“I think it was the manner in which I licked my chops.” Thamores chuckled. “Rather than the manner of God that they serve.”
“Perhaps so.” Jamiason, for the first time in a long time, gave a short, but honest laugh. “Regardless, this is now a battle of vampires and wolves.” He flicked his gaze to Paul. “What have you heard from the humans?”
“Those against the Devonshires will continue to march with us.” Paul shrugged. “So long as we promise not to bend their necks.”
“Make your promises, then.” James nodded at him. “And see that your people toe their plank.”
“As you wish.”
“So be it.” Jamiason let out a long breath of air, unsettling Paul. “Come sun fall, we journey south.”
-21-
Iladrul shivered as that odd sensation that he was being watched washed over him again.
“Lord Raystlyn?”
“Yes child?” The Silver Mage turned his strange eyes upon the elf.
“Do you . . .” He swallowed. “Am I mad? Or is something other than the spirits haunting our steps.”
“You aren’t mad at all.” Raystlyn smiled softly at the boy. He had become fond of the elfin child, despite himself. “We’ve been followed for the last twenty nauckts.”
The boy’s green eyes, so alike to those of his mother, grew wide.
“It’s a changeling, boy.” Raystlyn whispered. “An abomination to the very Gods who protect or damn us.”
“A . . .” The boy shivered again. “A dathanorna?”
Raystlyn nodded.
“But I thought—”
“None are known to exist.” Raystlyn stopped the boy from speaking the words. “That doesn’t mean that they do not.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Most definitely.” Raystlyn shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been following us for days. Although, it hasn’t eaten one of our party as of yet.”
Iladrul pulled his horse to a stop. As he did so, the five doxies stopped their horses as well. “As of yet?”
Raystlyn smiled at him.
“Meaning that it may?”
“It may, indeed.” Raystlyn nodded. “Best keep moving, boy.”
-22-
After listening to Sam’s newest reports on the goings on of Ishitar and Noliminan, Aiken’s stomach ached as if he had just swallowed a boulder. Noliminan, it would seem, had become more than a little obsessed with the elves. And Ishitar, who always wore that strange, contemplative smile, seemed to care little and less about the outcome of the mortal war. His mind, Samyael advised Aiken, seemed trained upon Loki and some mysterious tree that he kept visiting to pick the fruit which made up Loki’s pies.
“Curious.” Aiken grumbled as his eyes trailed the contours of Samyael’s face. “I’ve never heard of a tree such as you speak of.”
“Have you ever seen the gourds such as he uses before?” Aiken shook his head. “Or tasted such sweetness?”
“Sam.” He admonished. “Please do not tell me that you ate of Ishitar’s fruit.”
“Just one gourd.” Sam shrugged.
Aiken shook his head. He had only had one slice of Ishitar’s damn pie and he hadn’t felt the same since.
“Keep that business to yourself.” Aiken warned. “Whatever that fruit is, it’s damning.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Samyael lowered his gaze, almost as if he were ashamed. As he did so, Aiken stood, startling him. “Where are you going?”
“To palaver with Loki.” Aiken muttered under his breath. “To seek his advice.”
“He won’t give you any.” Samyael warned him. “It is a mortal war.”
“Mortal or not,” Aiken frowned at him, “if I know Noliminan, he means to make his strike.”
“Against the elves?”
“Doubtful.” Aiken snorted and stormed out of the room.
He didn’t understand Noliminan’s obsession with the damned elf. It was true that he toyed with the mortals when it suited him. But never male mortals.
What is it about this damned elf? Aiken wondered. That brings the blood of the very Gods to a boil. He isn’t that damned pretty.
He was beginning to loathe the creature. Though he promised Jami he would protect him—and, he would—the damned elf was causing him far too many concerns for his liking.
When he reached the library, he bent so that he could poke his head through the door. Loki, who was bound by obsessions of his own, sat at the desk, staring down at the strange tome, with his brows furrowed over his dark purple eyes.
“Can you spare a moment?”
