Demon Day

by Penelope Fletcher

  He used magics for me.

  I laughed and danced on. Happy, for the second time truly, blissfully happy. I was aware, both times; I had been in the presence of my fairy.

  Breandan’s hand reached for mine, and I took it without thinking. The brilliant glow of his skin astounded me. He was a beacon of light brighter than the purple bonfire that raged before us. He pulled me into him, and rather than hurt my eyes, I could see through the light to the glory of his face.

  “So beautiful,” he said quietly as he gazed down on me.

  My gaze flicked from his into the crowd watching us. Many shielded their eyes, but still snuck glances our way. Intrigued as to what they stared at, I cocked my head, and looked down at myself. My legs, arms, feet, and hands glowed. Pulsing like a golden star against the ebony sheath I wore. My tail coiled into a tight ball at the base of my spine, and my heart stared to race. I jerked at Breandan’s touch gentle touch, the tips of his fingers brushing my hair off my neck and over my shoulder which he gripped.

  He saw the fear in my eyes as his shook his head. “You will accept this,” he said firmly.

  His mouth captured mine and the crowd yelled in delight, stamped their feet in joy. Screams from were-cats rose in a rising crescendo, and a fierce roar cut above them all.

  Like a ray of clarity through the smoke and passion, I knew what I was doing, and what I was feeling. It was the bond, heightening our attraction to each other and our attractiveness to those around us.

  I gasped, and pulled Breandan’s lips down to meet mine when he tried to lean away, shocked by my reaction. I stared up at him, daring him to accept me as I was, complicated and strange, indecisive and selfish. His face softened and his eyes shone with warmth. Breandan’s hands slipped under the hem of my dress to stoke the sensitive skin of hip. I breathed him in, the scent of sunlight and rain, and pressed myself nearer then whimpered when he crushed me closer. I wanted him. He was mine, and I wanted him. Possessiveness washed over me like a poisonous cloud, and I dug my fingertips into his upper arm and back. Mine. I could hear his heart echo the claim as it thumped against my chest. Mine. Breandan walked us out of the firelight into the grasslands of the Pride, and I said nothing. I wanted this, wanted him. I knew that once this was done he would be insanely possessive, but my body screamed a need I could no longer ignore.

  The feeling that burned at pit of my stomach crawled through my veins possessed me. I’d never felt anything remotely like it. His hands rubbed up and down my body, fingers delving in and out of curves rhythmically. I lay on the cool grass, his glorious weight pressed into me, the skin of his chest was hot and smooth against my skin.

  Breandan leant up, knelt over me gazing down, and from his intense expression was trying to bore a hole through my clothes. Not that he had to; the hem of my skirt was rumpled and hitched up around my waist. His gaze wandered up, locked with mine. He was just as lost as me. Ensnared in a trace and fixated on touching. Fingering the seams of my dress he abruptly yanked at it, realizing it covered my body from him.

  He lent down to kiss my collarbone then stiffened and groaned. “You are mine,” he growled.

  “No,” I said, breathless, and laced my hands together at the nape of his neck to pull him down. “You’re mine.”

  The way his tongue felt when it slid over mine was amazing. He kissed me hard then sprung up, pulling me up after him. He cupped my face, silvery eyes luminous and a smile kicked back one corner of his mouth. “I have something that belongs to you.”

  My eyes drifted closed and I breathed in deeply. I placed my hands over his, rubbed my face against one of his hands, but his lighthearted tone had my brows furrowing distrustfully. Nothing Breandan said was lighthearted. He was a serious demon who had bouts of mania. That was his fairy nature and I was becoming accustomed to it.

  Sighing at how wonderful it felt for him to touch me this way, I cricked an eye open, sensing his restless excitement. “Say-say?” I asked, still suspicious.

  His hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers came up with a chain of flat, gold links. It was short, the length of one of my hands, and as slender as my baby finger. On each elliptical segment was engraved a rune of power. It was simple, caught the lunar light, and sparkled – a bracelet, perhaps?

