by Rhavensfyre
Alex’s face went blank as shock took root. Bellaria’s desire for power was even greater than she had thought. She’s mad, thinking she can rule both worlds.
Bellaria’s voice cut through the air, sharp and insistent. “Put the shackles on. You will do exactly what I want when I want…or you will both suffer for it.”
Alex bent over and picked up the heavy shackles. The thick links clinked against each other as she hefted its weight in her hand.
“It is true, Bellaria, that I will not be forsworn. But it is you who have made the fatal mistake.” Alex held the heavy circlets of iron out in front of her, taking care to let Bellaria see her lock each circlet around her wrists. “You have dwelt so hard on who and what I am, on who my mother was, that you forgot to ask about my father.”
“What does that matter? He was probably some poor dirt farmer. I know your kind’s penchant for human lovers, taking what you need and discarding your male offspring.”
“Ah, but my father was not some dirt farmer, as you put it—and I am not just a Mere.”
It was Bellaria’s turn to look confused. She stepped back a pace.
“Cold iron will not hold me.” Alex grinned at Bellaria, her lips stretched across teeth that shone white and straight against the night. She raised her arms; light erupted from the fine lines drawn into her wrist and crawled across her skin. The metal shifted, warping of its own accord as it slid away from her wrists and landed with a muffled thunk at her feet.
Alex could taste Bellaria’s fear; she could see it grow in her eyes as she watched the cold iron fall to the ground.
“That’s impossible. You shouldn’t be able to do that, not even the Greater Fae are immune to cold iron,” Bellaria said. “I saw you. Even working with the horses, you wore gloves to protect you from the steel.”
“Did you now? Are you sure that is what you saw?”
Bellaria stepped back again, almost tripping over Rohanna. She drew her dagger, pointing it wildly in Alex’s direction.
“I can still get to Rohanna before you can reach me. I will kill her!”
Alex ignored her desperate threats. She needed to finish this. She chuckled, knowing that humor would distract and enrage her enemy.
“You know us as the steeds for the Wild Hunt, but here we are our own rulers. Haven’t you ever wondered why we chose to live here, instead of staying in Faerie? Humans have such lovely dreams, and such vivid nightmares. How could we ignore that feast, that bounty of fear?”
Alex stepped sideways, watching the movement of Bellaria’s dagger weave towards her like a snake threatening to strike. Her movement kept Bellaria’s attention on her, and that was exactly what she wanted. “But I digress—or perhaps, not? Weren’t you human once, Bellaria? Or near enough to one, even after all your attempts to learn Fae magicks? You dream, do you not? I am sure even you have your nightmares.”
Bellaria’s face blanked then paled as she started to make the connection Alex was so cruelly hinting at. “Ah, I see you have at last realized your mistake. You see, Rohanna can do so much more than open gateways, she can unlock old magick and give back what was lost so long ago. A dream can exist within a dream, Bellaria…and what you desire most can create an incredibly powerful lie.”
A flash of lightning struck, close enough that Alex’s skin crawled with its power. A boom sounded, once, twice, and then a third time. Alex tipped her head, listening to the hidden message within the coming storm. She laughed then, a mad laugh that held notes of the Wild Hunt within it. A laugh that any human would respond to with irrational terror, their ancestors having learned to run from it long ago.
Bellaria retreated even farther until the sacrifice stone behind her blocked her path. The stone hummed, sensing the wild magic.
Alex’s eyes bled to the purest blue, not the bright blue of a human’s eye, nor the deep blue of her Mere form, but the wild blue of lightning as it crossed the night sky. No pupil showed in that pure hue as Alex gazed down at Bellaria, capturing her with all the power she had always coveted and would never own.
“The thunder has sounded, and the lightning has struck, Bellaria. I am here to do as you asked. It is time for us to ride the storm and pierce the veil. You will have what you demanded of me, even if it is not in the way you desired. I promised to take you to Faerie, and I will. It is unfortunate for you though, that your physical body remains apart from this place—still asleep in your bed.”
