As the sun peaks, we pour out of the woods and enter a village. Stone houses adorned with wooden lacy ornaments and surrounded by colourful gardens rise in front of my eyes, ten maybe twelve in total. Bridges are thrown over the stream burbling its peaceful song and two paths cross in the centre of the village where a fountain stands. I see more people of his kind, tall and graceful like him. Their ageless faces turn to me, but they show no emotion.
We move towards one of the houses and walk inside through the arched wooden door. An elf-woman greets my companion as her cold eyes slide over me.
“A projection?” she asks.
“From the future,” Ettrian says.
The elf-woman sends me a mysterious glance and tilts her head. Her white long hair waves and shimmers. She’s beautiful like an ice sculpture and exudes the air of wisdom. I bet she knows much more about the world than me.
“Interesting,” she says.
Ettrian drops into an armchair in front of a stone fireplace.
“Your wife?” I ask.
“My sister, S’Ylla,” he says. “Two hundred years older than me.”
His sister wrinkles her nose. “Very nosy that friend of yours, brother.”
“A former angel,” Ettrian says.
“A former angel?” There is a flicker in S’Ylla’s eyes and she gazes at me. “You lost your wings? I can’t sense you because you are only a projection.”
“We gave up our wings,” I say.
The elf-woman settles herself in another armchair. “Tell me your story.”
“My leader fell in love with a mermaid,” I start as her lips curl into a half-smile. “Demons killed her and chopped off his wings so the rest of us gave up our wings to resurrect her.”
“Did you succeed?” S’Ylla asks, her elbow propped on the armrest.
“Yes,” I say.
S’Ylla nods several times. “He loved her. He really loved her. Very intriguing.”
“We have to live in hiding,” I say.
“The archangels will slaughter you when they find you,” S’Ylla says.
I get the impression that she is not a fan of archangels. “I fought with my brother. For a woman.”
“I assume only one of you is alive now?” S’Ylla says.
I nod. “We all fell asleep. One after another.”
“Who is your wife?”
“She has an angel father and a mermaid mother,” I say. “I saw them all fall asleep, just like that. My wife’s finger was bleeding. She said she’d pricked it with a needle. It must have been a needle from some fucking black witch. She fell asleep like the rest of my family. And there is this wall of vegetation around the compound, separating it from the whole world.”
S’Ylla props her elbows on her knee, rests her chin against her palms, and sinks into her thoughts. “A unique child, love, rage. A drop of blood. A pinch of black magic. Such an interesting accumulation of energy. It centred and created a curse. I saw something like this once. They were asleep for one hundred years.”
“How can I reverse this curse?” I ask.
“You can’t,” S’Ylla says. “Only the sacrifice of a person who loves you can reverse it and since you’re all asleep there is nobody to sacrifice themselves. You’ll sleep for eternity.”
It doesn’t concern her at all. What a heartless bitch.
“Help me,” I say.
“We can’t help you,” S’Ylla says. “We don’t love you. We don’t care for you. And your whole family is cursed. Does anybody else know about you or care enough for you to wake you?”
I start pacing around the room. “So what now? I have to wander like a ghost?”
“Probably,” S’Ylla says. “It’ll be interesting, you’ll see. You don’t have to eat or sleep. You’ll witness wonders.”
“Are the others the same as me?” I ask. “Are they somewhere in the past as well?”
“I don’t know,” S’Ylla says.
“You are fucking guardians as were we,” I explode.
“Did you care when you were a guardian?” S’Ylla asks with a pinch of sarcasm.
“No.” It was my duty, and I didn’t care for anything except killing demons, getting drunk and fucking human women.
I watch the flames dancing in the fireplace. “Who are we? Do you know who we really are? I have no memories of my past, my childhood. It was just this fucking sense of duty binding us to our little castle.”
“You’re the sons of the Fallen Angels,” S’Ylla says. “Your human mothers died during labour and the archangels stripped you of memories. You are trash meant to serve, not to think. To serve not to have feelings. But you’re rebels like your fathers. I’ve seen a few like you. They rebelled and ceased to exist.”
