To my surprise, there is indeed a beast, but he’s chained to the wall to the left of the entrance I’d just come through. I literally ran right past him without a thought. Had he been unchained, I’d probably be dead by now.
This creature is fae and not daemon, and I open my senses up slightly to see what vibe I get. It’s dark and malicious, but I never let the feelings decide anymore for certain if they are Light or Dark Fae, because that’s just species designation. So, for now, I reserve judgment from whence he descends and merely accept the vibe says he clearly wants to kill me.
His face is greenish and warty, as are the exposed parts of its legs and arms under raggedly frayed pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and well-worn boots. He has no hair, muddied orange-brown eyes, and a lipless mouth, which I’m going to have to assume are filled with fangs. His body is otherwise humanoid, tall of stature with thick arms and legs denoting great strength. The chains are at the creature’s ankles and wrists and attached to spikes in the cave wall.
I relax slightly, seeing the creature chained up, and I wonder if I’m supposed to free it. Perhaps it’s morally good and I have to make that determination to show I can look at more than just the species.
“Why are you here?” I ask it.
He growls low again, and I think he might not understand me, but when he speaks, I’m surprised at how deep, mellow, and articulate his voice is. Like he could seriously be a narrator for audiobooks.
“I eat children,” he says. Based on that admission, I’ve determined he’s a Dark Fae and quite evil, deserving of the chains. “Annihilators caught me a few days ago and I’ve been locked up here since.”
I frown, keeping my whip hanging loosely at my side. Am I supposed to just kill him while he’s chained up? I know annihilators destroy evil creatures, and eating children puts you right up at the top of the list alongside Kymaris as far as I’m concerned.
But… there are no rules here.
Nothing says I can’t just walk right out of here and see what awaits me next.
I actually start to pivot on my foot, intending to do just that, when an ominous sound rings through the cave.
The sound of heavy, thick chains falling to the ground.
My head whips back around, and I see that the creature is no longer secured. He rubs at his wrists, gives me a smile that does indeed reveal fangs. “I was told a champion would be coming through.” He takes a step toward me, tosses his head left and right as if working out some kinks. “I was told… if I defeat the champion, I can have my freedom.”
“Guess I’m that champion,” I mutter, moving several feet backward so I’m in the middle of the room and have more space to maneuver.
The creature stalks slowly toward me. “Normally, I like killing slow, but I want to do this fast. There’s an orphanage down in Venezuela that I hear has the tastiest, fattest babies you can imagine.”
I whirl my whip in a circle over my head before slicing downward, not coming anywhere near him but also knowing I wouldn’t. It’s a warning shot to stay back, and he stops in his tracks.
This appears to be a battle to the death and since he readily admits to eating babies, I find my conscience squeaky clean on that front.
A rumbling sound echoes around the cavern, and the ground starts shaking like it did when I was crossing the log. The creature and I glance around, but I manage to keep an eye on him as I try to figure out what’s happening.
It becomes abundantly clear what’s happening when the ground along the perimeter of the cave starts crumbling and then dropping away. It keeps falling away until the creature and I are left standing on a piece of cave floor that’s perfectly circular and about twenty-five feet in diameter. There’s a good ten feet of nothing between the edge of the circular ground we stand on and the edge of the cave wall. There is no ledge bordering the cave wall, so there is nothing to leap onto, assuming I could make the ten-foot leap, which I doubt I could.
As it stands, I’m trapped within this circle with a Dark Fae who wants to kill me, which means I’m going to have to defeat him here and now.
My gaze connects with the creature, who seems as stunned by this development as I am. I take a few steps back from him, trying to put a little distance between us. My movement gets his attention, and his head swivels my way.
“Let’s do this,” he rumbles.
“Let’s,” I reply confidently, but truly feeling like I might vomit. He’s not the first Dark Fae I’ve battled. That would have been the incubus in my backyard.
I’ve faced off against hell beasts in Deandra’s coliseum set up to help me tap my magic.
I even pulled my whip on the prince of the Light Fae and faced off.
But being in this dismal cave, on a slice of real estate barely twenty-five feet across; not knowing what awaits me if I defeat this Dark Fae and knowing even if I make it out of this gauntlet I still have to save the world, I’m suddenly feeling a bit tired.
The fae takes one step my way but before he can even lift his other leg, the ground rumbles again and then the circular cave floor slowly starts rotating. Not enough to throw us off balance, but enough both of us freeze to see what will happen.
We’re clearly on some type of platform with hydraulics under us, and without warning, the floor tilts to the side. It’s slow, and I’m able to bend one leg, extending the other to keep a strong stance while holding my whip out, ready to strike if the fae makes a move. His actions mimic mine, but he looks a little clumsy, trying to situate himself to accommodate for the tilt.
When the movement stops, I take the initiative and attack first. I whirl my arm, slice the whip, and manage to land a strike across his chest. It slices his shirt and skin, and I hear the sizzle from the iron scales burning him.
He bellows in rage and pain, but I don’t wait for him to react. I bring my whip down on him again, slicing his chest in roughly the same spot.
It drives him back a few steps, and he screams again as I advance on him. My goal is to drive him off the edge of the platform and down into the dark abyss below.
