By the Horns

by Jeanette Lynn

  Realizing our advance had come to a halt, our head cocked as if to listen—as if listening intently to our exchange, I imagined myself lifting my hand and ushering him on. Proceed. Onward.

  Thinking better of my tone, I corrected, Uhm, ahem, proceed, please, uh, if you will.

  Laughter rang in my head, a very masculine sounding chuckle leaving my lips.

  ‘With a bit of work, would she not make a fine overseer, my love?’ I could sense the queen’s smirk, feel it as her thoughts washed over us.

  “Indeed, my heart. Indeed,” the king agreed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Barron was the first to go.

  My steps were light, my moves swift. Dagger in hand, vision sharper even in this red dust fog, our quarry was flailing about, squealing, the first dagger buried in his groin to the hilt, pinning his robes to his person.

  I hoped his dick fell off.

  We came upon him fast, tumbling him with a swift kick that sent the dagger’s handle flying upwards. Barron’s shrieking squeals turned to bloodcurdling, choked screams. Blood sprayed us, warm, dark, iron-rich. We reveled in it. If I was in charge of my own body I’d have vomited on the spot and tried to scramble away. But I wasn’t in my body, I was more a spectator at the moment, watching on in horror.

  The king didn’t bat an eye, watching impassively as Barron scrambled to throw his robes back.

  As if he’d planned all along to attack my sister sexually, the Elder had nothing on beneath the billowy fabric, exposing a fleshy paunch from too much drink and a wiry frame with liver spotted skin fit for a goblin.

  I’d said castration, practically suggested it. The sight before me was so much worse. Sliced right open clean to the head of his lump-ridden dick, the pock riddled knob was the only thing keeping his member whole. Split and gaping, I could see the bloody insides, crimson quickly staining everything in a steady stream.

  Dagger retrieval was interesting, and I was tempted to look away, but like a wagon accident or a shipwreck, I simply couldn’t.

  Barron, oblivious to the fact we were upon him, howling as his hands went to grip his shaft and he realized he’d been unmanned, barely had time to take his next breath before the warrior king pulled his fist back, slamming it into the arsehole’s face, aimed right for his bulbous nose. A loud crunch and the Elder was squalling for help. He screamed again when the king gripped his dagger and, with our foot firmly planted on his chest, gave a hard yank.

  Noises a lady, as I’m going to claim to be for just a moment here in the name of self-preservation, should never hear, resistance, wet sucking sounds, and the slick, sickening swick of the dagger being freed as it finally gave reached my ears.

  Looming over the male, the queen’s dagger, as I’d come to think of the pink and white opalescent stone with the lady gracing it, in hand, sheathing his black dagger at our boot, he gripped the back of Barron’s head, tilting it back, his blade about to come down across his neck, when I started to see spots.

  Holy fuck this was happening. Oh, holy... holy... holy... fuck.

  Spray hit my face, warm, wet, as my world swayed, sounds in the distance as thunder filled my ears.

  I wasn’t made out for this, any of it, as evidenced when I mumbled a swift prayer to the mother of the Catholic god Thessen was so curious about and promptly passed out.

  ˜˙˜*˜˙˜

  By the time the dust had settled and I’d regained consciousness, there wasn’t an untainted spot within an inch of us. Pools of red and bits of Barron were everywhere. Vartok was no better off, though he remained whole. Ah... sort of. Dead, pinned to the wall, his guts hanging from him like steamers, but whole.

  When I frowned at that, the king, falling to the background to shift reins as I dizzily sat up, gave a mental shrug. ‘He called me Satan and made to grab the girl and run. Like I’d ever be as distasteful as that ugly, double tongued, dandified, cloven hoofed brute,’ he grumbled with a sniff, spitting the words out venomously.

  Right. Note to self: do not liken fae to the devil. It will end badly.

  ‘You did well, I suppose, considering,’ the Queen offered casually. ‘Most wouldn’t have made it past the penile dismemberment.’

  Grimacing, my hand went to my stomach and I bit back a groan. Because I really needed a reminder! I didn’t retch, but it was close.

  ‘Ania,’ the king chastised most affectionately.

