by Elle Lincoln
Trying to quell the pain that no one knew what the hell happened to her—the mystery that will forever lurk in the back of my mind—and the fact that I will never die to find the truth. Because the only answers I will ever find are locked away by death himself.
“Bette,” her melodic voice calls.
I can’t look at her, I can’t acknowledge the hell of reliving the pain she wrought me.
“Look at me, Bette.” Closer now. I squeeze my eyes shut. Refusing the reality standing before me.
Because surely someone is fucking with me in some horrific way. Torture. I had prepared myself to be torn from limb to limb, but not once did I prepare for psychological torture.
“Oh, Bette, look at you all grown up.” I know it isn’t her, but I can’t seem to get my heart on board with that fact.
You can’t bring the dead back to life. Can you? Can someone in this new world I live in actually bring my mother back to life?
I peek between my fingers. She’s standing so fucking close to me, I can almost smell her perfume. Like wet cotton on a rainy day. The comfort swamps me and I try to shut that shit down before my eyes start leaking some form of wet salt.
“You aren’t real.” I expose my face, watching her, knowing there is no way this is real. But that bitch hope is still whispering in the back of my mind.
“Of course I’m real.” I twist her wedding band around my finger.
“Tell me, what were your last words to me?” She backs up a step.
I drop my hand into the sand as her lips curve into a deadly smile. She sighs and lifts one delicate shoulder. “I guess you caught me.”
“I’d rather you be in some kind of normal body if we’re going to do this.”
“Like this?” The voice transforms to Balor’s, her body contorting into his large frame. Clothes fall away and a kilt rests on his hips.
“Unhelpful.” I swallow. If this thing can turn into anyone, the consequences of such an action are too vast to even compute in my puny brain. “What do you want?” My voice is hollow and bereft.
“Submit.” I’m already shaking my head as the body turns back into Arnold.
“Why? I’m no one.” Isn’t that what I’ve been telling myself all this time?
“We have ways to make you submit.” I bet you do.
It dawns on me. A small fact I clearly overlooked. “You need me willing. Why?”
Why could a species of individuals such as the Fae need me?
“It isn’t that simple, child.” A voice as soft and sweet as a damn cupcake drifts down to me. I look up, seeing the aging Fae. His long, wintery beard hangs to his chest and a crown of golden thorns adorns his head. Yeah, it’s like when you bite into that cupcake and realize it a damn carrot cake. Bitter lies.
“And tell me, why, Your Highness.” My ass is slowly going numb. I can smell the sickly sour smell of my sweat saturating my clothing. This day is getting worse by the fucking moment.
“I’ll tell you the truth if you consider submitting.” A smile lifts his lips, showing yellowing teeth. Decay is deep inside him, spilling out into a disturbing visualization.
My body shudders as something strange envelops me. I don’t like the feeling and I’m not completely sure what it means exactly. Yet I know it definitely isn’t good.
“What did you do to me?”
“Made you an offer, I await your reply.” It’s a trap. I don’t know how, but I know it’s a damn trap.
Yet. I do want to know why they want me willing. There are many human drugs that he could use to manipulate me. But he doesn’t. Probably because he isn’t aware they exist.
Fuck, we are all screwed if the worlds merge and these royal pain in the asses negotiate with the government. That is one scary as fuck thought.
I look up at him and I don’t even have to say the words before my throat is being constricted and my mind blanks.
“Good.” Knew it was a trick.
As the magic releases and I can breathe again, I stare daggers up at the asshole who just conned me into a bargain. Isn’t there something about never bargaining with the Fae? Hell, I don’t know, but it makes me hostile to think about.
“My son seems to believe you can help us. Or rather help kill me.” His cold blue eyes dart behind him. I can only assume Ryoden sits there. “See, you can do something none of us have the ability to accomplish.”
I snort. The setting sun burns my eyes and I’m forced to look down. Listening to a disembodied voice.
“You can determine friend from foe.” And there it is folks. I’m not even surprised. Not really. It’s the only trick I have since I’m a one trick pony. “And once the worlds merge, and they will, we will build a new empire.”
I just want to build a mashed potato empire and drench it in gravy with a side of dirty souls. Like his, I bet his soul would taste like gravy.
“Have you ever actually ventured out of the Realm and into the human world?” I’m not sure he’s aware of all the obstacles he is going to run into. Especially scared southerners, armed to the teeth. They are one scary bunch.
“Of course not, I have my son for that.” His words only confirm how foolish his goals really are.
I just snort and keep quiet. He will realize soon enough. That is until I wonder at his response to the humans. “Why take humans?”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “Their blood fed the Realm for a time. Now nothing appeases the bastard. Tell me, will you submit?”
“Hell no.” Even more so now. Did he really and truly believe he made a decent case here? It was a terrible case.
“So be it.” He backs away from the railing and I’m once again left with Arnold. What a name.
The entire conversation and glance into my memories feels anticlimactic. As though they knew I’d never agreed to what they want. Again, that sense of dread sweeps through me. I stand to bounce on the balls of my feet. Just waiting.
