by A. K. Koonce
I don’t doubt him for a moment. He’d consume my soul the instant it left my body.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Nollix steps between us, his wide shoulders cutting off my view of the disgusting man. “If you fuck this up for us,” his jaw is tight, his words clipped, “I’ll rip your heart out myself.”
The light shines against their flashing eyes. Nollix’s build is slightly smaller than Jeriko’s. He’s made of beautiful lines and sharp angles while Jeriko is nothing but thick muscle. His neck itself looks like it’s filled with too much strength, bulging around the collar of his shirt.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that this is the second time Nollix has stuck up for me. It’s two too many but it does peak my curiosity.
“Let’s just get this over with.” Link sidesteps the two men who are staring daggers at each other. His chest brushes against my arm, his glaring attention held on Jeriko as he takes the first echoing step into the dark hallway. Aggression crackles through us all.
With concentrated force, I tear the veil of invisibility from the four of us. Link groans as it rips away and he shoots me a small, slightly impressed look.
If we’re coming for my father, I want him to know. I want him to look into my eyes as it all unfolds.
I trail after Link. Quietly, he pulls the blade from his belt. The more danger a hunter is in, the more power the weapon emits. It fumes a bluish tone. It smokes with color. Pure blue smoke rolls off of the blade and clouds around our feet as we stalk through the hall.
Tension fills my limbs as I too pull the weapon from my belt. One by one, the men behind me do the same.
“I guess I’ll just rely on my sharp wit to protect me,” Cameron says under his breath.
I don’t look back at his sarcastic remark. The Warlock is more than capable of protecting himself. It’ll be keeping close to me that’ll be a problem. If too much distance separates us, he’ll be drug behind me like a ball and chain.
The tunnel leads to winding steps. Link takes the stairs quickly, his weapon held low. We’re quiet. The Wild Hunt is meant to be unseen. Our steps barely make a sound. Cameron, however, sounds like he’s competing in a river dancing competition.
And he’s taking first prize for sure.
If my father is seated at his spot near the window on the highest floor, he will be waiting for us. He probably sensed us the moment we blew in.
My powers are strong; deadly strong. And that’s because I inherited my father’s magic. I am the most powerful female in the kingdom. But he’s the most powerful Fae in all the land. There is a reason our neighboring Kingdoms do not invade the Mad King’s land.
Because they know they would not survive it.
Why am I risking this at all? Why am I leading these men to what could very possibly be their deaths?
Because he pushed too far. He took her life just to prove he could.
And because we’re dead either way. I’d much rather die on my own terms.
My hand wraps around Link’s bicep. The corded muscle is taut beneath my touch. My fingers tense against his smooth skin. He halts and I point ahead. There, at the top of the stairs, is a single door. Amber light glows from the crack of space beneath it.
We stand in silence staring at that slice of light.
I push past Link. His white shirt is soft against my arm as I skim against his frame. On careful steps, I stalk toward the door as if it’s the enemy itself.
The cold metal of the small handle meets my palm and I hesitate for only a second. Careful thoughts trail through my mind. My wrist turns slowly, my fingers gripping the hilt of my sword tighter.
It creaks open and every muscle in my body is poised for defense.
But nothing is there.
An abandoned room is all that greets me. The lantern on my father’s favorite little desk burns with a golden glow. It casts light onto scattered papers. The light illuminates an open book at the center of the desktop. I walk toward it, my boots tapping quietly against the stone. My fingers skim across the worn wooden chair that’s pushed out just slightly.
Little bottles are scattered across the desk. Dark liquid coats them. The labels on the front are written in letters that I’ve never seen before. The open book demands my attention. The words stand out against the crisp white pages.
Severing
To sever a soul, simply listen for the insistent beating of your victim’s heart. Find the rhythm of that beat. Find the pattern. Then, within the strumming, let your magic wrap around their heart. During the hollow sound of the blood pumping, is when the soul is the weakest. Strike then and strike quickly.
Death will occur instantaneously.
My breath catches and I’m suddenly all too aware of how loud my heartbeat is in my ears.
"It is an interesting little journal. Who knew a thieving Warlock would be hiding the single most intriguing book I've ever laid eyes on."
I turn toward the sound of his haunting voice. He leans casually near the window. The cool breeze blows at his graying beard. Stars shine against his aging eyes. He's five hundred years old. And yet, he stands with pride and strength as if this world will never knock him down.
I dare a quick look at Cameron who lingers just behind me. His attention is held intently on the book in front of us.
How much do I really trust this Warlock? Would he toss us to the wind just to get his hands on this deadly journal?
My sword is held leisurely in my palm. I hold it as if I don't intend to rail it through my father’s dark heart for murdering my mother.
He murdered her just to prove a point. Just to prove he held all the power in my life. He always did.
Until now.
"What does the interesting little book do, Father?" I tip my chin up, listening like a devote pupil.
A smile curls his lips.
"You always were a curious child, Violence. You are more like me than you ever realized."
The tension in the room is so thick I can taste it. It makes it hard to breathe. All eyes are on the King as he paces the length of the small room.
