by Bea Paige
“Not the Devil, just the Queen.”
“The Queen? Who are you talking about?”
“Our mistress, our ruler. The woman who made me what I am. Queen Adrielle’s wrath knows no bounds. She will defeat those who betrayed her and you, old woman, are the key to drawing out Clan Vitae and the girl they’re protecting…” I cock my head to the side and look at her. “There’s no resemblance at all. I’d assumed you’re her mother... No matter, her trail led me to this place, so I’m guessing she cares enough about you to visit regularly.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters, folding her arms across her chest in a pathetic attempt to give self-comfort.
“The beautiful blonde…”
Recognition registers on her face, followed by shock and something else rather interesting. Hate. It’s brief, but it’s there.
“Fern? Are you talking about my daughter?”
“So, she is your child.”
“I knew it! I knew that girl was evil. She brought death and destruction to my home. She’s brought nothing but sadness and pain. You can have her. I can take you to where she lives,” the old woman screeches, clawing at my arm. Then her eyes widen and her hand rushes to her mouth, smothering the noise she makes.
“You hate your own daughter? You’re willing to sacrifice her to save your own life?” I laugh so hard she is forced to cover her ears and cower. When I finish, she looks up at me, narrowing her eyes. I see something in them that I recognise. Evil.
“She’s not my daughter.”
“What do you mean, old woman?”
“She’s not my blood, that is why we are nothing alike.”
I lurch forward and grip her by the neck, hauling her to her feet. “Speak. NOW!” I boom. The sound of my voice rattles the ornaments littered about the room. A statue of a woman holding a child falls to the floor and smashes. It reminds me of the people of Clan Vitae and only fuels my anger.
“SPEAK!” I shout once more.
The old woman claws at my hands, her choking reminding me that she cannot speak if I am gripping her voice box so hard. I remove my hand and she draws in huge, sucking breaths. Eventually, with a hoarse voice, she talks.
“I was never able to have a child of my own, so we adopted Fern. My husband was besotted with her. Would do anything she asked. He even died for her.”
“Died for her?” I ask, curiosity wanting to keep this old woman talking. She looks at me with a measure of relief, foolishly thinking she has some kind of reprieve.
“Yes. I found her one morning wrapped around him. She was fast asleep, wedged against his stiff body. He’d died. It was her fault,” she spits venomously. “She brought death to our house and it has followed her ever since.”
“It can’t be?” I mutter to myself. Could this woman, Fern, be an Angel of Death? But she has no wings. She can’t fly. No, she isn’t one of them.
“She’s the Devil’s child,” the old woman continues, spilling her venom. “I’ve always known it and here you are, a creature from the pits of Hell, proving me right. Well, you can have her. You can take her back to Hell where she belongs.” The pure hate pouring from this woman fills the room, billowing out to every corner. She could compete with Queen Adrielle herself, given the darkness of her heart.
“I’m not taking her back to Hell,” I say, mostly to myself. “I’ll be taking her back to Ever Vale just as soon as I murder her angels…”
The old woman’s head snaps up, her eyes widening.
“Angels?” she stutters.
“Yes, your daughter has been taken by the fucking self-righteous angels of Clan Vitae. Queen Adrielle will be very interested to know why they are protecting her. You, old woman, are the key to getting her back. Nothing like holding a family member hostage. It works every time. Love is foolish.”
She looks up at me with shock. Her whole body begins to shake uncontrollably. She pulls at her hair, tearing out chunks in her hands. She shakes her head, muttering words that make no sense. She’s finally lost it.
“For a mother, you are not very caring. You remind me of Queen Adrielle. Her hate is as poisonous as yours.”
“No. I didn’t mean it…” she says, still pulling more hair. “I love Fern. It’s just…”
Her voice breaks as tears stream down her face. This woman is deluded.
“Love? A moment ago you were willing to give her up to save your own arse. A soul as twisted as yours is incapable of love.”
“No. I do love her. Of course, I do,” she sobs. “Oh God, forgive me. What have I done?”
