In the Veil of Vengeance

by Kasondra Morin

  With shears, he cut the fabric from her body gingerly. A simple slip of his blade would do more damage to her already broken body, and he would never forgive himself if she came to harm by his hand.

  By the end, a pile of filthy fabric went into a corner to be dealt with at a later time before he pulled fresh sheets over her unclothed body and sat off to the side.

  All he could do now was wait.

  Chapter 4

  Waking up face-down was even more irritating the second time around. Waking up face-down from a slumber over which she had no control made it rage inducing.

  Artemis could tell she wasn't no longer on the hard ground—a mercy for which she was extremely grateful. The surface below her felt softer so she could assume she laid on a bed of some sort.

  But she could tell it wasn't her own personal bed. The sheets were the wrong texture and smelled of something she couldn't identify. It was warm but bright, like freshly turned soil in the sunshine.

  So, who's bed had she been placed into? Where were they? Was she still in danger?

  Eyes still closed, she listened to the ambient noise around her. Water bubbled nearby, as if a brook or stream was close. The smell of water mixed with that of herbs and other plant matter. It was familiar but she had trouble putting her finger the exact thing. However, she didn't hear any movement. Had her rescuer (or captor, she wasn't sure) left her alone? Was she safe to get up and leave?

  Pain was ever present, but it had been subdued to a dull throb.

  Artemis peeked open her eyelids to scan the room. A few blinks cleared the cobwebs from her vision, but it took a few seconds before the room stopped tilting. She gripped the surface beneath her as her anchor in the shifting waves of discomfort. She swallowed hard to keep from losing the contents of her stomach and gave her surroundings a cursory glance.

  The bed she'd been placed on was against one wall of the single room home. Light filtered through a window next to the only door. Spartan, even by… Spartan standards. A fireplace crackled across the room and made the small space feel almost too warm for comfort.

  With a tilt of her head, Artemis tried to take in more of her surroundings. Her stomach heaved again, and she swallowed against the sensation.

  Nausea she thought with derision. Another new feeling she was quickly learning to despise.

  How long had she been out?

  Which time? The unhelpful voice in her head asked.

  Her arms were positioned with her hands by her head so she could see one of them when she opened her eyes fully. Whomever had found her had also cleaned her up because her fingernails were no longer caked with dirt and blood. The realization brought fear and anger with it. If someone had cleaned her wounds…

  Artemis pushed up to glare down at her body. Pain shot from her shoulder blades, through her arms, causing the strength to leave them altogether, and she fell back to the bed with a thump and a yelp. But she'd seen enough.

  Naked. She was completely nude. A stranger had seen and probably touched her uncovered body.

  Someone would die today. She would make sure of it.

  “You're hurt, goddess. You need rest.” Came an oddly familiar voice from a corner she couldn't see.

  A man spoke. Presumably the one who’d made her naked. Yes, she would kill him for seeing her unclothed and touching her without expressed permission.

  She put her fingers in her mouth and let out the shrill whistle she used to call attack dogs to do her bidding. In seconds, he would be ripped to shreds and she'd be able to gather her clothes and leave to find her brother, Ares, before any more tragedy could befall him. Having been born on the same day, their bond was closest among the immortals. Ares had protected her until she grew strong enough to defend herself. But her strength never diminished his. They’d always worked well together. When her brother fought at her side, they could take on the world.

  Silence yanked Artemis back to the present. Nothing had responded to her whistle. No creature came to her aid. Fear, a sensation she was quickly learning to identify, stole across her chest and poured like ice into her veins. No. Her dogs would never disobey. She'd bred them using one of Hades' hellhounds so they would be able to hear her mystical call from anywhere on Earth or even in Tartarus. She whistled again. The desperate sound echoed throughout the small room, but still, she heard no barks or growls to signal her call had been received.

  “If you want to sit up, I can help you, but it's best if you stay laying down. I just got your bleeding under control.” The voice got closer, and Artemis braced for a fight.

  “Where are my dogs? What magic is this?” she said through gritted teeth. “What have you done to me?” She wouldn’t dare admit it, but she’d wanted to demand why she was still so weak.

  A face appeared at her eye level. Artemis blinked at the golden vision before her.

  Damn if he wasn't beautiful.

  Beautiful. But very, very dead.

  But before she exacted her vengeance, she’d take a good long look. His eyes were the color of the grassy meadows she'd run across as a child and ringed with perfect dark brown lashes. His skin held a bronze hue obviously gained from many hours in the sun. The majestic tan was broken up by small patterns of moss and vines which seemed to breathe and crawl as his muscles flexed with each movement.

  Though he was attractive she still reached for her power and…

  Nothing happened.

  She was still stuck in a strange place, apparently without any of her powers. Being unclothed meant she was without weapons as well.

  There was that fear again.

  “What have you done to me?” she repeated with as much volume and fury as she could muster.

  His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I believe I saved your life, goddess.”

  “Why can I not call my dogs? Why are you still alive?” Her voice held a shrill note she'd never produced before. But she recognized the sentiment: panic.

  He swept his gaze across her barely covered body. “Your wings were severed. It may have some effect on your abilities until they're fully healed.”

