Wings of Hope

by Pippa Dacosta

  A flood of images broke over me in a wave of blood-soaked madness. My cheek hit the tabletop as a seizure tore through me. Hot breaths sawed through my clenched teeth, and I tumbled into memories that weren’t mine. A fledgling elemental. So young. So small. The dagger kissed his flesh, slashing open a hungry wound in his chest. His skin peeled apart like flower petals, and black blood pumped. “Weak,” the dagger’s owner declared. “Embrace your death, die with strength, for that is all you are worth.” The memories shifted sideways, tumbling over, frothing and bubbling until a new image surfaced. Blades clashed. Sword and dagger. Wielded in unison. Fast strikes. One, two. The dagger plunges into a female abdomen. The blade twists, and a shattering scream burst the memory.

  “What do you see?” Da’mean’s voice was a stone outcropping in the dark ocean of someone else’s memories. I returned to him, not because I wanted to, but because he was all I knew, all I could cling to. The memories clamored to be free and sought to drown me. I would not be lost. I would survive. Why? A voice in my head asked. Why go on? Because there must be more to life than this. I was not conceived to spend my existence cowering among my kin. This must not be my fate.

  My eyes flew open. Da’mean demanded answers. But I saw him: the Prince of Greed. They didn’t know he was there, but I knew. His eyes broiled with flame. Among the sea of figures, behind the veil of chatter and noise, beneath the acrid scents, I saw him, I heard him, I smelled him. Spicy, tempting, alluring. He captured me with his presence. How did the others not sense him? He was everywhere. His element smothered the rest and called to me.

  Da’mean’s fist cracked across my jaw, jerking my head back. The taste of blood flooded my mouth. Rage burst through the gates of my mind. I turned my head and spat blood then watched with morbid fascination how my blood splashed across his gray-skinned face. I knew I would suffer, but the spark of defiance flickered in my soul. Just a tiny flame. So fragile. So new. Bright with potential.

  Da’mean roared and clamped his hand around my throat. Still pinned to the table, I couldn’t move to fend him off. He raged, reared up over me, his chest a quivering mass of muscle, and brought his fist down with deadly accuracy like a blacksmith hammering a sword. I saw it coming and smiled. This was it. The final blow. In the end, I’d defied him, and it felt good.

  * * *

  M y muse. You will not leave me. You are mine.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness for several days. Da’mean tended to me with gentle hands and whispered words. He enjoyed breaking me, only to rebuild my body with disarming care. I knew why he did it. In order for me to understand pain, I first needed to understand what it is to be wanted, to be cared for, to be loved. He was a master of manipulation. He relished cruelty. And just when I believed he might care for me, he’d rip away my hope and drown me in disgust all over again.

  When the time came for me to join the Prince of Greed, I could almost convince myself that this time, Da’mean cared. Pain was too easily forgotten in the face of compassion.

  We stood at the foot of what appeared to be a mountain of stairs. Each foothold had been carved from smooth black stone. The steps scaled a sheer cliff face until the ground leveled before a sprawling fortress. But we weren’t taking the steps.

  Da’mean pulled me into his arms and hugged me close as he spread his wings and beat the air. I listened to his thudding heart and breathed in his choking scent.

  We rose to where the ground leveled and landed before the fortifications. I’d never seen anything like it before. Elaborate interlaced symbols spiraled around proud turrets of polished black rock. The fortress wasn’t so much built with blocks, as carved as one piece from the very rock face itself. No tools could have sculpted the hardened black rock with such effortless precision. Only the elements could mold a mountain of rock as though it were clay.

  Da’mean twisted his grip on my arm and pulled me around to face him. “Heed, Muse. You are mine. Three nights, then you return to me.” His eyes swirled like pools of molten lead. Cool air kissed my fire-touched skin. A terrible urge to shiver almost broke over me. He would kill me. Whatever the prince did or said in those three nights wouldn’t matter. Da’mean wouldn’t be able to help himself. He could not defy a prince. Not if he wanted to live. But I’d be soiled on my return—used by another—his precious muse, his grand achievement, tainted beyond repair.

