by SL Figuhr
* * *
The strains of a waltz drifted through the crowded rooms, barely heard over the tumult of voices. Mica whirled around the floor with a beauty in his arms. When the music stopped, he bowed and she curtsied.
“You dance divinely, Sir. What other talents do you possess?” she inquired.
“I’m considered a fair hand with a sword,” Mica replied.
“But what good is that to a woman?” she asked.
He winked while giving a roguish smile.
Something is not right. She should be an innocent blonde, with blue eyes, and plump. Yet here she has dark brown hair, yellow-green, brown eyes, a sultry, knowing look.
She smiled back and tapped his arm with her fan. “Naughty man.”
Another man hailed them. He bowed to both the lady and Mica, “Pardon my intrusion, my lady. I wonder if I might have a word with my brother?”
She gave Colin a coquettish smile. “Only if you promise me a dance, Sir.”
He smiled back at her and raising her hand, planted a kiss on the back of it, “Done, my lady.”
Colin and Mica bowed to her and took their leave. Colin steered Mica through an open pair of French doors and out onto the darkened terrace.
“What’s this all about, brother? I had thought to dance with the lady again,” Mica asked impatiently.
Colin turned a sad, serious face to Mica. “Time grows short, brother. Disaster looms. Do not delay in petty pleasures and inconsequential matters.”
“What? You mean the battle with the milksop Earl? Have no fear. I shall win,”
“Not that, brother, you have been asleep too long, The Duchess Illyria and Eron are more concerned than they let on.”
“Who? Are you daft? There’s no one here by such a name.” Mica made as if to go back in and a vision flashed before his eyes. A beautiful woman, the one he had been dancing with, but in slick, form-fitting black leather
Colin grabbed his arm, stopped his brother. “Look into your heart, brother. You are not as you were. You have changed. The demon spoke truth. You are not immortal anymore. You need to wake up now.”
Mica was growing uneasy, “Fain, I know not of whom you speak. You talk as if something supernatural was in the air. I think you need another drink, and a dance with the fair Earl’s daughter. Come. She’s waiting for you inside, no doubt.”
Mica led Colin back inside but his brother had vanished. Mica looked around in bewilderment. The ballroom had faded, only the Earl’s blonde haired, blue-eyed daughter remained. As he watched, she morphed into a woman who started to climb what looked like a never-ending staircase. He ran after her; somehow she had betrayed him and he wanted answers.
Just as he started up after her, she and the stairs vanished and he was surrounded by darkness. Lightning flashed and Mica closed his eyes, hoping it would go away. He felt himself drifting and suddenly he was awake, staring at a carved ceiling.
Mica groaned in pain. His brain felt as if acid had been poured over it. A peculiar rumbling started in his stomach and he felt bile rise in his throat. Mica had time to roll over before he vomited onto the floor. A thin liquid trickled out, as he had not eaten for several days. His eyes felt on the verge of rolling out of his head, and he groaned again. Dimly he was aware of people entering the room
* * *
The next time Mica woke, it was dark, and oil lamps burned. He had been aware of a whispering going on, but was unable to tell to whom the voices belonged. He heard a woman say, “He is awake again,” and that voice he did know.
“What...what did you do to me you, bitch?” Mica gasped. “Crack my skull open and dose my brain in acid?”
“Not I, what do you remember?” she calmly replied.
He felt his bones melt to jelly and his blood turn to ice. “I swear...first Devon, then Donny and now Nicky.”
“Mica!” Colin spoke up, shocked.
He swallowed another rising wave of bile and struggled to sit up in the bed. “Colin,” his voice came out harsher than he intended, “you are my brother, but I need you to leave now. For five minutes, no more. NOW!” he shouted.
Mica hated the look of confusion and hurt which crossed his brother’s face, and promised himself he would make it up to him. Once Colin had left, the former immortal turned to the striking woman who stood silent, and the man who had been his friend standing next to her.
“What the hell happened in that cell?” he demanded of them, adding, “And none of your fucking lies. You did something, just like you always do, and like always, it fucks everyone over.”
“A demon came and attacked you and the boy. Then something else came, as if to your rescue, and battled the demon, but the boy’s soul gem shattered, and now you are mortal,” Illyria flatly stated.
“Are you daft? I’m still immortal, you lying bitch! To think I thought I could trust a blood-sucking soulless fiend!”
“At least he has his memory back, all of it, and the curse is broken,” Eron stated.
Mica glared at them both, wishing he had strength enough to stand up and kick their asses.
“I can prove it to you,” Illyria said and snatched at his arm.
“Let go of me!” Mica tried to yank his arm back but her grip was cold iron. He couldn’t believe Eron just stood there, but then again, the bastard had always been secretly in love with her.
“Do you not heal instantly if given a moderate cut?” Illyria demanded.
“Crazy bitch!” Mica shouted. He couldn’t believe how absolute her grip was and he tugged again but could not free his arm.
“You’re going to pull my arm out of my socket!”
“Answer the question, please,” she demanded.
“What was it again?” he asked. Mayhap he could still get away in one piece since she seemed to want to chat.
