by Regine Abel
The Hunchback
Cosmic Fairy Tales
Regine Abel
Cover by
Regine Abel
Copyright © 2019
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and punishable by law. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This book uses mature language and explicit sexual content. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
The Hunchback
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Kwazeem Art 1
Kwazeem Art 2
Cosmic Fairy Tales Series
Also by Regine Abel
About Regine
The Hunchback
Her heart’s desire would be her downfall.
After spending her life in training, Esmeralda still can’t believe she’s been appointed to serve as the Vestal of Our Lady of Paris—the greatest temple on any planet in the Nine Circles. Her beauty and unrivaled ability to manipulate energy quickly catch the attention of Praetor Frollo, the grand magistrate of Paris, and High Seraph Phoebus, the greatest winged warrior in the solar system. But her dream of becoming the consort of one of those handsome, powerful males is forgotten the moment she lays eyes upon the hunchback secretly living in the temple.
Kwazeem feels Esmeralda’s power as soon as she lands in his city. She awakens the primal energy that has lain dormant within him—and a possessive hunger that demands he claim her. But he’s a Fallen, a monster that would be destroyed on sight if the citizens of Paris discovered his existence. Worse still, Esmeralda’s Divine Light inflicts agony upon his already tortured body if he basks in it for too long. And yet… he cannot stay away from her.
With Kwazeem’s mysterious condition and Esmeralda torn between her duties to the people and the sinful desires of her heart, is there any chance of them sharing a future?
Dedication
To the wondrous imagination of the authors of old who brought us the fairy tales, folktales, and fables that filled our youth with magic. To every prince and princess inside all of us who ever dreamed of their happily ever after. To anyone who fought and continues to fights for the right to love the chosen of their heart, no matter what hurdles get thrown in their paths.
To Melissa Stewart for being a classy lady and for going above and beyond to help me get this book out properly.
To my family, love you always.
Chapter 1
Kwazeem
I opened the window to let the sun shine into the room and over my miserable existence. The frames glowed with a soft, white light, as did many things in Paris: the City of Lights. Turning around, I cast a final look at the sumptuous bedroom to make sure everything was in order. Praetor Frollo would give me an earful if I mucked things up.
With heavy steps, I approached the massive bed to fix the light-blue sheets embroidered with lumis which covered it. The fine, luminous thread adjusted its glow to the brightness of the room or to voice commands. Currently at minimum dimness, it made it harder to notice that the pattern in the right corner wasn’t perfectly aligned with the one on the left. Although the Vestal who would soon take possession of this room probably wouldn’t care, I could get a little obsessive-compulsive about things.
The Vestal Esmeralda…
The whole city was beside itself with excitement. Many Vestals had come through our temple, Our Lady of Paris, but she would be the first Anointed in over a century. And that made her a trophy Praetor Frollo would definitely want to add to his collection. But hopefully, he wouldn’t tire of her as quickly as he had the others. The city’s energy reserves were depleting quickly. As an Anointed, she would technically be able to summon far more power than the city had ever seen before, and refill the Well.
The bedroom door opening startled me. I cursed myself inwardly for having allowed my mind to wander rather than properly triple check that nothing would meet his disapproval.
Frollo’s tall and broad silhouette filled the door frame as his piercing blue eyes peered into the room with a severe gaze, assessing my work. My eyes flicked left and right, pleased with the stunning floral arrangements I had set around the room, before settling back on his sickeningly handsome face. He was the embodiment of perfection—everything I wasn’t. Below-the-shoulder golden blond hair framed his rectangular face with a cleft chin. His wide mouth, with plush lips usually stretched in a suave smile when addressing the people, was currently pursed as he examined the room.
Despite his athletic physique, I was more muscular than he, and technically taller as well. But that wretched hump on my back systematically kept me in a bowed, servile position that gave off the impression he towered over me.
And I hated it.
Frollo lifted his straight, Roman nose at me, a satisfied expression on his face. “You’ve done well, Kwazeem,” Frollo said in that deep voice that had the women in the city throw themselves at his feet. “This day needs to be perfect.”
He walked around the room and ran a finger over the surface of the wide vanity before checking its tip for any traces of dust. I kept my hands behind my back to hide my fisting them in aggravation. The Praetor should know the cleaning staff was thorough when it came to a Vestal’s quarters.
“Remember to remain out of sight when Esmeralda arrives,” Frollo said in a stern voice, his gaze still searching the room for any flaw. “You are not to speak to her or come anywhere near her, even with your hood on. In fact, see that she remains oblivious of your presence. She is Anointed. Even the High Seraph is eager to make her acquaintance. But I am determined to make her mine.”
I snorted inwardly. How could this foolish human possibly think he could rival an Elohim? The High Seraph Phoebus was pretty much a god in beauty, power, and charisma. Every single woman within the two planets and seven moons that formed the Nine Circles, be she Vestal or commoner, dreamed of becoming his consort.
