“You want Lodum?” she shouted. “I don’t care who you are. It’s not happening. Not now, not ever.”
Lorace looked at Suri as if she was genuinely insane. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it without saying anything. She edged away from Lord Korka. Away from the whole situation. Down the side of the bough to grab onto the next one and make her way—a lance of darkness shot out from Lord Korka’s hand and pierced Lorace through the chest. She died instantly, face in a grimace, and plummeted through a layer of leaves.
A stuttering hiss came from Lord Korka’s helm. “Lodum is mine,” he said. “Earth is mine. Every living thing crawls within my domain.” It was spoken like scripture. Another Black Gauntlet member snapped and ran, screaming. Lord Korka let that one go.
He reached again with his gauntlet. Suri felt an invisible noose tighten around her neck. Not enough to kill, but it made her choke for air, and carried her across the bough to Lord Korka’s side.
“Yess,” he hissed. His helm turned slightly to regard Suri. Through two holes she saw a pair of bloodshot eyes that were wide with rage. “You are the one.” Suri looked away the moment their eyes met, heart pounding wildly in her chest.
The magic in him!
It reminded Suri that she was a courier, who enjoyed lazy afternoons watching Netflix and eating takeout with her best friend. Who browsed celebrity gossip websites, idled by storefront windows when she saw something pretty, and wished she could get a pet dog.
Lord Korka was the embodiment of black magic. Wisps of smoke permanently wrapped around the dark metal armor that covered him from head to toe. He did not smell of brimstone. It was something else…Not the rotting flesh of necromancers, or the sweetness of vampires…This was something new, unique to his form of magic.
Burnt corpses.
Suri remembered the smell from the fire in the human district, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Ashes and ruin. An eternal battlefield, mired in blood.
Her knees shook. The noose tightened around her neck, and pulled her up high. One of the dragon’s large, yellow eyes followed her as Lord Korka directed her up and onto its scaly back. Suri sat there, trembling, watching the group of mercenaries and Lord Korka from high on the top of the tree in front of them.
I want to go home.
A massive flock of birds flew from the nearby trees, ribboning out into the sky to find a peaceful patch of forest. Safe from the folly of humans and fae.
Lord Korka raised his hand to the mercenaries. Suri wanted to scream at him to stop, but her breath caught in her chest.
Then Lord Korka paused, and turned his head. He looked at Suri. He saw her face, and he lowered his hand. The smoke winding around his armor grew stronger, covered his body completely. The same smoke appeared on the dragon’s back a few steps in front of Suri. The smoke spun around and around, like the webs of a spider as it spins a cocoon. Then it stopped, and Lord Korka emerged from within. The dragon took to flight, carrying Suri and the warlock who killed her aunt away from Lodum, out over the golden forest and deep into the Wilder.
Suri’s eyelids felt heavy. She slumped over, barely feeling the dragon’s rough scales against her cheek. Exhaustion settled into her bones. Sleep, the greatest spell of them all, stole her mind and carried it away.
Suri woke in a bed with black satin sheets. She could only feel them on her face and fingers, because she was still dressed in the Black Gauntlet training outfit that she had been wearing for the past two days.
I smell awful. Maybe that’s what woke me up.
Suri sat up, gave a great yawn and stretched her arms. For a moment—a brief, blissful moment—she thought that she was back home at her apartment in San Francisco. The dream faded as her brain fully woke up, bringing with it her memories of the past twenty-four hours. A shiver ran down her spine.
Lord Korka took me here. Is this his house?
It was a quaint word to describe the fortress in which Suri now resided. It took a step off her modest bed and a look out her window to confirm that her room was only one of very many. Although she did not feel at all cold, frost lined the outside of her window, blocking some of her view. There was still more than enough glass for her to see the steep, mountain cliff below, and the sprawling green forest at the bottom. The trees were small, different shaped and spaced than the ones outside of Lodum. They looked like pine trees.
Looking to the left, she saw the side of the fortress. It was not pretty like a fairy tale castle. Made up instead of a solid, thick, functional grey metal that at the odd place was covered in a sheet of ice or drift of snow. The wall stretched on for a distance, until it reached a round tower with small windows. The tower is probably a mirror of the one I’m in right now. It reminded her of Helm’s Deep, but with metal instead of rock.
“I hope the room is to your liking.”
Suri whirled around, reaching into her well of magic.
The speaker was a short woman wearing a dress the color of ice melt. She sat on a black chair at a small table against the wall opposite from the window that Suri had been gazing through. She held a ceramic mug in two hands that was decorated with Christmas symbols—Santa, reindeer, pine trees. An identical mug rested unused on the table, in front of an empty black chair. A steel coffee pot was in the middle.
No, not a dress. A poncho.
“Traxan,” said Suri, remembering their first meeting at Brexly Hall.