Loki started at the sound of Aiken’s voice and looked up at him with a nervous smile. Despite his annoyance that Aiken had interrupted him, he indicated the chair across the desk.
“Of course,” he said. “You know I always have time for you.”
Aiken smiled tightly at the dishonesty in that statement. He was coming to believe that he was being tolerated more than welcomed.
“I have a concern.” Best to get it out without delay.
“Oh?” Loki reached for the book, slipped a ribbon over its parchment to mark its pages, and closed it. “About?”
“About Noliminan.” Loki’s brow rose high over his eye. “And about—”
He bit his tongue. He was about to admit that he didn’t exactly trust Ishitar, but something in the back of his mind tickled, warning him not to say anything to Loki about that just yet.
“And?”
“I’m told that he’s obsessing over the elves.”
“The elves?” Loki frowned at him. “Queer.”
“Indeed.” Aiken’s lips pursed. “Loki.” He swallowed. “I’ve promised Jamiason that I would protect Iladrul.”
“Foolish of you.” Loki crossed his arms over his chest.
“Perhaps.” Aiken admitted. “My people needed to choose a side.”
Loki, who didn’t govern a mortal race, so didn’t understand the politics required to ensure their survival, merely shrugged.
“Regardless,” Aiken continued, “If Noliminan interferes, he’ll discover that Jamiason is no longer what he appears to be.”
Loki frowned at him. “Are you telling me the rumors regarding Evanbourough are true?”
“I’m telling you that Noliminan will destroy Jamiason and his people without the first thought of them.” Aiken replied, irritably.
What is wrong with me? Why am I so wary of Loki? Of all people under every moon?
“It’s bad enough that he’s been exiled.” He continued. “I can’t sit back and watch him—or his children—be destroyed.”
“Stay out of it Aiken.” Loki’s tone held a warning quality to it that Aiken didn’t much care for. “You don’t want to be at odds with Noliminan.”
“I already am at odds with Noliminan.” Aiken snapped. “Or hadn’t you noticed.”
“Losing your daughter to serve Michael is not the worst he could have done to you for meddling with Moira.” Loki shook his head. “Trust me on that.”
“This isn’t about Karma.” Aiken glared at his friend. “And you know it.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed as he assessed Aiken for a long, almost torturous moment. Finally, he said, “You asked me for my advice and I have given it to you.”
Frustrated, Aiken rose to his feet and stormed to the library door. When he reached it, he turned to face Loki, his anger brewing to a boil.
“Mark me.” He said. “If we do not interfere—and soon—then there is going to be Hells’ fire and damnation to pay.” Loki blinked at him. Aiken had never, in all of the years that they had been friends, raised his voice to him. “And when it rains, I pray it falls on your head!”
-23-
Aminar stared into the depths of the forest, frowning. He didn’t like the uneasy sensation that he had, lately, begun to feel. There was a threat in those woods. But it was invisible, even to his fairies eyes.
He heard the crunch of leaves behind him as the scent of a summer rain washed over him.
He recognized the scent at once as belonging to one of the young Prince’s doxies. As such, he didn’t start with surprise despite the fact that he was on edge.
When the one called Osete stepped beside him, he turned to give the young elf a tired, wary smile. “You’re up late.”
“As are you.” Osete replied. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Aminar shook his head and returned his gaze to the forest. Osete, who was extremely perceptive in Aminar’s opinion, did the same.
“What is it, do you think?” The elf whispered.
“Nothing that mine eyes are trained to.” Aminar whispered. “It blends into the forest as if it were, itself, a tree.”
Osete nodded and reached toward Aminar. This surprised the fairy until he saw that the elf held a peach in his hand. Aminar stared at it for a moment before reaching for it and granting Osete a tentative smile.
Where on which moon did this creature find a peach?
“Won’t you be whipped for standing in the shadows with me?”
“Your people are chaste.” Osete shrugged. His eyes flicked away as a blush crossed his fair cheeks. “And, you haven’t the tools with which to shame me.”