  “Half-blood, come with me.” A curt voice announced behind me.

  Breaking Da’mean’s gaze took a surge of will. I turned to face the elemental who had spoken, a lithe figure with earthy skin peppered by abrasive tubercles. Da’mean’s whispering touch slid over my flesh. Whatever awaited me inside Mammon’s fortress, Da’mean would not suffer the repercussions. Did the Prince of Greed know he’d sealed my fate?

  Inside, the fortress gleamed. Candlelight caressed black stone walls like water rippling over a bed of pebbles. Some elementals gathered in chambers, while others passed on various errands. The screech from hunters—winged lesser demons—echoed through the air. A low murmur carried with it the touch of power, chaos elements mixed, teasing the air.

  “The Dark Court is receiving. You will wait for our liege in a chamber set aside for you. Refrain from wandering the halls.” My guide, the earth elemental, steered me toward a door twice my height and three times my width. “It is not safe.”

  I wanted to ask his name. He spoke as softly as his fawn eyes suggested. He was tall, spindly, like the trees of the dead forest. No wings. Most elementals had wings, but not all. Those who didn’t were classed as lesser—beastlike—despite having conscious thoughts.

  “I am Samien.” He bowed his head. Candlelight rippled across his angular face, playing over sharp cheekbones and an aquiline nose.

  I dipped my chin, both acknowledging and dismissing him, and watched his long limbs saw back and forth as he walked away. Few elementals spoke to me. Fewer did it with a measure of respect. Samien was a surprise. I’d expected brutish treatment, not a polite welcome. He would want something. They always did.

  Giving the heavy timber door a shove, I stepped inside my chamber. A huge fireplace gaped, cold and empty, behind a simple bed. Arched windows afforded a breathtaking view of the sky boiling with purple hues and shimmering greens. The elements churned. Thunder rumbled, shaking the stone beneath my feet. I walked the chamber like a wraith, running my hands along the walls, the carved bedstead, the forlorn fireplace. The furs scattered across the bed dipped generously beneath my fingers. I couldn’t sleep there. I’d burn the furs with my flesh. This chamber couldn’t be for me. Samien must be wrong. With Da’mean, I slept on the earth, grateful to have shelter. This was too good for me.

  * * *

  The warmth of the prince’s element summoned mine from inside my drifting sleep, blooming beneath my skin and swirling around my head; a whisper, a caress, a summons. My eyelids flickered as my addled mind refused to release me. Where was I? The chamber, the fortress, the prince. A gasp scored my lips as I levered my body upright. I’d curled up in the corner and fallen asleep waiting for him. He was here now, a looming darkness filling the doorway. I should bow. Already on my knees, I knew I should fall forward, but my limbs wouldn’t obey. I blinked, lips parted, breath racing.

  Mammon shook his head and rolled his broad shoulders. His wings shifted, raining hot ash from their trailing edges. Stalking forward around the edge of the bed, he graced the center of the room and settled his simmering gaze on me hunched in the corner. Every inch of him had been carved with purpose like the stones of his fortress. His honed elemental body virtually filled the chamber from floor to ceiling. His physical presence demanded admiration, but it was his elemental touch that flooded the room and pushed at the walls and at me. His power smothered mine, snuffed it out, and rode over me.

  “My liege.” I bowed my head.

  “The half-blood speaks.” His words rumbled so deep I felt them tremble through my bones.

  “I provide a bed. You refuse it?”

&nb
sp; I glanced at the bed and the corner I’d occupied, then back at Mammon, to find his onyx lips pulled back in a grin. “I…” My desolate voice snagged in my throat. Da’mean didn’t like to hear me speak. When I eventually did find the words, my speech was more beast than higher elemental, punctuated with snarls and growls. “My skin, sire… The furs,” I growled.

  He sliced his molten gaze to the bed and back to me. “Change.”

  I blinked, knowing perfectly well what he wanted. Her. My weak affliction. Raising my lips, I bared my teeth, and a chitter rattled through me, a nervous sound, one of submission, and reluctance.

  Mammon’s eyes narrowed. “Stand.” I obeyed as quickly as my limbs allowed. “Stand proud.” He growled as though impatient.

