by B. J. Smash
Lucian’s hand trembled, and my gaze turned to him. Oh gosh. He was going to explode into hellhound form. I patted his hand, trying to get him to focus. His eyes were shut tight, his breath unsteady, and his chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his forehead and bubbled up on his chest. The limb he sat upon shook.
Below us, one of the Fae fighter’s muffled voices said, “Shhh. Listen.” They scanned the area around them.
Lucian’s chest stopped as he held his breath. I leaned into the tree, connecting and extracting soothing energy, sending it into his hand. I don’t know how I knew to do this; it just came naturally.
Almost instantly, his body calmed, his breath like a sleeping baby’s. Continuing to transfer the tree’s healing energy, I watched intently while the Fae fighter shrugged his shoulders and continued on into the mist. One thing I know for certain: you can’t fool an Elf. They are too highly trained and tuned into their surroundings. Just barely, Niall lifted his head for a fraction of a second, unnoticed by the others, and caught my eye. He knew we were there.
They were well out of sight before Lucian spoke. “That was too damn close. We could have fought them, but more linger behind. I can smell their raunchy odor.”
“We have to rescue the Elven. That was Niall and Conri and, I think, Jorden.”
“I know. I could smell them. And we will rescue them. We wait for a short while and then we go. I cannot sense my father and uncles anywhere. We have to try without them.”
“We can do this,” I said, feeling confident.
“Thank you, by the way. If you hadn’t calmed me—if you hadn’t done what you did—we’d be in a fight right now.”
“It was easy. I didn’t know elves could transfer energy like that. I thought it was an individual experience, but it just happened.”
“I’ve heard that only certain elves have the gift of transferring. Looks like you’re one of them. A healer. Sometimes we don’t develop our gifts until we’re ready for them.” He squeezed my hand, and I realized that we’d been holding hands the whole time. The clouds had returned, covering the moon up, and I released my hand.
“So, how long do we wait?”
“As soon as the disgusting smell of Fae fighter turns directions.”
About an hour later, we exited the tree, landing in a pile of dewy leaves, and were on our way. Lucian used his nose to lead him, and I opened myself up to the woods, listening with my heart. Somehow, I could feel my surroundings. Feel the deer down by the stream that we would soon pass over. Feel the owl five acres over and the rabbit in his hole beneath the earth. Whether I had just discovered a new gift or not, it was undeniable that my strength lay in the land. All I knew now was that nothing—no Fae fighter, no Fae leader, and no sister of mine—would stand in my way.
Chapter Thirty-Five
They walked on a trail between birch trees. The ground on either side of the trail was covered in some type of bush filled with orange leaves. The contrast of the white trees with the orange bushes was extraordinary, and the sun peeked its head up over the horizon, casting a mystical morning glow. Lucent mist still lingered, but I had a feeling that mist was ever present on this island.
Five Fae fighters now surrounded the Elven, walking with them, and one tedious but powerful leader, Rodinand, walked at their side.
We followed, well out of sight, our steps light as snowfall. Neither of us uttered a single word, and it was only when we broke out of the birch trees and into a forest of pines and evergreens that they stopped. If they sensed us, I did not care. By the determined look on Lucian’s face, neither did he.
I had sensed something following us, something light, with the demeanor of a deer but not a deer, possibly humanlike, never mentioning it to Lucian for the fact that I knew he smelled everything. I pushed it aside as not threatening and carried on.
Remaining hidden in the trees, I watched Lucian as he crouched. Little muscles in his forearm twitched with anticipation. He had to be getting ready to shift. It might be that we wouldn’t be able to handle five Fae fighters, but we were going to try our damnedest.
Placing my hands to the earth, and feeling the chilled dirt, I crouched beside him.
“What now?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer but stared straight ahead. Out of nowhere my sister stepped into the conclave. The fact that I didn’t sense her or hear her left me baffled. She must have had some type of cloaking spell over her, and the thought was confirmed when I saw that she had the book.
Aggie’s book of spells.
