Wreathed in Flame (Faith of the Fallen Book 3)

by Cassandra Sky West

  There were hundreds of containers to hide behind, but he wouldn’t be fooled for long. Not if he had her scent. She moved a moment before he came crashing down on the container, smashing it to smithereens.

  “I can smell you, little vampire. I will find you. Your tender flesh will season my pallet. I will start with your feet. Your screams will be salt to my meal.”

  She blocked him out. Her fingers twitched as the last of her healed bones clicked into place. She was outclassed here, even with all her strength, she needed more, she needed to be something more.

  Would they let her? Would the angels allow her to call upon her powers without a demon present? They had when she fought Dupree, shielding her from the Sunstone, and the sun—forever more. Michael had spoken of rules governing their conduct. Did they apply to her?

  The metal box she hid behind vanished into the night. Jötnar lunged at her, sickly yellow nails clawed against her back as she tried to leap away.

  She screamed in agony as lines of fire spread out along her back and side. Blood ran freely down her back. She was out of time, and places to run. It was now or never. She limped to the side, the skin on her back hanging off her in shreds. With one hand she clutched her side, desperate to hold her side together.

  “No more running little nugget,” he said as his pitted tongue licked vile lips, “Time to dine.”

  Gunfire ripped through the night. Bright flashes lit up the sky as two pistols opened in rapid fire. The troll roared as the bullet tore up his back.

  The distraction gave her the moment she needed.

  Anger clouded her, but she needed to see through it, past it. Anger didn’t fuel her. Anger wasn’t why she rose in the morning. It was hope. Hope for a better life. Hope for a chance to right the wrongs, to live in undeath as she had in life. Hope that one day she, could re-unite with her family. Hope… for a better future.

  Hope filled her, pushing away the anger and pain. It filled her until light burst forth around her. Fire leaped down from her fingers to the ground and roared in a maelstrom of flame. When the spinning tempest ended, her broadsword shone in the darkness. Yellow flame licked its gleaming edges. Holy script in a language long dead stretched from hilt to point.

  Jötnar scrambled to halt his forward momentum, having shook off the gunfire to chase her. His two tons of weight slid to a halt not ten feet from her. She held the sword point up, with the flat of the blade covering her face. Even though she didn’t recognize the language of the inscription, she read it all the same.

  Hail Alexi, full of grace. I am Verum, forged in the fires of Heaven. Have hope, for the Prince of Peace is with you.

  Something more than hope filled her. A sudden, unquestionable faith in the goodness of the universe, of herself.

  “Where did you get that?” Jötnar screamed at her.

  “I am no mere vampire, beast. Your days of murdering children are at an end.”

  Alexi charged. The sword trailed fire behind her as she leaped at the troll, raising it above her head with both arms. The beast scrambled backward, lifting an arm to shield himself. The blade sliced through both the air and Jötnar’s arm.

  Alexi landed with a grunt. The severed arm of Jötnar landed beside her. He wailed as he clutched the cauterized stump that was once his arm. He blubbered and spat, screaming in rage as his stump didn’t grow back.

  “No, no! It’s not fair! I was winning!”

  She marched forward with grim determination. She no more wanted to be an executioner than feed on humans, but she could not allow him to continue.

  “Calm thyself, beast, and pray for whatever mercy might be bestowed on thee.” The words rolled off Alexi’s tongue unbidden—her voice, but not her words. The peace she had felt in Heaven rolled over her like a wave. In this moment, she could do anything. Overcome anything.

  “I will never rest until I have my revenge.” He cried, and lunged forward.

  Alexi brought the sword up to block… but no blow came. She moved the blade to see him climbing over the container wall a hundred feet away.

  “Alexi?”

  She turned at the sound of her name. John and Summer knelt twenty feet away. Guns down as they reloaded. She smiled at him. Her body glowed like her sword, sending light and shadows to dance around her. John’s face went slack, eyes wide with awe.

