by Hickory Mack
Then the spirit slammed on the brakes, sliding to the side and turning to face their foe. Her eyes were narrowed and her breathing fast, but the look on her face was pure determination. Elsie kept running straight past her, trying to grab her on the way, but Wren wouldn’t move. She stopped, dragging in deep breaths of air while looking into the woods with astonishment.
They’d passed the final mile of his territory, and he’d come to a screeching halt. The Devil of Kamiah paced along the boundary line, kicking over trees in a rage. Lifting his head, he let out an earth shaking roar.
“He’s Earthbound,” Wren said as she rose from a defensive crouch to stand straight. “Somebody put him here against his will.”
“Who on Earth would have the power to do something like that?” Elsie asked, astonished. Wren shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
The River Devil stood on his hind legs, using his tail for balance, then ripped a tree from the ground before hurling it at them. “Let’s not sit around and wait for his master to return,” Elsie suggested, and Wren nodded her agreement.
Wren wanted to find a place to rest, but Elsie refused. By the time the sun rose, Elsie was exhausted, but she hadn’t suffered through any more curse attacks, which she counted as a miracle after running for their lives.
She was beginning to hope that Wren’s intervention had slowed the curse’s progression some, giving her a little extra time before the next round. Her nerves wouldn’t let her believe it though, and the more time passed, the more anxious she became, expecting one of her organs to crash at any moment.
As shitty as Elsie felt, the spirit looked perfectly fresh and ready to do it all again. Her hair was perfect, not a strand out of place, and those bright blue eyes were every bit as sparkly as the day before. But as amazing as she looked, her temperament had taken a turn southward.
The steady stream of chatter had dried up in the last hour, along with the shameless flirting glances. Elsie fell quiet too, choosing not to provoke the creature that was clearly stronger than she was. She just couldn’t figure out what had happened to change Wren’s attitude so quickly. Then, the solution made itself known when Wren’s stomach let out a loud gurgling whine. She dramatically slapped her hands over her stomach and lifted her face skyward in a groan.
“What is wrong with you? How can you spend all night without a break to eat?!” Wren demanded. Elsie’s eyes locked on the spirit’s hands, and she forced herself to keep them there rather than letting her gaze drop to the thatch of curls at the junction between her thighs.
“I uh, had my mind on other things.” She cleared her throat and looked away. “Do you ever wear clothing?”
“I’m a magical being, reaper. Clothes inhibit my ability to change form at will. Besides, which clothes should I wear? I am male and I am female all at once. Which side of myself should I choose to emulate based on society’s expectations? Do you really expect me to buy a wardrobe for every shape I take?” Wren demanded, ready to turn this into a full rant, and Elsie winced. She’d clearly touched on a sore subject not to be explored while the spirit was hungry.
“Okay... You clearly have a case of the hangries. Let’s get you fed.”
Chapter 11
Several days later, Elsie sat up after another attack on her organs. With the pain under her left breast making her ribs throb with residual shock, she was pretty sure it had been her spleen this time. Wren was on her knees, concern in her eyes, white hair pooling on the ground around them.
“You made it through,” she said, then looked to the sky. “How much longer before this curse kills you? You should take the medicine.”
“Not until we find the mages, so they can replicate it,” Elsie replied, reiterating what she’d been saying for the past two days. Wren’s animals had informed her that they were less than twenty miles from where a group of mages lived. They were so fucking close, but the distance felt infathomable. The attacks were coming every few hours now, and each attack lasted longer, drawing out the agony and torture Elsie was forced to live through.
“Allow me to bring you there, or at least closer to where you want to be,” Wren bargained, trying to persuade her for at least the tenth time, but Elise shook her head.
“I told you, we don’t know each other well enough for me to put that level of trust in you, and I don’t have the ability to jump myself back if things go wrong.”
Wren scowled, and Elsie could almost hear the gears turning in the spirit’s head. She could force Elsie to go, and there was nothing she could do about it, but it would put a major rift in any future ties they might form. Her ability to go anywhere she wanted in the blink of an eye would save Elsie a lot of pain and struggle, but she just couldn’t put that much faith in someone she barely knew.
In the end, the reaper won the silent battle of wills, and Wren’s face softened, the scowl disappearing. “I may not agree, but I understand. Please, at least rest for a while. Regain some strength before moving on. I’ll lay with you, and we can rest together.”
“But we’re so close,” Elsie complained.
“You’ll never make it if you carry on like this,” Wren told her bitterly. It was becoming more apparent with every day that the spirit was growing both more protective and more worried. “This is ridiculous. The only thing you have left to you is rest. Your refusal to allow me to get you there faster or take the medicinal elixir will kill you. What am I supposed to do then?”
The question surprised Elsie, and when the spirit reached out to touch her face, she covered Wren’s hand with her own. She had every confidence that Wren would move on with her life fairly quickly if she were to die. The spirit seemed to find endless amusement in teasing and flirting without offering any relief. Surely she’d find someone else to follow around to entertain herself.
“You’ll find someone far more fun to play with, I’m sure.” Elsie grinned, then wiped the tears from her face. Marley had been right about one thing. The pain was getting to be unbearable. Every muscle in her body ached with the stress of rebuilding her cells every time one of her organs died.