I sense a shift in the air and I duck just as a dagger flies over my head to embed itself into the wall. If I keep moving, maybe I will somehow come out of this alive. I roll and then dissolve. Feeling myself grow stronger due to the length of time it took them to talk.
I know I’m going to need all the strength I can get, because playing this cat and mouse game will only last for so long. I haven’t fed, of the sinner variety. I think back to my original plan. That ring is everything. And my ticket out of here. I take a quick peek up to the balcony, but I see no one.
Good.
I focus completely on Arnold. His smile is sadistic, as though he’s picturing all the ways he can kill me.
He tosses another dagger at me, but this time I don’t actually bother to move out of the way. I’m misty, what could go wrong.
I screech out in pain as the dagger actually embeds itself in my shoulder. At least he isn’t trying to kill me. Yet. I don’t bother looking down as I grip the handle. My now corporeal hands wrap around the hilt as I make sure to bloody them.
If the damn thing can hit me while I’m the mist then it can come with me. I know each wound weakens me and my shot at actually getting out of this dissolves with each wound I have to wait to heal.
I turn to the mist and shoot across at him. His eyes widen in shock. Clearly, he expected to just play this with him as the dominant predator.
Life doesn’t always work out that way but I do my best not to get too cocky.
I’m moving too fast for him to react and I stab the dagger deep into his belly. I can feel the flesh rip and tear as it cuts through and blood spills over my hands. Guess I didn’t need to bloody my own after all. I rip the dagger free, ignoring the sweet scent of leprechaun blood dripping onto the sandy floor.
It doesn’t take him long to react as pain splits my side with a deep burning. I duck beneath his legs and twist, again stabbing his back. I duck and roll backward. But he’s done playing with me. I should have known, Patrick plays dirty and he’s damn good at it. His cousin proves the same.
The wind leave
s my lungs as I slam down onto the sand and my head slaps back, sending small specks to float in the air. I close my eyes against their gritty onslaught.
Another piercing burn slips into my gut, and my hands are ripped free of the dagger then held above my head in one of his own.
I only smile at him because he’s holding my hands with the one that has that fucking ring. And we are a full bloody mess at this point.
I shut away the pain, securing it into a lockbox deep inside my mind. One where I can access it later. I even seem to ignore his taunting smile as my own blood permeates the air while his dagger slips under my skin.
Despite my best attempts, the pain seeps through no matter how hard I try to shut it down. My body twists away from his hand, my own twisting in pain. Somehow, I manage to remember that fucking ring. As he keeps sliding his knife under my skin, I slip the ring free of his finger and onto my thumb—over my mother’s wedding band. I can’t think about how I feel like I’m defiling her memory.
Not now when a scream tears through me. My vision darkens and my grip on the pain slips through my mental grasp.
“Arnold!” That voice, I know it. Sounds concerned. Panicked even. “Secure her.”
Yeah, because I’m going to fucking go real far. The weight of his body leaves mine and his hands let go of my own. I slump into the sand. My mission accomplished. He drags my body through the sand and the creak of a door assaults me. Every sense I own is heightened to an obnoxious degree.
The door slams back against my head as I’m once again dragged through the corridor. Footsteps pound and there are frantic shouts all around us. The castle is in chaos. It’s the perfect opportunity to break free.
I just need one fucking moment. I can do this. I can move my body I can break free. I got the ring after all. The ring! I should be able to use my magic. I didn’t feel the dampening spell leech out the last of my strength.
I coax that darkness that sleeps inside of me. But she’s too tired from reviving me and hell, just keeping me awake. She shudders and yawns before burrowing her head under metaphorical pillows. I can feel my body pushing closer toward darkness. Slumber is just at my fingertips. I urge her once again. Needing her to wake up. With each step closer toward the dungeon, I lose the possibility of escape.
Finally, she stretches to see what’s going on. Then, as though ice water has been dumped on us, she dives into Arnold and consumes him without a single thought. I shut away his sins and ignore them as I finally close my eyes and allow the healing to fully begin.
“I leave you alone for one day.” I startle awake and peer up at the most beautiful man I’ve ever freaking seen. His eyes are a crystalline blue and his hair a vibrant gold. Though he is smothered in dirt and his body is hollowed at the cheeks, there is no mistaking him.
“Aengus?” This is the god I was roomed beside?
“Of course. It seems as though a bit of luck has gone our way.” He peers around before hefting me up under my armpits to drag me down the corridor.
“You are going the wrong way.” I just came from there.
“Did you just eat a man?” He ignores my question.
“No.” I didn’t really eat him. Just the most important part of him. I ate him.
“Hmm.” He isn’t convinced, hell, neither am I.
“Do you know how to get out of here?” Everything looks the same. From the paths to the cells, everything. It’s one big underground labyrinth.
“Mostly.” I’m going to take that as a no. He looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
“Getting stronger by the minute.” I hold up the ring I stole.
“That is clever, but it won’t help you here. The walls have come down from an outside source. Those rings are attuned to the wearer.”
“Are you trying to tell me I stole it for nothing?” Here I was giving myself a mental pat on the back. Fucking pointless.
“No. You can attune it. It just isn’t attuned at the present.” He props me against the wall.
