by Elle Lincoln
“It will have to do. She will outgrow anything we give her for the time being.” Bette was wrong. It isn’t five years per month, but more like two or one. Dragons have a gap where she will age normally once she reaches adulthood. Most immortals don’t consider eighteen an adult, but twenty or twenty-two. Those years until twenty-seven are when most die.
I keep that to myself as well.
Dragons once roamed the lands in abundance. Some being born of the Earth and the Realm. From the depths of Hell to the icy arctic. But mortals aren’t the only ones hungry for war. Many creatures are. Many still carry around the teeth and scales of dragons they killed eons ago.
I shake myself from the dark thoughts of a useless murder, drawing myself to the present and away from a time I’d prefer to keep in the past.
Ember had dressed in the pink catastrophe while I took a mental detour. Cas and Mac are already walking off, hopefully to do something useful.
This place is a hell of a fortress. Or it could be. The potential is endless. With enough room for Patrick to stop complaining that he is being suffocated by us—the bastard—he can still build his freaking tree house somewhere in these woods.
“Come.” I walk toward the tree line, hearing their footsteps follow behind.
This area is less developed than the cities we’ve explored since the rise of magic. Woods stretch out for miles with small, deserted shopping centers, which have been ravaged for their necessitates. Something we should also see to—more clothing, supplies for torches, and food.
Although we can go longer without eating, I’m unsure of what a dragon will consume. Bette was right for thinking that a teenage dragon will be hell.
Yes, that thought alone makes me inclined to stay here. This will be our new castle.
“I need you two to scent out the others. They will hide, but they are here, I sense them.” I eye the darkening woods, my one good eye sharp, noting every movement and brush of a leaf.
“What is it you hope to gain?” I turn to Logan who strips off his shirt, throwing it toward the tree line we just came from.
“A village. A people.” I pause, turning away as his pants roll down his hips. Luckily, Ember has walked off to change behind a tree. “A following willing to fight for a territory, for us.” The last is a hopeful joke, but perhaps if they see me, live and in the flesh, they will agree.
Or they will try to kill me on site. Then, I’ll just let Ember eat them.
“You think what Casseus said will help?” Logan pauses before shifting.
“What do you mean?” I look at the wolf, nearing his own immortal state. He’s the youngest of us by far, but learning quickly.
“That with a group of different types of creatures we are formidable.”
The boy has a point. One I didn’t think of for this instance, but an argument I will use.
His smug smile isn’t lost on me as he shifts, sniffing the ground. A flash of light and Ember steps out, shaking her red-orange scales.
“Search the area,” I command, watching as they dart away.
I push through the overgrown forest, no landscapers to keep it trimmed and tidy. I’m surprised more creatures didn’t take over this residence. Yet, I suspect it has to do with those who hide in the foliage. Bette chose well. Though we are only but a few miles from her home, this area has more potential. If only I can convince those surrounding this mansion to agree with me.
The forest sleeps, thick and dense. Ahead, I can just make out ropes reaching from tree to tree, an indication that those who lived in the Realm now reside here. The forest from there overtaking what was once here. The Realm held an ambiance to it, the air crackled with magic, charging every living being. Now, that crackle is diluted, and immortals are converging to areas where that energy flow is the strongest.
This area holds enough power to recharge the most wounded creature.
A crack of a twig jerks my head in its direction. I see nothing, but I can feel eyes on me.
Logan comes bounding out of the forest to sit at my side, his ears pulling back and an arrow siting out of his hide. I reach down, keeping my eyes trained on the forest, and yank the wooden stick out. I can only assume Ember is invisible somewhere above us, but if there are any Celtic gods, they will see her, unfortunately that is not a gift I was blessed with.
“Balor of the Evil Eye!” A distorted voice echoes all around me, ruining my ability to pinpoint the sound.
“It is I.” The eye patch gives me away.
“Why are you here?” Again, that damn echo.
