the garage before I knew it. After dinner, I headed for the shower which proved problematic. I didn’t want to disarm, but didn’t want to get my weapons wet. I compromised by bringing my knives in and leaning my sword within arm’s reach outside the shower door. Maybe I was a little paranoid, but I’d been snatched from the bathroom less than thirty-six hours earlier. I got through the shower without incident, rearmed, and went to bed.
I wanted to call Isaac—I was having trouble closing my eyes—but didn’t want to be needy. I was strong, dammit. I finally drifted off to sleep.
I woke when someone touched my arm. I had a knife out and at the intruder’s throat in the blink of an eye.
I opened my eyes and looked directly into Isaac’s.
“Would you mind disarming and letting me into bed?” he asked.
“Will you wake up if someone appears in our room?” I countered.
“Yes. I’m feeling a little paranoid.”
“You didn’t notice when he showed up the other morning,” I said.
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
I considered briefly then slipped off my arm sheaths and set them on the bedside table. I leaned my rapier against the wall and climbed in.
“Sorry I pulled a knife on you,” I said.
“No need to apologize. That made me feel good about your instincts.”
I curled up in his arms and fell back asleep.
Isaac woke me at zero dark thirty the next morning so we’d have enough time for breakfast before heading out to meet Florence. I grumbled at him until he brought me a cup of coffee and then got out of bed. There were pancake, sausages, and coffee waiting for me when I made my way to the kitchen.
“I’m going to be so sad to leave all this,” I said around a mouthful of buttery, syrupy, fluffy pancakes. “I can’t believe I only get one more breakfast here.”
“You’re always welcome back,” Rebecca said. “Provided I don’t die.”
“Do you issue your challenge on Wednesday or Thursday?”
“I’ll issue the challenge when the pack gathers tomorrow night before moonrise. Greg can either agree to fight me immediately or ask for a twenty-four hour stay. He can refuse to fight me and ask to fight my second. Either way, he gets to the select the form in which we fight. His control is poor, particularly for a pack Alpha, and with the moon on the rise, he’ll choose to fight as a wolf knowing that he won’t be able to maintain his human form.”
I shivered. “I’m so nervous for you! I know you’re strong and capable, but you’re my friend and that makes me worry.”
“I appreciate your concern. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. He hasn’t won a fair fight in decades, and that gives me an edge. He won’t realize that I am a true danger until it is too late. He might pay lip service to my power, saying I could run a pack if I were not a woman, but he truly believes my vagina is a bigger stumbling block than it is.”
I grabbed my sword, which I decided needed a kick-ass name, my back scabbard, and a backpack. With my magic all wonky, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to keep the sword—working name, Elf Stabber—camouflaged.
When we crested Harney Peak, the gate pulled even harder than last time. I walked in that direction, but when I got closer, the iron in my tattoo started burning. I shed my backpack, unbuckled my scabbard, and heard someone say, “Holy shit, that chick’s on fire!”
Isaac and Florence rushed to me and tried to smother the flames with their pack and the water they were carrying, but the fire kept burning.
“Get me away from here,” I gasped. “Too close to the Fae magic.”
Isaac picked me up, ignoring the flames licking at his arms, and rushed me back down the trail. Less than a mile later, the flames were out, and I no longer felt the burning. I walked off the trail a bit and sunk cross-legged to go within myself to assess the damage. My skin was unmarked, and my energy was already replenishing. One thing was apparent, though—without removing the chains that bound my dragon and most of my magic, I wouldn’t be able to open the second gate.
I opened my eyes and saw Florence.
“Are you ready to hike the rest of the way out of here?”
I stood. “I think so.” Florence handed me my backpack and the scabbard. Both were badly scorched. “Dammit! Now I need a new scabbard for Elf Stabber!” Isaac raised an eyebrow at me, and Florence looked exasperatedly amused. “What? All the great swords have cool names. Arthur carried Excalibur, Thorin had Orcrist, Gandalf carried Foe-hammer, and the Jabberwocky was slain with the Vorpal sword.”
“Elf Stabber?” Isaac asked.
“Why not? That’s what I most want to do with it right now.”
They laughed and helped me strap on my burned accoutrements. As we hiked back to the car, I couldn’t help but think about the last time I’d done this, only a month ago. Finn’s betrayal should seem further back in my personal history. I should’ve seen it coming.
“Don’t get stuck on hindsight,” Florence said. For once, I was grateful someone was in my head. “Even when I saw him after we returned from the Badlands and he started thinking of ways to remove Isaac from the picture, he still hadn’t decided to betray you. I don’t know what drove him over the edge, but you couldn’t have predicted nor prevented this.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m still having difficulty believing that this is what it came to.”
Isaac gave me a brief squeeze and then fell back again to let me navigate the trail.
Florence continued, “Don’t take more of this on yourself than you already have. Carrying your own missteps will be enough of a burden without carrying someone else’s.
“Isaac, as Eleanor isn’t responsible for Finn’s actions, neither are you responsible for Michelle’s. Both of you need to let go of what others have done and worry more about what you do to others. That is the only way to find peace and balance.”
“If I start thinking about what I’ve done to others, I might end up catatonic. I’ve killed hundreds,” I said.
“So you have, but you need not carry guilt for what you did unintentionally and in ignorance. You’ve since learned what you need to know and taken steps to prevent future damage. If you’d decided to willfully close your mind and continue in ignorance, then I would encourage you to feel guilty.”
“Thank you for your absolution, Father Florence. Should I say five Hail Mary’s and call you in the morning?”
“If you think it will make you feel better,” she replied. I envied her serenity. I couldn’t imagine ever being that difficult to ruffle.
&nb
sp; “I’ve had more years to practice, and my control isn’t perfect. There are still things that trigger my temper.”
We said good-bye and drove back to Rebecca’s. I leaned my head against Isaac’s shoulder and fell asleep. I woke up to the smell of grilling meat and found myself back in my room at Rebecca’s. I peeked under the covers. Yep, naked. I grinned. I’m sure Isaac would have an excellent reason for needing to strip me completely for my nap.
I stretched, checked my weapons—I was carrying two of the steel knives and two silver knives these days—and got dressed. I grabbed Elf Stabber and followed my nose.
Rebecca had opened the glass doors looking out over the back deck and yard, and one of her wolves was grilling steaks. The table on the deck was set, and there were baked potatoes steaming on every plate, a large salad bowl in the middle of the table, and open beers at every setting. What there wasn’t was any sign of Rebecca or Isaac.
“Hey! Do you know where Isaac is?”
“He and Rebecca are in her bedroom,” he replied.
“Oh. Ummm, do you know where that is?”
“It’s down the hall from yours, last door on the right.”
I snagged a couple of carrots from the veggie tray on the kitchen counter and tried to decide if I wanted to interrupt them or wait. It looked like dinner was almost ready, so they’d likely be out soon. I decided to wait, although I was a wee bit curious as to what they might be doing in her room. I grabbed a beer from the table and wandered over to the grill. “Do you need any help?”
“Are you a grill master?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“I’ll be okay. You go ahead and see how much you can clear off the table before dinner is served.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, sat down in the grass, and sipped my beer.
A couple of minutes later, Isaac came running out to the back yard. He skidded to a stop when he saw me. “What’s up?” I asked.
“You weren’t in our room. I was making sure...”
“Still here. Hanging out, drinking a beer.”
Rebecca came strolling out at a more leisurely pace. “I told you I could smell her in the house.”
“Forgive me for wanting to check,” Isaac snapped.