  Mesmerized I touched it with the tip of my finger and was gifted with a zap. That should have been my first clue, but it was so appealing and shiny. I forgot I was wary of him and this pretty ornament and hovered my finger over it, mouth parted in awe. “Beautiful,” I breathed.

  “I know you are, but this is no trinket. It is a sign of your birthright.”

  He blurred into movement, and before I could object, he pressed the links into my forehead.

  I jolted as the metal warmed, biting into my skin. I scrabbled to yank it from my face but still the ... the … teeth sank into my forehead over my brow, temple to temple. I shrieked and jumped about, using my nails to find an edge to pick under. Nope, I did manage to dig myself in the face. It hurt, so I stopped and stood still, trembling as the links fused to my head and got hotter and hotter until it felt like my forehead burned.

  The fire stopped, cooling until the metal was blessedly cold against my skin. My eyes rolled back as far as they could go and I could see a faint glimmering where the links sparkled. At least it had not sunken into my head entirely. Little by little, I raised my hand in hesitant jerks and touched it. My fingers slid across velvety gold, so slick it felt slippery. But then I noticed faint scratches, ah, the symbols of power. I rubbed it at the edges, amazed at how the metal changed to smooth skin and back again. My hand fell to my side and I heaved a sigh, praying for patience. I looked at Breandan trying to decide the best course of action. I could try and pound on him. The important word being ‘try’. I had only tried, and failed, to hit him once before, and I would never come close. I could scream and rail at him, possibly throw a few sharp rocks. But could I be bothered? Should I calmly ask him what this thing merged to my forehead was, and what it meant?

  “What the hell are you playing at?” I planted my palms on his stomach and shoved him. He shunted back a pace and fought what looked suspiciously like a smirk. “You can’t push these things on me and expect me to accept them.”

  “If I had told you what it meant and what would happen you never would have taken it.”

  “Why can’t you see this was not your choice to make?”

  His jaw clenched, all lightheartedness gone. “You need to come to terms with who you are.”

  I stomped my foot. “You can’t railroad me into being something I’m not.”

  “If I don’t push you won’t move,” he said with an icy veneer of calm. “You need to be strong for what’s ahead yet you bury yourself in doubt, and hide behind this façade of a simple girl when you have been born a warrior, born a leader.”

  I looked away, gritting my teeth and forcing down the tears that welled in my eyes. It would not cut so deep if he was wrong about everything. I kept trying to make him see my point of view but he had so much evidence to fall back on. All I had was a general feeling of doom.

  “Can you explain it to me?” he asked. “Tell me why you’re fighting this.”

  Rubbing my nose, my gaze fell from his perfect face, and I sighed deeply. “You know yourself, what you are capable of, and what is beyond you, right? I mean, you would never try to move a mountain with your magic because you know trying to would take more magic that you can handle.” He was quiet, allowing me the time to order my thoughts and explain what I was feeling. “Well, for the last few days everyone has been telling me I’m destined to be the next Priestess, that I’m going to lead the fairy race into a new era, and stop all the strife between the demons and the humans.” I paused, struggling once again to come to terms with how I felt and what it meant. Saying it loud had my heart thumping painfully and my stomach doing back flips. Just the thought of all that responsibility made me uncomfortably hot.

  Breandan pushed my hair aside and placed a
warm, soothing palm on the nape of my neck. “Whatever you say will be okay with me.”

  Breathing out in a rush, I splayed my hands out in front of me in a purposeful manner. “I know myself. I know what I am capable of and my limits. I believe that I can help the demons and humans come together. I feel that.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “That feels real and obtainable to me. But beyond that ... becoming the fairies spiritual guide...” I looked him in the eye. “I don’t love them like you do. When I look into the future, I see nothing, but you. I am not who I used to be, and I do believe I have a purpose, but it’s not what you and Conall think it is.”

  “You will grow to love them?”