“I come to offer my protection.”
Snickers reverberate all around me.
“What makes you think we need you?” Finally, a single woman emerges from the forest, a cowl much like Casseus and Bette’s hiding her features in shadow.
“Because the Fae are declaring war on all.”
“If I am not mistaken, that is your fault.” Her scratchy voice sends a shiver up my spine. I have an increasing suspicion I know what kind of creatures I’m facing, and I wish Logan had warned me first.
This could end up in our death. Him for good, and me for a while.
“No.” I increase my voice to rise above the rest, to drown out all delicate sounds of the forest until it is but my voice echoing through the trees. “You know as well as I that the Fae are planning something bigger, working together—”
“Never!” She cuts me off. “The kings and queens of ole never worked together. They never will.”
“And yet they are,” I counter. “I offer protection, a home, in this new world.”
Again, the creature laughs, stepping before me. She lifts her hands, grey as a stormy sea, nails long and pointed, reaching for her cowl and revealing her features. I do not flinch, I do not blink, instead, I hold myself immobile, my eyes never leaving her ghoulish gaze.
“Brave or foolish.” Her voice is softer now that she knows I’m not leaving.
“You know I cannot die by a banshee’s wail.” But Ember and Logan can, if they deem it so.
“Yet I can kill the Fae, so again I ask why you think we need you?” Her blackened lips pout, but those deep, inky eyes watch me with interest.
“I know you can only kill if fate deems it so, your lies do not fool me.”
“I cannot lie.”
“You stretch the truth. Tell me, have you had a premonition that the Fae will die?” I challenge.
She takes a narrow step back, her head cocking to the left. “Show me your memories, demon.”
I wince, I’ve not been called a demon in a long fucking time. I am no demon, I am a God of Death. Delivering it as needed.
“See what you must for us to convince you.” I kneel before her, grinding my teeth against the pain to come.
“You will need us before the week is through. If only to keep the dragon alive.” Her smirk is full of vicious teeth as her hand shoots out, those claws digging deep into my scalp.
I swallow back my rage, as Logan whimpers behind me, and Ember flaps her wings, distorting the air with her fury. I hold a hand up. If I want a truce, if I want people to follow me once more, then I must sacrifice myself. I get the feeling this will be but the first time of many. I will do whatever it takes to keep these lands free of those who wish to do us harm. Enemies come in many forms.
Logan and Ember back away. I take a deep, calming breath before sneering up at the banshee. “Do your worst.”
Her power seeps into me through the claws piercing my skin, sinking deeper and deeper. Ice fills my veins. At first, it’s nothing more than a chill, but it deepens to an arctic blast. My body seizes and I grind my teeth against the torture.
Banshees are an unforgiving race. They seek, they determine, they foreshadow. They are never fucking wrong. Her words will seal the future. I need that to go in my favor. I swallow my pride and let her icy power enter my brain. I shut off the connection I share with the others.
They don’t need to feel this.
A scream lodges on my
tongue, frozen in place, and she pierces my memories. My gaze is locked on her amused face. Her smile malicious and cruel, even for me. A black tongue licks her parched lips.
“Delicious,” she coos.
I care not. All my focus is on not screaming through her mental invasion, feeling as though an ice pick digs around in my head, swirling my brain into a soupy mess.
“Go ahead and scream.” She leans in, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
“Get what you need and get out of my fucking head,” I grind out.
“You love her,” she sneers, as though the concept is foreign. It was to me once as well. “There we are.”
I’m standing once more in the rubble as my memory plays out, watching from a different perception, as though I was never there.
“Listen,” she hisses.
I cannot. My blood roars in my veins. I watch as Ceth, Ryoden, and Mab talk in a voiceless rage. But I know the words, they are forever seared into me.
“They plan something much greater than you are ready for.”
I grunt in response.
