The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)

by RJ Blain

  Faster than he dreamed possible for someone so abused, the girl dove across the room and took up the poker again. “Put him down. I mean it.”

  The surge of hunger faded beneath the onslaught of pain. Blaise took short, shallow breaths until he could ignore the worst of his injuries. “No,” he rasped out. With enough force to crack the wood, he slammed down his hoof. He almost longed for his human form so he could talk sense into the girl. Tilting his head to the side, he considered her.

  If he left her behind, the two humans would return, and they would kill her, possibly using Lucin to do it. If Blaise killed her, he could spare her soul, if he could control his urges long enough for her to pass through the Gates without his need overwhelming him.

  He didn’t trust himself enough.

  Blaise sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

  Unlike the military woman, Blaise didn’t dare subjugate the slave girl. Not when Terin knew her. Some things Blaise couldn’t explain away, including the sudden change of a personality like hers. No one would believe such a girl could become docile and meek in such a short time.

  Speech could work, if he could control his strength enough to avoid killing her by accident.

  Until he took up a human form, he couldn’t talk to her, not in a way she’d understand and remember. With few options, he settled on the one least likely to go amiss.

  He hoped.

  “Ssssleep,” he hissed, stretching out his neck and flicking his tongue out to brush its tip against the center of her brow. To his surprise, her face turned as red as his hide before the surge of his single word washed over her and she slumped to the floor. Blaise scrambled forward, ducking his head under her falling form and winced as her weight fell across him.

  The strain of sliding her to the floor drew a groan out of him. He panted and rested his head on the floor next to the girl’s still body. She breathed, and the fear ebbed away leaving behind the scents of blood and sweat. The surge of hunger he expected didn’t burn within him. Instead, an unsettling sensation spread from his chest, partnered with a need to do protect her as well as the boy.

  One he could handle even weakened as he was. Two was another matter. Her fate was sealed if he left her behind and the humans returned. Blaise didn’t think too long about what the two Citizens would do to a pleasure slave deemed no longer desirable.

  If he abandoned her, her death would be a thing of nightmares. Lucin devouring her soul would be a mercy in comparison.

  ~Help?~ the wind asked.

  Blaise winced at the thought of what the wind’s help would entail. Pain, more pain, and even more pain. Adjusting the unconscious boy across his back with his tail, he rose to his hooves. His body shook, and he spread his legs out to keep standing. His left wing did little more than twitch. He snarled so he wouldn’t groan, but managed to force his wing open with a little help from his tail. Broken bones creaked and cracked at the movement. Hissing from the pain, he lowered his head and worked his beak under the girl’s body. Sliding a hoof under her and bringing his tail around to help, he managed to drape her across his neck and his shoulders in front of his wings.

  With one wing broken, and the other too damaged to fly, if he wanted to escape with both of the human children, he had no choice but to take to the air. Swallowing back his pride and his apprehension over the agony awaiting him, Blaise nodded his agreement to the wind’s offer.

  The gust blasting down from above took Blaise by surprise. It slammed into him, encircled him, and held him firm in place. A whirlwind enveloped him. Blaise flinched away from a divan flying through the air. It swept in a circle around him, picked up speed, and smashed through the window. Moments later, the other pieces of furniture followed, shattering the remaining glass. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the shards tossed in the wind. The fragments were sucked outside. Blaise dug his talons into the floor, but he was pulled forward several feet before he came to a halt.

  Thunder rumbled and the rain pattered down through the hole in the ceiling. When the wind settled to a mere breeze, Blaise staggered forward and tapped at the shards still embedded in the window frame.

  With each tap of his beak, the wind took the pieces away, clearing the way for him. When he was certain there weren’t pieces able to cut either of the humans on his back and neck, he lifted his head and muttered a wordless complaint at his insufficiency.

  ~Help?~ he asked the wind, struggling to spread his throbbing wings.

  The violence of the gale beat against Blaise, picked him up, and tossed him upward as though he and the two slaves weighed nothing. The wind held the humans in place, and forced his wings to stay open. He got a sense of understanding that the wind knew he couldn’t fly, and that his wings were worthless until he healed.