“That could explain a few things,” I say.
“Get lost,” Ettrian says. “We are going to have supper and then we want to sleep.”
S’Ylla waves her hand as though I’m an annoying fly. “Go away. We’re busy.”
“Ettrian,” I growl. “You said you’d help me.”
“I just did,” Ettrian says. “Now, fuck off.”
“Fuck you two,” I say and pull forward, leaving the house through the walls.
I wander around the village. Right. Those elves are haughty assholes, both of them.
Strange, but I don’t feel hungry or thirsty. I don’t feel cold or hot. I’m a fucking projection, after all.
The village is surrounded by an abundance of vegetation in all shades of green—emerald, sea, dark green. Those colours mingle with delicate yellow hues, grey hues, and purple hues. I’ve never seen trees like the ones rising in front of my eyes now. The trunks have a black glassy tinge and the navy leaves shimmer like gems.
A shadow flashes among the trees. Then another. I steel myself. My eyes scan my surroundings. Growling comes to my ears. A deadly sound makes me spin. Fucking hell. I’ve never heard anything like this. I hear more dangerous sounds—grunts, screeches, chants. My surroundings waver, thicken, and darken. I realise more shadows are moving around me. Shadows as tall as angels, massive like mountains. They’re hairy and exude the stench of rot.
I can’t see anything for a moment.
Then I notice one of them out of the corner of my eye. It’s moving towards me at a fast pace. I turn to the side as an animal-like figure passes through me and emits a primal scream.
I know what these creatures are. They’re Kluddes. They look like gigantic dogs, but they are not friendly. They’re blood-thirsty predators killing for fun. And they’re aiming for Ettrian’s village.
One of them stops and looks at me with dark human-like eyes. He grunts something and snarls, exposing his massive sharp teeth. I watch him rise on his back feet and sweep his front leg. It passes through me, and I bend instinctively, guarding my chest.
Right. The Kluddes can see me as well.
The creature growls his disappointment that he can’t hurt me and ignores me.
I move back as more of those creatures pass through me and they attempt to smack me. A thought hits me. I have to warn the elves.
I straighten and spurt forward, passing through whatever is on my way.
I feel like I’m flying above the ground. As I reach Ettrian’s village, I invade his house and check all the rooms upstairs, shouting my warning.
Ettrian emerges from his bedroom with only linen pants on and rubs his eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
“Kluddes,” I yell.
“What?”
“Kluddes, you idiot.”
“They’re an extinct species, you idiot.”
I sweep my arms furiously. “They’re coming for you, you idiot.”
Ettrian freezes then inhales deeply and curses in his elven language. “I can sense them. Fuck. Go to warn all the others.”
I move back then leave the house and invade every house in the village, shouting my warning. The elves wake up, slide into their trousers and tunics and grab their bows and arrows and swords. As I warn the last
family, I stand in the centre of the village and see hell.
Chapter 9
Micah
The Kluddes are all around me, clenched with the elves. Blood splashes against the ground. Growls, screams, screeches, and bangs form a dense cloud of sound. Dust rises. Corpses fall down—elven and kluddish.
I notice Ettrian standing opposite one of them. I leap to him and stand right behind him.
“Fuck off,” Ettrian growls and lunges his sword at the evil creature.
“Lower, lower,” I shout.
I watch them fighting. The Kludde sweeps his clawed foot as Ettrian dodges his punch. Fuck. The elf knows how to fight. But, I know better. I’ve killed four hundred demons. They’re more powerful than Kluddes.
“To the right,” I guide Ettrian’s sword, but the elf ignores me.
I circle around them and watch the Kludde’s movements.
“To the left,” I shout. “Lower, lower. Fucking listen to me.”
The Kludde punches Ettrian in the abdomen and the elf hovers above the ground, falling on his back as his sword clinks against the wall of the house. I fly to him.
“Get up,” I growl. “He doesn’t guard his left side properly.”