Her withdrawal is just as violent as her intrusion. She takes a step back, her long tongue licking my blood from her fingernails. Her lengthy dark hair floats behind her in a wind I cannot feel.
I roll my shoulders, standing before the banshee. “Do you agree?”
“Perhaps. But what is in it for me? For us?” She spins, laughter dancing on her tongue. “We are happy here.”
I turn, there are other clans and packs to talk to, and time is of the essence.
“Wait, Balor of the Evil Eye,” she jeers, yet I stop, not daring to look behind me. “I know your power. I know you walk a fine line of sanity and insanity. One step and you fall off that cliff. She binds you. They bind you.”
All her words ring true, it is nothing I didn’t already know.
“You bound yourself to them, they are the only reason I consider your protection,” she spits. “With them, you will reign as the king you were meant to be. Without them, the world will fall.”
I close my eyes, I know this truth as well.
“We accept.”
“What have you seen, demon?” I turn, opening my eyes and spitting her words back at her.
“I see many things.” She lifts her cowl, hiding her ghoulish features as several others step free of their hiding places.
“What do you see?” I ask once more, ready to move on.
“Head north of these woods. You will find more allies there.” She turns, dismissing me.
My nostrils flare and my annoyance increases.
Logan shifts as we leave their den or whatever it is. “How many more?”
“All of them.” I pause, looking down at the wolf. “The pack?”
“Gone, they’ve fled north.” I wonder if the direction is of significance. For right now, though, I dismiss it. There is more to be done and little time to do it.
“Whatever the demoness isn’t saying is important.” I breathe the pine into my lungs, letting it soothe me. “War is coming. I hold no prisoners.”
Chapter 11
Bette
Reunited and it Sucks
A dull ache distracts me from the endless stream of words flowing from Patrick’s mouth. I rub my temple in an attempt to ease the pain. Luckily, the sun has yet to rise, so there is no need to make this headache worse than it already is. Though it is different from a normal headache, as though someone is in there, checking things out. I’m not impressed.
“Where are we going again?” I know I’ve asked Patrick the same thing a few times, yet I can’t seem to focus on any one thing for too long.
“Into town, aren’t you listening to me?” He peers down at me with one, bushy red brow raised, and he breaches my personal space.
“No,” I admit, a small smile on my face. Half the time I’m only listening to his accent anyway.
He scoffs, “Yer eye is twitching. What’s on your mind?”
“My head just aches.” Again, I rub my temple to ease the pain that seems to dull just a bit.
“Eh, probably one of the guys blocking ya, I’ve got the same pain.” He shrugs, kicking an old soda can down the road. The aluminum bounces with a ting, causing a longing for sugary sweets and soda.
“That makes a good bit of sense, to be honest.” I dismiss the odd pain from my mind as much as I can, focusing on the task at hand.
My eyes adjusted to the dark long ago, seeing shadows and lines in varying shades of black and grey. Dawn is close, I can feel it and sense it in the darkness that consumes us, shrouding us in a blanket of pitch-black.
“You have an idea on how to find a Fae that doesn’t want to be found?” I’m referring to Kelsie, my slippery best friend. The one everyone seems to be looking for. “If her father and Mab can’t find her, then I doubt we will be able to.”
“The whole thing smells like shite to me. Nasty smelling, big pile of shite,” he grumbles. “Anything about yer childhood that might help?”
I yank my hair back, frustratingly pulling it into a ponytail. My borrowed, or probably stolen, sneakers are a size too small, my pink sweatpants read juicy on the butt, and one of the guys thought it was funny to hand me a pink crop top. I look like a bubblegum queen instead of a formidable foe. No wonder the icy queens and the Fae always dress to impress. It’s intimidating as hell. I mentally add that to my to-do list while in town. This outfit alone is making me crabby.
“Bars, we always snuck out. Okay, I snuck out and she told her mom she was sleeping over, but instead I drug her to a bar.” Even at thirteen, I was fascinated by the drunk men and women. Acting out, or as I like to think, pulling off the mask that sobriety demands.