  Instead of dropping him to the ground outside the window, Blaise was hurled over the estate walls and flung halfway across the plateau. His collision with the cobbles of a street drove the breath out of him. His head was cushioned by a pillow of air.

  Whether by luck or His blessing, the two slaves remained on his back. The wind whistled its satisfaction.

  Then, its presence was gone, leaving the storm to rage overhead. A deluge hammered over him. Blaise’s haphazard tumble from the sky to the stones hadn’t done him any good. The feathers he had left stuck out in all directions, and not even the weight of the rain flattened them. The simple act of breathing hurt. Something rattled in his chest, and pain rippled through him. Letting both of the slaves slip from his back, he struggled to get his legs underneath him so he could stand.

  When that failed, Blaise pulled the children to his side, keened at the pain of stretching out his broken wing, and covered them both while he rested.

  Chapter 13

  “Blaise?”

  A woman’s voice dragged Blaise from the dark and soothing comfort of sleep. The peace was shattered by his stiff and aching body. He blinked and tried to make sense of the scents filling his nose. Rain. Blood. A woman. Fear. Worry. Annoyance.

  It took him a long moment to realize his head rested on rain-slick cobbles. Flashes of lightning illuminated each stone and the water running through the cracks between them.

  “You can’t stay here, Blaise. It’s almost dawn.” A finger prodded at the tender hide above his eyes. He winced away from the touch. “Oh, you’re awake. Come on, then. Get up and out of that form before someone sees you, you old fool.”

  There was a pause, and then the woman let out huffed laugh. “What in His name were you thinking?”

  Blaise groaned, and he managed to lift his head. A pair of hands pressed under his beak and supported him. A pale face framed in dark hair stared him in the eye. His eyes widened with recognition. “Aria?”

  “And here I thought I was finished with you for this lifetime. Tch. Up, up!”

  It took him longer than he liked to realize Aria spoke in the old tongue—a language his stiff beak could manage. Blaise could handle the sounds meant nonhumans. “Children. Two. Where?”

  “Inside, Blaise. You’re lucky you ended up on my doorstep. How’d you know? You scared a few years off my life. Anywhere else, and you’d be skinned alive for your hide. What are you doing, lying there? Get up and change. Hurry.”

  Aria’s hold on his head remained gentle despite the sharpness of her tone. He drew several deep breaths and muttered a prayer of thanks.

  “How bad is it?” he asked, not daring to look back at his wings.

  “Bad. I set the bones the best I could. You better be able to handle the change to human, you old fool. I can’t hide you like this.”

  “I know that,” he growled.

  Without trying to rise, he struggled to focus on the human shell he’d abandoned. First, he needed the image. He needed to remember what he sought to become.

  It took several tries before he felt the wrench of his bones contorting. They cracked, melted, knit, and were reforged. Aria clamped his beak closed with both of her arms to keep his cries muffled.

  His
flesh softened and shifted until he couldn’t make any noises even if he wanted to, and he melted to something smaller, something softer.

  Something human.

  The pain intensified, but he couldn’t scream. He was aware of Aria turning her head so she wouldn’t have to watch. As soon as it began, it ended, and Blaise collapsed to the stones.

  He should’ve been naked, but the soft touch of his clothing wrapped around him. The touch of hands on his arm drew a cry out of him. He was yanked to his feet, and without a word, Aria draped his arm over her slender shoulders.

  “In you go,” she whispered. The thunder rumbled one final time before the storm abated, leaving behind a light patter of rain. “You look like you’re the reason they call hell bloodied. What have you done, Blaise?”

  “Long story,” he muttered, and winced as he bit the tip of his tongue by accident. He opened and closed his mouth and tried to adjust once more to the softness and frailty of a human’s form.

  Not that he’d fared very well in his divine form. At least he’d managed to avoid being devoured.