  Her eyes closed again. The urge to cry burned in her throat, such a foreign thing that caught her unaware. Embarrassed… another new thing… Artemis hid her face by looking away. More emotions, pain washed over her in a rush. Without her wings she would be as good as human. Zeus had intended to torture her for her betrayal. She couldn't defend herself in such a weakened state, and he had to have known what would happen when he struck them off of her body.

  More tears threatened as she thought of her brother. Poor Ares, her protector, completely human now and here she was, muted from her own powers, as good as dead. Zeus would come for her. It was only a matter of time.

  The dryad seemed flustered in the face of her sadness. “I've treated your wounds the best I can with honey and yarrow, but I need you to drink something for me. May I help you sit up?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded, still avoiding his gaze. Her eyes remained firmly closed in an effort to block out the feelings of overwhelming helplessness. A warrior goddess who couldn't sit up without aid from another; shame threatened to drown her. It was almost better to have left this place, fallen, gone, and enter the Underworld, than to face a life of a weakling.

  The stranger set a small bowl aside and reached for the sheet covering her body. She was relieved to feel him wrap it tighter around her nude form as he moved her to avoid unnecessarily touching her skin. Each movement, although aided, brought fresh waves of torment through her back. She'd never felt so much pain, well none at all before. Did humans feel this level of anguish all the time? She was incapable of doing anything more than focus on her breathing in an effort to avoid screaming in agony.

  Maybe this was actually Tartarus and she’d been sent here by Hades himself in punishment for going against Zeus. She pushed the thought away. Hades was many things, but never cruel. And besides, she gazed at the dryad again, he was alive, and he was kind… it seemed.

  She
regarded her rescuer again with a more critical eye. His tunic was the color of damp soil and his feet were bare. The same pattern she'd seen on his arms appeared on his legs. “You're a dryad.” She tried for conversation.

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “My name is Jace. Servant of the forest.”

  Artemis tilted her head to one side. “Male dryads are very rare. I haven't heard of such a phenomenon in many years.”

  Jace smiled. “You probably heard tales of my father, Dmitry. He was chosen to work in the court of Demeter before I was born.”

  “Demeter? Like Persephone?”

  Jace nodded. “He mentioned her in the stories he told me before his death.”

  Sadness, another unfamiliar feeling, swept through her. “I'm sorry.” Artemis fought to settle herself. It was as if she swayed one way or another at all times. Were humans on this pendulum all the time? How did they remain sane?

  Jace regarded her in silence for several heartbeats, a strange look on his face. His voice cracked as he said, “I need you to drink this for me.”

  Artemis acknowledged the subject change with a nod of her own. She took the proffered bowl and sipped at the warm concoction. Her taste-buds rebelled against the overwhelmingly bitter taste, and she fought the urge to vomit. “What is this monstrosity?”

  Jace's full lips quirked as he hid a smile. “The tea is made from white willow bark and silphium for pain. I added some valerian root to encourage rest.”

  “It's disgusting,” she replied in a flat tone. “It tastes like dirty feet.”

  “Yes,” Jace agreed, scratching at a leaf that had gone astray, “but it will help you heal.”

  Artemis narrowed her eyes in a glare but forced down another sip of the mixture. The approval in Jace's vibrant green eyes warmed her in a way the abhorrent tea didn't. She wasn't familiar with the feeling in her chest, but something about it frightened her.

  Jace took the bowl from her hands and set it on a nearby table. “That's enough for now. This can be hard on the stomach and we don't know how, um, human you are at the moment.”

  Artemis cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Where are my clothes?”

  He glanced at the pile of material in the corner. “Your dress was ruined, goddess.” His voice held a note of finality. He couldn't put her back in it no matter how much she argued.

  Artemis bristled.

  He raised an eyebrow at her expression. “The dress was torn, burned, and covered in your blood. It wasn't fit to grace your body.”

  A strange tightness banded across her chest. “And bed sheets are an acceptable alternative?”

  The look he gave her turned the inner warmth into a furnace. They locked eyes and neither seemed to breathe. She had the sudden urge to stand up and go to him, or beg him to come closer to her on the bed. Either way, they were too far apart in the small room.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” the goddess asked.

  Jace averted his eyes. “You have my apologies.”

  “That's not an answer.”

  Seeming like he struggled to answer, Artemis watched his shoulders rise and fall as the muscles tightened and released with this next breath. It took several heartbeats before he met her gaze once more. “I find you desirable.”

  His candor brought her mouth slightly open as his meaning became clear. “I've killed men for thinking they have a right to my body.” Previous memories flashed across her body as much as her mind. It was nothing new. The last had grabbed her while she lounged alongside a riverbank, and she’d been able to fight him off before calling her hounds to finish the job. They would have eaten well that night if she hadn't stopped them, but she never allowed her dogs to eat tainted meat. “Now that I am at your mercy, dryad, would you take advantage? Many have tried before.”

  An angry muscle ticked in Jace's jaw. “Those were not men, but monsters who received a just end for crimes committed. I find you attractive, goddess, but I do not consider you a conquest. You are safe here with me.”