It’s a passing theory. One I found interesting at thirteen. One that I observed, learning behaviors, and how men and women react. The worst of it? Women play coy, hard to get, and yet there are so many who love the attention. No wonder men are so confused.
“Damn right we are.” Patrick bops my nose with his thumb. I blink dumbly up at him, not even sure what the hell just happened.
“Did you just bop me on the nose?” This man, I swear, is insane.
“Yes.” That’s it, that’s all he has to say about it. I shake it off, moving back to the actual issue at hand. “We roamed the woods, finding the quiet, just hanging out.”
“Ya remember where?”
“Everywhere, the woods behind our homes, the school, the bar. We just hiked the trails, usually I brought liquor.” But was there one place we preferred over the others? That is the question.
“You were a terrible influence,” Patrick points out, stating the obvious.
I know I was. “You don’t think she’d be at the hardware store?” Her parents owned a hardware store she worked at, which is where I found her after my dive into immortality.
“It’s been plucked clean. No reason to stay there.”
“Unhelpful. Her mom is a witch, right?” Things I’m still learning about my elusive best friend.
“Aye, from what I recall.”
“Don’t they congregate in covens?” Or is that just illogical?
“Some do,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “There is a local coven, just outside of town, or there was.”
“How would you even know?”
“Been here for a while.” He lifts me up, swinging me around. “Don’t doubt me, girl.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood on our Fae hunt. “Okay, okay.” I smile. “Lead me, oh great and whimsical leprechaun.”
“As you wish, little one.” Faster than I thought he could move, he takes off down the road, curving into the forest. He expertly dodges trees and rogue branches that attempt to take me out. Not once does one twig whip me across the face or do leaves get stuck in my hair. I can see better than I could in the dark, but this is something else entirely.
I love it.
A laugh escapes my lips, and I lean into his whiskey scent, watching as the world whips by in a blur. All too
quickly he stops, twirling me about before setting me on my feet.
“Shhh.” He lifts a finger to his lips, wagging his brows. “Witches can leave some nasty wards.”
He brought us to the outskirts of the coven. All around us the forest sleeps, and yet... something buzzes in the back of my mind. An odd sensation skirting up my spine, to tickle the base of my neck. As though it is a live electrical wire, it zaps and stings. I take a step back toward the way we came, and the sensation eases.
“Wards,” Patrick whispers.
We need those, wherever we set up next, we need those.
I watch as he lifts a stick and throws it toward the tree line, where just beyond I can make out a house highlighted by fading moonlight. I’m slightly disappointed that the stick doesn’t light up in flame. Or evaporate entirely.
However, I do hear the slamming of a door. “What do you think our chances are that it’s Kelsie?” I wonder in a quiet whisper.
“Unlikely.” I whip my head around where Kelsie somehow snuck up on us. “Follow before they curse you.”
My brows pull down together in confusion, and I glance at Patrick in question. He just shrugs and follows behind Kelsie. With no reason not to, I fall into step behind Patrick, glancing back once to see if we were seen by whomever opened that door. But no one is there except the silent night.
Yet, that tingle begins again at my neck, this time belonging solely to me. An odd question hovers on my tongue, because my best friend is off. It’s her voice, yet it is completely missing the spark that always gave her that pep for life. Sure, I found it annoying at times, but it was her, it was who she was, and without it... she is a shell.
She leads us to a small area where coal burns in a firepit on the ground. She pokes around a few times, igniting the embers into a small flame where she sets a few twigs and dead leaves. Again, the thought that this woman isn’t the one I’ve come to know for so long strikes me.
“What’s wrong?” The words are out of my mouth before I can call them back.
Kelsie just stares at me, her baby blue eyes sparkling in the night with an inner flame I’ve come to learn is the Fae aspect of her. The laugh that she emits is nothing more than cynical, full of humorless misery.