  “It always is with you. Still, I didn’t think I’d get to see you like that again.” Aria’s wistful tone caught his attention. It wasn’t until he stood in a stairwell he was able to focus his eyes on the woman holding him upright. Her colors were muted in his human form, but her dark hair and pale skin was still attractive. Her lips curved in a reminiscent smile. A silver collar glinted in the light of a lantern streaming from a door at the top of the stairs.

  Her eyes, as always, were a green too dark to be mistaken for the Daughter’s. Blaise lifted his hand to touch the slave collar. Before he could protest, she gripped his hand.

  “It’s all right, Blaise.”

  “No, it isn’t. Who…?”

  “I, as always, belong to you. To only you, Lord Gabriel of House Rafel.”

  Blaise sucked in a breath. Aria lifted his hand to her cheek and she sighed.

  All he could think about was finding whoever had collared Aria so he could devour his—or her—soul. He didn’t dare voice his thoughts, but Aria smiled as if knowing what Blaise was contemplating.

  “It was seven years ago. I made a mistake. I should’ve sent word, but I knew it would be a bother,” she said. “To all, I am a prize of House Rafel, and so long as I keep my shop, I’m as free as I can be. Better than those children you brought to my door.”

  “Aria,” he whispered.

  “Blaise,” she replied, still smiling.

  He didn’t know why he did it, but he straightened and pressed his lips to hers. Instead of pulling away, she wrapped her arms around him, tangled her fingers in his hair, and nestled her head against his shoulder.

  It wasn’t lust—he was too tired for that. But, the relief at her touch left him weak in the knees. Without her hold on him, he would’ve fallen, and he doubted he would’ve minded, so long as she stayed with him.

  She, who’d stood witness to all he had done, all he did, and all he would do.

  “What’s gotten into you, Blaise? Get upstairs and tell me what’s going on. Preferably before you fall down on me.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “It isn’t you I’m worried about. It’s the rest of us,” she said in a wry tone. “The difference between me and these Erelithian fools? When someone tells me there are things worse than wolves hunting in the night, I believe them.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent. He took the chance to gather strength so he could make it up the rest of the steps.

  Aria laughed, but it was a humorless sound. “Even more, I know there is nothing quite as dangerous as a wolf who has been injured and driven into a corner.”

  Blaise couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t.

  ~*~

  Terin couldn’t remember how he got in bed clad in nothing more than his undergarments. No matter how long and hard he thought on it, he didn’t know where he was. It certainly wasn’t with Zurach or Emeric. He couldn’t imagine either man having a room so small it barely fit a bed.

  He tried to ignore the fact he wasn’t in bed alone, but the long strands of the girl’s hair tickled his nose, and the warmth of breath on his neck made his cheeks burn.

  He certainly would’ve remembered getting into bed with a girl. Worse still, the bed wasn’t big enough for the both of them. He’d woken up with his arm wrapped around her, which kept her from rolling to the floor.

  He didn’t even know her name.

  The whole situation was some sort of accident, of that Terin was certain. It wasn’t his fault she kept rolling about on the bed, thrashing in her sleep. It would’ve been easier if he let her fall to the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  The room was too dark for him to see any more than the shadows of the walls near him. He lifted his free hand to touch her throat. The metal of a collar met his fingers.

  Heat burned his face. Had he somehow—against his will—taken Zurach up on his offer? A shudder ran through Terin. He didn’t remember anything after the man’s taunting. The darkness had devoured him and all of his memories.

  “Awake, yes?” a woman’s voice whispered. With a start, Terin recognized the voice of the dark-haired shop owner with the silver collar. Light streamed in through the opening door. Terin couldn’t make out the woman’s face, and he flinched from the brightness. “Yes, good. Good. Help, yes?”

  The door opened completely and lantern light illuminated the room. Terin’s eyes widened as she swept into the room, carrying a lantern in one hand, which she hung from a hook jutting out from the wall. Clucking her tongue, she grabbed the girl’s arm and lifted her to an upright position.

  The girl remained limp, and her breaths were slow and even.

  “Won’t wake,” the woman said. “Up, up. Time for clothes, yes?”