  ‘What?!’ Her air of innocence wasn’t fooling anyone. ‘She lasted more than a minute and I had her pegged for thirty seconds or less. I’m impressed!’

  Wobbly legged, I tried to stand but failed. Toppling, my face hit the dirt, a thankfully tiny dry patch in an otherwise marred room.

  ‘We have to leave you now, Chosen.’ The king chose to ignore his queen’s pouting huff. ‘Our assistance is limited, and our part in this, if we’re to see this through to success, I’m afraid, is done. The rest is up to you. May the lights guide you.’

  They were fading out, slowly but surely.

  ‘Luck be with you,’ the queen was quick to add. And then there was nothing.

  Without them there to boost me, keep my back up and nudge me along, the noisy Queen in particular, I felt almost... bereft, suddenly overwhelmed.

  My breathing grew harsh, winded. I was giving in to panic, having a sort of attack. “Just going to lie here a moment,” I mumbled, huffing out a sighing breath. Dust kicked up, a streak of terracotta red to add to all that blasted blood, sprinkling my skin on its descent.

  Once more I was lost to the black void. Was I dying? Merely sleeping? My head needed the reprieve, my heart the time to process.

  Without thought I’d just slaughtered two horrible men. Without thought two souls were promptly sent to the depths, where they deserved. I couldn’t muster a single shit to give, even if guilt ate at me at the idea I’d taken lives.

  The king had done it, yes, if but through me, and that put me at much at fault as he—guilt by association.

  I was proud of the fact it had been Vartok and Barron and it had come to pass by my hands, even if I wasn’t technically holding the dagger, or conscious towards the end there, gods help me. I would’ve agreed to it again without hesitation, I knew, all the same.

  How he got blood spray on the ceiling, I thought, fading out, rolling, staring off above with glassy eyes, I’d never know. The warrior was a freaking magician. A madman, yet a magician. Magick, I mused with a twisted giggle. No, a Warrior King, then nothing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dreams of angry beasts chasing me, large, red-eyed demons hungry for human flesh—my flesh—had me startling awake. His breath was hot as he finally caught me, his skin even more heated. His hand went to my hip, the other at my nape. They gripped flesh. One slid lower along my trembling skin, skimming a rounded globe. He gave the softness a squeeze.

  Wiggling beneath him, I moaned. I went from demons, to this? Want of the flesh for an entirely different reason.

  My hips shifted.

  Something thick and hard pressed into my back.

  I wanted it, wanted all of him.

  “It’s not working,” a voice muttered, as if to speak over the scene playing out before them.

  “Mayhap you should be patient, love. It has all been but moments since she was marked, hours that are like seconds to us. The spell-”

  “I don’t care about how long the magick could take! Must things always go so slow with humans?! Already I grow tired of this. Never should have agreed to this silly arrangement…” the feminine voice trailed off on a mumble, a masculine chuckle at his female counterpart’s sour mood drawing me from my beastly captor’s seduction.

  “No matter,” the male soothed, “she is already waking. It would appear we have not fully severed the connection with the little warrior minx.”

  “Warrior,” the woman snorted, her voice clear as a bell before it began to fade out, “napping while we did all the work. Lazy, ungrateful, worrisome little beastie, it’s more like. How we’d come to choose th
is one, were left to choose this one, I’ll never...”

  “Say goodbye, darling,” the male cooed on a snort.

  “Goodbye, darling,” the woman quipped drolly, and he laughed, and then they were gone.

  My ears pricked, sounds rushing back, crashing towards me like tidal waves of sound. No sexy seduction, no thick cock ready to ravish.

  Whimpering. Sniffling. Feet scuffling. It didn’t mesh with the silent rumble vibrating my back, a wet nose leaning in to snuffle my shoulder. Ah, there was my sexual savior, come to take me away.

  I shivered in the cool, damp air as my beast lover pulled back, that thickness moving lower, prodding. My legs spread, heart pounding wildly. I was panting, just shy of begging. My passage was slick, ready for him. He was searching, taking his time.

  Moisture had gathered on my skin, perspiration mixed with... blood. It made my flesh itch.

  Blood. Blood everywhere, and- That had my eyes popping open wide.

