by Zoe Parker
It shouldn’t have been allowed to happen. Regardless, but here I am feeling it and nothing can change that. Emotions are something I’m not good with. I just make a mess of them and go dithering off in the wrong direction every time.
Just like right now.
Subtlety I hunch over, straighten up, testing the soreness of my body. The few remaining scabs pull but there’s only a little pain, despite fists being applied to it. For the most part, everything is healed.
The healed parts aren’t what concern me right now; the changes that I didn’t notice, until a few minutes ago, are.
My speed isn’t too big a surprise. I’ve always been faster than an average Feyrie and most creatures, truth be told. Now I’m noticeably even faster. Stronger too.
Plus, the stupid Magiks crap. What does it all mean?
Most Schoth don’t have Magiks and they’re the greatest Magikals of the creatures crawling around on our world. Maybe one out of a hundred do. The ones who don't, have jobs like the guards that escorted us to our next grand adventure.
Those same guards who just had circles danced around them by a lowly…whatever I am. Hell, I managed to stick one with his own sword, which will give me a chuckle later. They deserve to die, the entire lot of them.
So, what the hell is going on with me?
Instead of being able to figure out answers by myself, I end up with more questions. Thinking back to a conversation Phobe and I had, gives me a feeling he gave me some type of hint and I’m not picking up on it. I have a Fiend name. Fiends don’t exist. Or if they had, they don’t anymore.
A lot of things don’t exist anymore.
Stubbing my toe on a loose piece of stone brings me out of the cushion of my thoughts. I sigh and look at the door ahead of me. The Schoth around me are ignored. Phobe’s presence behind me is not. I doubt it’s even possible to ignore him. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have, it didn’t work.
We reach the door, way too quickly for my tastes, and are shoved unceremoniously inside. It slams and locks with a resounding bang.
I take one quick look at the room before fixing my eyes on the floor. Something is in the air and I can’t put my finger on it. The not knowing makes me cautious. Cautious enough to keep my mouth shut.
As I stare at the stone floor, a trickle of anxiety settles in my stomach. Everything that I’m used to seeing has been removed. The only pieces of furniture now in the room are two thrones and two benches, their placement on either side of the thrones.
Change doesn’t mean anything good with Magistrate Jackoff. I do another quick eye-sweep of the room.
Sitting on the thrones, of course, are Arick and Darvena. The benches hold three people each, who are all wearing masks. Usually, people who hide behind masks have a reason to hide, so I take in every visible detail of the ‘guests’. One is the ever-familiar monocle man. My sixth sense demands I remember everything about them all.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Beast, my pet, and the Feyrie half-breed who murdered my Favored whore.” Arick sounds more childlike than usual, and that alone sends my brain straight to survival mode.
‘Iza, remember what I said.’ It’s the only warning I receive from Phobe before Arick stands holding the stone in his hand like a weapon, pointing it right at me.
“Strip her.”
Twenty-One
Phobe
Iza is in agony.
The impact of every lash of the whip echoes in the room, beating a loud staccato in my head. Still, she holds her silence. The stupid woman interfered and ended up with this punishment. Knowing I could do nothing to help her.
She could not bear to watch them make me bleed anymore.
She will never learn!
Iza has got to stop getting herself hurt for my benefit. How can I convince her to listen to me? I heal in seconds. Pain is not something I feel anymore! Iza is feeling every single bit of pain. These wounds will take her days to heal, even at the rate she heals now. The damage is brutal, I can see flashes of white through the shredded flesh of her back.
Shuffling my feet, I looked around the room at the crowd gathered around her. I bored them. The mute who doesn’t flinch. But Iza…she fascinates them. They know she feels the pain. But other than a few hisses of her breath she has not made a sound.
I am not sure how I feel about this. Frustration is predominant. With her and the ones doing her harm.
Needing something to do, I memorize each of their faces, as I saw Iza do earlier. These ones I will remember. And because I can do nothing now, I will bide my time and perhaps one day, be able to inflict the same pain upon them.