  With the shopkeeper’s help, he untangled himself from the girl’s embrace. He feared his face would burn to ash at the silver-collared woman’s knowing smile. Without a word, the girl was tucked back into bed. Terin’s eyes widened when he got a good look at her.

  It was the golden-haired girl from the arena.

  Before he could react to the discovery, the shopkeeper took hold of his arm and pulled him from the room. Terin hesitated. Instead of the anger he expected, the woman smiled.

  “All explained soon, yes,” she said, her words heavily accented.

  Without any other choice, he followed at her insistent pulling, pausing at the door to stare at the sleeping girl. He didn’t understand. She hadn’t been stolen out of the arena with him. How had Zurach and Emeric gotten a hold of her?

  Why had they wanted her dead?

  Before he could think on it too long, the shopkeeper pulled him into a maze of life-sized dolls clad in clothes worthy of the Emperor. Terin felt his mouth drop open, but he wasn’t given time to stare. Dragging him behind her, the woman led him to an opened door across the room.

  “Brought him, I have, Lord Gabriel. Like you want, yes?”

  “Thank you, Aria,” a man’s voice called out from the room. “Do something about his attire.”

  Terin didn’t get a chance to look in the room. With a huff, the woman spun around and dragged him through the dolls.

  “For now, little. Later? Much. Unsuitable attire I have, yes.” Aria’s grip tightened on his arm, and Terin resisted the urge to yank out of her grasp.

  “Do as you can, Aria.”

  “Yes, yes. Stand. Arms out,” the woman ordered.

  Terin stood in a gap among the dolls. Pulling out a ribbon from a hidden pocket in her skirts, Aria prowled around him. Baffled and uncertain whether or not she meant him harm, he obeyed. With quick, precise motions, she pressed the ribbon to his skin, making disapproving noises in her throat.

  “Too thin. Few now, later more, after feeding. Too many cuts. Bruises. Better care take, yes?” Aria said with her thick and strange accent.

  The laughter from the other room both surprised and embarrassed T
erin. He had to admit the woman was right. Someone had changed his bandages, and he almost didn’t need clothes, considering how wrapped up he was. Unable to decide which question to ask first, he remained silent.

  He knew he was injured beneath the linens, but he couldn’t feel any pain from them.

  “Mind not Lord Gabriel. Mood funny. Hit head, maybe? Some clothes fit, yes. Follow. Not perfect, but fit. Come,” Aria said, gesturing for him to follow. When Terin didn’t move, she clucked her tongue at him. “Come now.”

  Once again, he was led through a maze of the life-sized dolls. Not even Emeric’s attire surpassed the garments worn by faceless figures. Pearls and jewels fringed tasseled cuffs, and silk gleamed in the radiance of Speech-wrought light. Halting at a doll dressed in black, the woman went to work stripping it. The woman threw the coat at him, and he fumbled to catch it. The rest of the garb followed until his arms were laden in soft material.

  “Hmm. Match hair, yes? Don’t stand there. Change!” she ordered. Her glare kept him silent, and he hurried to obey to avoid her wrath.

  Terin reached up to touch his hair. When he’d seen her the first time, it’d been pale. Why hadn’t she noticed, or cared, that it was now as black as the clothes he was to wear? He couldn’t find the courage to ask. First he donned the straight-legged trousers before slipping on the black silk shirt. The material caught on his rough skin and linens. Aria intervened when he started to pull on the doublet, once again making disapproving noises as she adjusted the buttons to her liking. “Not perfect.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Not you. Clothes. Come,” she replied, waving at him to follow. “Respectful, yes?”

  Terin felt his brows furrow as he tried to understand what she meant. Confused but unwilling to anger the woman, he nodded to answer her expectant expression. Trailing behind her, he swallowed. Apprehension tightened his chest.

  They drew close to the room where Lord Gabriel waited. The man didn’t sound like either Zurach or Emeric. How had he escaped from the brothers? He considered escaping from the woman, but until he knew who Lord Gabriel was, he didn’t dare leave. If he had to run, Terin needed to know who to avoid.