An opening spans the ceiling; the massive bell looms over us. A frayed rope hangs at the center of the room, waiting to be pulled to announce an hour long forgotten.
"Only my magic was like you."
It's the only thing that connects us. That's what I've told myself my entire life.
"Really?" A sneering and proud smile pulls at his lined features. "I am the Mad King, Violence. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn you inherited my madness as well.” My jaw clenches as I think about my constant unsteady thoughts. He pauses just long enough for his words to sink in before lecturing me some more. “Tell me how alike you and your mother were. Tell me what pleasant attributes you two women share."
He tilts his head at me, studying me intently. He's waiting. He's waiting to hear what he already knows.
Nothing. I share nothing with my mother. No common features. She was delicate beauty and calming love.
While I shake with quieted rage.
But we did share one thing.
"We both hated you, Father. We hated you with a submissive smile on our faces. Not even your own family loved you." I pause and that daunting smile of his starts to slip away. "How could we?"
Stalking steps guide him closer to me. The men behind me take a silent step closer. My father's eyes shine down on me. They dart between mine, shifting, searching for something within them.
"No one loves me, Violence. It is not something I sought out in my life. Love is nothing compared to power. It is true; no one loves me. But what does that say about the child who is. Just. Like. Me?"
My heartbeat kicks up once more, it thunders in my ears, warming me with wild magic.
I do my best to ignore the remark. He's trying to push me. I can tell.
"Are you building an army of the dead?" My words are spoken in an even tone.
That smile overtakes his haunting features once more.
"What woul
d an army of the dead do for the most powerful ruler in all the world? It is an interesting suggestion though. I may have to look into that. Thank you, Daughter." He takes a step back from me before pacing the length of the room once again.
"What I wanted from the book, I have already taken." He turns toward us once more. "I'd be happy to return it to your little Warlock friend. You children did not have to come running in here, blades blazing." A hint of laughter stings his words.
"You'll give the book back to us?" Cameron's words hold confusion and skepticism.
"Of course." My father waves a hand at the Warlock. "For a price."
My heart drops into a low spot within my stomach.
Cameron's attention swings back to the open book on the desk.
"What's the price?" I hate how quickly his question came.
Cameron is young. Really, he's about my age. But somehow the Wild Hunt aged me. It made me see the dark parts of the word at an early age. And I've been hesitant to trust the world ever since.
Cameron's question makes delight shine in my father's eyes. His pacing halts and he turns to me, looking deeply within my eyes.
"I'll be taking Violence back. I gave her power to the Wild Hunt, and now I'll be taking back my gift." His gaze is cold as it rakes across my features.
"You're crazier than I fucking thought you were if you think we'd let you take her for some journal written by Mary Fuckwit Crows." Nollix's shoulder brushes against mine as he steps nearer to my side.
"That's my grandmother. If you could watch your filthy tone," Cameron reminds him.
Another sweeping step brings my father closer. Only a few feet separate us.
"You, my boy, are not nearly as intelligent as I thought you were if you were under the impression I was asking you." His gaze swings from Nollix to me. "Violence speaks for herself. Isn't that right, Darling?"
My lips part to speak but he tramples over my thoughts.
"Do you not agree that it would be a fair trade; you by my side and that incredibly dangerous book out of my hands?"
There's a deadness within his eyes, a numbed sense of life that he's clinging to within him.
He knows. He knows I'd give my life to save everyone else’s.
My life isn't truly worth much. I live among the dying. My entire existence revolves around waiting for people to lose their life.
I'd give it away willingly if it meant saving a few. I’m not being a martyr, I’m being logical.
"Stop acting like you're considering this, Vi." Link's fingertips skim against the inside of my wrist. The hurt in his voice pulls at my attention.
It sounds painful. It sounds lost. It sounds like he needs me more than I need myself.
He'd be fine without me though.
We both know the pain of loss only lasts a little while.
It must come as a shock to my father when I go against the mold of how he raised me.
He raised me to be weak despite the power within me. He pushed me to doubt myself. He groomed me into this person who did what she was told and swallowed down the anger deep within her.
But I'm not that confused little girl anymore. My thoughts may be a little lost but I know my life holds value. And my body holds strength.
It’s time he learned that.
My blade swings up from my side. I grip it with both hands as I slam it through his stomach. With too much power, I lift him from the ground before throwing him down to the floor at my feet. Thick, dark blood coats the length of my blade. It slides against the weapon and trickles across my knuckles.
It was much easier than I thought it was going to be.
Too easy, actually.
The King's pale brows raise high and with a careful touch, his fingertips pat at the wound in his abdomen. Slick crimson stains his palm and he stares at it with an eerie smile tilting his lips.
"That was very unexpected, Violence. I thought I had raised you to respect your elders, especially your King. Especially your father." His words hold cold confidence. Not even a hint of weakness from a dying man is in his tone.
He brushes his hand over his fatal wound once more and the smell of burning magic tinges the air. A deep breath meets his lungs as his eyes close slowly. He treasures that breath for a moment. Then, with strong movements, he stands. He stands before me, meeting my narrowed gaze.
