The place was clean. No fear of anyone finding out anything specific on my past. By now, I was sure everyone knew I was a Manling born in Fae because I had shut down both Queens’ armies when they tried to attack us. But I still didn’t want anyone ransacking my home, seeing the cave paintings I had drawn with my dad. Smashing cups or plates I had once shared with my mother. Basically, this place was mine, and I would rather wipe it out myself than learn that anyone else had come snooping around.
I pondered Barbie’s answer. “If you know Matthias is here, and that he brought a guest, how do you not know where he is?”
Barbie studied me with a flat look. “I know the sun exists, but I do not know where it hides when the moons rise thrice.”
I sighed. I thought about explaining space to her, but remembering I was in Fae, perhaps my answer wasn’t right when it came to their sun and moons. And I didn’t want to get caught in a long discussion that she would have problems following.
As curious as we were about Fae, they were just as – if not more – curious about us Manlings.
“Pah. Let’s be done with this. The Hatter is back where he doesn’t belong, but once lived. And you are here for something. The Queens want your head. Why bother gallivanting in Fae?”
I sighed, waving Talon out of the cavern. He furrowed a brow, the scars that seemed to bisect his eyes prominent in the orange glow of the cavern. Then he was gone, his steps utterly silent.
“I like his slippers,” Barbie whispered, suddenly kneeling before me. Christ, what was with these crazy women all trying to give me a heart attack by kneeling naked before me?
She placed her hot palms on my thighs, staring up into my eyes. She squeezed. “Answer me or I will devour your pleasure.”
I tried to pull back, but her fingers suddenly dug into my thighs like claws.
“Fine. Just… give me some space. Please?”
She released her finger spears – if reluctantly. I made as if to move and she instead leaned her cheek on my thigh, staring up at me as she held my calves. It was a very great effort not to stare down at her, because even looking at her eyes, I had a direct shot at her every asset in my peripheral vision.
“I came here to recharge. To clear my head. And this is not helping.”
She laughed, a bubbling gurgle like a fresh stream tumbling over loose rock. “I knew I sparked your fire, Temple. Or is it Wylde?”
“Both, technically.”
“In one neat meat package, I get the fiery souls of two powerful men. You’re making it harder for me to restrain myself from gobbling you up, Manling…” she complained.
“Well, how about this?” I asked. Then I began to tell her, in brief, what I had been dealing with since we had last spoken. I knew I could trust her, because she had been there for me repeatedly, even standing up against the Wild Hunt, and losing some of her sisters in the process. She had been following Wylde at that point, but she had also served me before she knew about that. So I told her. About all the chaos. The fighting. The infighting. Matthias. My parents.
I didn’t tell her about Hell, or the Round Table, mainly because she interrupted me.
“If you won’t let me sex you, at least let me learn you.”
I frowned. “You mean teach? Teach me?”
She folded her arms below her breasts and I shifted in my seat awkwardly, crossing my legs. She grinned, licking her teeth as she glanced down at my concealed interest.
“The Fae…” she began, then tapped her lips thoughtfully, “do not negotiate.”
I chuckled. “Funny, because all I’ve seen your kind do is negotiate and make deals.”
She arched a brow at me. “You misunderstand, Manling. We make deals when it is more advantageous than killing our foe, or risking death by attacking superior forces.”
I thought about that. “Okay. We do that, too.”
“Of course, you do. Did I not just tell you that, Wylde? You are Fae.”
I blinked. “No, I meant humans. Manlings. They do much the same. And… I’m not Fae. I was born here, but born a Manling.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics. But humans are weak, petty creatures. We deal from strength and power. You… ‘deal’ by finding cowardly ways of stabbing your opponents in the back, all while pretending to be friends. We do it for prestige. A stunning victory. For fun.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “You are describing the same thing two different ways. We are the same. We double-cross each other, make deals, and go to war just like the Fae.”
“Ah, but do you? When we double-cross, all know it is coming. The only thing to discover is from which direction and how beautiful the victory will be. Or if you can turn it on your foe at the penultimate moment. You humans play with trust. Pfft. Trust is a Manling dream. Only power thrives.”
I thought about that in silence for a few moments. She had plenty of it wrong… but not all of it. She actually had a good point. When humans tried to stab each other in the back, it was usually slimy and cowardly. Very rarely was it appreciated as a tactful move between equal parties. In fact, everyone considered it tasteless when it was between two powerful parties.
