by Dacy Alex
And Fleur exploded upwards, ready to destroy it, "Peace out, fuck face," she growled, then unleashed the grandmother, the queen, the high empress of all head-butts that demolished the raven's head.
Chunks spilled onto the floor. A nose there, an eye here, and a brow that Krisdane tripped over in an uncharacteristically graceless gaffe. Not only was it a rare misstep from Prince Charming, but it also separated him from Giselle. This left the damsel in distress in the path of the smaller raven-headed demon. It gave a shout that sounded like a furnace running in the lowest level of hell.
Oh shit, oh double shit, oh triple shit, oh quadruple shit, oh whatever is after quadruple shit!
With no other options but to fight, Giselle took hold of the painting Anika gave her and bashed it over the raven's head. He tore through the canvas leaving him stunned and off-balance.
It was enough for The Bright Eyed.
"Mistlewoe come to me!" Tristabelle howled behind Giselle.
Giselle saw something that left her stammering, her mind struggling to process this glorious sight that had no clue it didn't belong in this world.
It was a sword -- that she knew. It was being held by a very angry, very murderous person who was supposed to be Princess Tristabelle Elvrina of Golden Land.
The hilt of this treasure was made of translucent ice, with veins of the same substance running through it. The pommel or end of the sword was white ice magic crystal. Impossibly, its crossguard was a mind-bending set of wings that flapped as this murderous woman lunged forward. A lunge headed by a blade made of ice and tangled in mistletoe. Its icy blade was encircled by also frozen vines.
Giselle felt a pinch of pity for what she guessed were the countless victims of this mystical weapon. Even when the ice blade plunged into the demon's stomach, and his grotesque body began melting into sludge that disappeared when it hit the ground, her sympathy went out.
The person who was supposed to be a princess of an insignificant Scandinavian country let her sword fade from her hand in a cloud of sparkles.
"Krisdane," this wielder of ice swords spoke," when I beg you to move, it would be ever so kind of you, sweet brother, to MOVE THE FUCK OUT THE WAY!"
On that note Giselle threw up on Tristabelle's heels.
Chapter Six: Lighthearted conversation
Giselle knew she was in a limo bus. She could feel the polished wood of the floor against her knees and felt the smooth leather of the seat her hand was gripping. Her nails almost burrowed a hole into the leather, but at least it was real.
What was happening in front of her was most assuredly the delusions of a woman deluged by a psychotic break.
A vain girl sat on the floor grooming her fox tail, singing that it was merely eighty-two more years until she grew her second tail.
Another girl was dabbing glitter on Giselle's cheeks informing Giselle that, "This here blue pixie dust is just the thing for an upset tummy." She was then congratulating Giselle on "being tough enough to not get yer soul gobbled up!"
A handsome prince was rubbing Giselle's shoulders, paying no mind to the stench of her vomit.
A vampire girl who claimed to be a demon and daughter of a saint was picking black sludge out of her fangs while conversing with the most effulgent delusion of them all. The princess whose two thousand dollar shoes Giselle just bathed in vomit. Her sword had vanished. Though to where Giselle did not know. But the princess' muscles were still tense, her fists still clenched. She stood with perfect grace and refined posture, but there will still a nasty, dangerous, edge to her.
"Surely you can glamour her to forget this," the now barefoot princess questioned the vampire demon girl.
"I tried to get rid of her when I first met her. Didn't work."
"In what a grand predicament this places us! Did you remember to bite her before glamoring her?"
"Oh fuck, I forgot," The vampire girl smiled one of her big happy grins where her baby-fat filled cheeks went all rosy.
"Fleur, this is the angriest I have been without facing a premature ejaculator! Now is the time I wish you to be buried beneath the frozen rivers of Hel."
Hell isn't frozen. Hell isn't frozen. Hell isn't frozen.
"Hell isn't frozen, Tristabelle! Hell is hot!" Giselle brayed, a sound rife with so much intensity Krisdane eased his hand off her shoulders. "It's got fire and brimstone and pitchforks. It does not have rivers. There's nothing cold there!"
Stunned that Giselle would say anything, Tristabelle made a high-pitched puffing sound.