Within my reach.
Only five Fae fighters and two loony leaders stood between me and the book. A cool chill ran down my arms and legs. This was it. The end was near.
They carried on, walking about a mile deep into the forest where everything was green, including the forest floor, ivy growing up the trees, lush bushes, and ever-present lichen. They stopped at a boulder, where my sister sat and opened the book. The three Elven were forced to their knees.
This I had suspected would happen sooner or later.
“She might be casting a spell on them. We better go now,” I said, taking off my Elven slippers and crushing them into my bag. I would just as soon connect with the earth with no interference. Or did I just want to feel their faces on my feet when I slammed their heads?
Lucian shook his head. “It’s now or never.” He held out his hand to hold me back. “On the count of three.” He held up three fingers. One went down, then two. When the third finger hit his thumb, he shifted easily, as though he were just changing his shirt. Pop, pop, pop went his joints. The last thing I saw were his back feet forming into huge paws, with dagger claws digging into the ground, shooting dirt up in the air.
I ran like a lion about to tackle a buffalo. The Fae fighters seemed about that size, so the thought was probably correct. My feet thumped the earth and the next thing I knew, I was in the air, spinning twice and landing a foot in one of the giant’s faces. He plunked to the earth like a sack of rocks. My right foot just scathed the ground before I spun up and around, slamming a Fae fighter in the chest. He was more resilient and steadied himself, and fought back with a punch to my face. I did see stars momentarily but I twisted myself around, landing on both feet, and ran and jumped, spinning once, and this time I psyched him out. Instead of kicking him, I punched him back with a blow that probably broke his nose.
He wavered while he stood, teetering back and forth. Out of my side view, I saw blood gushing from one of Lucian’s opponents. He’d probably be dead soon. Rrr-ippp. Something tore apart.
I continued to fight with everything I had, and I charged into the same Fae fighter as before. He keeled over, and something inside him had ruptured for sure.
Just as I was about to finish him off, a loud snapping sound ricocheted off the trees, and I could move no more. Suspended in a striking pose, my feet off the ground, I had been frozen with a spell. My sister stood by the boulder, a smug grin on her sourpuss face. She wore a slim white gown with a white fur draped over her shoulders. “Well, that was fun to watch. But now…it’s time to get down to business.”
Lucian’s teeth were sunk into someone’s leg. The guy was about to be separated from it.
She snapped her fingers, and I dropped to the forest floor with a thud. Lucian was pulled back to my side; the Fae fighter got to keep his leg.
“Be still,” she said, leaning on the rock. Her hair fell down over her shoulders, spotted here and there with diamonds, and her eyes had a diamond at each corner. No doubt she was beautiful on the outside. Nevertheless, her inside was dark, empty, and cold.
We knelt, Lucian forced back into human form, before my sister. It wasn’t our choice, and it burned me to no end. “Never will I kneel before you of my own free will. I hate you, Zinnia.”
To my surprise, her face twitched, and I think my words had stung her. She ignored me and went about her business. Stepping in a few feet from the three Elven, she opened the book.
“No. We will kill t
hem now. No spell needed. Just use the sword,” she said.
My own sister was about to make me witness the execution of the three Elven. My chest burned with anger.
Niall’s head was bent low. Jorden’s jaw muscles were prominent as he gritted his teeth. And Conri. Big, strong Conri just lifted his chin, with pride and honor showing in his face. His long blond hair fell down his shoulders. He wore a ripped, brown shirt, revealing his strong chest, which he heaved out now.
“Don’t worry, Ivy. I die with honor. Close your eyes.”
A burly Fae fighter stepped behind him, sword in hand. My sister stood next to him.
My senses went numb. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.”
Rodinand, who had been standing aside leaning on a tree, enjoying the show, snickered. “You have no say in how it’s going to end. Stupid Elf.”
The Fae fighter lifted the sword. Lucian called out, “There is no glory in killing a bound Elf.”
What happened next went fast, and things happened all at once—and yet time slowed.