  She turned back to the troll. “No you don’t,” she muttered. Her back itched as wings of light spread to catch the wind. She lunged into the air, spinning as she climbed. Her path arced up and then down toward the troll.

  Jötnar turned and hurled a torn door at her. Alexi swept it aside with her blade. She dove at him. He turned to claw at her with his last arm. Alexi tore through the air like a bullet. She dodged past his arm and swung her sword with both arms.

  The blade bit through flesh.

  Alexi pulled up, spun, and landed lightly on her feet. Her wings illuminated the troll like the rising sun.

  Jötnar screamed. His voice harsh, and guttural. He stepped one foot forward and his scream turned to a gurgle. His hand went to his throat.

  “What…?” He didn’t finish. His head fell from his shoulders to roll on the ground. The rest of his body followed, crashing to the ground to land in a heap. The head rolled to a stop with its eyes glaring at Alexi. He moved his mouth in an attempt to speak. Nothing came out. The light in his eyes faded leaving behind an empty skull.

  Two-tons of troll flesh burst into flame, burning brighter than a flare. The gout burned fifteen feet high and hot enough to force her to shield her face. When the flames vanished, nothing was let of Jötnar but black marks on metal and the smell of burned flesh.

  “Savanna,” she said.

  Exhaustion rolled over her. She stumbled, her sword and wings vanishing into the night. Blackness enclosed in on her vision from the edges.

  She willed her feet forward. She stumbled off the side and landed in a crumpled mess twenty feet down to the next container. Her ribs ground together as she heaved herself up.

  “Come on, Alexi. Come on,” she said to herself. “Up you go.” She crawled to the next ledge. There were seven containers to go, each with a twenty foot drop. She pulled herself over the lip.

  She didn’t know how long it took to get to the bottom, but when she finally hit pavement, her body was one giant bruise. Her strength was long since gone, along with her regeneration.

  “Savanna,” she cried out, her voice barely more than a whisper. She trembled with exhaustion as she pulled herself up. She called out again as she used her hand to steady her aching body against the container.

  She vaguely recalled the direction the troll came from, aligned herself with the it and struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Savanna,” she called again. With each step dread clutched her heart. The troll had been massively powerful, how could her friend have hoped to survive?

  Each corner she took she imagined Savanna’s crumpled, torn body. Each step made her heart ache more. She could barely see, exhaustion and tears clouding what was left of her vision.

  “Savanna!” she screamed as the last of her strength left her. Overtaxed muscles buckled, and she fell to her knees. She sat back on her heels, feeling so weary that her skin hurt.

  “Alexi?” A sweet voice whispered.

  “Oh, god, please don’t let me be hearing things.”

  Savanna limped around the container, her left arm cradled against her chest, but intact. John and Summer raced up next to the witch. The Marysville detective reached out to hold Savanna up while John rushed to Alexi’s side.

  “I must look a mess,” she whispered.

  “Did you kill it?”

  “Dead as disco,” she said with a smile. The world shifted sideways and the ground slapped her in the face. Alexi let out a sigh as unconsciousness claimed her at last.

  Vibrant pinks, purples, and reds, filled the sky as the sun crested over the Cascades range. The sun started with Mt. Rainer’s peak, then traveled down to the l
ush green valley that lived in the foot hills of the Cascade mountains.

  As the sun touched the outskirts of Seattle, it warmed the ground east of the Emerald City. The air rippled, the grass stood on end, and the dew danced as a hole between dimensions formed. Energy coalesced as matter crossed between the Emerald Isle, and the Emerald City. The residents of the small park, squirrels, ravens, and all the insects, took notice. For when the fae returned to Earth, it was cause for celebration.

  Tinker Tal-Nassus appeared first. Her translucent wings beat the air to maintain the portal. She was shorter than the two she brought with her. Where her skin was dark blue, theirs was a light green, almost yellow. While her eyes burned with a golden fire not unlike the sun, they had dark eyes, black from top to bottom with no discernible pupil.