Giselle shrugged off Krisdane's hands. Something she never thought she'd do.
The nausea and dizziness that plagued Giselle had faded. A puzzling thing that had Giselle tasting her own mouth. No tastes of vomit along with no feeling of queasiness. The fact that Dusty's pixie dust worked better than Dramamine was worth an FDA investigation. Just keep any glasses of water out of the interrogation room.
"What are you people?" Giselle demanded. "What's going on?"
"The Historium will kick mad knowledge for ya," Fleur answered, with a flip of her chocolate locks.
"Do we have to go to some gross old crypt?" Sofi whined, wiggling her fox nose.
Krisdane extended his hand to Giselle and declared, "You shall find immaculate floors and many answers at the Historium."
Bella wasn't scared of Edward so you better not be scared of these demonfox people.
With Bella Swan as her strength, Giselle let herself be raised up by Prince Charming. He gave her a small smile, a firm nod, and a squeeze of her hand. Three gestures that made her think maybe, just maybe, Historium wasn't code for "Let's put a bullet in the back of this bitch's dome."
Krisdane may have mostly slaked her anxiety, but her Spider Senses still detected traces of danger. There were answers on order, perhaps. But Giselle surmised some of those questions were related to her and how she got stuck with such extraordinary beings. If the The Bright Eyed disliked the tune of those answers, that ice sword might be leading to Giselle's funeral dirge.
"I don't wanna be crossing a bunch of dimensions and realms now," Dusty complained. "Ya'll promised we could go to the carnival at school. Me and Tristabelle were gonna share an ice cream cone. I swear on Jesus, none of ya'll better make us miss it."
Tristabelle was shocked enough by that to whip her head around to Dusty.
"And I gotta get home when my talisman gets delivered," Fleur stated. "This thing is gonna make me a fortune. Which I'll probably drink and drug away, but fuck it. Plus, I need it to pay back some very shady shit."
The elderly driver spoke, "Princess Tristabelle, Prince Krisdane, we have arrived at The Historium."
What Giselle was expecting, besides the possibility of her execution, was to exit the limo somewhere near Penn Station.
When the doors to the bus slid open, what greeted Giselle was a sight far beyond the magical. A sight that, even in a world that now housed raven-headed demons and pixie dust flinging belles, was beyond the extraordinary.
The stone floor of the Historium was about the only reasonably normal thing Giselle could see. High above the floor there were rows of exquisite marble archways with an immeasurable amount of names carved into them. Every single letter hummed with a fierce green pulse, like green emeralds gliding across a frozen lake.
"That there is the Ley Line. Us Fae maintain it," Dusty announced with a helping of pride. "It's also how this here place gets lit."
"How did we get here?" Giselle asked, turning around to see no sign of the limo, nor any feasible entryway. Or exit for that matter.
"Through a magic portal, I guess," Sofi responded. "That was my first time taking one too. But I'll be honest, there's just something better about flying first class."
"I don't think Delta takes you to the world between worlds," Fleur retorted.
Magic portal? World between worlds? They really should consider my poor brain before they make these casual revelations.
Against the walls, the Leyline flooded through life-size
sculptures of human bodies. The glistening brightness made Giselle think of what would happen if a Times Square advertiser got their hands on Polyphemus Sitting on a Rock. She wondered what was going on in New York while she was in a place she had no words to describe.
It didn't take more than a moment for Giselle to realize that these polished, pure statues weren't all human. One was a human with a wolf's head, the Ley Line glowing within his eyes and across his ferocious fangs. Another statue was winged, the Leyline creating a beacon effect on her magic wand.
At the front of the room, faced away from the group, was a statue of an elf. A long waif-like figure that appeared androgynous. Curiously it had no Ley Line sparkling around and on it.
Actually, it looked more like a mannequin, threaded in tight brown pants that were crisscrossed with gold straps and a green, short-sleeved jacket that only covered half its upper body. Its hair hung down in black strands well past the end of the strange jacket. The locks were so pronounced, and the mannequin stood with such a commanding yet slim stance Giselle thought of a rat snake.
Most curious of all a rich flowery male voice spoke, "Should I pity the humans? Should I disdain them?"