Ettrian huffs and recovers in one motion. Blood spurts from his nose.
“So guide me, you pundit,” Ettrian growls as his opponent leaps towards him.
I fix my eyes on the Kludde and see him expose his left kidney.
“Wait,” I growl as Ettrian steels himself. “Wait.”
The Kludde is a step away from Ettrian.
“Wait,” I shout. “Rotate. The left kidney.”
I see Ettrian delivering a clean and precise punch and the evil creature stiffens for a split moment, growling with fury. It’s enough time for the elf to grab the creature’s neck and dig his fingers into his throat, ripping it out.
I spin. “Another.”
Ettrian jumps over the dead body of his opponent and tackles the one running to him. I guide him precisely and it’s now a clean job. We finish off three of them in total.
I realise silence layers the village. Corpses are scattered all around me, about twenty Kluddes and three elves.
Ettrian stands at my side. I notice three deep cuts on his chest, some scratches on his face and swelling around his mouth. The cuts are bleeding heavily.
“Are you healing?” I ask.
“Fuck off,” he growls. “I’m not your kid. Fucking hell. This is annoying.”
I see S’Ylla moving closer to us, her face splashed with blood, eyes burning fiercely. She’s holding a Kludde’s head in her hand.
“I killed one,” the bitch says, haughtiness radiating from her.
“I killed three,” Ettrian says.
“We killed three,” I say.
S’Ylla glances at me as a half-smile plays on her lips. My hands itch to squeeze her throat.
I’ve always been a gentleman, but this bitch wakes an urge of murder inside me.
“What?” I growl.
“I will show you mercy,” S’Ylla says.
She raises her free hand and whispers an incantation. Her magic hits me with the smell of earth, the brightness of sunrise, the neutrality of death and life.
Then there is absolute nothingness.
Chapter 10
Micah
I can see her kneeling by one of the gravestones, her black wings shimmery against the storm clouds that layer the sky. A gust of wind lifts a few tendrils of her long almond hair.
“Talia,” I say softly so as not to scare her.
She doesn’t react. The wind sweeps past the medieval gravestones as the branches of the old oak tree move like enormous limbs.
“Talia,” I say louder.
She turns her head to me, her eyes wide. Tears trickle down her pale cheeks. “They’re whispering, Micah. They’re whispering horrible things.”
Anger wells up in my chest. Ghosts have been whispering to Talia her whole life, never giving her a moment of peace. Now, at the age of eighteen, she’s just the tormented shadow of a girl.
“If I could, I’d kill them all, baby girl,” I say as a sharp pain squeezes my heart.
Talia grabs her head in both her hands and sobs as I stride towards her, my boots sinking into the moss covering the ground.
A snap of lightning crosses the sky as I lean over her and hook her under her arms. She feels so light and fragile, my poor little treasure.
“They told me some powerful being would come for me,” she gasps as her face turns white—it’s almost a corpse-like whiteness.
I scoop her up in my arms, her wings sweeping the autumnal leaves away from the gravestones.
“Ignore them,” I say with anger.
The ghosts started whispering this message to her about a year ago. I don’t know why. None of us knows why. Neither Rive, nor Kadmiel. Not even Adva we asked for a piece of advice.
I’m Talia’s only relief. My presence seems to calm the voices in her head.
When she was a little girl, she demanded that I played with her. I taught her the basics of fighting with a sword. I taught her maths. I was her one and only friend. I still am.
The wind smacks us like an enormous palm and lifts the light fabric of her pale blue dress, exposing her slim white thighs. She doesn’t pay attention, but I do. I noticed her thighs a few months ago. I also noticed her full lips and perfect breasts. I drown into her black eyes each time our glances meet. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I approach my motorcycle parked by the metal fence that encircles the graveyard and sit Talia onto it.
“Hide your wings, baby girl,” I say.
Her big eyes glance up at me as her long eyelashes flutter and her wings disappear with a rustle.
I jump on the bike as Talia wraps her arms around my chest, her fingers digging into my flesh.