Seeming fully satisfied at last, Frollo turned to look at me, his features taking on an almost paternal expression. This told me I was free at last. Although my face remained impassive, I internally breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Esmeralda’s personal belongings are waiting in the Great Hall,” the Praetor continued. “Would you be so kind as to bring them up, as well as the welcome basket Malina has prepared for my future mate? The staff is still scrambling to sort out the rest of the preparations, and I have more duties to attend before Esmeralda’s arrival.”
“Of course,” I replied with a shrug. Although I wasn’t a servant, I didn’t mind performing these occasional tasks to help, especially as they gave me an excuse to traipse around areas of the temple I was normally forbidden access to.
“Thank you,” Frollo said with genuine appreciation. “When you’re done, go back to your quarters and remain there until I give you the all clear tomorrow. Your replicator should be full. You can have one of those meals for supper tonight and breakfast in the morning.”
“Yes, Praetor,�
� I said, hiding my disappointment. I had hoped to go hunt some game for my meal, rather than the lame leftovers I often received from the kitchen. But the replicator food was reasonably decent. “Will that be all?”
As soon as he nodded, I made a swift exit and headed for the lift. It was positioned in the middle of the back wall of the half-moon-shaped corridor. Four bedrooms occupied this floor, two on each side of the elevator. For Esmeralda, Frollo had conveniently chosen the bedroom adjacent to his, with a secret communicating door. The Praetor had done this in the past. However, there had usually been at least a couple more honorific guests conveniently occupying the other rooms.
But this was none of my concern.
The circular glass doors of the lift swished open before me, and the three rings of the round platform lit up when I stepped on it.
“Ground,” I said, and the hovering platform swiftly flew down the ten stories of the temple’s spire.
An eerie silence greeted me in the Great Hall. My steps echoed loudly in the large, empty room, with its tall, white columns covered with swirly patterns of light. I instinctively walked around the luminous symbol of Vesta etched with glow stones on the dark blue, polished stone floor that covered the hall. For some silly reason, walking over it always gave me the impression of trampling the goddess herself. Similar to the ancient Roman symbol on Earth, it was made out of two superposed V shapes representing a brazier. However, the flame of old burning above it had been replaced by a glowing sun with electric sunrays.
To my surprise, Esmeralda had sent very little personal belongings. Only one ceremonial crate containing her Vestal dresses and two bags of luggage sat on the hovercart at the entrance of the hall.
I averted my eyes from the tall doors of the temple which opened onto the grand plaza and the Well of Power, which provided energy for the city and annexed towns. The doors had never opened for me. They never would. I was an abomination, a shameful secret that Frollo zealously protected… for my own safety.
Love and hatred filled my heart in equal measure as far as the Praetor was concerned. I lived by his mercy. He was my cold, indifferent ‘jailor’ and my only human contact. He had provided me with shelter, food, and protection. And once a month, he treated the terrible affliction that would otherwise either kill me or condemn me to a lifetime of agony. Even now, the dull pain at the base of my hump was steadily growing. By the time the Festival of Light came rolling in at the end of the week, it would reach excruciating levels that only the Praetor could relieve me of.
And so I endure.
With a sigh, I led the hovercart right beside the lift before going to fetch the welcome basket in the kitchen. Malina and the rest of the staff would be out on errands or other duties. Frollo would have never let me come down otherwise. The basket sat on a tray with two small covered dishes. The contents of the basket made my mouth water and my stomach rumble. Exotic fruits and cheeses, fresh breads, and a bottle of mulled wine enticed me. I didn’t know what the two small plates contained, but decided not to further torture myself by finding out.
When I got back to the tenth floor where Esmeralda’s room was located, I was relieved to find her door open and Frollo gone.
As I finished laying down the tray on the table next to the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the plaza, I caught my reflection in the free-standing mirror on the opposite side of the room. I stared at myself with morbid fascination, my feet bringing me closer to it with a will of their own.
I would never pass for human with my bluish-grey skin, the scales on my shoulders and back, and the horns sitting on my forehead. But with my mysterious condition approaching its peak—usually over a thirty-day period—I was disfigured. My face and hands were heavily swollen. Large splotches had appeared beneath my skin, looking like huge, purplish bruises. With the bloating, you would think I’d been on the losing end of a bloody fight. My only redeeming quality was my silver eyes. Even when my condition made them so puffy my eyelids were almost shut, they shone through, reminding me a worthy man lived behind that ugly mask. Soon, the Praetor would tend to my illness and, for a week or two, I’d be beautiful again.
I turned away from the mirror and neatly placed Esmeralda’s luggage and ceremonial crate inside her large walk-in closet. After putting away the hovercart, I made my way to my room on the twelfth floor. Isolated from the rest of the world by the beacon which occupied the whole of the eleventh floor—formally called the Light of Vesta—the spire’s summit was my haven and my window to the world.
