I took control of myself again and walked away from them, towards the stream.
Safely away from prying eyes, I settled down onto a rock and spoke with Wylde. Thank you.
… Yes, he replied awkwardly.
What do you think of my plan? I thought at him.
Could be better, he finally said in halted words.
I frowned. Show me, I told him nervously, remembering all too well what had happened when I let him use his own magic with the spiders.
My mind launched into the air like a bird taking flight, and I was suddenly sailing out over the valley below, racing towards the palace. Kind of like Astral Projection. In no time at all, I swooped down lower, and buffeted my wings, hovering over a particular section of the palace that was separate from the rest. Manling, Wylde murmured. Then I was flying again, scanning the courtyards, and circling the buildings a few times. It felt as if Wylde was thinking. Creating plans and then discarding them, although no words were spoken between us. And none of these thoughts were directed by me.
But I could tell I was smiling, thirsty to spill blood, take over the castle as mine.
No, I shivered. Not invade. Steal and escape. Evade, I corrected, realizing that his natural instincts to plunder had taken over. He stubbornly fought me on that for a moment, washing me in visions of the palace burning, Tory and Carl dying, Ashley and I sitting on a throne, bloody, but triumphant. I saw myself rip open her shirt and— I pressed that thought down and away, repeating my demands for the operation.
Begrudgingly, we began circling the air again, and in a much poutier tone, he pointed out three other locations. Distraction. Conquest. Escape. Then he was gone.
I sighed, letting out a deep breath. My vision swam, whether disoriented by Wylde himself, or the odd bird-in-flight experience, I didn’t know.
Then I began to laugh. Yes, that plan is much better, I thought to myself as I rubbed my beard eagerly. Maybe there would be a little time for plunder and destruction.
Just a little. A few dying screams…
I jolted, shaking my head. No.
Distraction. Kid. Theft. Escape. That was the outline.
I made sure I was composed before returning to camp, but I could feel Wylde watching, no longer needing a direct request to participate. Just happily sitting on my shoulder, waiting for the right time to strike.
And for the life of me, I didn’t know why I let him stay there… but I was kind of looking forward to him showing his hand, if necessary. Maybe even if it wasn’t entirely necessary…
Chapter 25
It was still dark, but the sky had a slightly pinkish hue to it now, as if dawn was approaching, but I saw no sign of the sun on the horizon, though. The sky was simply brighter than it had been. Enough for me to see clearly. It was a weird place, folks.
My merry Band of murderers stalked down the hill, nearing the town below. Except if I hadn’t known better, I would have said we were all strangers.
Because none of us looked the same. We had eaten Oberon’s strange fruit. It had the consistency of meat, but the flavor of fruit punch laced with sulfuric acid.
And the moment we swallowed, we each transformed into different people. Ashley was now a young, pretty woman with pointed Fae ears, looking nothing like normal. She had taken one look at me, dropped her jaw, and then licked her lips hungrily. I wasn’t sure if that was part of her disguise, or if I looked that delicious.
I hadn’t seen what I looked like, but the rest had simply shrugged upon seeing me, so I guessed it wasn’t anything fancy. Just a Fae dude, or something. But my clothes were gone, obviously. My mortal threads would give me away in a heartbeat. So, the only thing different about me that I could tell was that I wore refined leather, with what felt like over a hundred different straps and buckles. The material was worn, but not beaten. Just used and properly maintained. Like armor should be. I wore knee-high boots with a red sash around the calf, and thick bracers on either arm, leaving the rest of my arms bare.
And those arms were banded with tribal blue designs. Remembering that much of the blood I had seen in this place had been blue, I was assuming that color was purposely chosen when Oberon came up with my disguise. My hair brushed my shoulders, and my beard was still there. But I felt bigger, stronger, and my arms were definitely corded with more muscle than usual.
Ashley continued to watch me, but I thought I saw pain in her eyes now, too. I pretended not to notice, hoping to appeal to the Fae part of her, letting her know that her reaction was inappropriate.
