by R. R. Virdi
The wight turned its head to regard its fallen sword.
I charged the monster, screaming at the top of my lungs.
The undead warrior turned back in time to raise its hands in defense.
It did little good as I reversed my grip on the weapon, driving it down towards its skull. The blow didn’t land as I had hoped. The monster stepped into the strike, digging its fingers into my throat. “Hurgkh!” I gasped but followed through, sinking the large piece of shrapnel into the spot between its neck and shoulder.
Its body sagged as a dry sigh left its mouth. The wight’s grip on my throat loosened.
I returned the earlier favor and grabbed tight to the front of its body. With a twist and heavy push, I turned and sent the wight staggering past me. The force of the shove drove the monster into a nearby wall.
It recovered the second it impacted, turning around and giving me a death glare.
I swallowed and eyed the creature’s sword. I raced towards it, managing to lower myself without stopping. My fingers brushed against its hilt and closed around it. There was a second where the blade protested the action of being dragged against the ground. The sword scraped and screamed as I pulled it along.
The wight released a hollow cry and rushed to meet me.
I raised the sword and swung from the shoulder. The wide blow swept through the air towards the monster’s arm.
It turned its profile towards me and met the blade with its chest. Metal rings shrieked and clinked as the blade severed them. The sword buried itself into the sternum of the creature and stopped a couple of inches in.
The wight didn’t seem the least bit concerned with the fact that its chest was being used as an oversized knife rack.
Details.
The wight snatched me by the shoulder and pulled hard.
I staggered towards the same wall I’d driven the creature into moments ago.
Monsters don’t let up. The wight shoved hard, adding extra force into the action.
The side of my face smacked the wall. My vision wavered. The area around my left brow erupted into a razor-sharp row of heat. Something warm and wet pooled at the corner of my eye. Part of my mouth went numb and felt like it’d been scoured with sand. I tasted copper.
I looked over my shoulder. Everything blurred like daubs of paint in water. Two things stood out: the approaching wight and the pulsating blue flame to my side. I placed a hand against the wall and pushed.
I wasn’t fast enough.
The wight surged forwards, driving its mass against the side of my body.
My ribs bounced off the wall. I winced and opened my mouth in a mute cry. The back of my skull erupted into pins and needles as the hairs went taut within the wight’s grasp. My head got another close-up with the wall.
I reached out blindly, slapping my hand on anything I could find. My fingers found purchase against the crook of the wight’s elbow. I squeezed and wrenched.
The creature was forced several steps to the side.
My whole body felt like it’d been a punching bag for the ball. I shut my eyes for a second and buried the spreading numbing sensation and the bone-deep weariness. Something deep and hot stirred inside me like my gut was nursing molten globules. I drew on them. I opened my eyes and plowed forwards.
The wight turned, the still buried sword waggled in the cavity it had carved.
I extended my arms, crashing my palms into the monster’s chest just above the weapon. My legs screamed from the effort as I pushed against the creature. I succeeded in shoving it against the small orb of blue.
The fire flashed like it had been fed gasoline.
I released my hold and backpedaled without stopping.
The wight screamed a sound like dying machinery. It was a sharp, dry wail of seizing metalwork. Fire licked its torso, spreading over its body without pause. The undead monster beat itself, working to subdue the fire.
I reached the table and stopped to watch from the safe distance.
The blue fire engulfed the wight as its movement slowed. Its arms no longer windmilled in panic. The creature sank to its knees before toppling over. The fire crackled and hissed spitefully over its body.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the queen. Crumpled bills sat in one of her hands. I smiled and imagined it was a macabre thing to look at. Blood welled at the corner of my mouth and made its taste apparent. “Keep the change.”
The queen blinked, and, for an instant, I thought she was going to make good on her threat to freeze my insides. She smiled. With a quick flick of her hand, the cash vanished, and she clapped.
The hall exploded into applause that could be felt in my bones. My head spun as like each clap sent my brain into a tumble.
“Well done.” Her voice cut through the clapping and silenced the hall in its wake. “At the very least, you have proved useful for the baser things that require a degree of physicality.”
I grunted in between my panting. “Me...hit...things good.”
One of the queen’s eyes twitched. “I hope you can do more than that, Vincent Graves.”
“Try me.” It was the best I could I do to not come off intimidated.
“Oh, I intend to.” Her smile grew, and an arctic chill rolled through my veins. “But for now, enjoy the ball for as long as you can. Now, let us dance.” She extended a hand.
I took it. “Sure, why the hell not?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The White Queen pulled me to the front of the hall where she had made her entrance. She waved her free hand.
The guests rose and stepped away from the tables in unison. Every fixture sank into the snowy-looking ground like the floor had developed a hunger for them. With that, the cavernous hall was cleared for the dance.
Oh, goodie.
Her Royal Highness of all things shivery twined her fingers within mine. “Your other hand goes on my waist.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
“What?”
She gave me a smile that made it clear her patience was being tested. “Put your hand on my waist, Vincent Graves.”
I did just that.
“You can listen. Good. Now, can you follow?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer as she stepped back. Before I could adjust, she moved again, gliding to the side.