"I am an aging man, Violence. But it'll take a bit more than that to kill a man who's had a look into the book of Severed Souls." His gaze shifts to Cameron. "Isn't that right, Mr. Crows?"
My spine stiffens as I look to Cameron. His gaze never meets mine. He holds his attention on my father.
He knew that book had the power to do this; to make someone immortal, and he didn't bother mentioning it?
My father’s hand grips my wrist tightly, stinging pain into my bones.
"Come with me, Violence. I know you and I are capable of great things." His tone creeps across my flesh.
I pull away from him but he jerks me back to his side.
He wants to use me. He wants to use me for whatever it is he's learned from the book of Severed Souls.
If I went with him, I could learn what it is he intends to do, I could infiltrate his plans. It could benefit me really.
If he doesn’t kill me first, that is.
"I'm going to ask Your Majesty very politely to release your fucking hold on her." Magic flares with lethal power within Nollix's gaze. Black eyes shine from his handsome features. His jaw tightens as he tips his chin up a little higher.
A smirk pulls at the King’s lips.
"When I came to you boys years ago, I specifically remember you saying you wouldn't risk your life to save an inexperienced Huntress. You said something like her life would never be worth risking yours. You made no promises to keep her safe." He tilts his head at Nollix. "A change of heart? Did you grow fond of her? Do you ... do you love her?" Once more my father jerks me closer to him and magic roars to life within my veins.
He wants to hear it. He wants confirmation that no one loves me just as I told him no one loved him.
But I won't give him the satisfaction.
The wind picks up, guided by the current of my magic. Just as the heavy bell overhead starts to sway, Link speaks.
"I love her." It's a quiet and sorrow-filled confession that halts my magic in its tracks. "I love her," he repeats. Link's words echo through the room.
His words slip straight into my heart, shoving uncertainty right into me.
He ... loves me?
How? How does he know he loves me? I don't even love me ...
The fight I've put into pulling my arm away from my father falls away. I stand in his grasp, staring at the regretful look in Link's lavender eyes.
Is that what love looks like?
His gaze is locked on to mine, sinking confusion into my chest.
He can’t love me. Love isn’t dependable. It can be ripped away too easily.
"Why would you say that?" It's a fearful question. A shaking question that holds too much emotion within me.
A line creases his brows.
"Because—because I love you, Vi." His voice is quiet but steady. Honest. Too honest.
It makes it hard for me to remember how to breathe.
It terrifies me because Link is the rational one. He’d never say something he wasn’t one hundred percent certain of.
Nollix shifts, his attention held intently on the dirty ground. He fists his weapon in his hand and it shakes from the magic swirling through him. I feel it. I feel his prickling magic as if it's my own.
"Ah, I should have known it'd be the broken one who loves you. It is always the weakest who love the easiest." My father nods his head and he studies Link as if he can see him perfectly.
His words make my magic flare with anger.
What he doesn't realize is that we're all broken. Lost souls always manage to find one another. They steady the recklessness that beats within us. They make us a little more sane in an insane world.
>
That is the reason we were accepted into the Wild Hunt.
And that is the reason Nollix snaps.
Nollix brings his blade up high. He jars it down with great strength, ripping through the air. It happens so quickly. One moment, my father is clutching ahold of my wrist. The next minute, his arm is laying in a bloody mess on the floor.
Nollix straightens his shoulders as he stares with a crazed look into my father's eyes. The angle of his jaw tightens as his lips purse tightly together. Blue smoke wafts from his blade, steaming between him and the King.
Jeriko slams the hilt of his blade into Nollix's back, causing him to stumble forward. When the two face one another, deadly tension fumes through the room. Strong winds twirl through the room with unstable forces. Nollix swings his arm up, the stone the building is made from pulls from the structure. It twirls with the breeze. The tower shifts as the far wall crumbles down to the ground far below. Nollix pushes hard at the winds and throws the debris squarely into Jeriko's chest. It hits with a solid thud and slams the Fae to the ground. The room shakes from the jarring impact.
Jeriko is not a Fae to fight with. He's arrogant, and there's a reason for that arrogance. He shoves off the crumbled stone and stands. Rage shakes through him. His fingers arch as his own magic swirls. He reaches for the flame that's dancing within the lantern.
The wind carries the embers, streaming with fire like a tornado stemming straight from the underworld. The fire streams right into his hands and fear trickles all through me.
I step in between Nollix and Jeriko.
He hates me. I see it in the sneering way he looks at me. Jeriko looks at me right now like he wants nothing more than to burn me from existence.
Fire strikes out from his palm, blazing through the air. But the wind is my friend as well as his.
I put every ounce of strength into my magic and the air hits the fire with a burst of embers. My jaw tics as my assaulting breeze sweeps up the flames and carries them high into the night sky like a comet striking across the heavens.
During the chaos, Link doesn't move an inch. He keeps his sword held low as he watches my father who in turn watches the three of us.