That elf wasn't a mannequin. Mannequins don't ponder existential mysteries. They don't spin on black shoes, and their blue eyes don't hold the malice of an invading army.
"Shall I offer them, in their poverty, bread, and water? Or a dagger in their belly for their arrogance? Am I a stalker of humanity? Or a liberator of human oppression that has shackled this earth in ever-tightening chains? Which should I be, Giselle Nyfall?"
"Enough talk, Tryggyr," Tristabelle snapped cutting directly in front of Giselle.
Giselle's stomach tightened. It tightened so hard she felt as though there was a knot of diamonds forming inside her. Tightened enough to sag her to the ground until she had to be steadied by the strong hands of Prince Charming.
"You're an elf," Giselle squeaked so softly she wondered if anyone heard her.
He was an elf who exuded a deathly sort of beauty. There was a strong jaw but soft features of big eyes, hairless face and the pouty lips of his brother, Krisdane. It was the kind of beauty that could pull the enchanted right to him so he could plunge the knife into their belly.
"How long have you been following us?" Krisdane snapped.
"Simply since you arrived on America's shores."
Giselle couldn't see what it was, but something on Tristabelle's face made Tryggyr crack a broad smile that might be delightful if it weren't coming from someone named The Stalker.
"Tristabelle, good sister, the look on your face should be painted and hung in the galleries at Hilinborg. It's marvelous and terrifying!
The elf tilted his gaze back towards Giselle. His left hand extended out to her, and Giselle noticed all his fingers were adorned with gold rings. "Giselle, it is such a warm feeling to speak your name to you. Please, come."
Giselle faintly remembered the future she envisioned for herself. The stress of midterms, the warm kiss of her first college boyfriend, the lectures of her American history professor. All that future was swallowed up by this rat snake.
With no other options, Giselle took his ringed hand and let him lead her to the front of the room. on a pedestal was a textbook-sized tome bound in red cloth.
After Tryggyr opened it, Giselle saw the worn beige pages were blank.
"That's the Historium," Fleur called out. "It'll tell ya the genealogy of every supernatural being on the earth realm."
Giselle thought that trapped in the sights of The Stalker, she'd soon be visiting the hell realm.
"Giselle Nyfall," Tryggyr spoke in a sweetened tone to the Historium.
He spoke as if his words were pen to the paper. Yet nothing came up in the Historium. It's pages remained unsullied, still in their beige richness.
"A simple human!" Tryggyr cooed. "What a marvelous trick Anika Lindgren played on the all of you! Giselle, our father, King Fenrisson, always says honesty is a bitter beer, yet it is the only one worth swallowing. Brother, sister, let us serve Giselle Nyfall a tall glass of The Truth. Remove your enchantments, good siblings."
The world Giselle knew had already been consumed by a black hole. In its place stood demons, Ley Lines, and pixie dust. Still, she didn't expect anything to come of Tryggyr's orders. What more enchantment could there be in this world? When Krisdane started to remove his top, Giselle only thought how nicely defined his stomach was. And when Tristabelle started to take out her earrings, Giselle realized she hadn't even noticed them.
When both siblings were free of these articles Giselle thought she might faint. Even if it was into Tryggyr's slender arms.
"You're elves" she stammered weakly as if the words and the sight of their pointy ears exhausted her.
"Correction, sweet child," Tryggyr hummed, "we're Pure Elves."
Tryggyr led Giselle back to the others.
"Pure Elves?" Giselle spoke, mostly to herself.
Yet Krisdane still answered, "Golden Land is a haven for supernaturals. Humans are few and almost endangered in our lands. Many of our citizens are Pure Elves like our entire family. Though Golden Land counts werewolves, vampires, fairies and more among our denizens. Among other species...."
Other species?
"Let us all share this brew of honesty!" Tryggyr declared, his arms spread wide as if he was basking in some kind of glow. "Fleur Flannagan, you first!"
Fleur, for once, looked at a loss, the toe of her right tennis shoe scrapping the stoned floor. Finally, she said, "Well, ya know, I'm half succubus, half vampire. I kinda gotta suck dick from guys and drink blood from chicks. Nothing you ain't seen before."