Aminar chuckled under his breath and returned his gaze to the forest as he took a bite of the peach. The sour and sweetness of it burst upon his tongue, causing him to sigh.
“Best not stay out too long.” Osete warned as he turned, very gracefully, away. “Lest you find yourself in the belly of the beast.”
His curiosity raised by that statement, Aminar studied the elf as he, rather quickly, darted away.
As Osete ducked into his Master’s tent, Aminar knew one thing to be true: the elf knew exactly what the monster was that was haunting their trail.
-24-
Mihr watched the strange creature as he stepped tentatively into the room, turning his face this way and that, appearing as though he hoped to be overlooked. Seeing him, she felt a smile dance across her lips. He was, though oddly made, rugged of face and handsome of features.
Her brothers and sister seemed unaware of his arrival. They were caught up in their arguments over their displeasure that Michael had been stripped of his duties. None of them, including Mihr, understood what their brother could have done to displease King Noliminan to such a degree that he would trade him for the service of another.
She stood and walked, very attentively, toward the new member of her Quorum.
She didn’t know if he would be friend or foe and she, gentle creature of the forest that she is, had heard rumors from Raphael that a single gaze into his eyes might drive her mad.
“Hello.” She said as she approached him. He gave her a wary smile. “My name is Mihr. I am the youngest of the Quorum.”
“You were the youngest.” His voice was deep, causing her to smile. As she did so, his lips curled slightly as well and the snakes that made up his hair began flying madly around his face. “My name is Gorgon.” His oddly made brow furrowed. “You’re brown of skin.”
Her smile grew at that. “Have you never seen a brown skinned woman?”
“No, my Lady.” He replied, his eyes darting to her white, tightly curled hair. “I’ve lived a rather sheltered life.”
“My father—” She stopped herself. Metatron had, by now, told them all that Lucias was no longer living as a male. “Your mother,” her smile grew, “Lucias, used to say that Azrael and I were blessed because we were charred at birth by Metatron’s hands as he caught us slipping from Raziel’s womb.”
He chuckled under his breath. “A likely conclusion.”
“Indeed.” Now her smile was wide and true. “Come.” She reached for his arm. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the Quorum.”
He gave her a shy nod and allowed her to lead him toward the fray in the center of the room. As they approached, Metatron waved his hand and the others each fell silent.
Metatron, in Michael’s absence, was our leader.
He stepped forward, his flaming lips pursed. “You must be the gorgon.”
“My name is Gorgon.” Mihr watched as Gorgon bit his lip with his sharp, black teeth, correcting her brother and stepping toward Metatron with his hand outstretched. “Yes.”
“You must know from the start that we aren’t pleased that you are joining us.” Barkiel, whose body was made of the blue light of electric lightening, grumbled. “You’ve displaced our brother and, as such, you aren’t welcome here.”
“Don’t mind Barkiel.” Raphael smiled at Gorgon. It was a smile so similar to that which our Master claims that they all coveted it. “He’s just sore because he didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye. Michael’s exile took us all by surprise.”
“None more than Michael.” Uriel stepped forward, her hand extended. “I’m Uriel. And this is Camael.”
“A pleasure.” Camael, who looked extremely surly in Mihr’s opinion, frowned as Gorgon took Uriel’s hand and raised it to his lips to kiss it. Still, he made the introductions around the room. “For the purposes of making your indoctrination neat, forgive me for repeating names. These are Metatron, Raphael, Gabriel, Haniel, Zadkiel—you’ve met Mihr and Uriel—Barkiel and Cassiel.” Next, he indicated what appeared to be an empty chair, making me smile. “And, we assume, Azrael has joined us as well.”
“Azrael has.” I chuckled under my breath.
“Never mind them, Gorgon.” Mihr sneered at her brothers. “They’re merely surly today.”
“And every day.” I grinned at her. She had always been my favorite sibling. “Trust me on that matter.”
She smiled; although, I knew that smile wasn’t for me. Camael, it would seemed, understood its secret meaning as well. His eyes narrowed on Gorgon and he gained an inch in height.