Especially the Feyrie hidden among the sheep. The fat man is hidden well, but not well enough and I did not miss the way Iza’s eyes lingered on him. Almost as if she sensed he would end up causing her misery.
He was the one who suggested this.
My shadows crawled towards him on the floor but the amulet he wore kept them from coming into contact with him. Almost as if he knew what to expect. His companions had no such protections but they knew nothing of him and are so busy focusing on Iza—I’m getting nothing from them.
But her…Iza is begging a god who has turned his back on her for help. Begging for strength. Over and over she begs. Bartering, offering anything for him to stop the pain.
I will not have that!
‘You will not give in! You are a bigger fucking monster than any of them, Iza!’ She did not answer me but her eyes look up at me, standing so useless a few feet away. That is when I see the blood covering her chin. It is coming from her mouth. She is biting her tongue to remain silent.
God damn her stubbornness. Using every ounce of Magiks at my disposal, I push at that Darkness inside of her. Pushing until it finally stirs and sluggishly responds. Something is restraining it. Forcing my way inside of her I tear through some of the spell I can sense the fringes of mixed within her.
This, filthy muck of Magiks is the cause of so much grief.
I cannot rid her of it but I can start the process. Knowing this will hurt her I still tear at it, yanking and ripping until only the root of it remains. The spell is not broken but it is damaged enough for what I need her power to do.
‘I want you to eat them all, okay?’ It is a whisper in my mind.
She somehow knows what I did. Her eyes flash black and her head falls forward her body going limp. At her unconscious state, the crowd mutters in disappointment.
“Remove her.” Arick flicks a hand at her.
Without hesitation I go to her, not bothering to untie her I rip through the ropes with my claws. Without being obvious I gently roll her into my arms and move out of the room before Arick changes his mind.
Out in the hallway, out of sight, I break into a run. Moving fast enough that her hair plasters against her face.
God damn stubborn woman.
Twenty-Two
Phobe
Iza’s silence is loud. She has been silent since she woke up, and now she is practicing harder to keep me out. She is not able to do it for long periods of time but each time is a little longer than the time before. It is all she’s been doing since her eyes opened. I will get a thread of thought, then nothing. Over and over for hours, we sit there in silence staring at each other. Playing a game of mental peekaboo.
It’s a battle of wills that neither of us is winning.
Last night, was different. It was all about pain. Not that I feel it anymore. But she does. Shifting around uncomfortable with my thoughts I keep staring at her.
I want to ask her if she is okay, I want to...comfort her but I have no idea how.
“What are you, Phobe? I mean really?” Her question is spoken so quietly I must focus to hear the words.
It’s not an unexpected question—Arick showed off my healing abilities to his “guests”. Feyrie, no matter how strong, doesn't heal like I do. Especially, not from what I went through. Iza is the only one who picked that up.
“Will it change
anything?” I ask.
“No.” She speaks the truth.
And that’s why I answer her. Partially. “Darkness.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. That is as much as I am going to give her. For now. For as long as I can keep the full truth away from her, I will.
“Like the Primal of Darkness?”
A fantastic guess. The closest anyone has gotten before.
“Funny, that. You tell me my name means Darkness, and then come to find out you are the Darkness.” She snorts. “We have matching tattoos, the same name. You sure we aren’t related?” Her swollen lips lift into a tired smile.
Her mental walls drop, and I can finally peer into her thoughts…just to be sure she is not thinking we are related.
“As gross as that would be,” she mutters. Good, she does not.
“You already know that answer.” She shakes her head at my words, thinking I completely missed the joke. Maybe I did. We are not related, not in the familial sense. She learned about the Primals in an old book she found. “What else did this…book say?” I search for those memories as she thinks.