I look down for the first time, seeing my shirt hanging off my shoulders in tears. Is that? “Oh shit.” I grab skin that’s literally hanging from my body and slap it back against my exposed muscle.
“I thought you saw that.” He frowns while peeking around a door.
“Nope.” Bile moves up my throat.
I will not puke. I will not.
I wait for that burn to take over and somewhat seal my skin to my body. “So gross.”
“Welcome to immortality.” Aengus gives me a broad, genuine smile. I kind of want to smack it off his face.
I tentatively move my hand away, and when it stays still, I shuffle to the door.
“Not sure we want to go past there.” He jerks his head in the direction past the door.
I look beyond. Seeing... my guys taking down Fae soldiers with their pinky fingers. Relief spreads through me. Or maybe that’s the blood rushing around my body.
Because the next thing I know, I’m falling to the floor. I vaguely hear Aengus say, “Uh oh.” Then nothing.
Chapter 22
Bette
Doubtful Dreaming
Thunder rumbles in the distance before a crack splits the air and lightning flashes, highlighting every shadow. A damp cold settles in my bones, seeping into me from the cold stone floor, which presses against my exposed skin. My body begins to shake, my teeth chatter together, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the drip drip drip of ice-cold water dropping from above. I turn away, the cold now easing the deep bruise settling in my stomach.
My eyes flutter open once more, fighting against the crust of sleep. My matted hair spreads around me in a hellish halo and the patter of rain increases, until a fine mist drifts in from outside my arched window. I clench my teeth against that cold mist that teases my skin, leaving dew.
Another crack splits the air and the scent of ozone permeates the atmosphere. I inhale the clean, fresh scent just as another shiver racks through me. An uncontrollable burn begins to itch my body, but no amount of scratching eases the restlessness of my muscles. The twitch and flex without conscious thought.
An ache begins behind my eyelids. Hammering my skull with ice shards. That feeling of surmounting doom skitters up my spine with the premonition of death. Whose death, I don’t know. The air becomes saturated with it and I ease myself into a sitting position. Again, my muscles flex and my body shivers with the need to fucking run.
Run. Or die. It’s as simple as that. No matter how tired I am of running.
As thunder rolls and lightning strikes, another almost inaudible sound pierces my senses.
And again.
There.
A slap against stone jerks my head to the window. I skitter backward, falling over, as pale hair moves ever so slowly above. Until cold, emotionless eyes meet mine.
Wake.
Wake.
Pulse hammering, I jerk into a sitting position as my eyes, wild and panicked, dart around the room. Seeking that threat. It’s here. I can feel it in my bones.
Shivers rack through my body once more and I can do nothing but succumb to their demand.
“Lay down, yer still healing.” Startled, I glance down at Patrick. His thick, red brows pull down as he studies me. My heart is so fucking loud in my ears. I’m now shaking with the need to flee. “What is it?”
I open my mouth to speak, but another body pressed beside my numb one sits up.
“We aren’t alone,” Logan whispers over my naked skin. I should be worried I can’t feel them.
“They’re coming.” I barely get the words out before thunder pierces the air, rain splatters in hard rivulets, then lightning strikes the air with that teasing ozone.
I’m scrambling out of the bed as quick as possible. My limbs struggle and don’t want to obey me. I have no idea where we are, but the room is identical to the one in my dream. Except for the bed and the guys. Not finding clothes, I snatch the sheet from the bed and wrap it around myself. But not before seeing the deep bruising on my
stomach where Dr. Frankenstein tried sewing me back together.
And failed.
“Bette.” I jerk my head toward Patrick, hearing concern in his whispered voice. He’s wearing only pants with his suspenders to the sides. His torso is bare but I don’t look.
“Two more lightening strikes.” I walk toward the door, pulling on my link with the others, afraid to taint the threads. “Then they will be here.”
Logan is leaning out the window, also wearing only jeans, and he jerks back quickly just as Mac, Casseus, and Balor pound through the door. The heavy wood slams against the bedroom wall with a crack. Logan unbuttons his pants and drops them, shifting into a wolf so quickly my eyes can’t adjust.
Until lightning flashes through the room.
I’m running, flinging the door back open, and sprinting down a hallway. I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring the shouts from behind me. I skid to a stop and back away. Shadows dance just beyond the open windows here. My body bumps into a hard one and arms encircle my body. The scent of leather tells me it’s Balor.
“Shh.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
The others fan out around us and I finally realize we are in a castle of some sort.
“Some storm, isn’t it?” Aengus practically yells over the storm, just as the lightning strikes for the third time.
A chorus of hushes has Aengus standing tall with the others. It really doesn’t take a genius to figure out exactly what’s going on.
The door thumps.
“They know we’re here.” Patrick’s voice is dry, but I can sense his anger just beneath the surface.
“Where is here and who knows we are here?” I’m still whispering because it’s the dead of the freaking night, and that’s just what you do at that moment in time.
“Morgana,” Casseus replies, before shifting into the raven and flying back up the steps, probably to fly out a window there.
“Seriously? Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t learn from her lessons immediately.” I scrub a hand down my face and wince. “Why am I not healing?” I should be healing.