She sighed and repeated the question. “Of course!”
“Watch, please,” Illyria sliced one of her nails across his arm.
A sharp pain blossomed and Mica watched the cut start to bleed. The blood oozed down his arm as the pain persisted. Several moments passed and still the blood flowed, running down his arm, dripping off his elbow to form a puddle on the floor and Mica was starting to feel lightheaded. He realized she had let go of his arm. The cut should have healed by now, leaving no trace.
“What...what the hell! Impossible! You did something to me! This is just one of your mind tricks!” Mica clamped his left hand around the cut and applied pressure. The blood was slippery between his fingers.
“Cut yourself again if you think it illusion. But don’t waste the blood.”
Mica shuddered in disgust and edged away from her. “You...you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t want to waste the life dripping on my floor and running down your arm,” she replied and licked her lips lavishly.
An expression of horror spread on Mica’s face.
“Stop it,” Eron said, low-voiced, and stepped in front of her. He snatched a cloth laying on a table and applied pressure to his friend’s arm
Mica took over, shaking his head. “You killed Donny, you let the kid escape, you cursed me...”
“Donny got himself killed by not leaving when he was told. Nicky did not escape, and it was the Fae who cursed us all. You are mortal now, however impossible that may seem. I will leave it up to you to decide what kind of a life you wish to live.”
“I hate you,” he said, “I knew you should have been destroyed the moment the myth became truth.” He ripped off the cloth to see the wound had clotted over, but had not healed.
It should have been just a fading reminder by now, but its very existence mocked him. “No,” he whispered, “this can’t be. This is a disaster!” Mica moaned.
“If you insist. Of course, now you can live, take a wife, have children, grow old together, die.”
“Get out of here!” Mica yelled at her and tried to reach for the oil lamp to throw but he was so weak he merely toppled out of bed.
“You’
re not helping,” Eron told her. “Let him calm down, it’s a shock to anyone’s system.”
She shrugged. “As you wish,” She left, Colin rushing into the room in her wake.
Chapter Nineteen
Mica stared down into the murky water, watching the bright flashes of the few fish swimming beneath. A cold wind blew on and off, chilling him, but he refused to go inside or get a cloak. There were slaves out working, marking off where new garden beds would be dug come spring. They gave him a wide berth.
Like I was a leper, Mica thought bitterly.
No one truly knew what had become of the little boy. The news left him numb. What was he to do now? The quest had consumed so much of his life he had never stopped to consider “afterwards”, though he had never imagined he’d become mortal once more. He didn’t think he could live a normal life. Flashes kept popping in his head, memories locked away; they said it would go away, in time.
If he could just feel something, anything, even if it was rage, he might be okay. The immortal heard a soft gasp, and looked up to see a figure frozen a few feet away from him.
The girl looked terrified and he struggled to remember her name. “Mary Elana. You look...” He trailed off.
She flinched, tears welling up in her eyes and she turned, perhaps to flee back to the house.
“No, I’m sorry, don’t go. I didn’t mean to be rude. I didn’t...” He stopped and struggled a moment before going on, “I’m sorry.”
She had stopped, shook her head as best as she was able, hurried away to another part of the garden.
Mica hissed to himself, feeling more like an outcast for having chased the girl away. She was covered in healing bruises, and he thought he saw the flash of a slave collar. He knew who had answers, but he just wanted to strangle her when he so much as thought of her.
There came the padding of feet again, and a solicitous inquiry, “Pardon me, sir, Her Grace sent me out to see if perhaps you needed anything? A cloak? Or a hot refreshment?”
So now I’m a child who doesn’t know enough to look after himself? He wanted to send the man away, but the cloak did sound good. He let the man drape it around him.
He closed his eyes, the wool slowly warmed him up, and he dozed a bit.
* * *
The strings wailed, alternately sounding happy, sad, seductive. The dark-haired beauty in his arms gracefully arched backwards, then snapped forward and he took her hands. They moved fluidly through the dance, the last one of the night. When the last note had faded into silence, they stood facing each other in an embrace. He didn’t really want to let go.
“You can’t, I mean, would you, or even could you, I...
“Are you asking me to stay the night? To share more than your bed, knowing I must leave when the sun is about to rise?”
He couldn’t help the blush suffusing his face, or the feeling of nerves; she was outside of his experience. “Yes.”
“Very well, I accept.”
* * *
“Bro! Where did you meet her? She is fine!” Donny enthused.
“She’s taken,” Mica warned him. He wasn’t about to lose another potential protégé to her schemes.
“A guy can look, can’t he?” Donny asked. “And man oh man is she some eye candy. I don’t suppose there’s any chance...”
“No,” Mica flatly replied.
* * *
The ear piece crackled, “Crusader, Mica. Where you at, man? Come on, answer. Raptor wants to know where you at.” The young man’s voice sounded worried, trying to be cool.
How was he to answer when he wasn’t sure himself? “Ducat, I’m fine. Just get out of the building. It’s trapped, you don’t need to be here.” There was no reply, he kept looking for a way out, periodically trying to get the boy to respond.