Alex felt no remorse as she gathered the woman’s soul in her arms. Bellaria screamed when the first lick of blue fire touched her. Caught in a nightmare woven of her own dark desires, she was powerless to prevent Alex from taking her.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The maid hovered in front of Miss Belinda’s bedroom door, wondering if she should knock on the door. The staff weren’t allowed to knock on her door; they were expected to be in front of the door at a certain time and Miss Belinda would call for them.
She nervously tucked a stray lock of hair under the crisp white cap of her maid’s uniform and tried not to fidget. The traditional uniform was dreary and uncomfortable, but worst of all, it itched like crazy the minute you started sweating. As nervous as she was at the moment, the wool was starting to feel like a swarm of mosquitos had taken up residence under her dress.
The maid stared at the door, then down at the breakfast tray in her hands, contemplating how bad it would be to just turn around and go about the rest of her day. “Oh, it would be so bad,” she whispered, knowing in her heart of hearts that if she left, she might as well just go home. Belinda would fire her for sure, and probably dock her last paycheck just for spite.
Miss Belinda was a stickler for form and function and she made sure that every member of the staff understood their place. They were the servants, she was the head of the house and that was that.
Her family didn’t understand why she would work for someone like Miss Belinda, but she needed the job so she kept her mouth shut and put up with her employer’s outdated ways. Besides, no matter how bad it was here, it was better than being a drone at the local factory, which was about all there was available for someone like her.
The silver tray was getting heavy. She wasn’t willing to earn the woman’s wrath because she didn’t get her breakfast on time, but now she was worrying about serving Miss Belinda a cold breakfast.
That won’t do, either. She had to make a decision. Miss Belinda had been very specific in her orders about not entering her private rooms unless invited, but she was also just as punctual in her daily schedule as she expected her employee’s to be. The door should have opened by now.
Chewing her lip, the maid shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unable to decide what to do. Setting the tray down, the maid tread softly towards the door, pressing her ear tightly to the door. Unable to hear anything through the heavy wood, she sighed in resignation. Smoothing her apron down, she gathered up her tray and entered the room, praying she wasn’t making a mistake.
“Miss Belinda? I’m sorry to come in like this, but your breakfast is getting cold and I know how hot you like your tea.” The maid was so nervous she practically tiptoed into the room with her eyes firmly planted on the carpeting at her feet. A wind gust blew the curtain in on her as she passed the window and she squeaked like a frightened mouse. The rug was drenched and a stream of water ran along the baseboards. “Miss Belinda? Did you leave the window open all night with the storm? There’s water everywhere!”
She set the tray down and rubbed the goosebumps popping up on her arms. “It’s freezing in here. Let me close the window for you.”
She’d done everything she could to avoid meeting her employer’s face, but she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. She took a deep, fortifying breath, hoping to find a little courage before picking the tray back up, then turned to face the grand four poster bed.
“Oh, God, no!” she screamed. The tray fell from nerveless fingers to clatter across the floor, the hot tea spilling across the already damp r
ug.
The sound of silver crashing brought the rest of the house staff running. Their footsteps faltered when they reached the maid. She stood shaking in the doorway, eyes wild with terror, her clenched fist pressed to her open mouth. Blood ran down her wrist where she had bitten her own knuckle. Queries were met with the strangled cry of someone screaming in their sleep. All she could do was shake her head and point towards the bedroom door. A piteous wailing ghosted out of the room, gaining volume until she was forced to clamp her hands over her ears.
“Oh, make it stop, please!” she begged.
The other staff pushed past her. Someone grabbed her firmly by the arms and moved her out of the way while the cook and one of the grooms bravely surged forward. Their forward momentum wavered, then fell apart completely, stumbling over each other in a competition to see who could retreat the quickest.