  Gasping for breath, reaching up to grip my chest, ignoring the way my sex throbbed, breasts felt tender, nipples hard little peaks, and the way I suddenly ached with every fiber of my being for imaginary Minotaur dick, I shook my head.

  For a moment, as I lay there trying to catch my breath, eyes squeezing shut tight, I’d almost deluded myself into thinking I’d fallen asleep on the floor of my bedroom, but this space, this cavern I found myself in, smashed that one right to bits.

  No true utter delusions for me, apparently. Pity. I could use one right about now. Reality had come rushing back with a vengeance, leaving me aching for the sweet oblivion of sleep and bull man domination.

  The queen, the king, the massacre, it’d all been true.

  I almost wished the Minotaur fucking had truly been real instead.

  A whimper had me lifting up to glance to my left. Vetra lay on her side, gulping around her gag, hands still tied, wrists red from trying to loosen the ropes, fingers purple.

  With a shocked gasp I popped up, rushing over to her on fumbling legs like that of a newborn calf’s, ignoring the way she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, cringing away from me like she was terrified she might be next.

  “Ve. It’s going to be okay. I got cha. It’s okay, Vet, see? It’s me.” I kept saying this over and over again, ignoring the hitch in my chest, the way I hiccupped between words.

  She’d flinched, then flinched and flinched again, no matter what I did, a tiny, understandable reaction, considering, causing me to retreat, but I was fighting back a sob. I’d killed the two men responsible for hurting her, and more at that, with the King’s help, and she’s flinching. Vet, who I’d do anything for—did all of this for. It was a pink and white tipped knife to the heart, but I had to remind myself she was in a state of shock.

  Who knows, maybe she’d convinced herself I’d suddenly been possessed by a demon or the devil. Maybe it was almost better that way.

  “Demon sprites!” came a bellowing roar that had me jumping out of my skin. “I will cut out your hearts and eat your livers!”

  My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. Had the beast just really-

  “You will all die!” the creature swore, his voice ringing throughout the space. “Release me now, wingless pestilence!”

  It was then I got a really good look at the world around me—the stench, the head on a pointy rock formation like a pike... entrails... body parts, and was that- what was shoved in Barron’s-

  “Oh gods.” At the sight of a specific part of Barron’s anatomy stuffed in his mouth, the blistered, poxed end poking out like a snake’s head, I scrambled away from Vetra to empty my stomach.

  As shocked and horrified as I was, just plain sick at the display before me, I wasn’t prepared for the beast’s bellowing to gain voice. I heard him. I’d actually heard him. Every rage spewed word, I understood him.

  My gaze strayed to my fingers as I sat back, aching gut slowly settling, the dull pain in my back dimming, the sight of my hands speckled with dried flecks of blood and gore, and the raised marks I knew I’d find if I turned my palms up, I knew this was all real, and yet I could hardly believe it.

  It tingled still, just a bit, that beast’s mark. Turning my hand over, palm up, the raised flesh was a little red but otherwise just another scar in the many that already marred my skin, a thin, charred black line delineating the symbol as if to show where the stone horn had made the first cut. It was true, all of it, the mark, the map... the magicks, the fae, and now I’ve been lent the beast’s tongue.

  The thundering lump in my chest skipped a beat.

  My glance strayed to Vetra, who was swallowing hard, her eyes blinking rapidly, chest heaving mightily. Damn it all to hell, I haven’t even untied her yet!

  “I have to get you out of here,” I told her, carefully, cautiously sliding towards her, as if to reassure. Her or myself, I didn’t know.

  In all of this confusion, I did know one thing for certain, this truly could work.

  “Vile little vermin! Worms beneath my foot! Food for corpses! You’ll join them all soon, you know! I swear by Puck himself!”

  Wincing, confidence dipping marginally, I hoped this could work, prayed this could work, begged and pleaded with every deity known to man, to just help my ass stay alive.

  “He’s a little upset,” I whispered to no one in particular. It was understandable. I could work with this, if I could calm him.

  Glancing at Vetra, who was giving me the strangest look, I laughed nervously. “Hey, know any good beast lullabies?”

  Her eyes widened, going to the source of that noise briefly before she started shaking her head violently.