“That’s not true,” Wren asserted. “I am drawn to you, and I would be quite cross if you were to let yourself die.”
“Thankfully, at that point I’ll be beyond the reach of your anger,” Elsie joked, but the spirit’s brows knitted together as a frown drew her lips downward.
“Death will not protect you from me,” she said ominously. Elsie blinked at her, but she stopped herself from asking just what kind of creature Wren actually was. She’d already come to the conclusion that ‘spirit’ was an understatement. However, there weren’t that many creatures capable of pulling back the veil, let alone anyone petty enough to do it just to chastise a soul.
“What if I don’t want to be protected from you?” Elsie asked, looking pointedly at Wren’s lips. The spirit’s fingers traced her jaw, then tangled in her hair.
“Come lay with me,” she whispered, leaning in closer so their lips were inches apart. It was so damned tempting. Elsie touched Wren’s shoulder, letting her hand draw down the length of her arm. The spirit’s skin was so delicately soft and smooth. Wren closed the gap between them, brushing her lips against Elsie’s before pulling back. An offering. An invitation.
“Fuck,” Elsie muttered, closing her eyes, wanting so badly to give in. Wren’s constant touches and teases, all those flirting smiles were taking their toll.
“Let me make you forget the pain for a while.” The spirit’s hands wandered, and even through layers of clothing and the cloak, Elsie shivered at her touch. One hand came to a rest at her hip, and Wren smiled, her big blue eyes glinting with mischief. “You can lay back and relax. Let me take care of you.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Elsie started, and Wren sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hands fell away before she straightened up, putting distance between them.
“You need to see this through first,” the spirit acknowledged with a nod, but when
she gazed back at the reaper, her eyes were filled with longing. “Perhaps after—”
“Yes,” Elsie said with no hesitation. Even if nothing came of it and Wren just wanted someone to play with for a short time, Elsie wanted her. She played with a strand of perfect snowy hair. “If you can be patient for a while longer, we can spend some time getting to know each other better. Just as soon as this curse is under control.”
“I am the wild,” Wren responded with a smile. “I have waited an eternity to find the person I want as much as I want you. I assure you, little reaper, I can be patient.”
Elsie’s insides flipped over as her cheeks flushed. Those words were like fire in her veins, making it difficult to stop herself from dragging the spirit to the ground then and there. She let out a ragged sigh, and Wren touched her cheek one more time before stepping away from her, letting Elsie breathe.
“If you won’t rest, let’s continue our journey. If the curse allows, we can potentially be there by nightfall,” the spirit stated. She picked up Elsie’s bag and shouldered it without a word, taking some of the burden. Frida came out of the brush and jumped onto her shoulder before climbing into the hood of her robe, nestling down against the nape of her neck as they set off.
Wren glanced back at her often, checking to be sure she wasn’t struggling. It was sweet, but also kind of frustrating. Elsie didn’t like being thought of as some invalid who couldn’t take care of herself. Her breath came in short, fast gasps, and each step was more difficult than the last, but she wasn’t about to admit to herself that her body was failing. She’d never felt this weak in her life.
Grabbing a tree branch for stability as she scrambled up a steep hill, the cuff banged against her wrist. The chain was fully visible, so the wolf was lurking around somewhere, though he was keeping out of sight. Elsie wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a threat. Maybe both.
“I know you said you won’t tell me who he is, but maybe you can tell me more about Frost?” she asked, looking for anything she could use as a distraction. Wren waited at the top of the hill, a curious expression in those beautiful eyes.
“What would you like to know?” she asked, looking for all the world like she shouldn’t exist in this dimension. Her ears were tipped like an elf, and the gold draped over her antlers and hair glittered in the sun. Elsie paused for a second to just stare at her before recovering. She shook her head slightly, getting her mind back on track.
“Well, does he have a human form?” she questioned, thinking it was an innocent enough inquiry, but Wren looked troubled.
“He used to,” she answered slowly. “A long time ago. I think he preferred his wolf form even then, though.”
“Why doesn’t he use it anymore?” Elsie asked. She’d known he was more than a simple wolf. There was so much to his past she didn’t know. Reaching the top of the hill, Elsie was feeling far too warm. Was she seriously sweating?!
“I don’t think he can,” Wren said softly, reaching out to touch the cuff gently.
“Was it… Is it because of my mother?” Elsie winced. It very well could be. The goddess had done worse to those who’d vexed her, and she still didn’t know how he’d come to be in her mother’s service.
“It was before then,” Wren answered, letting Elsie take the lead as they continued on. The spirit was being sparing with the information, but at least she was giving her something.
“Why can’t he speak anymore?” she tried, but Wren shook her head.
“If I answered that, it could reveal who he is. I don’t know how much history you know,” she said regretfully.
“Huh. He’s so well known that some could guess who he is just by knowing how he lost his voice…” Elsie searched her memories, but nothing came to her. She hadn’t known that her mother’s wolf was such a prevalent part of demon lore, and it didn’t make sense to her at all. How could the king of the shadow realm have such a history here on Earth? She thought of the amusement in her mother’s voice when she called him that.