  “That is not true and that is why you phrased it as a question.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched and he clenched his jaw. “Why can you not move past this? Accept all of who you are.”

  “Because I know the road you’re trying to lead me down is wrong. I’m not the wisest of people, or the bravest, but recently I have come to trust in my instincts and the more I listen to them the more everything makes sense to me.” His face was stubbornly set and I placed my hand on his chest. “Tell me, has there ever been a Priestess before who was not bound to the High Lord?” Breandan shook his head. “Does this not tell you everything you need to know about what my future holds? Why has magic allowed me to form such a bond with a male other than the High Lord? Does that not seem wrong to you? Besides, how can I hope to rule alongside Lochlann when I can barely stand him?”

  “He is difficult but he has a good heart. We can work around it. Find a way to–”

  “Do you want me to go to your brother?”

  His brows lowered and his eyes blazed. “No. Never. You are mine.”

  “Then listen to what I am saying. The Priestess is always the mate of the High Lord. Always.”

  “I have no desire to be High Lord,” Breandan said carefully, weighing his words. “I do not wish any harm to come to my family.”

  My mouth fell open. “I wasn’t suggesting we ... no you have me wrong.” I waved my hands about. “I didn’t mean you should be High Lord, though I’m sure you’d be great at it.” I gave him a weak smile. “I was trying to point out that you and Conall keep drumming it into me that there are rules that must be followed. This keeps everything in check, in balance. Why am I being allowed to break those rules?”

  His finger ran down the bridge of my nose and a feeling of peace washed over me. “You are special.”

  Nothing I said was going to get through to him. Pushing my hair back from my face, knuckling my forehead and somehow already used to the feel of cold metal I exhaled sharply. “I can’t take this thing off, can I?”

  Still cautious, watching to see how I would try to hurt him he shook his head. “No. Not until death.”

  Well hell, I was pretty much stuck with it then. Slanting him a look under my lashes I curled my lip at him. “Can I at least know what is it?”

  “The circlet announces you to be the Priestess. No fairy can look on you now and not know who you are. All will know your importance and authority over them.”

  “Why didn’t you give this to me before?”

  “You had not accepted who you were. You were barely able to hear about your mother. Conall picked it up before we left Orchard and I swore I would give it to you.”

  I plucked at my bottom lip as I thought on this then could not help but touch it again. I was in awe of ... of what? Myself? “Why now? Does it matter?”

  “This is important. If I am dead you will be protected.”

  “You will never die,” I said confidently.

  His expression shifted from defensive to indulgent. “Hmm.”

  He took my hand and towed me after him. I followed happily, poking and prodding at this new part of me. It was true what he said; this thing was never coming off. Those teeth I had felt biting into my skin had anchored themselves in deep. Noticing he seemed to have a specific direction in mind rather than a random walk, I began to take an interest in our direction.

  Since I had become fairy, my sense of direction had improved vastly. I could tell when the land climbed or when it sloped. I knew where there was a rocky place or one that was dense with flora humming with life. I had even become accustomed to the nagging buzz that was constantly on the edge of my mind. At some point the day before I’d realized what I saw were people’s auras. When I closed my eyes and stretched my influence beyond myself, I had touched on other receptive minds by accident, not realizing that I was drawn to them by the buzz. When I closed my eyes, I could sense live things and that was probably why my sense of direction was so good.

  With Breandan beside me, it was a tad overwhelming. The bond was a pulsing that had settled over my skin, content for the time being since I had skin-to-skin contact with Breandan. Couple that with my sense of his aura and just him being there … next to me … it was a troublesome thing in itself … he was distracting.

  Pursing my lips, I stopped; rocked back on one heel and smiled when he turned to question the hold up.