  The insane roar that followed, rocking the cave walls, more rocks tumbling, dust raining down on us in a dirt christening, had us both hunching in on ourselves. Guess he didn’t like that.

  “Heh. Heh. Uhm, just kidding?” I squeaked with no small amount of trepidation.

  Another vicious, snarling roar had me moving.

  Working knot after knot, the ropes finally loosened enough for me to tug them down Vetra’s wrists and slip her hands free. Her fingers were a funny color, a purplish red from her bindings, swollen and tender, her knuckles scraped raw. Red marks from the rope marred her slender wrists, her fingers wiggling as she gasped, a pained grimace distorting her delicate features. Like a little faerie angel, she is, Nan used to say. My little faerie angel was shaking from her head to her toes, a glassy look to her eyes that haunted me. My heart clenched, insides twisting at the sight.

  Yet another reminder as to why they’d picked the usually docile Vetra—she was young and sweet, and for the most part biddable.

  Arseholes, I growled inwardly. I hoped whatever those blades—my blades—had done to them, wherever the gods had seen fit to send them, they were laid up in some inconceivable Hell, sobbing their twisted little hearts out. Fucking nasty bastards.

  Lips pinching, I twitched, fingers itching to go back and stab their lifeless corpses, Barron bits and Vartok leavings, a few more times.

  “The pins and needles will stop in a moment,” I promised, grimacing along with her. On the outside I was collected, cool, calm, but on the inside I was raging. The evidence against them was too great. I wanted to kill those bastards all over again, but slowly—so slowly they screamed, wallowing in agony. I should have given the Warrior King free reign, let him punish them as he saw fit. No, as his queen saw fit. Guess I was more bloodthirsty than the queen gave me credit for.

  Vetra made a noise, dragging me from my dark thoughts. It was twisted to think such things, perhaps—and mayhap I was twisted—I didn’t care. Truthfully, they’d gotten what they deserved.

  “Ad- Adne?” Vetra whispered, her soft voice low and tremulous. Long fingers on a wide hand reached out to me, despite the shakes overtaking her small form. She was short but round, a more compact, though softer, miniature of me—my little shadow growing up. And someone had thought to harm her. My jaw tightened, teeth grinding until they ached.

  Knowing she wa
s watching me, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to loosen up. At least for appearances sake.

  “It’s okay,” I mumbled absently, distracted by the beast’s never-ending stream of threats. Chatty, that one.

  Pain starting up, right between my eyes, my jaw clenched anew, brow furrowing. I really needed to get her to safety. Now.

  Vetra, watching, hand outstretched, hesitated at the last moment, blinking confusedly. Her hand slowly lowered, curling towards her stomach, where she held it there gingerly.

  I knew her, she was trying to figure me out, guess at my reactions and the cause. It wasn’t her strong suit, but she tried. She never could quite read me, but I’m thinking right now that’s probably a good thing.

  “It’s okay,” I said again, clearing my suddenly dry throat.

  The winds whipping through the tunnel were more pronounced, whistling as they sped along, like angry, softly moaning banshees. How long before those groaning moans became roars of their own, competing with the cacophony the beast was making?

  Vetra shivered and glanced down at herself. A soft gasp left her dry lips and she let out an embarrassed noise. When I looked to her to find her close to tears, her distress at realizing she was still partially bared, I wanted to help but stopped myself, unsure of my assistance’s welcome.

  Hastily, she lifted the strap of her gown, trying hard with tremoring fingers to fix it. Heart breaking at the sight, I couldn’t just sit there, witness to her struggle. I had to help. Without a word, ignoring the way she gasped and winced, I took the straps and knotted them, slipping the other back onto her shoulder, stepping back quickly before she could protest.

  Picking up my cape to offer it to Vetra, at the vehement shake of her head I wrapped it around myself, tossing my hood over my head to shield me from her view. “We should get going,” I said into the silence that followed, ignoring the way she watched me warily.

  And off we go, I thought enthusiastically. I couldn’t say I was feeling it, though.

  But you’re doing it, Ri. You set out to do this impossible thing, and look at you? I couldn’t deny my inner voice had a point. It helped, if only a little.