  Tink resembled the fairies of story, while the brothers Shaughn and Thaughn, were more masculine than elfin. Identical in appearance, down to their solid muscles and brown hair. The only thing that distinguished them apart were their voices and clothing. Shaughn’s delicate fingers clasped a small bow harp with wood of darkest mahogany with golden strings that caught the morning light and glittered.

  The light faded as the portal closed, leaving the trio to stand in the park. Tink bent over at the waist to press her palms against her knees. The delicate faerie breathed easier, now that the journey was over. The twin brothers looked on at the grassy plain, slack jawed, and wide eyed.

  “It hasn’t changed,” whispered Thaughn.

  “I thought it would look different,” his brother responded.

  A raven landed on the Thaughn’s shoulder, the black bird warbled at him as he placed his finger behind its ear to scratch.

  “You haven’t been back since we left?” Tink asked. When the brothers requested she help them break the rules and come across unbidden, she had thought nothing of it. After all, she could come and go as she pleased. No accord could stop her from going where she wished, just as the Queen’s banishment of Warren couldn’t stop him from returning. That didn’t mean there weren’t consequences.

  Fatigue washed over her, sending aches down her legs. She heaved in great breaths of air to help her recover from the strain of the journey. Transporting two others was exhausting, and not something she had done in a long time. Even when she helped Warren, there were two of them with the gift. The brothers were passengers, unable to affect the translation without her.

  “It has changed,” she said between breaths. “Look to the west.”

  The brothers turned from the visage of Mt. Rainier to look west. Their bodies stiffened. Thaughn let out a grunt. The sun lit-up the sky scrapers of Seattle, reflecting off their wall of windows. The space needle poked out from behind as the sun hit the water of Eliot Bay, then the Puget Sound.

  “What is that—monstrosity?” Shaughn whispered. Tink raised a delicate eyebrow at his tone. She expected awe, and some adjustment, but the vitriol she felt in him sent a shiver down her spine.

  “They call it Seattle. They named it after a Native American chief who lived here a few years ago. They’ve built it in the best spot, don’t you think?” She put a pleasant note in her voice, hoping to lift their spirits. Perhaps she should have brought them in via Warren’s shop, so that they could adjust a little slower. And it didn’t hurt to see a friendly face upon arrival. Why hadn’t she? Now that she thought about it, she felt a strange sense of loss. She should have brought them to Warren, he could have prepared them better than her.

  Thaughn shook his head. “None of them are natives, Tink. We’re the natives. They are nothing more than vermin infesting the larder.”

  A cold wind breezed through them. Her naked skin sharpened and her wings beat erratically, a sign of her nervousness she couldn’t help. A few minutes before the brothers had been all smiles and jovial nature.

  Fae magic was powerful, enough so to even affect her. Her eyes went wide as she realized. Thaughn had used his gift on her, and forced her to bring them here instead of Warrens shop. The only reason they wouldn’t want to see Warren was if they didn’t want anyone to know they were…

  Pain unlike anything she ever felt in six millennia ripped through her back. Her knees hit the cold morning dirt, and an inhuman scream tore from her lungs. Birds scattered from the tree’s and little animals fled her guttural sounds.

  “I’m sorry Tink, we can’t have you running off to tell Dominus. He loves these pathetic creatures too much,” Shaughn said from behind her.

  Pain, and confusion clouded her vision. She couldn’t see for the tears in her eyes, and her mind refused to work, all she could focus on was the fire in her back. She was on her hands and knees. Something warm dripped off her sides, she looked down to her naked belly to see a dark liquid streaming from her waist, down her legs to drip onto the grass, there was so much blood.

  She looked up to Thaughn, his cold smile utterly devoid of any warmth. What had happened to him? He dropped her delicate wings to the ground. A sob escaped her lips as she watched them tear apart and disappear from the world.

  “Why?” she managed to ask between clenched teeth. Her mind reeled at the implications… without her wings she could never return home.

  “For what it’s worth,” Shaughn said as he knelt down next to her, a sharp golden sword stained with her blood in one hand, “I’m sorry, but your death will help us retake our world from the vermin.”