The sound of thrumming strings and wind instruments flooded the hall, echoing as they loudened.
She pulled again. It was a gentle tug, but that’s not what I found odd.
My body felt like it was being towed through water. Every little bit of force she exerted acted out several times stronger than it should’ve been. Dancing with the White Queen was like being pulled along by a hurricane pretending to be a breeze. She’d give my hand a gentle tug, and I’d glide after her.
Her intensity increased, and it felt like holding onto a giant pinwheel. The music followed her lead, picking up in tempo. The instruments quickened their pace again and, this time, the queen followed. It was like they were both building to a crescendo that would never come.
My body ached, and every sinew felt like sizzling meat.
The White Queen kept her eyes locked on mine the entire time. She kept the pacing up and showed no signs of slowing.
Periwinkle flashed at the edge of my vision. I focused on it and spotted Kelly. A gaggle of guests crowded her. Some were a bit too eager in seeking her attention for a dance. I wagered others wanted something more than just a waltz—like a meal. Some folks—paranormal or not—don’t know how to take no for an answer.
The queen pulled again, and I felt like an elastic band about to snap towards her. I planted my feet, clenching my jaw as I resisted her tug. My heels dragged against the floor. “No.”
“What?” Her mouth parted and her eyes lost their focus. She was genuinely confused. The queen kept pulling regardless.
My feet skidded across the floor. The juddering rolled through my ankles. I ground my shoes against the floor, fighting for traction as I pulled back. I stared her down.
She met my look and held it. “Interesting. Why?”
I gestured past her towards Kelly. “My friend.”
The queen turned to regard the situation and opened her mouth into a silent “Ah.” She faced me. “And? You brought the mortal here. Surely you did not think she would go unnoticed?”
“You’re right, and I intend to bring her out of here. And I don’t have an issue with her being noticed. My problem is what those freaks will do to her. I’m not a fan of the possibilities.”
It felt like layers of plastic wrapped around me. My hearing dulled like I was submerged.
The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Those freaks are my guests.” She gave me another light pull.
I resisted. “And that girl is my friend. That trumps your paranormal circus.”
Her hand slipped from mine, and the area above my wrist throbbed. She squeezed, making it feel like my arm was being crushed in five separate vice-grips. Each point of pressure felt like a cold bar lancing through my forearm.
I winced and fought to keep my knees from buckling. “Go ahead. Crush it. I’ll heal.”
“You’re resilient—reckless.”
My teeth ground. “Flatterer.” I clenched harder. “Here’s the thing: I know I can’t overpower you. I know you’ve got me with that favor Lyshae gave you. I can’t wriggle out of it. But you know what? I can fight. I can be a pain in your ass, Your Highness. Maybe it’s not smart. Maybe you’ll snap your fingers and freeze my borrowed ass. But it’ll cost you. You’ll be out a useful tool. And make no mistake, I am damn useful.”
She tilted her head. “Oh?” The queen dug in with her nails, her grip tightening.
“Yeah.” I gritted my teeth harder. The pain felt like frozen skewers going through skin, meat, and bone. “See, I figure it like this. If you didn’t have even the slightest interest in keeping my favor, you would have tossed me aside in an instant. Why bother making me fight Skeletor?”
She stared.
“The wight.”
The queen opened her mouth in silent recognition, waving a hand for me to continue.
Easier said than done when she was using her other hand to crush the bones in my forearm.
“You could have rejected Lyshae’s gift. It’s not like it would have hurt your reputation, only hers.”
“Yes.”
“So, why not do it? What do you need me for? Unless, you wanted someone who’s part of the mortal world. Someone not bound by your rules, no allegiances to courts, lords and ladies. You wanted someone free of all that. Someone who can take a beating. And I’m not all that slow on the draw either. You’re setting something up.”
Her face was a frozen mask, but her eyes flickered with an amused light. “You are indeed quick. Yes. That was all for show. I do want you for something. But that time is long away. For now”—her grip tightened and my knees almost gave way—“it would be in your best interest to behave. Many of my guests are watching. I veiled this conversation.”
Ah. That explained the plastic sensation. Veils could do more than obscure sight. They could blot out people listening.
It made sense. Hiding our scuffle from sight would have been a clear indication something had gone wrong. That wouldn’t have been good for her reputation. But muting the sound? At the most it probably looked like we had stopped dancing. Not counting the death grip on my arm.
“Let them watch.” I stared daggers at her.
She returned the look. “Not wise.”
Kelly’s eyes were wide, and her skin paled. Random guests drew closer, working to corral her somewhere out of sight for who knows what.
“I’m not interested in being wise right now. Threaten me all you want, but you know who and what I am. I don’t have much aside from this.” I glanced at my body. “And this is temporary. The only thing I have—and for the record, they’re rather new—is friends. I’m not letting anything happen to them. So, let go.”
Her lips spread into a wide smile. “Lyshae did well in gifting me your favor. You will prove useful.” The queen’s fist clenched.
My knees failed me. The floor thudded against the bones as my arm felt like it’d been stripped by miles of twine.