My sister shuffled back and forth uneasily, a thoughtful expression on her face, “My thoughts exactly!” Slamming the book shut with such force that it echoed, she yelled, “Cora, NOW!” She swung the book up to the Fae fighter’s face and lambasted him a good one. He stumbled back as blood gushed out of his nose, and he dropped to the ground on top of his sword, impaling himself.
An arrow whirred by my ear, pinning Rodinand’s wrist to the tree. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed.
Over my right shoulder stood none other than my dear Aunt Cora. She shot another arrow, pinning his hand to the tree.
“Great-granddaughter of one. How do you like me now?” She smiled. My aunt was breathtaking, and, my, how she’d changed. Her lustrous, wavy brown hair had grown, flowing down to her waist. Her eyes were the color of violets on a warm spring day. The purple velvety robe she wore fit snuggly over her body and cascaded to the earth, and she was angry, like a harassed bees’ nest.
For some reason, the Fae fighter turned and fled to the sideline of the forest, hiding in the trees, only stopping when they were out of reach. “Cowards!” my sister cried after them.
“Cora! My wonderful Cora! You’ve come at last,” Rodinand exclaimed. “Why would you pin my hand to the tree? Oh, I see—for show. Well, help me out now, release me.” He smiled pathetically as he used his other hand to try to release the injured one. The arrows wouldn’t budge.
“Release you? Oh my. My oh my. Not a chance in hell.” She laughed.
“But—but you love me,” he spat.
“Loved. You. I love-d you. And that had only been a spell that you used upon me. No one loves you, Rodinand, only you love you. You poor excuse for a Fae,” she said, and then she brought her attention to me. “Oh, Ivy! How are you?” She spoke to me as though I’d just walked into the café.
“Uh…good, Aunt Cora. Um…the question is: how are you?”
“Better than I have ever been in my entire life. I followed you, you know, back there in the woods.” She sounded delighted.
“CORA!” Rodinand yelled. “Get me out of here! I command you to—”
“To what?” She pulled back another arrow and shot him in the leg.
Rodinand screamed, “Damn you, Cora!” I had to imagine the arrows hurt, yes, but they were also laced with something. I could tell by the way he wriggled around the tree.
At this time, Zinnia stood holding the book of spells to her chest, her mouth agape. Stunned, that Aunt Cora could so easily handle him. I couldn’t imagine what she could be thinking. To think that she’d been in cahoots with Aunt Cora. How and when did that happen? And why? My sister thought of no one but herself. Or had I been wrong? No way—I wouldn’t let her fool me again.
Lucian went about trying to help the Elven stand, to no avail. They were weaker than before, and I knew it had to be the metal shackles working as a poison, as it had done to me.
“This is your last day to rule. For years and years I have pined for you—and not because I wanted to but because you forced a binding lust spell upon me. Now…now I have the upper hand. And by the way, WHERE IS MY DOG?” She walked a step forward. “Where is my Peppers?”
Rodinand lifted his face up, as if refusing to answer. Aunt Cora placed another arrow on her bow string. “Okay, okay! I’ll have him brought to you. J-just let me go.”
“Sure I will. After I cast the negative narcissist spell over your soul. Then, I’ll let you go.” She snickered as she slowly made her way to the tree.
“Oh this has to be good,” I said to Lucian, thinking that I should probably close my eyes. Slowly, without calling attention to myself, I got up and helped Lucian. “Lucian, we need a key or something.” I cringed at the metal shackles that bound them, remembering how I felt with them on my own limbs. Like death.
“We need no key, Ivy. We need the reversal spell. They are bound by magic.”
I could have kicked myself for not paying attention to Izadora when we went over spells. She had been right. I should have paid more attention. I never thought I’d actually use magic. I vowed to myself that after this, I would be her most prompt and adamant pupil. Never again would I be put in these situations without knowing some good, hardcore magic. I was a fool for not being more studious in my magic lessons. I’d have to ask my sister or, better yet, Aunt Cora, if I could only get her attention. I didn’t think I could trust Zinnia with anything.