It was not… respected.
But in the Fae, they applauded camouflaged mischief. Beautiful assassinations. Gorgeous murder. Epic betrayals. And… it was different. They established the rules up front. Always. Creating the rules of the game, knowing that the only true way to have the most beautiful victory was to abide by every single constraint, and still outmaneuver your opponent.
I finally turned to her and gave her a slow nod. It wasn’t a perfect explanation on her part, but then again, maybe that was intentional. The Fae liked to leave a lot of discovery to the student.
“Think about what I have not explained in your own time,” she said softly. “And a stronger lesson will be learned.” I nodded. “Now, when subterfuge is not worth the effort, there is war. Domination. Supreme annihilation. Such sweet, savory things, the screams of the fallen.”
I felt a shiver inch down my spine as I watched her eyes almost glaze over with a silver shine. Her body shuddered as if she had just taken care of a personal need, and then she was looking at me again. “What is ours, is ours. We protect it at all costs. Nothing may take it. Ever. St. Louis is yours, is it not? Your parents’ home?” I felt a surge of anger rush through me, but more than that. Pride. Defiance. Territorial rage. Before, I would have brushed it off as Wylde’s influence, but that line was becoming blurred lately, and it felt entirely natural to experience his take on events. “You must fight for it.”
“Yes. I guess it is mine. But don’t my friends need to stand on their own?”
She cocked her head. “Why would they need to do that? Are they not your allies? Are you not a Manling? The city is yours.”
She leaned forward, flashing her teeth as she gripped my chin. “Claim it. Take it. Make it so!”
Chapter 33
I shifted away from her feverish fingertips. I struggled to clear my throat, thinking on her declaration. She didn’t understand how my world worked. But… was that such a bad thing? “What if the people of St. Louis don’t want me to take the city?”
She scoffed. “Then they can move…” she said with a feral grin.
I nodded absently, considering the pros and cons of her advice. I don’t know how long I sat there, but I suddenly remembered that I shouldn’t just be hanging out in Fae. I hadn’t even meditated yet. “Barbie, I need to—”
“You need power, Manling. To fill that vacuum inside of you, that raging, burning, starving hole in your soul…” Her skin glistened as if misted with sweat as she stared up at me.
I nodded stiffly. “I was going to say meditate, but… yes. That.”
“I’ll take care of it. Sitting alone may do wonders for the mind, but I think my Wylde Fae could do with something a little more… primitive…” she purred. Then she unhooked my legs, flinging them wide apart.
The tips of her breasts were like hot coa
ls pressed against my knees. I tried to rise but she grabbed my wrists and yanked me back down to a sitting position. Her wings abruptly flared out behind her – silver butterfly wings as thin as a coating of frost on the grass at dawn.
They folded over me and the tips touched my back like icy fingers, the opposite of her fiery torso against my legs. And then she was slowly writhing up my crotch, licking her lips as her fingertips brushed my inner thighs. I realized I was no longer trying to get up, but trying not to explode from raw lust. Stone shattered under my palms as I squeezed the rock I was sitting on.
Her fiery breasts dripped sweat now and she breathed in ragged pants as she slowly – oh, so slowly – glided up my body until her chest was in my face.
Her sweat tasted like strawberry juice.
My skin sizzled – not in pain – but as if my senses had ignited, chock-full of a drug that made me taste smells and see sounds. All while that delicious Fae flesh pressed into my face. Her fingers danced across my shoulders and she was whimpering as she slowly sat down on my thighs, straddling me as she locked her heels behind my back, trapping me.
She gripped a fistful of my hair and pressed my face into her sweet-tasting, sweaty chest, hard. Electric current zapped into me from every single point of contact with her flesh against my clothes, as if nothing was between us. And I finally felt that hollow space inside of me – one I hadn’t even known existed – roaring as floodgates of power gushed into me. Not any new, strange power, but more as if I was being replenished, fed, rested, and massaged at the same time. I felt close to bursting as she yanked my head back, my cheeks sliding across the sugary flesh of her breasts to look up into her silvery eyes.