“I don’t know who this God you speak of is, but it’s not God you need forgiveness from.”
She wails more at that. Tears streak down her face and fall from her chin. I swipe my finger against the trail of wetness on her cheek, slicing the skin with my nail as I do so. She draws in a painful breath, watching me with terrified eyes as I suck on the blood dripping down my finger. She stills beneath my touch, her absolute fear turning her into a statue now. I can hear her heart beat frantically and the sound of her blood swishing through her veins. A slow smile carves across my molten face. My stomach growls with hunger, my bloodlust still not satiated despite the lives I feasted on earlier today.
“For someone so old your blood is surprisingly sweet,” I say, leaning over to run my tongue over the seam of her cut.
Like all humans, her fight or flight instinct kicks in and she lashes out at me, her feeble hand connecting with my face. I let her hit me. I let her believe she has a chance at defeating me. I give her hope. Sweet, sweet hope. Loosening my hold from her neck, I drop my arm. She screams at me now, a raging banshee filled with anger. For a moment I admire her tenacity. This old woman isn’t as meek as she seems, which only excites me more.
“And with fight too. This is going to be more fun than I expected,” I say, my voice low, seductive.
She leaps to her feet and makes a dash for the door. In two strides, I’ve caught up with her. I reach out and yank at her top. She stumbles backwards, her body crumpling in my arms. For a moment I think she’s about to give up, but with one last burst of fear-filled energy she struggles against my hold with all her might. Her fingernails tear at my arm, but it feels like a tickle against my newly formed rock-hard skin. She kicks, bites, wails and screeches. She screams useless words at me, words about demons, God and a place called Hell. I laugh uproariously, and she screams in fury. Then her elbow connects with my stomach and I finally lose my patience.
“Stop fighting, wench,” I seethe, holding her body tight against my chest.
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“No thanks, I’d rather fuck a goat.”
I chuckle at my own joke before yanking her head to the side and biting her neck hard. The taste of her warm blood floods into my mouth. It’s delicious, and sweet, and oh so fucking good. Like a balloon, her sudden fight for survival deflates. She goes slack in my arms whilst I gorge on her and take my fill. Reluctantly, I pull my teeth out of her neck, drag her back to the bed and throw her on top of the gaudy bedspread. She lays still, her eyes wide, unseeing. Though she’s still alive, her mind has disappeared to a place out of reach to me now.
Outside, a noise registers over the pulsing of my blood high. I get up and walk to the window, a little drunk on the excessive blood I’ve consumed, to find an Angel of Death with long golden hair and a seductive figure fly up into the sky. My cock thickens at the sight of a woman so fucking glorious, before the rage takes over and darkens my thoughts.
“FUCK!” I roar.
Whilst I’ve been a gluttonous prick, the Angels of Death have been spying on me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fern
The wind lifts my wings and I soar in the air next to Mihr. What I feel flying beside him is indescribable. Joy is the first word that comes to mind. I stretch out my hand, trailing it through the misty cloud that disperses the moment we pass through it.
“Yo
u okay, Fern,” Mihr calls over the rush of wind.
“Okay? I’m more than okay, I feel incredible. Mihr, I’m flying,” I laugh delightedly, suddenly feeling the urge to twist in the air. I lean sideways and flip my body over, completing a one hundred and sixty-degree turn. Mihr mirrors my movements, grinning at me. His smile is infectious.
We fly like this, tumbling and turning through the air like dancers. I’ve never felt more alive, more acutely aware of my body and what it’s capable of. Occasionally, we fly so close that the tips of our wings graze against one another, adding more sensation to my already heightened feelings. Happiness, pure and light, dances in my chest. Desire, hot and heavy, pulses between my legs. It’s quite an intoxicating combination.
“Lower,” Mihr signs, pointing downwards. He takes the lead and I follow him as we drop nearer the ground. Below us, Utero’s soft, spongy floor lights up with dancing blue lights. From up here the ground looks even more like a placenta with veins criss-crossing through it. This place is a wonder to me. I’ve not really had the chance to think about its existence. The fact that Queen Adrielle is afraid to enter this place because of the Shadowlands and yet here, hidden away, is a place so full of magic the ground beneath us sparkles with it.