Uh, no, that's definitely something I have not seen before.
Sofi, oblivious to the tension, spoke up full of mirth, "Dun-dun-dun, huge reveal. I'm a Kitsune, a Japanese fox spirit. I can transform into a fox at will, throw fire from my tail, and lots of other super cool stuff. But through it all, I never forget my Asian ethnicity," she finished with a smile of her pink lips
Giselle looked at Sofi's freckles, red hair, and light brown complexion and commented to herself, Asian, you say?
"Forget all this talk!" Dusty snapped through her cute circular mouth. "Tryggyr, the only drink I'm gonna serve you is a stone-cold can of whup ass."
Sofi mused, "That's why you're the world's oldest pixie, right? Because when it came time to graduate you to fairy, the fairy council said you were too violent to become one.
"Stupid Sofi! I'll pound you for bringing that up!"
Sofi wrinkled her little nose and gave Giselle a "See what I mean look," but the stupefied state Giselle was in rendered her incapable of picking up on Sofi's visual cues.
"What about that magic sword?" Giselle spat.
"Most of the royal family can summon a special magical object," Krisdane replied, his hand flexing. Giselle wondered if he was reflexively trying to grip a weapon. "We, the royal family of Golden Land, are protectors of the earth realm. We would be woefully ill-equipped for the job as just regular supernaturals."
Giselle damned herself for not realizing it earlier. This wasn't a draft of honesty. This was a cup of poison, poured down her throat.
"You're only being honest because you're going to kill me," she told Tryggyr. "You're toying with me," she determined. Yet her mind wasn't solely focused on Tryggyr. It was turned to her Yorkie, whose heart would break if she never saw Giselle again. Giselle pictured the poor dog curling up on her bed, passing sobs while her parents did the same.
Pain spread throughout Giselle's being but she wasn't dead yet. Not even attacked. In fact, she again had The Bright Eyed and Prince Charming acting as her shield. But what good could they do? Why would they stand for her, a weak human, when it came time to choose sides between Giselle and their brother?
"Tryggyr, please," Tristabelle urged, hiding her shaking left hand behind her back. "We were sat upon by demons and Giselle delivered a mighty thrashing upon their soulless form."<
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"For true?" Tryggyr questioned, brows low in disbelief. "A human should have had their body, mind and soul devoured by an underworld dweller."
"But she didn't. She fucked 'em right up. I mean, she looks weak and acts dumb, and she's annoying, but don't fuck with her," Fleur announced.
"And there's a demon infestation in the city right now!" Sofi exclaimed. Though Giselle didn't know enough to know if she was lying or if that threat loomed over the Big Apple.
"Would that explain the accursed state of your dwelling mates?" Tyrggyr inquired, hand rubbing firm chin, casually revealing his knowledge of their dealings. "No matter. The mystery of Giselle Nyfall is best left to another day. Krisdane is requested back at Hildegarde Palace. A certain enemy of the state is rumored to roam the lands of the Corrupt Forest."
Giselle was so happy that Tryggyr wasn't going to squeeze the trigger at her, she didn't even think of the oddness of the words "corrupt forest."
"You don't mean..." Tristabelle trailed off, "the very least you could do is summon me in the country's defense!"
Tryggyr gave a smile and a laugh, though it was more like that of an overeager hangman, "King Fenrisson has questions as to your loyalty. As do I."
Giselle actually saw something she never imagined she would see. Despair and despondency on Tristabelle. They sunk her shoulders, lowered her head, and forced a choked cry from her throat.
So even pure elves have bad days.
"One more word, friends," Tryggyr started with a smile that was so not a smile. "If your afflicted men have fallen into the shadow of the supernatural, and you do not bring them to humanity's light, I shall bring them to death's darkness."
"It shall not come to that," Tristabelle decided.
A low snort came from Tryggyr. Then an all too smooth smile.
Krisdane turned towards Giselle. His eyes spoke to a heaviness. His voice was strained, "I apologize for leaving you so suddenly and in such a dire situation. But know this, there is no safer hand in this realm to be in than the sword hand of Tristabelle Elvrina."