I don’t know how good the veil was. I hoped it kept my screams subdued. My throat felt like I’d gargled bits of glass and nails.
She released her hold and bent. “That was for disobeying me and making a scene before my guests.”
I wanted to tell her to go screw herself. I managed a pained whimper instead.
Her smile grew, and she put a finger to my cheek. “It’s a shame no one has laid claim to your soul. It would fetch quite the price. Maybe something still will. Maybe something will find a way to pry you free from your little suits. And, no, I do not mean this one.” Her finger slid down my throat, reaching my collar until she dragged it to the middle of my chest. “Thank you for the dance.”
The air expanded, giving the illusion that I had more room to breathe than before. My hearing fluctuated like I had plugged my ears and now they weren’t.
The White Queen flashed me one last smile. Then she was gone.
There was no sign of movement, no visible magic. She disappeared like I’d dreamed the entire thing up. I blinked away the welling moisture and pulled my sleeve up.
The area above my wrist was the color of blueberry on its way to becoming plum. I tried rolling my wrist. The action sent fireworks and a swarm of wasps through the area. It wasn’t completely broken, just fractured. It’d heal.
I struggled to my feet and ignored the staring crowd.
Kelly looked past the guests, seeking a way out of the tightening net of bodies. She spotted me, and I saw relief flood her face.
I braced my good arm on my knee and hauled myself up to a shaky stand. Leaving my friends to these monsters was not an option. My teeth clamped until the only thing I could feel was the pressure through my jaw. I stumbled the first few steps before straightening my back and walking with poise. The pain refused to leave my mind.
Sometimes you have to work through the pain. It’s more than a cliché. It’s true. Things grow from attention. It’s another form of power. Paying something attention is feeding it an awareness it can thrive on. Pain is no exception. I’m not saying you can simply forget about it. The aches, burning, and throbs will be there. But you can put them in a place where they can spur you on. And, if you do it right, they can give you something else to draw on for strength.
Angry resolve.
People say there’s no power in anger. That it can be dangerous. They’re right. But it depends what you do with it. Lashing out blindly can get a lot of people hurt, including yourself. I wasn’t fueled by blind anger. I was angry—for Kelly. That she was stuck surrounded by gods and darker things.
I exhaled and slipped by the first guest comprising the semi-circle around her. The rest were a blur as my attention fixed on her. Stretching my mouth into a smile was a task, but I did it despite the pain. “Hey.”
Her mouth trembled like she was fighting to remember how to speak. “H-hey.”
I extended my good hand. “May I have this dance?”
She looked at me and then leaned to look past. “Yes. Thank you.”
I glanced over my shoulder, flooding my voice with my anger and pain. “Beat it.”
They didn’t.
“Now!”
A few of the guests exchanged disgruntled looks and grumbles, but they left nonetheless. The handful who remained eyed me for a moment, each shooting me varying degrees of death looks.
“Go ahead. Start something, right here. Think our host is watching? Think she wants you messing with her new toy?” I smiled.
The lingering guests departed.
“Douche-coasters.” I glared at them until I was certain they had no intention of returning.
Kelly sniffed, and her face shook like she was about to burst into laughter. “Do I want to know what that means?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Sometimes knowing is over
rated. Ignorance is bliss.”
She shook a bit more, pressing her lips tight to keep from letting loose. Kelly settled herself with a long breath. “Didn’t you say knowledge is power?”
“Yup. But over something silly like this, let it go.”
Kelly eyed me. “Did you just say that...in a palace belonging to a snow queen?”
I blinked several times and started, waiting for her to clarify.
“You mean, you haven’t seen the movie?”
I kept staring.
“Oh, God.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Never mind.”
“Um, okay.” I waggled my good hand.
She smiled and took it. Her gaze fell to my other hand. “What happened?”
I licked my lips and looked around on instinct. The White Queen was nowhere in sight. “Her Highness has one helluva a handshake. Don’t worry, it’ll heal with time.”
“Thanks again, Vincent. I was...” She trailed off and looked to the ground.
I recognized the look as her stare went hollow and her mouth twitched in silence. Shame.
I traced my thumb over her hand. “Hey, what’s up?”
“What’s up? I’m freaking out—still.” Her breathing picked up. “I’m surrounded by monsters and magic, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I don’t know what will happen if I say or do the wrong things. I don’t even know what the wrong things are. I’m...I’m afraid.” She made the word sound like a curse.
“I’m scared too, Kelly. And you know what? That’s okay.”
She looked at me like she wasn’t sure if she could believe that.
“It’s true. We’re surrounded by supernatural creatures out of folklore and legend. Some of these things are gods and things far worse—trust me. Yeah, I’m freaking out, but I may not look like I am. That’s the difference.”
“How?” Her eyes held a silent plea that strengthened her question.
“By knowing it’s okay to be afraid. I know I’m making it sound easier than it is, but don’t go thinking it’s a lot harder than it might be either. This world isn’t normal. Heck, our world isn’t so normal a lot of the time. Surprises happen; things scare us back there too. When those happen, what do you do? You give yourself permission to be scared. It’s no different here.”