Mihr flies low to the ground, his hand stretching out to touch the surface. The moment his fingers graze the floor, the veins light up, blue stars sparkling within them.
“Mihr,” I say, pointing to a couple of angels flying in the distance. I can’t tell who they are, but I don’t want to risk being seen yet. Not until they’re ready to introduce me. If I’m perfectly honest, I’m not sure I’m ready to meet the rest of Clan Vitae. What if they don’t accept me? What if they turn their backs on Ether, Mihr and Gabe because of me and what I represent. They’ve lived this life under Queen Adrielle’s rule for a thousand years. What if they fear my arrival. Sometimes it’s better the devil you know. I wish I could speak with Dani. She would know what to do, she always does. I miss her dreadfully.
Mihr points upwards, breaking me out of my melancholy thoughts, and we zoom back up into the cover of cloud high above the ground. It’s so thick that for a moment I lose sight of Mihr and a thread of panic bubbles in my chest as I search for him. I turn my head from side to side, trying to spot him, then feel a light tap against my belly. I look down to find Mihr staring up at me. He is flying beneath me, his body only a few inches from my own.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, trying to hold steady. “You do realise you’re flying upside down, don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer; he simply grins, then raises a hand and trails his fingertips against my stomach and up under my shirt. My body jerks, but fortunately for me my wings seem to know what to do, even though the rest of me can only concentrate on his warm fingers as they trail against my skin. He explores the newly toned muscles of my belly, then his hands edge outwards over my hips before moving upwards over my rib cage.
“Hold steady a moment. Don’t flap your wings, just glide okay. I want to try something,” he says.
“Okay,” I respond, holding my wings steady as we head into another section of thick, billowing cloud. Mihr flaps his wings until his length is pressed against mine. Then he wraps one arm around my back, whilst his hand reaches up to pull my face to his. Half a second later he is kissing me hungrily, his mouth crushing against my own. I respond with as much fervour, forgetting at once that we are flying. With the wind in my hair and Mihr’s body against mine, he kisses me until I am breathless and as light as the air surrounding our gliding bodies.
A sudden gust of wind blows us apart and Mihr is tumbling away from me. I beat my wings, holding myself steady as he rights himself once more. Below me, I hear his joyous laughter. Half a dozen wing beats later he is back by my side.
“Let’s go back to the mountain. You and I have unfinished business,” he says.
In our utter desperation to be with one another we cover the miles we’ve flown in half the time, landing less than half an hour later. The moment our feet touch solid ground, my wings fold against my back and I launch myself into Mihr’s open arms. He lifts me up as my legs wrap around his waist and my hands tangle in his hair. Our teeth clash, our tongues fight for dominance. I groan, so does he. I pull on his hair, he does the same. I kiss along his jaw, my teeth pulling on his earlobe; Mihr lowers his mouth to my neck and nips my skin there. We are frantic in our need for one another, the past couple of weeks’ tension breaking over us like a stormy sea against the shore.
Mihr’s hand grips my arse as I rock against his length, his other covers my breast and squeezes. He stumbles with me in his arms until I am backed up against a boulder, then grinds his hips against my own. I lower my legs, reaching for his waistband, and pop open the buttons of his fly, yanking his trousers down and freeing his cock. I hold onto him and a deep rumbling moan releases from his chest as I fist my hand up and down his length. This isn’t the time for slow, sensual caresses. This is about two people who have been desperate for one another, now given the opportunity to join together at last. My mind goes utterly blank as I hold him. All I can think about is Mihr’s mouth against mine, his hands pulling frantically at my top, his thick length thrusting in my fisted hand. We need each other. Our coming together is desperate, passionate, all-consuming. The warmth of Mihr’s love is astounding as it is revitalising. He warms me from the inside out. Mihr was right, when we’re together there is only us.
Until there isn’t.