“You’re the boogeyman. A physical manifestation of fear, darkness, death, war. A Primordial by old mythology. Destruction by another. And the list goes on, each getting larger.” She curls into a ball on her little homemade bed. “Until I met you, I always thought it was fiction. Like the Eldest.” She pauses, sighing a soft sigh that gives me this, incredibly hard to fight, urge to take her in my arms. “It also says in there that if you destroy the stone—"
“There is no way to free me, Iza.” I cut her off because there is no point in letting her dwell on that impossibility.
And so, our game of peekaboo returns, and by the time she begins to yawn, Iza turns out to be damn good at it.
And when she finally sleeps, like a dog I slink to her and hold her through the nightmares that ravage her dreams and the tears that she fights and loses to—but only in her sleep. It is something I cannot seem to stop myself from doing. From her, I have learned to speak like a man. From her, I have learned to think like one.
Sometimes, I even feel like one.
Twenty-Three
Iza
Many, many sleeps later…
“She’s rather boring tonight don’t you think, Darvena?” Arick comments, walking in a circle around me. Where I’m kneeling, carefully breathing as shallowly as possible, because it hurts so freaking much. From my position on the floor, I look defiantly up at Arick; my left eye almost swollen shut, my face a bruised bloody mess.
A mess caused by Phobe’s fists.
This time Phobe couldn’t glamour and protect me, he was ordered to beat me into the ground, so he had to make it literal, make it real. I pull on what’s left of my inner strength and climb slowly to my feet.
I’m purposely silent tonight, my thoughts quiet. It annoys Phobe. I can feel it. Even as I demanded he feed, I remained as closed to him as possible. Admittedly, he’s been in my head for so long that I miss the feeling of him digging around in there. Now it’s just empty feeling.
That feeling isn’t enough to make me let him in.
Before they came to get us, we were sitting and talking about our latest Kung-Fu moment. He complimented me on several things, and, like a ninny, I preened a little—telling me that I’m quick to pick things up, fearless, and even bloody vicious. That I trip over my own feet when I’m thinking too deeply, and yet I “move with fluidity” when I fight.
I don’t think there are any other words in existence that can make me feel higher than those words.
Boom, boom, boom, he pulls me out of my thoughts. It’s like a hammer hitting my head. Keeping him out takes genuine effort. Every time he slams into my shields it becomes a little harder to keep him out.
I can’t let him in. Not this time. For several sleeps, I’ve carefully not thought about my solution to everything. TBS, The Big Secret. Not since the idea formed and I buried the information under a bunch of other memories and thoughts.
I can feel his gaze burning into me. It’s intense being his complete focus. This is his own fault so he has no one to blame but himself. He’s the one that told me that I need to be thinking about things for him to know them. So, I just don’t think about the stuff I don’t want him snooping at. Like right now, barely able to stop myself from falling on my face, I fight to keep TBS in the back of my head.
“Arick my love, look at her eyes. The Feyrie half of her is finally showing itself. Faceted eyes. I wonder what manner of creature bred you.” Darvena comments in an almost off-hand way. Nothing she does is off-handed.
I clench my jaw to keep silent. Well hell. I had no idea what color my eyes are. Now I do. Faceted eyes fluctuate colors.
Other parts of me have been changing too, for weeks, months, I don’t know the time anymore. This is the first time Darvena has pointed them out, and the first time I’m made aware of my eyes changing.
Darvena always has a reason for things and pretty much hates me as much as I hate her.
“Did you know she was changing, Beast? You do spend all of your time with her.” Arick stops walking to peer up into Phobe’s face. “Do not lie.”
I know they let us spend all our time together because they want something to use against him—or did, anyway. When it didn’t work they stopped trying. And stopped caring.
Phobe reluctantly nods his head. Thankfully, Arick didn’t ask if Phobe knows what I am exactly. Which leaves some things secret. A secret he goes out of his way not to tell even me.
I know he knows something.