But just as I lift my foot to take a step, a metal spike thrusts upward from the dirt floor no more than six inches from my body. It’s thin and approximately four feet tall. I jerk clumsily backward, my heart slamming against my chest when I realize I almost got skewered.
The fae frowns at this new development, and because I’ve halted my progress, he decides to go on the attack. He rushes at me, and I scramble backward. He takes three, four, five strides. Just as I’m nearing the edge of the platform, a spike thrusts up in front of him. He skitters to a halt, snorting in frustration.
I prepare to launch my whip to drive him back, but the damn platform, which is still rotating slowly, now starts to tilt the other way. Except it keeps tilting and tilting until both the fae and I start to slide. I stay upright as long as I can, but I’m eventually driven down to my stomach by the angle of the floor and gravity.
Same with the fae, except he’s smart enough to grab onto the spike that had thrust up in front of him and he hangs on tight. I, on the other hand, go sliding across the dirt floor. Looking back, I see the edge rushing to meet me and almost accept my demise with nothing to grab on to.
But then my brain kicks into overdrive, and I realize I have in my hand the means to save me from going over the edge.
My whip isn’t long enough to latch onto the first spike that came up, but I merely conjure length to it and let it fly just as my feet slide free from the floor. Thankful for the hours upon hours of target training with this weapon, I manage to get my thong wrapped securely around the spike. Just as my hips go over, I come to a jarring halt.
For several seconds, both the fae and I hang there as the floor slowly rotates. Because we’re at an angle, halfway around, we end up higher and I am able to actually pop up to my feet. Just as the fae does the same, the floor starts to level out.
I don’t wait for it to be perfectly flat, but immediately attack. I charge him, cracking my wh
ip at the fae repetitively while, at the same time, conjuring a throwing knife made of iron. While my left hand isn’t as strong as my right, my accuracy is almost as good. I crack my whip, not to make contact but to distract, and then fling my knife. I don’t bother to try to penetrate his sternum as it won’t work. Instead, it sinks in deep just inside his left shoulder socket below the collarbone, and I watch that left arm go completely limp.
Another bellow of rage as the fae wrenches the knife out and throws it back. I don’t even have to dodge it as it doesn’t come close and now, I’ve learned something important.
This fae doesn’t know how to wield weapons, but I expect if eating children is his sole talent, why would he?
That gives me the boost of confidence I need to attack again.
For the next few minutes, I slice and dice with my whip and throw two more knives—one to his existing shoulder wound and the other to his thigh. Again, mere wounds, but they are making the beast angrier. All the while, the platform continues its lazy rotation, but with unpredictable tilts and spikes thrusting up through the floor, one catching me on my left forearm when I’m not able to get out of the way in time. It slices a groove through skin and muscle, and gods does it hurt like a son of a bitch.
But I don’t yell in pain, and I don’t retreat. I continue attacking with my whip and using my superior balance and agility to stay out of the fae’s charging attacks.
It’s when the floor starts tilting again that I decide enough is enough. I’m not going to be able to get close enough to pierce his brain or heart with iron, but I’ve got a mean flying front kick.
As the floor tilts downward and the fae starts to go sliding, I use the momentum and charge him, praying to anyone that’s listening to please not thrust a spike up in my way. Three feet from my quarry, I push off hard with my right foot, lift my left knee high to help build height and momentum, and then cycle my right leg up and out for a well-placed kick to the fae’s chest. It’s hard enough that he’s literally lifted off his feet and he goes flying back. There’s a spike from the floor near the edge, and he manages to grab onto it before going over the edge.
I’m starting to slide off, too, and I can easily latch onto another spike with my whip.
But I want this over.
I need him to fall.
By some stroke of amazing luck—or I’m the baddest bad-ass chick around—I snap my whip his way in an underhanded throw, slicing across his knuckles gripping the spike.
It’s hard and deep enough that, without thought, he screams as he lets go of the metal pole. He makes a scrabbling effort to throw his other hand out to grab it, but he misses.
I fall to my ass from the force of gravity, sliding toward the edge to tumble over after the fae.
Except at the last minute, I once again use my whip to grab onto a spike and I’m caught well before I fall.
With my chest heaving, I merely lay my head on the dirt floor and wait for the flooring to eventually right itself. When it flattens, I notice the rotation stops. Hoisting myself up, I look at my bleeding arm, which is caked with dirt. I’m fairly sure I’ll die of infection rather than fae.
There’s a slight rumbling, and I turn in the direction of the noise. I watch as the pieces of the cave floor that had previously fallen away rise and seemingly snap back into place as if I were watching a movie in reverse motion. With the ground solid once again, I wearily make my way to the next passageway and brace myself for my next trial.
At the threshold to the passage, I’m surprised to see another cave room, but one that is flooded with light. Just beyond that, an opening reveals the jungle.
I’m done.
I rush through the passage, across the small room, but five feet from the exit, a tiny fairy flies in front of me and hovers there.
She’s no more than six inches tall, wearing a pretty gossamer dress. Her tiny translucent wings are beating so fast, they’re a blur.