Tory was a tall warrior woman in leathers. Carl was an almost unnoticeable man with a bow across his back and a quiver of arrows at his hip. Sir Muffle Paws, or Talon, was a goblin. A tiny green goblin.
And he wasn’t happy about it. If I looked closely, flickers of their true selves were visible, but when I had asked Talon about it, he simply shrugged. “You are a Manling. They cannot see it.”
We entered a small thicket just beyond the town leading up to the castle, and a small piece of gravel hit me in the forehead. Then a triumphant hiss as a glittering pixie assaulted me.
Ashley darted back nervously, seeing only silver dancing around my face, slapping and kissing me in equal measure. I had almost lashed out to destroy the threat before noticing the silver glow. And then I saw the ebony figure at the edge of the thicket watching us.
“Barbie,” I said, shocked. “Good to see you, but we’re trying to maintain our cover.”
She zipped in front of me, placing tiny fists on her hips. Then she began tapping a foot. Even though she was hovering in midair. I grinned at her. Talon licked his lips, eyeing her. I held out a hand, shaking my head at him. I remembered the last time he had seen these two, and chased them out of Chateau Falco.
“We know you,” she said in a warning tone, and despite being nude, she still oozed authority.
I nodded. “Uh, yeah.”
Her foot began to tap faster. “Your disguise didn’t stop us,” she elaborated.
I frowned, suddenly nervous. Had Oberon tricked us? “That’s not good.”
She nodded satisfactorily, and Ebony zipped up beside her. “We also don’t know you.”
I had forgotten how annoyingly obtuse they could be. “Please explain that.”
“You stink of us. Yet you do not. It… changes,” Ebony said distractedly. Barbie nodded her agreement.
“He has tasted our world and adjusts. This is good. He is becoming civilized.”
Before I could speak, because I suddenly felt very self-conscious with my friends hearing this, Ebony continued. “Your disguise will work on those not yet acquainted with you, but the Queens know you as well, and will see through your subterfuge,” she said.
I quickly reconsidered my plan. It could still work. We didn’t intend to run into the Queens.
“Okay. Thanks for the advice.”
“You’re here for the Manling child,” Ebony said, frowning thoughtfully.
“Yes. We need to take him home.”
“Who told you this?” she asked curiously.
I hesitated, not entirely sure who I could trust.
Barbie waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Does Hope Ride?”
I stilled, feeling the eyes of my friends on me. I glanced at the nearby houses. People walked here and there, most appearing normal, other than the pointed ears. But none had noticed us, thanks to the thicket.
I turned to Barbie. “It’s a possibility…”
She nodded happily. “The fun begins. We must go. Our absence must not be noticed.” Then she dove straight at the ground, rolled around in the dirt, and then zipped back into the air. Ebony fluttered closer, took a big sniff of Barbie’s rear, and then nodded.
“The scent is gone,” she said satisfactorily.
I blinked. “Wait. You’re talking about my scent? It’s that strong?” I asked nervously. Hell, our disguises wouldn’t matter if they could smell through them.
Barbie rolled her eyes. “We will be attending the Q
ueens. They know you,” she said, as if that answered everything.
I began to realize that I was becoming used to their way of talking, because her words did make sense to me. “Well, now you’re covered in dirt. Put some clothes on to cover it up if you can’t bathe in time.”
She frowned at me, and then turned to Ebony, as if asking for help. Ebony shook her head helplessly. Barbie turned back to me. “Others will believe I’ve already been bedded, so will go after another at the royal table. And none wear clothes at the royal table. They only get in the way of the Takings.”
Then they disappeared. What had been the point of popping in like that? Barbie and Ebony had helped me out a few times in the past, in my world. Risking their loyalty to their Queens. They were – although frustrating – good friends. But why had they stopped to chat? And how had they found us?
I frowned down at Talon. “The Takings? What’s that about?”