  I let my gaze drift over his face. He’d not pulled his glamour on, not now I was used to seeing him in his true form. I myself had not glamoured myself human since Breandan had been injured. His hair was short and I wondered what it would be like long, as dark as his eyebrows, perhaps. Then there was his strong jaw and firm lips. And always his eyes, captivating silver-blue irises. They shone like stars under his heavy brow, which cast a shadow that stopped at the tip of his bold nose. His skin –lustrous cream to my dusky hue – was covered with black ink tattoos. I still caught myself being shocked when I glanced at him or took my time to study their meaning. His arms and chest were covered in swirling intricate designs and incantations, some in languages I had never seen before. Creatures and flowers were sprawled across his chest and ancient patterns seemed to shimmer and shift the longer I stared. I had never seen the like. Would they truly protect him from witchcraft and darker magics?

  My eyes slipped down, taking all of him in. It was so easy to get hung up on his face or the presence of him that I forgot to appreciate his body. He was solid, and radiated heat, and life. His legs were long and strong. His posture faultless, but instead of looking stoic and uncomfortable, he looked infallible and mighty.

  Belonging to him felt easier by the moment.

  I flushed and bit my lip, ignoring his quirked eyebrow and knowing gaze. His thumb rubbed small circles on my wrist as he waited. He never seemed to mind when I ogled him, which was often a lengthy and meticulous practice I thoroughly enjoyed.

  I cleared my throat and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Oh, there is a lake nearby. I want to share it with you.”

  This caught my attention. “A lake? I’ve seen the river and a few ponds, but I’ve never seen a lake … or the sea.” However, I had seen pictures.

  “One day I will take you. You would love the open water. It is soothing and smells like salt. The waves crash into the beach and makes soft foam about your toes. The water is cold, but refreshing. Cleansing.”

  “You’d really take me wouldn’t you?” I marveled at how so simple a promise could make me feel so warm inside. “I mean, you’re not just saying that to be nice.”

  He did not answer, but I was filled with warmth and affection, an impression of positivity. My ears strained to hear the ‘yes’ I expected after the feeling. How strange. I shook the feeling off and blinked when I took in Breandan’s expectant gaze.

  It was the way he stood, waiting, watching, and almost on the verge of asking me to react.

  “Did you just say yes?” I asked slowly. My eyes widened as I thought on the odd reactions or feelings I had been having. “Have you been telling me things like that for a while?”

  He swept me up into a crushing hug and swung me around, beaming a huge smile that had me feeling dizzy. “Only since the first time I knew you belonged to me. At last you can feel it.” He set me down still smiling broadly. “Our bond grows.”


  He seemed so completely happy there was no way for me to get prissy about this or think up a reason to be upset.

  “You can send me messages through the bond?”

  “Faint ones. Never will we be able to say more than a few words, maybe if we are deep in meditation. We will be able to sense each other’s moods and feelings, be able to send each other impressions of what we desire or need.”

  My fairy-boy was not one for gushing sentences so listening to him rhapsodize over this new aspect to our connection had me as excited as he was.

  “Can I try?”

  “Oh yes.” He nodded so sharply it bordered on enthusiastic. “Try.”

  Shrugging out my shoulders, I gripped his hand tighter and focused on the idea for a kiss. Sending him a thought was like trying to hiccup and speak at the same time. My tummy was clenched so tight and my face so squished I couldn’t see anymore.

  There was a faint pressure on my lips. My face relaxed and my eyes widened. I flung my arms around his neck and pressed myself into him.

  “It worked,” I crowed, delighted.

  He frowned then chuckled; face strained as he tried to hide his disappointment. “No.”

  Crestfallen, I released him and rubbed my nose, unhappy that I could not tap into the bond for something so simple when Breandan could send me waves of love and an answer to a question clear enough for me to understand it.

  “Give it time,” he soothed and stroked a fingertip down the bridge of my nose, across my lips. My heart fluttered. “You may find you can only use it in time of great need, not that I will never be so far that you need to rely on the bond.” He paused but then shook off whatever dark thought had cast a brief shadow across his face. “Alright?”

  Mollified, I let him tug me on, but kept trying to send him messages until my head hurt from trying to push thoughts through nothing but bloody air.