“Is he really the king of the shadows?” she asked. Wren actually looked bewildered by the question.
“Shadows?” she echoed.
“It’s what my mother called him,” Elsie replied.
“Santa Muerte— It was a mockery. That’s not who he is.” Wren shook her head, muttering under her breath.
“I see.” Her mother could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. “Is he from here? I grew up believing he was from another dimension. I convinced him not to eat me by promising I would return him to his home when we figured out how to release ourselves from the chain and the curse.”
“Because they bound his life to yours.” The spirit’s voice was bitter. “He is from another world, but it is one closely tied to this one. I would be very surprised if he wanted to go back there. Perhaps he still seeks revenge.”
Elsie chewed the inside of her lip, wondering who the big wolf would want revenge against. Who other than her own mother was bold enough to cross a creature like him? She thought of the men he’d inadvertently shown her in the vision of the sun dial. Was it them?
“Has he always been so angry?” she questioned, knowing the spirit wouldn’t give her an answer to what she was really thinking about.
“Mmm, his temper is legendary. I have always found him quite domineering. His own family betrayed him because of it. However, I’m sure even he has experienced happiness and days of peace, like anyone else.”
“Hmmm. What did his human form look like?”
“Interested?” Wren teased, but there was a shadow of something else in those bright eyes that kind of looked like jealousy. Elsie choked out a laugh.
“Curious, not interested. I’m bound to him. Is it so strange to want to know more about what kind of person he is?” she quipped.
“It would be stranger if you weren’t curious. Frost is a creature with a deep and storied history. He’s the bane of some very powerful people’s very existence. Once you’re rid of him, I’ll tell you all you wish to know. Unless, of course, he decides to open up on his own before then, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. He can be quite stubborn.” Wren chuckled.
“Were you friends?” Elsie asked.
“No. We were never that. He was always far too destructive for my taste.” Wren regarded the chain with something dark in her eyes. “We spent a great deal of our lives successfully avoiding each other.”
The ground leveled out for a while, and then they climbed an even larger hill. Elsie did her best to hide how much it was taking out of her, but the spirit wasn't fooled. She paused frequently on the way up, pretending to look at a bit of moss or to inspect a small snail on a log. Elsie knew what she was doing, but instead of grumbling, she was grateful.
They had only made it halfway up when Wren crouched low in front of the reaper. Elsie shook her head in denial, walking around the spirit, but Wren wasn’t taking no for an answer. She caught up to Elsie easily, ducking her head under the reaper’s arm. Before Elsie could do anything about it, she was maneuvered and perched on the spirit’s back.
“Wren, please, I can do this myself. This is embarrassing.”
“Who is there to be embarrassed for?” Wren asked curiously. “Is your alebrije so judgmental? I know your type, reaper. You don’t want to depend on anyone or feel like you’re taking advantage of their kindness. It’s become such a part of your personality you can barely accept help, even when you need it.”
Elsie clamped her mouth shut.
“You are not alone anymore. You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I told you, I’ll take care of you.” Wren adjusted Elsie’s weight so she could be more comfortably carried then brought her up the hill far faster and easier than she could have done on her own.
The view at the top was worth every once of pride she’d been forced to suck up. The hill dropped on one side into a cliff, giving a break in the trees. A smaller hill sloped downward, and beyond it lay a vast sky, with the ocean below. The group stood there, starin
g long after Elsie's breathing had returned to normal and Wren had set her down.
"I missed this," she admitted. There had been safety in staying in Providence for so long, but the tiny village had nothing to compare to this.
"Perhaps staying in one place is not to your liking after all," Wren suggested.
"I don't think it would hurt if that one place to call home had views like this," Elsie replied. "It would make coming back after each adventure that much more wonderful. It's beautiful."
Wren took her hand and tugged on her gently. "Sit down," she suggested. "I will feed us."
"You can cook?" Elsie asked in surprise, coaxing Frida out of her hood. Wren squinted at her suspiciously, as though wondering if the reaper was mocking her.
"I have managed to feed myself for a great many years, yes," she said. "Sit. Relax. I'll be back shortly."
Elsie sighed, but she did as she was told. It was kind of nice to have someone she felt she could share responsibilities with out here. Wren made her feel safe enough to sleep for those two hours a night, and she didn't have to worry the spirit might decide she was better off dead, as Frost might. She hadn't had anyone she could trust like that since Saint.
"Why are you so comforting?" she whispered as she leaned against a tree and watched the spirit walk away, the stag a few steps behind her, making Elsie wonder if the animal was with her all the time. They were a long way from where she'd first seen him. Maybe Wren had a way to make sure it got back to its own territory.
She glanced at her immediate surroundings, wondering what the spirit was going to find for them to eat out there. The forest floor was covered in such a deep blanket of acidic pine needles, there weren’t many plants around that she recognized. She’d spotted some bluebells and the tender young leaves of Lily of the Valley, but nothing she knew to be edible.
Closing her eyes she listened to the wind in the trees, breathing in the scent of pine and salt water in the air. She could let Wren figure it out.