  Proud? I gave my wings a flick, lifted my shoulders, and brought my head up. Next to him, I was a tiny thing. Fragile and feeble. Did he seek to humiliate me? He could try. Humiliation only burned if the victim cared. I did not. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly cared about anything.

  He drew in a deep breath, expanding his broad chest and flaring his veins with heat. Sparks danced beneath his flesh, blooming across the expanse of his wings. He was a thing of devastating beauty.

  He came forward a step but paused as I flinched. Another growl bubbled up his throat, definitely a warning this time. “Do not submit, half-blood.”

  I froze, uncertain. When he moved forward again, every instinct in my half-blood body screamed at me to bow, to flinch, to drop to my knees and prostate myself before him. He came closer, his gaze burning into mine. Fire flushed my skin, rushing over me in a shiver of heat. Look away, my instincts screamed. But his glare forbade it. Look away! He stopped before me, a wall of slick black muscles. Veins of fire traced through his chest like crimson lightning scoring a night sky. I had a terrifying urge to touch him, to reach my hands out and soak up his heat.

  “Now and a’morrow, you stand tall.”

  I locked my gaze on his rippled abdomen, fascinated by the play of fire through his veins.

  “You will always answer me.”

  “Yes,” I rasped.

  “You obey my commands.”

  “Yes.”

  “Change. Reveal your other half.”

  If he didn’t kill me upon seeing my disgusting counterpart, the elements cloying the air would. My other self was too weak to survive. The air would burn her lungs and scorch her skin.

  He growled so deep it scattered shivers through me, and with a gasp, I lifted my head and closed my eyes. So be it. Feverish heat flushed through my veins. Convulsions wracked my body, twisting and contorting muscles. My wings dissolved, and the heat radiating from my core died. My element abandoned me, fleeing to the far corners of my mind. The snarls bubbling from my lips turned to whimpers.

  Hardened black skin changed to pink and pliable flesh. Born anew, trapped in wrappings of moist flesh and suffocated beneath emotion, I sobbed and staggered under the weight of it all. It hurts! Slippery emotions swirled about my head: fear, relief, admiration, regret—so many maddening compulsions. The thick air choked me. Elements dashed my vulnerable flesh, intent on tearing me apart. All I knew was a pain so intense it felt as though it was peeling the skin from my body.

  Suddenly, the pain was gone, and smooth, soft arms closed around my flaccid body. Pathetic quivering legs collapsed beneath me. The elements previously filling the room had vanished, likely chased away by Mammon. The air tasted sweet, fresh, and light upon my lips. I sucked it in, let it sooth the burn in my chest. My body betrayed everything. I could smell the sweet sickly odor of my own fear. My skin glistened with the evidence. So wet, pink, and revolting. My stomach lurched.

  Mammon, in his bronze-skinned form, scooped my gangly body off the floor and laid me down on the bed of furs. His eyes, the color of dying leaves, regarded me with a mixture of wonder and amusement. His soft lips turned up at the corners, revealing blunt white teeth. I was too weak to care what the expression meant. If he was going to kill me, he surely would have done so already. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have almost believed he looked upon my hideous self as though somehow proud of me.

  “Rest. I will return.” His embrace vanished. I looked for him and watched as, from one step to the next, he shook off his honey-skinned form in favor of the magnificent Mammon. The door closed behind him. Wrapped in furs, exhausted, I closed my eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  “Y our other half is human.”

  It was morning, and I was ravenous. I brought the cooked thigh joint to my lips and bit down. The orderly rows of blunt, human teeth crowding my mouth made surprisingly easy work of the meat. And it tasted wonderful, moist and juicy. I picked up a ripened garu fruit and crunched deep, groaning with pleasure as the food filled my empty belly. This was too good.

  Mammon in his ‘human’ form sat casually sprawled in a chair at the end of the table. I perched on the edge of a chair, wrapped in supple leathers, as though the garments could protect my flesh from the elements. He had done something to the air—shooed away the power— so that I might walk his fortress with him. We were in the kitchens. Elementals busied themselves around us, cutting food, slicing, sorting, preparing. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, wary when any picked up a blade. The glint of light on metal always sliced through me.