“Mihr, Fern. I’m sorry,” an apologetic Ether says from behind us.
We both flinch. At least Mihr has the sense to shelter us both with his wings as they snap out around us both. He adjusts himself, pulling his trousers back up.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Ether,” he grinds out.
My chest heaves, my nerves pull taut. I lean my head back against the stone behind me and press my eyes shut, trying to calm my ragged breathing. Mihr won’t carry on despite our arousal, not whilst Ether is here, and Gabe too, given the familiar pull in my chest that I always feel when they’re nearby.
“I’m sorry, we had to come,” Ether continues.
“Life damn it, Ether, you couldn’t have picked a worse moment. Are you trying to bloody kill me?” Mihr snaps, his usual sunny disposition entirely leaving him in the moment. Mihr waits until I do up the last button and straighten myself out before folding his wings back. He presses a firm kiss against my mouth.
“We are not done. As soon as Ether and Gabe tell us what’s so damn important, they are going to leave us, so we can finish what we started.”
“That’s not going to be possible. We have a problem,” Gabe says, apologetically. And he really does look sorry. In fact, he looks downright scared.
“What is it, Gabe?” I ask, worried now. “Please don’t tell me something has happened to Dani.”
“It’s not Dani, Fern…” Ether says gently.
“Then what? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Tillan has been hurt helping me out.”
“What? How?” I ask.
Ether locks eyes with me, a flash of guilt passing through them. “It’s your mother. Abanthe has her.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I land on Tillan’s front porch and push open the door, storming into her house, coming to a standstill when I see her injuries. Another angel is tending to a deep gash on the side of her face. He gently dabs at her skin with a cloth soaked in a bright pink tonic.
He stops when he sees me looking at them both. Tillan catches my eye.
“Fern, your mother…” She winces, the tear in her cheek spilling blood as she speaks. I’m taken aback a little by the fact that I’m still unable to hear her voice. I guess I’ve got used to being able to hear my men.
“Tell me what happened,” I demand, worry about my mother making me sharp and unsympathetic.
The man assisting Tillan looks at me sharply. I watch his mouth move, able to understand him well enough.
“Till
an needs to heal first. I’m cleaning the wound then taking her to the surface, so Utero can heal her fully. Then she will tell you what you want to know,” the man says firmly, his dark brown eyes assessing me. They’re a beautiful shade of ochre, the same colour as his skin. He gives me a sharp look, daring me to challenge him, then helps Tillan to her feet.
“Of course,” I mutter, averting my gaze, but not before I notice the strange look of recognition he’s giving me.
Mihr, Gabe and Ether pile into Tillan’s living room behind me. Their breaths are heavy, laboured. I’d flown as quickly as my new wings would carry me, and they’d had trouble keeping up. I guess panic and adrenaline made me fast.
The man gives them a tight smile, acknowledging them as he guides Tillan past us, supporting her weight. She winces in pain from other injuries I can’t see.
Ether reaches out a hand and rests it on Tillan’s arm. “I’m sorry for involving you in this.” Tillan doesn’t answer, the gash in her cheek preventing her, but she shakes her head as if to assure him that it’s not his fault. Ether looks to the man assisting her.
“Thank you, Noah. We’ll wait here while Tillan is healed.”
Noah nods curtly, then ushers Tillan outside. I catch her eyes before she leaves, fear marked with determination is welling in them. I feel my own panic escalating.
“Tell me what you know,” I say, turning to Ether.
Ether ushers me further into her room. He takes my hand in his. “A few days ago, after your wings were revealed, I returned here to tell Tillan that you were okay, that you’d survived Gabe’s touch…”
“And…”
“… And Tillan offered to check on your loved ones, make sure they were safe. She thought anyone connected to you might be in danger from Abanthe. Like an idiot, that thought hadn’t even occurred to me. It should have. I should have been the one to check, not Tillan. I put her in danger. He is a loyal subject of Queen Adrielle and one of her most feared Dark Knights, changed further by her magic and made into the abomination he is now. I just didn’t think…”