Putting her hands on her hips, she glares and I know she’s not here to congratulate me.
Rather… she’s another test.
“You can leave if you make it past me,” she says in a tiny squeaky voice.
“Really?” I ask in frustration.
“Afraid?” she taunts. “I’ll have you know, my magic is thousands of years old and some of the most powerful among all the Light Fae.
“Look.” Letting out a heavy sigh, I put my whip away so I don’t look threatening. I have no doubt as to her claims. “I’m tired. I’m bleeding. And I really, really don’t want to fight you.”
“So you’re giving up?” she asks incredulously, her wings beating harder, which makes her bob before me in a slow up-and-down motion. “Just like that… you’re going to admit failure on the gauntlet and lose your chance to be an annihilator?”
“Well, I’m not doing this to be an annihilator,” I explain. “This is just to test my skills, and since your magic is so great, I’m clearly not going to be able to defeat you with it, and, honestly, I don’t have it in me to kill you.”
“Weak words,” she sneers.
“Can we negotiate?” I ask.
Cocking an eyebrow at me, she crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I drawl in as tactful a way as I can muster because I’m just really tired and now irritable that I have to deal with this pipsqueak. “Is there something you want that perhaps I can give you in exchange for letting me pass without a fight?”
“You really are scared of me, aren’t you?” she titters, clapping her hands in delight. I grit my teeth and she taps a finger to her chin, lifting her eyes upward while she thinks about it.
I wait patiently.
Eventually, she brings her gaze to me, hands back to her hips while she bobs on the air current caused by her wings. “That whip you used in the gauntlet. I’ll take that as free passage.”
“But… but… it’s too big for you,” I stammer.
She glares. “It isn’t. I can change my size at my whim. But it’s very pretty.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with a shake of my head. “But that was made especially for me. I can’t give it up.”
I expect her to argue, but she immediately snaps her fingers on one hand and points to me. “Servitude,” she exclaims. “You shall be my servant for a period of no less than six months, starting on the first Monday of next month and—”
That’s it.
I’m done.
Without thought, I magically conjure a butterfly net, the strings laced with iron. With a swiftness greater than I’d possessed in all the other gauntlet tasks, I arc it over my shoulder and bring it down on top of her. She squeaks in surprise. Without hesitation, I put a shield over the entire thing before scooping her up.
Enraged, she tries to shoot bolts of magic at me, but they ricochet back at her from my shield. She throws herself against the net, but her skin burns against the iron and she shrieks her rage, shaking a fist.
I’m too tired to even gloat. I walk out of the cave carrying the net, blinking at the bright light. The first thing I see is Carrick standing there with a grin on his face. Caiden is also there, looking incredibly pleased. I assume they were somehow able to watch my journey, probably with some hidden camera system.
Or probably with magic.
I toss the net to Caiden, who easily catches it. “Put a leash on that little hell pixie,” I say with a grimace.
The fairy screams obscenities.
“It if helps,” I tell her magnanimously. “You were actually my most trying foe today.”
That must help somewhat, as she grumbles with arms crossed over her chest and only glares.
“Be gone, Truwila,” Caiden says with a laugh. Waving his hand over the net, he releases her. She buzzes off with a trail of gold sparkles trailing her until she’s lost in the jungle leaves. Turning to me, he says, “Outstanding work, Finley. You ever want a job as an annihilator, it’s yours.”
“I’ll pass,” I say with a grin. “I’ve g
ot more important things to do.”
His expression sobers. “Yes, I expect you do.”
I turn my attention to Carrick, who shows me how proud he is by drawing me into my arms and hugging me hard. I wince as I try to return it, but the cut on my forearm throbs from the contact and I hiss in pain.
Carrick jerks back, eyes going immediately dark and worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Got a few cuts,” I say, looking down at my thigh where the workout pants are soaked with blood. When I pull the material away, it sticks slightly, meaning the cut must be coagulating.
“Let me see,” Carrick demands, batting my hand away.
He squats, looks at the slice in the material of my pants, then notes the blood but doesn’t seem to need any further information. When he waves his hand, a warmth washes over my thigh and it tingles at the cut. I can’t see what’s going on, but I can tell it just knit up.
I shove my arm under his nose. “This one, too.”
His eyes lift, golden once more and filled with amusement. He takes my wrist, pulls it to his mouth, and places a kiss there. Again, there’s warmth flowing through me and a tingle at the cut as it heals. I don’t bother looking at it, though, because I’m mesmerized watching Carrick kiss my wrist while his eyes stay pinned on me.
When he releases me, he straightens and takes my jaw in his hand. “You were magnificent in the gauntlet. If I were Kymaris, I’d be scared to death of you.”
I step into him for a hug. It’s sweet of him to say that, but the gauntlet I just ran was a piece of cake compared to going up against the Queen of the Underworld.
CHAPTER 15
Finley
Caiden bends distance, supposedly to take us to Priya and Titus, but when we step out onto what looks like an Ivy League college campus, they’re nowhere to be seen. Large stately buildings in marble and limestone with Grecian era columns and formal landscaping with stone pathways among pocket gardens with benches upon which to sit.
The Rise of Fortune and Fury Page 14