“Hold on to me, baby girl.” I rev up the engine. “We’re going home.”
We ride for two hours then I stop at the front door of our clubhouse and scoop Talia up into my arms. Her fingers clutch the edges of my leather cut, and she buries her face into my neck. Her hot breath sends heat into my dick. It shouldn’t, but it does each time I carry her like this. I kick the door open with my boot and step inside. Kadmiel rises from the black couch.
“One package safely delivered home, Prez,” I say.
“Where did you find her?” Kadmiel asks.
His face doesn’t betray any emotions but I know he’s very worried about Talia.
“In the graveyard,” I say, “as always. Any news from Theo?”
Theo left the compound five months ago and decided to travel for a while. He calls twice a month to report to us that he’s still alive. I’ll fucking break all his limbs when I see him. We need numbers in the compound and the dick is on a fucking vacation.
“Nope,” Kadmiel says as I put Talia on the couch.
An eerie breeze brushes against the back of my neck. A breeze that carries the oscillations of old magic. The hairs on my back rise. I steel myself as do Talia and Kadmiel. The door swings open and Theo tumbles in.
“What the fuck?” I growl as my arms collapse. “You fucking dick. I’ll—“
Another person walks in. It’s a woman, but not a human woman for sure. Her face is strangely familiar to me but I can’t recall whether we’ve met or not. She belongs to a species I’ve never seen before.
“Theo,” Kadmiel says sharply. “What the fuck? No strangers in the compound, remember?”
I bring my fists up to my chest, my eyes fixed on the woman. The atmosphere thickens as I sense Kadmiel’s warrior blaze inside of him. Talia straightens in the couch and brings her fists up to her chest, which causes a half-smile to play on the woman’s lips. I could have sworn the alien bitch is having fun at our expense.
“Prez, I can explain,” Theo says. “This is my wife.”
“Your wife?” Kadmiel says with a high-pitched crack in his voice. “She looks like a fucking elf, that wife of yours.”
“Ettrian,” I say. “You’re Ettrian.” It just rolls off my tongue.
The man bows his head at me as Theo’s jaw drops.
“You know him?” Theo asks.
Images flash through my head—the curse, the Kluddes, Ettrian and S’Ylla. I open my mouth, but Ettrian shakes his head, giving me a clear sign to keep quiet, so I don’t reveal my thoughts.
“No,” I say instead. “We’ve never met. But that name suits him, so I thought he must be Ettrian.”
The images of my past are now flashing through my head like a slideshow. Talia pregnant with Theo. Theo’s death. My ghost-like appearance in the far past.
A thought blasts in my head. This is not my past. This should be my future. Fuck. I don’t know what this is. Theo is alive. I killed him, but he’s alive. I can see him with my own eyes. No, I will kill him tomorrow.
No, I won’t kill him. It’s fucking crazy.
I jerk my body towards Theo, but Ettrian bows his head at me once more, stopping me.
I won’t kill Theo. I won’t fucking kill my club brother.
“Like I said,” Theo continues. “I’m a married man now and this elf, who’s also my brother-in-law, is going to be a prospect.”
Theo is married. Fuck, like really married. He looks happy. More than that, he looks like he’s in love with S’Ylla. Good. Maybe we won’t clash. Maybe everything will be alright.
I nod to my own thoughts and Ettrian grins at me. Grins are good. Ettrian is here to help. He must be here to help.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kadmiel says. “They are no elves. There are no elves on earth. And we don’t enrol.”
Ettrian steps towards Talia.
“Back the fuck up,” Kadmiel growls, obstructing Ettrian’s way with his arm.
“They look like good people,” I say, my mind hazy.
I feel anxious then exhausted. Relieved and nervous again. There is more and more of a fog in my mind.
“He can help Talia,” Theo says. “Trust me, Prez. Ettrian and S’Ylla are real elves. And they really want to help.” He grabs S’Ylla’s hand and kisses her wrist.
Talia: Sleeping Beauty Retold (Shadow Immortals MC Book 2) Page 5