“This is what happens when you have bad breeding,” Arick says as he shakes his head and takes a step back from Phobe. Arick’s eyes are holding something in them that can only be described as delight. “Kneel before me and suck my cock.” He says directly to Phobe a smile of triumph on his face.
The shock of those words brings me to my feet. Phobe fights but it’s to no avail. Helpless, I watch as he struggles with everything he has. His knees snap and instantly heal, only to snap again. Before the shock has even worn off I watch him lean towards the now opened pants Arick is wearing.
Arick has made him do many things over the time I’ve been here but this is the first time he has resorted to something that totally demeans Phobe as a person, something that, quite possibly, will take away what pride he has left.
Fuck that.
Right before Phobe is within breathing room, I push him out of the way and spit bloody saliva right in Arick’s smug face. Arick yells in outrage, and Phobe fights so hard to get up that I can I hear bones breaking inside of him, but it doesn’t work; the Magiks hold him in its iron grip to his knees.
“Grab the bitch!” Arick orders, wiping his face with a handkerchief. His golden eyes are glowing balls of hatred at me for standing in between him and Phobe. My hands fist at my side, fury rolling through me.
‘Iza.’ Phobe chastises.
‘That was just too much Phobe, too much.’ I step back towards him. ‘They are going to kill me. I might as well get a choice in when,’ I tell him with a seriousness I don’t normally show, then shut him out again.
He climbs to his feet as slowly as he can but inevitably his hands lock onto my upper arms.
“I will deal with her, Arick.” Darvena comes to stand beside Arick, her glowing Mage Gem in hand. Arick hands her the Stone of Darkness (Jameson finally told me the name of it). Her eyes flash with her excitement.
If I only had a rusty spoon and 10 minutes alone with Darvena.
“Make her kneel,” Darvena says.
I drop to my knees before Phobe can apply any pressure. He will know why without being in my mind. He still has some mysteries as do I, but in our time together, we have gotten to know each other well.
‘It is time for it to end.’ I whisper through my mind to him. Then I slam the wall shut once again. It’s past time.
Darvena’s eyes brighten with her Magiks, and her Mage Gem lights up like a torch.
I hold
on for a while before the shields between the Phobe and me fall, and only because I’m screaming in my mind, something I’ve never allowed myself to do. The Light Magiks thicken, and the pain spreads out inside of me, burning badly…so badly.
Against my will, a sound escapes me.
It’s the worst pain I’ve experienced in my life. Vaguely, I feel Phobe press his body close to mine—an oddly comforting gesture from him. It helps with what I must do next.
‘Why do you stubbornly fight for me when it’s not your fault? Not your battle? You never choose carefully, Iza. Never.’ He says softly in my mind.
For Phobe, that’s the equivalent of saying he is sorry. It’s all he can offer. He can’t stop her, Darvena holds the Stone. The Magistrate is protected as well because it was given to his bloodline. As long as that fucking rock exists, Phobe will remain a slave to these people. All because someone decided to trap his Magiks, his will, with that stupid rock.
“I’m going to break her, Beast,” Darvena whispers. She smiles her crazy smile, and the Gem gets even brighter. I scream so loudly my voice breaks.
So much pain. Can’t beak. Can’t break. I chant over and over in my mind. Please, don’t let me break in front of them! I’ve lived so many years a prisoner, a slave really, survived so much. But I’ve never broken.
I’m not so sure I won’t this time. If I do, I’ll never come back from it.
Head thrown back, I feel the blood pouring out of my nose and mouth. The bitch is cutting me into little pieces inside to outside.
“Beg for your life. Just say those sweet words and it will all be over.” Darvena says it so enticingly. I know others have given into such an offer.
No. No, I will not.
Something Dark skitters across my skin—power. I stop screaming. The pain becomes distant as my Magiks awaken. Finally. My lashes fall to hide the truth of it in my eyes. I make myself go limp in Phobe’s arms. Darvena pulls my head up by my hair and then releases it to fall. She thinks I’m unconscious.