To make sure no one would ‘accidentally’ stumble upon me, Frollo had cut down on the space in my room to add an antechamber outside the lift with a locked door to enter my quarters. I waved my hand in front of the bioscanner by the door, which slid open quietly. The happy chirps of my imps immediately greeted me, warming my heart. Victus and Lazarus flapped their grey batwings until they each landed on one of my shoulders. The claws of their tiny hands pricked my neck as they hugged me and carefully rubbed their faces on my cheeks.
“Hello, my friends,” I said, gently pulling their long, pointy ears in my usual gesture of affection.
Victus chirped and climbed down the length of my arm to rest in the palm of my hand. Lifting his round, owlish face to gaze upon me, he gave me an expectant look until I started scratching the back of his ear. He squeaked with contentment, his tail wagging. Lazarus began braiding the right side of my shoulder length, midnight blue hair, a clear sign he’d been bored.
Walking past my king-sized bed—recently replaced to accommodate my tall frame—I headed for the kitchen area of my loft, which Frollo had furnished with high quality equipment, including a cooling unit, a replicator, and a cooking unit with an integrated grilling station. Unfortunately, my cooling unit stood empty, as Malina hadn’t been able to get my groceries with all the frenzy surrounding the Vestal’s arrival. Therefore, I selected a plate of boar meat with yam puree from my replicator. It wasn’t fancy, but it would fill the hole in my belly.
I settled on the tall stool by the front window, overlooking the plaza. Often, I would sit here for hours, working on my wooden sculptures and looking at the people going about their daily lives. With windows on every wall but the back, there was always something worth watching in Paris. I couldn’t be part of their world, but I made up dialogues and scenarios of what they were doing and saying. I invented a personality for most of them and named them accordingly.
But today, even as they scurried about, readying for the upcoming festival, the citizens of Paris failed to retain my attention. When my gaze didn’t linger on Elysium—the distant floating city of the Elohim—it scanned the skies for the shuttle that would bring the Anointed. I ate distractedly, feeding tiny pieces of meat to my imps. They preferred it raw but, like me, they’d learned to be content with the comforts we had.
And then, just as the sun reached its zenith, its rays caught on the slick shape of a shuttle—a Light Chariot—descending towards the city. As one, the citizens and I all but froze, watching the pristine white vessel with the electric blue symbol of Vesta approach. It touched down on the landing pad located on the elevated plateau on the right side of the city.
Praetor Frollo, followed by an escort of six guards in ceremonial attire, and ten Light Maidens, took position at the foot of the stairs leading down from the landing pad. The guards, three on each side of the Praetor, held their lightning staves at arm’s length, the bases resting on the ground, and the tips, sparkling with electric coils, pointing outwards. Pride swelled in my chest to have the weapons I’d created be used in this highly honorific setting.
The Maidens stood right in front of the staircase, five on each side. Their white, Grecian dress hid nothing of their sexy bodies. In truth, the dress was essentially a front and back panel of fabric held in place by three lumis cords: one beneath their breasts, the second at the waist, and the third directly beneath their buttocks, showing bare skin along their sides and hips. While pleasing to the eye, I felt no attraction
towards them. Knowing they took turns warming Frollo’s bed in the dumb hope he would take one of them as his consort was a major turn off.
But all thoughts of the Maidens faded when the tall and statuesque silhouette of Esmeralda stepped out of the shuttle. She paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the city. Despite the distance, my enhanced sight as a Fallen allowed me to see every detail of her astounding beauty, with her long and curly, reddish-brown hair, her oval face, and delicate, pointy nose. I couldn’t tell if her sensual mouth with a plump bottom lip, or her sultry, green eyes mesmerized me the most. Under the bright, midday sun, her golden-brown skin—a delectable mix of hazelnut and cinnamon with a touch of honey—made my mouth water with the need to lick every inch of her.
With graceful movements, she delicately lifted the skirt of her traditional Vestal gown to climb down. If not for its expensive, shimmering white fabric, held at the shoulders by plaited lumis strings, the simple, virginal dress could have passed for a long, silk nightgown. Shoulders back, head straight, she descended the stairs with the regal presence of a queen.
Mindful of the lightning crackling at the tips of their staves, the crowd gathered in silence behind the guards. The Maidens spread their arms, palms up before them in an offering gesture. Electric coils rose from the skin along their arms, gathering into an orb in each of their hands. This should have been the extent of their greeting to the Vestal, but a beam of energy suddenly shot out of each orb forming an arc that connected with the beam from the orbs of the Maidens facing them. The crowd gasped at this display of power far beyond what the Maidens possessed. Their gaze shifted to the glowing archway the Maidens had created, which had been enabled by the powerful presence of the Anointed.