Keeping an eye on Zinnia, who just stood there entranced by the scene taking place, I stepped forward to talk to my aunt. I didn’t get very far before I stopped, dead in my tracks, and watched her.
She stood several feet away from Rodinand and pulled something out of the small fanny pack on her waist beneath her elegant robe—the same fanny pack that used to hold all of her medicines. She exposed an herb or flower that was black with dark purple edging.
“Paradise of hades,” she said. “A rare and toxic flower. When used properly, it can bind even the worst criminals in the world. That’d be you, Roddy.”
“Where did you get that, Cora? Come on! Can’t you see you are not thinking right?” Rodinand bent down to his knees, his wrist and hand stuck firmly to the tree, regardless of his attempts to free it.
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “A good friend of mine,” she said. “And believe me, I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have before.”
She began to chant something, starting low and then bellowing out the words with a shout. Her voice sounded weird, as though tingling bells lingered in her voice box. Wind swirled about her, gaining speed with each word, causing scattered leaves to be sucked up in its vortex.
Looking around me, I could see that Niall, Conri, and Jorden were hypnotized and entranced by Aunt Cora’s show. Every mouth was open, and all eyes were big. Lucian stood straight, with what I could only guess was shock in his eyes.
When I returned my gaze to Aunt Cora, white swirls were zipping around her, and her eyes were so intensely purple that they did not look human at all, but unworldly and alien. As her hair flew out to the sides and above her head, she radiated power.
The wind spread out and whipped around us and passed throughout the forest, returning with even greater force, carrying a purple tinge within in its folds and currents.
“I sentence you to live with yourself—truly live with what sins you have committed. You will see the black core of your soul. You will eat, talk, and dance, never seeing anything but your own rotten blackness.” And with that, she finished by forcing his mouth open with one of the wind currents which carried the black flower into his mouth. The shadow of the flower could be seen crawling like fingers, making its way down his throat, choking him and then past his chest and landing in the solar plexus. The dark shadow lingered there briefly, as if grabbing ahold of something the color of pale gold, and then came back up through the chest and up through his throat, expanding it and distorting it in an unsettling, gruesome way. Out his mouth the dark flower came,
holding tightly to the pale gold light, which I could see now held black gooey specks, like oil. This had to be Rodinand’s soul. Or rather, the equivalent to one. I wasn’t sure if the Unseelie actually had souls.
The flower then changed, forming a circle, holding his soul tightly within its bounds. To me, it appeared that he had some sort of mirror in front of his face. The oval, black-rimmed frame floated with him whenever he moved. Trying to escape its presence, he jolted upright and then back down. When the frame finished forming, it was translucent black, with purple wisps constantly zipping through.
“Abracadabra,” she said jokingly. Her head tilted up, and her shoulders bounced up and down in time with her laughter. For a moment she reminded me of a happy person on an outing to a day at the beach. Then she focused on Rodinand, and shaking her head, she said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for some time now.”
“You should have just killed me,” he spat.
The first time he was forced to look upon the mirror, he saw himself as others saw him, as well as all the hurt and harm he had caused my aunt. He screamed like a monkey being attacked by a leopard, “Aghh, aghhh, agghhhhh!” Over and over.
My sister whimpered as she realized his final outcome.
“Quiet down.” My aunt pointed a small wand, a bone the size of a finger with a crystal the size of a double-A battery mounted on the tip. I shuddered to think it was someone’s real finger, or was it a piece of vertebra?
“What would be the fun of that? Besides, I am not a murderer. That is not my job. I’m just a…punisher. For years upon years you have plagued me, tortured me with false lies that I loved you—I couldn’t live without you. At one point, I almost thought death would be better. But it was all a LIE. All of it.”
Rodinand had one thing going for him: if he kept his eyes shut tightly, he had peace. But the second they opened, he was back to screaming.
“The Seaforths don’t mess around,” Lucian spoke to me.