  Safe echoed in her head. Artemis tightened her grip on the fabric covering her vulnerable body as the new emotions overwhelmed her. “I think I'd like to sleep again,” she whispered, threatened by… feelings.

  He moved to help her but she waved him away and curled up with her back facing him. She stared at the wall in confusion until exhaustion claimed her.

  Chapter 5

  Jace remained motionless until Artemis' breathing evened out and signaled she'd finally fallen asleep. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. There was no precedence for this type of thing. A goddess struck down from a high place, put into his lap, and then demanding of him as if she’d still been all powerful.

  “I can't believe I told her I found her attractive,” he grumbled to himself. “She's a goddess, not some nymph to be chased.”

  He pulled a woven blanket up over her exposed shoulders with as much gentleness as he could. Finding her new clothing would be a priority before she woke again. She twitched as the fabric came in contact with her abused skin and his own back twinged in sympathy. Any garment he chose would have to have an open back to prevent irritation on her healing wounds.

  The bleeding may have stopped, but the damage to where her wings had once been joined to her was severe. The once smooth expanse of her shapely back was now a mass of bloody, torn skin. The sight enraged him all over again and he had to take several deep breaths before his heart rate returned to normal. How could anyone do such a horrible thing? Very few gods could summon that kind of power. He should have asked her if he’d correctly guessed that Zeus was the only one capable.

  The memory of a whispered rumor barreled into the forefront of Jace's mind. Zeus had complained to a nymph about an immortal he could not conquer physically. At the time, everyone hearing the story had assumed Zeus meant he couldn't win in a battle. But after seeing Artemis react to Jace's declaration of attraction… Did Zeus mean he couldn't bed the Warrior Goddess? Was he the one who’d attacked her before?

  Realization brought rage with it. He wanted to track the bastard down and avenge the goddess himself.

  He thought for a moment and then realized he had his chance to inspect the wounds again. Arranging his bottles in a row, he found what he was looking for: Bay Laurel leaves. It would react to any magic the gods would have used if it was recent, but it was closely associated with Zeus’ particular magical residue. Gently, he held it near to the wounds, and sure enough, the delicate leaves curled away.

  Jace cursed. It was certain, Zeus had used god-lightning to do the job. What wasn't mangled appeared burned. The heat had seared the base of her wings, and the exposure to such a high temperature had caused the remaining flesh to blister and ooze. He had a feeling the violence would leave her permanently scarred.

  Deep breath, he thought to himself. You're no good to her if you can't control yourself.

  He moved a piece of golden hair out of her face and let the strands fall through his fingers. When she transformed, Jace knew, the locks became white blonde and seemed to burn like a star . Her goddess form was a magnificent sight.

  But her mostly human body held a different kind of allure as well. She was petite, almost tiny, in this form. It stirred a desire to hold and protect her; which was absurd because, at the end of the day, she was still an all-powerful goddess.

  Jace sat in his chair once more and began crafting another poultice for her burns.

  He couldn't help but glance over every few seconds. The blankets hugged her curves in all the important places and made his breath stutter if he looked for too long. But the draw remained and he was disturbed throughout his work.

  He'd only been partially truthful with her when discussing his lineage. Yes, his father had served in the court of Demeter, but that wasn't where the story ended. His line alone provided male dryads. They were tasked as protectors of the forest and, as such, were assigned to watch over the goddesses of the forest. Jace had taken a particular liking to Artemis early on and
found excuses to keep an eye on her whenever possible.

  The basket of yarrow tumbled off of the table and spilled white flowers all over the floor at his feet. He closed his eyes and cursed his inability to focus. The blossoms were no longer safe to apply to her open wounds for fear of infection.

  He looked her over once more. Could her human form get an infection? Exactly how much power still pulsed through her veins?

  Would she even be able to heal completely?

  The question frightened him. If she never regained her goddess ability, what would become of her? What would become of the forest?

  Jace tasted blood before he realized he'd bitten into the inside of his mouth hard enough to split the skin. He needed a distraction before he did something brutish and stupid like run off to face down who would do such a horrific thing to such a beautiful person.

  “More yarrow,” he mumbled. “I should gather more yarrow.”

  His bare feet moved silently across the dusty stone floor. He opened the door and stepped into the sunshine waiting outside.

  The expanse of empty soil looked like a failed attempt at gardening to an unfamiliar eye. But Jace knelt in the soft dirt, knowing what lay beneath, and he shoved his hands deep into the sun-warmed earth.

  “Thank you for your sacrifice on behalf of our goddess,” he whispered as his fingers splayed wide. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the plant he needed. Soft, spiky yarrow seedlings sprang up between his hands. The green leaves gave way to white flowers as the plants grew to their full height.

  Jace gently released the plants from their bonds to the earth. The entire plant would be used to avoid wasting the gift he'd been given. The ground could refuse to grant his request, a rare occurrence, but it did happen. He suspected even the forest wanted to see the goddess healed as soon as possible as Artemis had always been kind to the plants and animals therein.

  Jace slipped back through the door, careful to not disturb the sleeping woman on the bed. Her body would heal faster the more she rested.