Traxan dipped his head. His thick poncho and long, thick hair made sense now. Dressed for winter.
“What are you doing here?” Suri asked, although the answer was obvious.
No point in starting a fight. I’ll play along. Until the right opportunity.
She walked to the chair, watching Traxan with steady eyes. Suri had already learned that the mage was not to be trusted.
“I live here, of course.” Traxan sipped from her mug. He, she…Suri still could not tell the gender of the treacherous mage. Or even what race, or creature she was. But that day Traxan wore blue eyeliner that ran out from the far edge of her eyes, making them appear more slanted. Perhaps a fashion statement, or to keep the sun from reflecting off the snow and blinding her when she was outside. Probably both. The effect was the Traxan looked particularly feminine, cherub face still round and blushed, holding the baby fat of youth.
Definitely not human, Suri thought…but again, she couldn’t be certain. Traxan was an enigma. A feature, no doubt, that the mage worked hard to maintain.
“Then you are my enemy,” said Suri, flatly. But at the same time she took a seat next to Traxan and poured herself a coffee.
Hot chocolate, she realized as it steamed into the Christmas mug.
“Marshmallows?” Traxan offered, holding out a bunch of small ones in the palm of her hand.
It was smugness taken too far. Suri slapped away the hand. Marshmallows scattered across the small bedroom.
Traxan held Suri’s eye for a moment. Suri remembered how she had acted in San Francisco. Arrogant, commanding. A brat, used to getting her way.
Suri waited for Traxan her to lash out in anger. Wished for it, with dark magic waiting on her tongue. Come on, punk. Make my day.
It wasn’t Traxan who killed Vestrix, but she worked for the man who did. It would be some measure of revenge. A good start.
Traxan shrugged and turned her attention to the window. Swallowed her fragile pride and took a sip from her mug. The seemingly mild reaction told Suri a great deal about the situation.
Korka ordered her to be on good behavior. Or, at least, not to harm me. Maybe even to butter me up.
That meant that Korka wanted something from Suri; she wasn’t going to simply be sacrificed in a blood ritual, or kept locked away in a dungeon.
This did not match Vestrix’s warnings. Time and time again, Suri’s aunt had told her to prepare for the oncoming war. To be ready to fight, and act as the poster girl for humanity. Korka would try to kill her, and crush any sympathies that the fae of Lodum might ha
ve for their counterparts on Earth.
But I’m not dead. I was put up in comfortable bedroom, without harm. And now one of Korka’s minions is trying to lower my guard.
Suri considered asking Traxan what she wanted, and why she was playing at being nice. As she shipped the hot chocolate, she came to decide that her battle magic would be of little to no use within the fortress. After Lord Korka’s display, and knowing what Traxan could do, there was no hope of fighting her way out. So the only leverage that she had, the only power, was information. She already regretted expressing her true mood when she slapped away the marshmallows.
I’ll give them nothing. They don’t know me, and they never will. I’ll play the game of politics and half-truths. Keep them off balance. Then, when they least expect it, separate Lord Korka’s skull from his spine.
Traxan sighed. “You must have many questions.”
Suri smiled. “Why did you attack me, before? It thought we were friends.”
Traxan’s eyes went wide. She set down her mug and put a hand over her heart. “Never! It was not you my spells were aimed for, but the mangy dog at your side.” She shook her head as she reminisced. “This could have gone much smoother. Please, open your wardrobe.”
It was smaller than the one at Black Gauntlet headquarters. Large enough for only one outfit, that was placed inside forward-facing and on display.
A wedding dress. Pure white. Long, trailing skirt. Shoulders and neck with lace. It was in stark contrast to the plain, grey metal of the wardrobe it was stored in.
“What do you think?” asked Traxan, mildly.
Suri’s nostrils flared. A sick joke. She’s been playing with me this whole time. Building to this moment, just to get a reaction.
Suri had never taken an acting class, but her performance was impeccable. She glanced back at Traxan with a wide, genuine smile. Tricking herself into thinking that nothing was wrong. Remembering the good days of the distant past. Pretending that Traxan was her friend. All the while the daggers of hate sharpened in her stomach, making her clench her abs and force down her intense revulsion. She wanted to twist her face into a grimace and sneer at Traxan, but she did not.
Keep them off balance.
“It’s beautiful. Is it mine?”
Traxan narrowed her eyes, then grinned as if coming to a realization. “Yes. Your wedding to Lord Korka is next week.” She came over and stood right next to Suri. Brushed shoulders, reached out and touched the dress. “There is so much to be done. I hope you realize how lucky you are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” Traxan spat, her mood turning on a dime.
Suri took a step back, eyebrows turned down in concern. Good, she thought. I’m getting under her skin.
“Stupid girl,” Traxan continued, in a scathing voice. “Because of your filthy, mixed blood you will become Queen of Faerie.”
“Lord Korka is not the Faerie King.”