He nodded. “Orgies or blood feuds. Either. Both.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
I sighed, and pressed on, exiting the thicket and entering the city. Of course, orgies or blood feuds. What else did you do at parties? The palace loomed ahead, looking like a giant reaching out to embrace us.
I hid my trepidation, keeping my face calm, relinquishing a small part of my control to Wylde in order to better blend in. My friends did the same. Or, it was probably more accurate to say that they ignored those odd sensations they had been experiencing lately. Memories of a different world with loved ones.
Right now wasn’t the time to embrace that part of themselves. We would get back to that after we got the kid. “Everyone remember what to do?” I murmured in a low tone.
They grunted affirmatively, and then peeled off into the crowd of Fae heading to the castle. Those not attending – looking like farmers and poor merchants – snarled at Wulfra and I. We snarled right back, and they cowered. A few Fae ahead of me chuckled with amusement.
Monsters of all sorts lined the streets as we neared the Palace, speaking in a low hum, or snarling at each other in guttural tones. I saw a few ogres, sans clubs, looking twitchy without their maul of choice. I watched as one of them snatched a pixie out of the air, and guzzled it down in one fell motion.
The pixie had been trying to cut in line. A trio of other pixies hissed at him, and their teeth were all needles like a carnivorous plant. Part of me shivered, but Wylde simply grinned with amusement. Ashley stuck by my side, appearing casual, bored, and avoiding looking at me for personal reasons, nothing to do with our plan. I really needed to catch a reflection to see what was bothering her about my disguise.
Talon and Tory had gained a few spots ahead of us in line, and were also acting nonchalant, snarling occasionally at those who offended them. Talon looked to be struggling not to lick his paws, which would have looked odd from a goblin.
Carl was nowhere to be found. I hoped he was successful, or we were all dead.
It took an hour to reach the guards at the gate, and our time in line was not uneventful.
Merchants hawked their wares in garbled voices, trying to sell us locks of Manling hair for virility, or a stone to ward away humans. He didn’t outright say it, but it sounded like the stones were to prevent human children from invading their homes. I wanted to shout, laugh, and tell them humans – for the most part – didn’t even believe in fairies, let alone want to invade them. Especially not children.
Judging by the agreeable nods the merchant received, this comment wouldn’t have been received well. All in all, I counted enough locks of hair to make a full body cloak for Bigfoot. Another thing I noticed, was that every one of these bloodthirsty savages was hungry to watch the Manling boy tortured. Their eyes danced with anticipation, and this made for hot blood.
A young Fae swaggered up to Ashley and promptly grabbed her breast with a lecherous grin. Well, where her disguise looked like a breast, because Wulfra wasn’t flaunting cleavage in her Fae form. I tensed, wondering if physical contact would break the disguise, but it sure as hell looked like he had a pleasant handful and was happy about it. “You are mine,” he drawled possessively. “Let’s step out of line for a moment.”
She glanced down at his hand, which was still gripping one of her love pillows, and then looked up to him, grinning. “Are you royalty?” she purred.
He sniffed in disdain. “No. I’m much better th—”
And she decapitated him with her dagger, her grin never slipping. She nudged his head with a foot, kicking it towards a small group of goblins who immediately began laughing, kicking it back and forth playfully. “Good. I detest peasants,” Ashley muttered with a bored yawn.
I bit my tongue as I saw his friends off to the side, snarling at us. But they also looked crestfallen, as if she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. They just weren’t happy about it.
But the larger contingent of Fae in line with us simply chuckled.
Needless to say, I didn’t think she was going to have any more suitors approaching her.
I used my boot to flip the body out of my way and advanced a few paces. “Fucking waste of space is holding up the line,” I snarled, not even glancing down. We patiently stood in line, a few paces beyond the dead body as the commotion and interest seemed to die down.
I glanced warily at Ashley to see a flicker of disgust in her eyes. And fear. “You okay?” I murmured, pretending to readjust her weapons belt for her.
She nodded, still wearing a mask of disinterest, but she whispered a word. “Gunnar…” I swallowed and gave a subtle nod. She met my eyes briefly, and I saw the pain again. “You look like his twin brother right now,” she whispered.