  “We…” Mammon flurried a hand in the air, twisting his fingers. I had no idea what that meant but assumed he was referring to the others in the kitchen with us. “…are demon, born of the elements.”

  “Human is weak.” I grumbled around a mouthful of food. I didn’t care for what the humans called us. Demon. It meant nothing. They were nothing. Before me lay a spread of meat and fruit fit for a king—or a prince. That was real. I cared for sustenance.

  Mammon’s human face ticked, and one of the furred arches above his eye curved upward. “Of the body, perhaps. But not of the mind. In that, we are sorely lacking. They possess infinite talents. Imagination. Spirit. Passion. They live in a world where savagery is shunned. It exists, but they strive to better themselves. They are innovators. They seek the stars and will not be deterred. I admire their ambition.”

  I dropped the bone I’d been gnawing on. He’d said a lot of confusing words, most of which I didn’t understand, but I gleaned their meaning from his tone. He admired humans? “But you are a prince.” My voice was pitched too high, like a dying creature. I was a long way from manipulating words properly with fleshy lips and a wriggling, moist tongue. Mammon had mastered human speech. He spoke with a beautiful accent, his words rolled from one to the next, luscious and melodic. Mesmerizing

  “I tire. I am the Prince of Greed, forever hungry. What is there to have here? I have acquired all I can possibly possess. Besides you, little half-blood.”

  Hunger? Yes, I’d seen hunger fuel the fire in his eyes. “Where are these humans?”

  “Beyond the veil.” He must have seen the doubt flicker across my face. I had no hope of hiding my expressions in this puny human form. My own flesh refused to obey me, and Mammon appeared quite expert at reading human faces. “It is possible to pass through the veil. Princes generally avoid the realm of men. However, many higher elementals can—and do—cross.”

  “Why?”

  He leaned forward, and the thin fabric covering—he called it a shirt, though I thought it a waste to cover him up—pulled tight across his shoulders. His shoulder-length hair spilled forward, softening the effect of a sudden intensity blazing in his eyes. “Their world is young and has much potential. They build vast towers, reaching into the sky. In the dark, those towers sparkle like monoliths to their many deities. They travel in machines. Some of their contraptions fly, but most follow tracks or roads.” Firelight flickered in his eyes. “They seek company and breed mercilessly. Humans are passionate in all they do, even should they wish to do nothing. They battle, they rage, they kill, they love, they are capable of mercy in the most impossible of circumstances, and they are monstro
us.”

  “Madness.”

  “Yes. But a wonderful madness…” Dark lashes shuttered over his eyes, and a shudder rolled through him. What did he feel? What is it the humans had that he could possibly desire? His words were at odds with how my kin saw humans: as hideous beasts.

  “Are they slaves?”

  Amber eyes snapped open, and I got a glimpse of the prince inside before the amber melted away, returning his gaze to a more neutral tone. “Only to themselves.”

  I knew intimately what it felt like to be a slave to myself. My human head was filled with rambling insanity, as though dozens of voices all talked at once. Clearly, being human meant wanting a great deal and fretting over every tiny obstacle, even if those obstacles were hypothetical. It was all nonsense, and it added yet another weakness. “You go there, to this land of humans?”

  His lashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze. When his teeth bit gently into his bottom lip, my thoughts funneled to that one tiny gesture. Tearing my gaze away, I tried to reason what it was about him that had my mind chasing itself in circles. My throat dried. I reached for a cup of water to wet my lips, only to find him observing me closely. We both noticed my hand giving a little tremble. I snarled.

  He licked his lips—snagging my gaze again—and teased his fingers in swirling symbols on the tabletop. “I experience much beyond the veil. Pleasures, pains, challenges. I wear this mortal vessel and command the name Ahkeel.”

  “Ahkeel.” I tasted the name and rolled the sound of it around my slippery human tongue. “Ahh-kee-aahl. What does it mean?” He blinked back at me. After a few moments, it became clear he had no intention of answering, so I asked, “Is that the name I should call you while you wear that body?”