  Tink closed her eyes and focused. Her wings were her power, they moved her between worlds, but they were not her only power.

  “Shaughn, wait…” she whispered as he grabbed a handful of her dark hair and yanked her head up. He brought the blade to her throat. He hesitated for a moment.

  “I don’t find this pleasant, Tink. Say what you will, then I will end it.”

  “You can’t go back without me.”

  He smiled, his eyes narrowed at her as he leaned in.

  “We don’t intend to ever go back. We’re not here as visitors. We are kings, returning triumphant.” He tensed to slide the blade along her neck. Tink screamed, she grabbed the blade with both hands and forced it away from her neck. The sudden strength took Shaughn by surprise, he let the blade slide away, still trying to hold on to her hair.

  “I’m stronger than you, Tink. You only delay the inevitable.”

  “How many fairies can dance on the head of a pin, you bastard?” With one hand on the blade, bleeding profusely from where it cut into her skin, and the other on his hand, Tink leaped. Her body twisted and turned, the blade sliced through the air where she had been. Shaughn grunted as he couldn’t hold on to her as she twisted his wrist to the point where he had to let go. Her feet landed on his head, and for a half second, she balanced impossibly easy, before leaping away.

  She had to get to Warren, to warn him. If they tried to kill her they would certainly go after him. Her hot blood ran freely down her back as she crashed through the forest. The faster she ran, the sooner she would bleed to death. Each step brought her closer to both Warren, and death.

  Savanna opened her eyes. The nightmare faded from her mind. She clutched her sweat soaked shirt away from her body and rolled over. She groped for her cell phone, squeezing it until she found the buttons that brought the screen to life. The harsh glare immediately elicited a groan from her.

  “Ugh,” she muttered. Only eight hours had passed since they returned home. Five of those, she had been asleep. Alexi, literally slept like the dead. She wouldn’t get up for hours. If it weren’t for the blackout curtains, there would surely be light filling her room.

  Savanna rubbed her shoulder, unable to feel where the vampire fed on her, but she could certainly feel the effects. Thirst gnawed at her. The picture next to the bed was empty, as was the glass.

  With a grunt, she stumbled out of bed. Her new clothes were hung neatly from hooks in the wall. She didn’t have a closet in their shoe-box house. All she had to wear besides them was a bathrobe, and her ratty tank top and torn jeans. She opted for the robe.

&nbs
p; She padded softly down the hall to the bathroom she shared with Alexi. It connected to Alexi’s room and the hallway. She noticed Alexi’s door open and decided to peek her head in.

  The vampire slept peacefully, blonde waves of hair cascading on the pillow behind her. She never moved in her sleep. If a doctor were to examine her, Savanna was sure he would swear she were a corpse. Alexi told her that she didn’t dream.

  Savanna knew differently.

  After Victor’s death, Savanna had slept in Alexi’s bed with her for weeks, not wanting her to wake up alone. She wouldn’t move, but for a few seconds after she woke, she would cry. It was then she would often feed on Savanna, drawing from her the strength she needed to carry on.

  Victor’s death had been entirely Dupree’s fault, but Alexi was bound and determined to blame herself. The sudden thought left her cold. Alexi wasn’t to blame for Victor’s death, but Savanna certainly blamed herself for Connor’s. It was her dagger. She had been holding it when it sliced through his heart.

  Savanna left Alexi to her bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. The nightmare played out in her head as she turned the shower on. She left her sweat soaked clothes on the floor before climbing into the shower. The hot water washed over her but it did nothing to stop the memories from pouring forth.

  He plunged the dagger up through his abdomen with the precision of a surgeon. His big hands, holding on to her little ones, so that the sacrifice was made by her.

  Savanna couldn’t hope to keep him up, all she could do was sink to the floor with him cradled to her chest. Blood poured out the wound to splash over her.

  She couldn’t hear anything. The room faded from view and she could only see Connor. Her hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger protruding from his chest.