Peter, the head groom, stomped up the stairs in his boots and pushed past the two men. “Fools, what are you doing in Miss Belinda’s room?” An older man with greying hair and a slim beard cut tight around his jawline, he took one look inside the room and started demanding answers. “What has happened here?” he asked, then made a curt motion with his hand. He turned on the other men and shoved them towards Belinda. “Never mind. You two, get ahold of her before she hurts herself.”
Miss Belinda was curled up in the corner of the room, the expensive silk threaded wallpaper above her shredded and hanging in tendrils as if she had tried to dig through the wall with her fingernails. Her nightgown lay loosely about her thin shoulders, bright red splotches of color dotting the otherwise pristine white where she had scratched bloody nail marks across the fabric.
“Go!” he bellowed again. Everyone in the room jumped. The two men couldn’t have moved faster if Peter had taken a whip to their backs. They rushed forward to help the ailing woman. When they touched her arms, she shrieked and violently lashed out at them with hands warped and twisted into claw-like appendages. Both men backed away when she lifted her head. Blind eyes sought them out, then settled on their faces.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” the cook cried out, crossing himself even as he skittered away from the jagged fingernails slashing in his direction. “Look at her face. What’s wrong with her?”
The slate-grey eyes that could stop a person in their tracks with a single imperious look were now a pale milky white. Her red hair stood out crazily about her head, a wide streak of white running across her temple like a banner. Dried blood filled the lines around her mouth, oozing from dried and cracked lips whose only moisture came from the spittle running down her chin.
“A good question,” Peter said, turning on the maid. “Was anyone up here before you?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “We sent up her evening tea like we always do, and she sent us home. She does that sometimes, lets us go early. No one else was here last night that I know of.”
Belinda shrieked, a high pitched howl that devolved into piteous wailing. The ghostly sound grew louder until it was almost unbearable to listen to. It was the sound of a trapped animal grieving its own death because it hadn’t the sense to know it was still alive. The noise finally, mercifully, descended into mad laughter so ragged it might have been described as cries of grief if it had been anyone else. Of all the emotions they had thought the cruel woman was capable of, fear and sorrow rarely came to mind.
“We can’t just leave her like this, we need to call someone.” The men looked at each other. They seemed unsure what to do as if each of them was waiting for the other to act first.
“Miss Belinda?” Peter finally asked, kneeling in front of his employer. He reached out to try to calm the crazed woman. He snatched his hand back when she growled at him, her teeth snapping towards his open hand. Bloody spittle oozed from her gaping mouth, flying about her when she began hysterically laughing again.
“Leave her be.”
Peter looked behind him. A young maid stood there, staring down at Miss Belinda with a look of pity on her face. “Can’t you see that you’re scaring her, crowding so close? I’ll keep an eye on her. Someone should probably call an ambulance.”
“And who are you to be telling me what to do?” Peter asked, bristling at the young woman’s cheekiness.
“Why, I’m no one at all, Peter. It’s just obvious that it needs to be done and don’t you think the one in charge should do something so important?”
She turned her attention to her audience and addressed them as well.
“I think Miss Belinda’s maid could use a cup of tea to calm her nerves. Do you think you could do that for me?”
The room cleared out as quickly as it had filled.
As soon as she was left alone with Belinda, Shyann squatted down close to the insane woman.
“Ah, Bellaria. It would be so easy to be cruel to you now after all the things you’ve done to Rohanna…all the things you’ve put her through.” Shyann reached out to caress Bellaria’s face. She screeched and pulled away, twisting her body at an unnatural angle to avoid Shyann’s touch, but the old woman was no match for her speed.
Shyann smirked. Bellaria’s soul no longer occupied this body; what was left was just a hollow shell…a repository for a lifetime of bad dreams that swam in the murky waters of what was left of her mind. Not a single spark remained that could be recovered and made whole again and that made her very, very happy.
Satisfied with what she found, Shyann walked away, leaving the woman to drown in her own personal nightmare.