Traxan turned to fully face Suri. “Oh, but he is. Jansilian fled Lodum long ago. There is no one to stand in his way. And that is not all he is King of. Follow.”
She exited the room, leaving the metal door open. Finding nothing better to do, Suri joined. They went down a number of hallways and stairs, all made of joyless metal. Sometimes copper, sometimes bronze, usually iron and often steel. But always cold, and hard.
They stopped in a hall with a table in the middle covered by a large cloth. One wall held huge, bay windows giving view to a massive mountain range. The other held maps. Fifty feet of them, covering the metal wall entirely. Traxan gestured for Suri to look.
Suri couldn’t read the writing. It was not even the common fae language, the letters looking to be more closely related to Chinese. One map showed a cluster of islands, another a desert of maroon sand. At least half were charts with longitude and latitude indicators, elevation markers, and more markings that Suri would need a degree in geography to know what they meant.
Some maps showed landmasses familiar to Suri: the coastline of West Africa, Brazil and Indonesia. An aerial photo of the sprawling Tokyo metropolis. New York’s subway system. The roads of Los Angeles. The San Francisco Bay Area, with a special red mark added right where the Academy was located.
“His conquest has only just begun,” said Traxan, looking out at the mountains. “My Lord will wake the human ungifted. Earth and Faerie will be one. It is his dream, his purpose. King over both worlds. Peace to last forever. This is the Hellfire Guild’s mandate.”
Suri was reminded of the fact that all dictators want peace. Hitler wanted peace—on his terms.
And what will happen to the unwanted? The humans without magic, and the gifted who refuse to bow?
“The wedding in Faerie has already been decided. It will be held at the Royal Palace. But the one on Earth…The White House? Empire State Building? Or how about the Taj Mahal?”
They’re insane. All of them. One nuclear warhead is all it would take to put an end to Lodum, to Faerie, and Lord Korka’s ambitions.
Suri smiled, realizing the extent of the Hellfire Guild’s arrogance. It was actually shocking to her how greatly they underestimated ungifted humans. They were in for a rude awakening.
Traxan misread Suri’s smile. “The Taj Mahal? Yes, you like it?”
“No, I don’t,” said Suri. Her smile grew wider as she pictured the hell spawn in their copper armor marching towards a line of Abrams tanks. She found a map of the U.S. and pointed to a city in Texas. “Waco,” she said. “That’s where I want to be married.” My guests will be the soldiers at Fort Hood.
Traxan nodded, looking perplexed. “We will see that it is done. But first, you must prepare for the parade through Lodum. The commoners will be eager to hear why you joined Lord Korka’s Hellfire Guild.”
“And if I refuse to give this speech?”
Traxan pulled the cloth off the table in the middle of the room, revealing a clear, crystal ball the size of Suri’s head. She held her hands over it, whispered words of magic. Images began to appear within the crystal. Blurry, and then vividly clear.
Suri breathed in sharply through her nose. A giveaway to Traxan, but still better than gasping or shouting out.
The crystal ball showed a public square in Lodum. Hell spawn in copper armor stood guard at the edges. Amber, Raja, the Black Gauntlet tiger shifter, and four other mercenaries stood on a newly constructed gallows. Their hands were tied behind their backs, thick nooses around their necks.
“We know all about you, Suri Blackwater,” said Traxan, with glee. She touched the crystal ball, turning the vision to the side of the square and a group of prisoners with black sacks over their heads. A long line leading up to the gallows. “Did you really think that Black Gauntlet could stop an army?” Traxan tittered.
“Stop,” Suri whispered. Her vision blurred with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. I won’t give her the satisfaction. “Don’t kill them. I’ll do what you ask.”
They have Amber! Suri wanted to throw up. Instead, she bit her tongue and tried to be stoic.
Traxan frowned. “Are you sure? The show is about to begin.” As she spoke, a pale fae in a black suit with wide lapels walked onto the gallows. He opened a scroll and began to read to the crowd of fae that had gathered behind the hell spawn, at the edge of the public square.
“Stop!” Suri shouted. Her voice echoed down the metal hall.
“Very well,” Traxan sighed. She put her hands on the crystal ball, shut her eyes and scrunched up her cherub face in concentration.
The fae stopped reading from the scroll. He paused, head turned slightly to one side. Traxan released her hands from the ball. The fae rolled up the scroll, stuffed it into his pocket and began talking again. Two fae walked onto the gallows behind him and began removing the nooses.
Traxan threw the cloth back over the table. “Welcome to the Hellfire Guild,” she said. She held out a hand. Her fingernails were short, and filed to points. Suri reached out and made the hand
shake. “We’re going to build a new world,” said Traxan. She smiled, but her eyes glimmered with malice.
THE END of BOOK TWO
Continue the series:
Faerie Queen: Vampire’s Bane Book 3
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