The building shook and rumbled, metal screeching. “Donny! Donny! If you can hear me, say something! Please don’t be inside, get out!” There was no response and Mica kept running, trying to keep his footing.
“Donny! Damn it, kid, the whole place is blowing up! Answer me! Are you safe?” Mica dodged falling concrete and metal, not sure if the earpieces even worked anymore. He had to try though.
Mica ran along the roof, making quick snatches of looks back over his shoulder. Section by section, the old building was sending clouds of dust and debris shooting out as each charge went off. He had just started down a rusting ladder when he was blown free.
He remembered running for the SUV, and finding bits of clothing and what could have been pieces of flesh. It looked like Donny’s, and he almost collapsed there but Eron was urging him up and on. They would come back, the building was unstable and the mortal rescue personnel would be coming.
“I curse you!”
“No!” Mica howled, never sure if it was out loud or in his mind. “I have to find out what happened to the kid! His remains have to be properly laid to rest! Don’t! You can’t!”
* * *
He awoke with a wordless shout, and looked around, confused and bleary for a moment. The sun was setting and the wind had picked up. He was stiff from the cold. Painfully, the former immortal stood, huddling inside the cloak and made his way to the mansion. It was warm inside, with the bustle of slaves going about their business. For a moment he thought he was going to be sick, and he swayed, his vision going gray around the edges.
Mica stumbled to a small sitting parlor and collapsed on the nearest couch, where he waited for the sensation to go away. Did she remember the night they had spent together? He thought there had been more than one, over the intervening years. The rage bubbled up; she had gotten the kid killed. He had refused to leave the building; was it because he was in love with her? Because she had led him on?
“You bitch!” he hissed into the silence. He had to know, and now.
Mica hauled himself up, but before he could go and search for her, his brother came into the room. “The slaves said they saw you go in here. You’re not getting sick from being out in the cold?”
“I’m fine!” he spat at his brother. “I’m not a child, stop treating me like one.”
Colin held his hands up, “I’m not the enemy, bro, sorry. It’s just it’s been so long since we were, you know, mortal. They’re a lot more fragile than us. I mean...” He stopped guiltily.
“You mean than you? Than immortals?” his brother snarled.
His younger brother had the grace to look embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Damn, I don’t...Look, it’s a big shock. I’m sorry.” He was intent. “Just say the word, we’ll get the materials, do the ritual. Anyway, I’m uh, going to eat. Supper is ready if you want it.” And he left.
Mica stood, fists and teeth clenched. What did he want? He wanted answers, most of all. He was owed answers.
* * *
Mica paced back and forth, making Illyria’s guards—Hah! What a laugh!—anxious he would try rushing the door to her office again as they stood blocking it. Behind the men, the plain door opened and the Earl appeared, looking less than satisfied. The very sight of the man made the former Immortal angrier than was rational; he attributed it to the rumors floating around about the Earl and the Duchess.
The nobleman made to ignore him and stalk off when Mica blocked his path and snarled, “Don’t believe a word that lying bitch says. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from her, before she ruins you and your family with her machinations.”
Sydney stiffened. “I shall excuse your rudeness as a by-product of having been illegally imprisoned and tortured, sir, and advise you not to speak of Her Grace in such a manner. Good day to you.” He made to move around the man but was blocked.
“Here, now,” her guards protested. “None of that.”
“Tell me,” Mica ignored them and spoke to the man before him, “how was your family before she came and seduced you?”
He watched the Earl’s eyes darken in anger, and had a hollow satisfaction in seeing the worry lurking there before the guards each grabbed an arm.
> “Stop it. I will not have guests treated with such discourtesy under my roof. I will speak with you, answer your questions, if it will calm your rage and stop you from attacking everyone in my home and those who visit.” She stood in her doorway, eyes flaring slightly in rage.
Mica shook off the guards and stalked toward her office. The former immortal made no secret of his anger as he entered the room and she spoke a few words to the departing man and her guards before shutting the door.
He rounded on her before she could move away from the door, slapped his hands to either side of her shoulders and loomed over her. “I.want.answers.”
She inclined her head regally. “Is that any reason not to be civilized? I thought you prized it above all else.”
“What I prize is the truth, which seems to be in short supply for you.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to recall you having trouble handling the truth when it doesn’t fit into your world view.”
“Is that what you call the lies you tell people that get them killed, bring ruination and destruction to all they love and hold dear?”
She merely regarded him, waiting for him to say something else. He had forgotten this aspect of her, and now she was giving him her full attention, waiting for him to finish ranting. He just didn’t know what to bring up first.
What came out was, “Did you sleep with my protégé?”
She was startled enough to reply, “I have better taste than that, thank you very much!” After a beat, she added, “Why is it everyone seems so concerned with whom I choose for my lovers? Do I ask you who you sleep with?”
“Not Devon!” he roared at her, “Donny! Is that why he ignored orders to get out of the building? He was worried about you because you slept with him and you know damn well the effect you have on men. Is that why he’s dead? You toyed with him and made him think there was more to your friendship,” he spit, “than there really was.”