As for Gorgon, he seemed oblivious to her charms. I knew this to be because the only women he had ever met before her were his mother and sisters.
Perhaps it was his innocence around women which made me pleased by the prospect of this particular pairing.
“We’re done here for today.” Metatron announced. “I should show Gorgon where he will sta—”
“I can show him.” Mihr turned to her brother to glare at him before returning to face Gorgon with a smile. “If he doesn’t mind soft company.”
“Soft company would be most welcome.” Gorgon replied, brows raising high over his murderous eyes and snakes flying wildly around his head. “If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience.”
“It would be an inconvenience.” Camael hissed, glaring at Mihr before turning his attention to Gorgon. “I will show you to Michael’s cottage.”
“Camael,” Raphael sighed, “Really!”
“Stay out of it, Raphael.” Uriel muttered the warning under her breath.
Her thoughts were teaming with discord. She understood that Raphael, out of all of us, had no business doling out advice when it came to the inappropriateness of relationships.
As Camael turned toward Raphael to chastise him, Haniel stepped in.
“I’ll show Gorgon to Michael’s cottage.” He offered. “I’ve promised Michael that I’d pack his things for him and, thus far, haven’t found the time.” He gave Gorgon a tentative smile. “Seems a fair time to kill two birds with one stone.”
Gorgon, who had turned many birds to stone, blushed. His grey scales turned dark as he lowered his face. The shame that he felt for the turn of his magic bounced off him in waves around the room. I was pleased to note that my brothers and sisters had the better sense to be embarrassed by their behavior toward him upon seeing him so.
Haniel, and rightly so given he’d meant to wound his half-brother, above all.
“I . . .” Gorgon swallowed the pain that welled within him at the immediate knowledge that he was not to be accepted amongst his peers. “Thank you.”
Disgusted by them all, I allowed my admonishment against each and every one of them to explode within their hearts and minds.
All of them, of course, but for my dear, sweet sister, Mihr.
&
nbsp; -25-
Sappharon watched with quiet fascination as Loki dismissed the children that he and Lucias had created while Countenance trapped them in their time. They were, all of them, so different from one another.
Not that this should have been a surprise.
The archangels that Lucias had sired were all very distinct from one another as well. Yet, that was, somehow, different in Sappharon’s mind. They had been birthed for the purpose of serving Noliminan’s throne. These children of Loki’s were another matter. These children had been born to breed monsters of their own.
The second oldest, after Gorgon, is Siren. She is a beautiful creature with a voice more lulling than an entire choir of angels. She can lure even the strongest of souls to her bosom has she the mind.
The third is Taurus. A creature born with the head and legs of a bull and the torso of a man, Taurus was bred to be a fierce warrior, much like Metatron and Michael. His heart is fiercely jealous, however, and he guards that which he believes to be his with warlike abandon.
Fourth is Djinn. A strange, mist-like creature, Djinn has the power to grant a being any wish that their heart desires. And he encourages mortals and immortals, alike, to lend as many wishes as he may grant. For he feeds off the greed of others and will consume the souls of those who ask for that which they covet but do not require.
Shade is the fifth. Like Djinn, his form is more mist-like than corporeal. Unlike Djinn, his powers only effect those who are mortal born. He does not consume a body, but he expels its soul and takes the body as his own so that he can walk about as if he were they. The soul, not having been touched by my hand, walks mad amongst the spirits who inhabit Hades’ realms.
Loki’s second daughter, at the time, was the youngest of his children. Her name is Banshee. Though beautiful of face and form, when she speaks to a mortal, that mortal’s body and soul turns to dust. The soul, because it has not been touched by Zadkiel’s hand, flies into the wind when it blows. Not even Hades’ doors are open to these poor creatures.
My heart breaks for Loki’s children. They have, all of them, been raised by his hand. Because of this, each of them lives daily in their own brand of Hell as they attempt to blend their nature with their understanding of right versus wrong.
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