No one saw her leave, just as no one had really noticed her arrival. Red lights flashed through the windows, letting her know that the ambulance had arrived to take Bellaria away. On her way out the kitchen door, Shyann murmured a quick suggestion that perhaps someone should let Rohanna know what had happened. The stunned maid just nodded, staring down at the teacup in her hand. She hadn’t even bothered to look up at her. Shyann was pleased. No one would remember the extra maid that had been so helpful last night, offering to prepare Miss Belinda’s evening tea and bring it up to her. The one originally assigned had been too happy to be relieved of the onerous duty and too thrilled to hear that she could leave early.
She headed for the nearest trail and didn’t stop until she was well within the tree line.
“Time to go home,” Shyann murmured, smiling up at the heavily crowned forest rising above her. She tore the maid’s uniform from her body and crumpled it into a small ball, grimacing at the uncomfortable and demeaning outfit before finding a fitting rock to cram it under. If she had her knife, she would have cut it into ribbons so that some animal or another could use it to line their nest.
Alex is so going to owe me for the indignity of wearing such an ugly garment, she thought, even if it does give me an excuse to run sky-clad through the forest.
***
The ambulance pulled away from the house, its heavy springs creaking as it drove down the driveway. The paramedics were polite young men who efficiently packed up Miss Belinda, promising the staff waiting outside that they would take good care of her as they securely buckled the struggling woman into the stretcher. The staff simply nodded and waited until the red and white box van rolled away before returning to the house.
“What do you suppose happened to her?” one of the staff asked. “Do you think it was a stroke? My aunt had a stroke, but she didn’t act like that.”
“I don’t know. Maybe things finally just caught up with her. It’s probably best not to ask questions we don’t want the answers to,” another answered before heading back into the house.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Alex slipped back under the blankets and curled up next to Rohanna as if she had never left her side. She didn’t bother with pajamas. She enjoyed the feel of Ro’s bare skin against hers too much, and after last night, she didn’t want any barriers between them.
Alex could never explain how comforting the sound of Ro’s steady breathing was, or how Ro’s heartbeat seemed to meter out the time they shared toget
her, beating in time with hers. All she knew was that she would never tire of holding Ro in her arms and listen to her dreaming. Alex made a silent oath to Rohanna then, brushing her lips through the silken-blonde hair and inhaling her scent. Rohanna would never feel the terror of another nightmare, not as long as Alex was there to keep them away. That was one promise Alex could be sure of—that and her love.
Alex yawned, feeling exhaustion setting in. Despite her abilities, she still required rest, real rest that didn’t involve invading others dreams, and while the night sky had not yet given way to the morning sun, pale streaks of pre-dawn blues and greys were already combing greedy fingers through the fading stars. Venus still hung low in the sky, its brighter light winking at her through the bedroom window and reminding her to sleep while she could.
Several hours later, Rohanna opened her eyes and groaned. Her body resisted doing her bidding. Her joints popped stiffly when she tried to move, every muscle protesting by sending sharp pains travelling down her back. One particularly nasty knot settled solidly between her shoulder blades, making it hard to turn her head.
She groaned a second time, this time in blissful submission when a pair of warm hands found her tight and aching muscles and began to knead out the small balls of pain running the length of her back. Small noises escaped from her that told her lover how wonderful it felt while begging her not to stop.
Despite her hedonistic desire to continue enjoying Alex’s massage, Ro had too many questions about last night. She turned onto her back to look up at Alex. While effectively ending the massage, her movement left other parts of her body open to Alex’s touch. An insistent mouth descended on her own, soft lips teased a chaste kiss from her that took a decidedly more intimate turn when Alex’s tongue slipped between her lips, seeking out Rohanna’s. Before the kiss could build irreversible momentum, Rohanna pulled away. She did it reluctantly, her breathing already ragged from the first wave of desire Alex’s kiss awakened in her.