I managed not to flinch at her words. I looked like Gunnar? No wonder she was acting so strange. I suddenly feared that she might not be up for this, that seeing Gunnar standing beside her might make her act like a human, giving us away. I squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll get back to him soon,” I whispered. “But right now, I’m a bloodthirsty warrior, and you are my equally bloodthirsty killer. Got it?” I asked, realizing that this was the first time I had directly acknowledged that this feeling she was having was entirely normal, and not a mental malady.
And that I was Nate, not her tribal king.
She nodded, her cold mask falling back over her features. I gave her belt a firm adjustment, and stepped back, grunting approval. I spoke louder for those nearby to hear, and spotted the handsy Fae’s friends dragging the body out of the line, shooting angry but nervous glances at Ashley out of my peripheral vision. “How long does it take to walk through a door?” I complained.
“As long as it takes,” a richly-dressed Fae said just ahead of us. I acknowledged him with a grunt, and he glanced over his shoulder. “First time in a Palace?”
I grunted again. He was a very handsome man, and although not clean-shaven, he didn’t have a beard, either. Just light scruff. His long auburn hair was tied back in a tail, and his face was long and narrow, with wide, thin lips. His eyes glittered with mischief, like a noble’s son.
“One of those, eh? The Marauders,” he chuckled. “You can speak here, you know. No need to act like a Barbarian Manling.” He glanced behind me at the puddle of blood. “Although, it is nice to see every now and then.” He grinned politely at me, extending a hand. “Robin. Robin Goodfellow. And you are?”
I stared down at his hand, suddenly nervous. I dared not risk telling him my name, but I also didn’t want to touch him, in case he knew of me. But I really didn’t have much of a choice.
Because Robin Goodfellow was also known as the Hobgoblin.
Or Puck.
A trickster if there ever was one.
And probably the worst person to associate with, because he was known to be conniving and heartless, and I didn’t know what side he might fall on. Probably his own side.
But I didn’t really have the option of ignoring him.
“Wylde,” I growled, staring at his hand suspiciously.
He studied me curiously, and then chuckled,
withdrawing his hand. “My reputation precedes me, it seems.”
“I only touch things I kill. Or things I take,” I replied in a gruff tone, smirking at him.
He belted out a laugh. “Oh, I like you!” This caused a general stir among those nearby, but I could sense they wanted to keep a safe distance from the famed Fae. Ashley pretended to ignore us, but I could sense she was listening to every word.
Then again… there was always the chance that Puck wasn’t famed here. What I knew of the Fae and what they knew about themselves could be entirely different. Hell, he could be considered a hero, here. Or a nobody. I had to be careful.
I slowly turned to him. “You do this often?” I waved a hand at the surrounding mayhem.
He nodded. “When the occasion calls for it,” he said, watching me thoughtfully. He began touching his lips absently, as if thinking, or planning, or maybe I had given myself away somehow.
That was the thing. I had no idea. Even Wylde seemed apprehensive speaking with Robin.
“We should share a table at the feast,” he finally said.
Inwardly, I groaned. But I had no way out. It wasn’t like I was batting down offers for dinner, and I didn’t know any names I could casually toss out to try and deter him. I also couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t going to the feast, because that might sound odd. Why go through the trouble of entering the city to not partake in the feast?
I couldn’t just tell him, because we will be long gone by then, running away with the kidnapped Manling you all want to watch die.
“Thank you,” I finally said. “That would be… entertaining.”
He nodded. “Get you back in practice of talking, too. You’ll need it to dance with the Queens. To catch their eyes.”
I blinked at him. Seeing my confusion, he chuckled. “That is why you’re here, correct? To ask to bed one of the Queens. Or her attendants?”
I hesitated, using the moving line as an excuse to stall. How the fuck did I respond to that? Back in my world, one didn’t attend a party to try to bang a queen. Unless they weren’t particularly attached to their head.
Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 15