She stared down at me… and I blinked. It was no longer lust in her eyes, but… affection. Concern. Empathy. And… love. Ever so slowly, she inched closer with her lips. I closed my eyes, and she kissed me on each eyelid – each touch like that moment in a particularly gripping movie when you knew the next words spoken by your favorite character were going to squeeze your heart until your eyes instantly watered up and your throat grew tight. Not a sad feeling, but a triumphant, glorious feeling of overcoming. Where your emotions were so vigorously raw from the tension, that all it took was that one statement to crack the floodgates of your soul to let the emotions pour out of you.
Then she kissed my forehead and I fell back, not knowing up from down.
She caught me in her wings, holding me protectively as I panted, struggling for breath. Tears poured from my eyes, falling down my temples as I let her hold me.
I felt as weak as a kitten.
More exhausted than I had ever felt after a fight.
More alive than I’d ever known.
And… complete for the first time in what felt like years.
No questions filled my mind. No doubts. Just… confidence and resolve.
“Are you… finished, Wylde?” I heard a vaguely familiar voice call out somewhere nearby. It took me a minute to recognize the creature as a Carl. No, not a Carl. My friend, Carl.
Unable to speak yet, I simply lifted one of my hands and gave him a thumbs-up.
“We’ll just wait. Outside. I guess.”
I slowly looked up at Barbie, who was still straddling me. Her back arched and chest out as her wings held me like a silken hammock. I hadn’t ever really thought about her wings before. No bones or anything. Just… ribbons of dreams. I shook my head and licked my lips.
“I feel… exhausted,” I rasped.
She chuckled, and then heaved back. I didn’t have time to shout as I was suddenly flying. I landed on top of Barbie, my body pressed against hers, staring down into her eyes from only an inch away.
She blinked – her silver eyelashes much longer than I had ever noticed. “I gave you the fuel, but now you need a spark,” she whispered. And she flashed forward to bite my lower lip.
I felt a drop of blood hit my tongue, as well as something else velvety and wet, and then I was surging to my feet, hands clenched into fists as I roared. I felt as if I was standing beneath a waterfall, struggling to stand, but knowing that if I could last one moment longer I would win.
The sensation stopped and silence washed over me. All I could hear was panting.
I glanced down to see that Barbie was gone, only a silver butterfly pressed into the cavern floor. I bent down, suddenly alarmed, but realized it was just a piece of metal, intricately carved and detailed. “Claim it…” Barbie’s voice whispered, no louder than the breeze. “Have no fear. I know where your heart lies, Manling, for I have tasted it. My gift was an act of pure love, as you once gave to me. But even repayments can be… enjoyable…” and with that, her voice faded, the silver butterfly in my fingers throbbed warmer for a moment, and then I knew she was really gone.
I stared down at it for a moment, and then out at the cave’s entrance.
I smiled, and then began to laugh as I tucked the butterfly into my satchel. I had a lot to think about. But right now, it was time to get to work.
Still, that was the best sex I’d never had.
Chapter 34
We had returned from Fae to find that it was almost noon the following day, cutting it very close. Talon and Carl had been silent, merely watching me as I told them what to do. They didn’t question, comment, or even speak unless I asked them to. Which was good enough for me.
Death was waiting for us in front of the Arch. Talon and Carl wore deep hoods to conceal their appearance from the dozen or so humans walking, eating on a blanket, or tossing Frisbees around the area. With it being broad daylight, all it would take was one close inspection under those hoods to start a panic. Luckily, no one paid us any attention.
Death opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated, studying me. “You seem… well. Alive. Full.”
I grinned. “Ah, irony. Bringing life to the Underworld. I had an energy drink.”
He continued to watch me in silence, then finally glanced at my companions. “It is time to depart. Not that it matters at this point, but are you ready?”
I nodded smugly. “I’ve taken any precautions I could think of. Even printed out copies of the Mappa dell’Inferno by Botticelli. A map to Hell based on Dante’s Divine Comedy.” We had spent days studying the famous painting, staring at the inverted funnel shape until we had nightmares. Well, I had nightmares. Carl had seemed eerily peaceful and well rested afterwards.
Death chuckled, but it slowly grew into a great booming laugh. “You think that will save you? As if we would let humans publish an accurate map!”
I squinted at him, my confidence wavering. “Well, it can’t hurt,” I argued stubbornly.
“Just don’t use it. That map is so much toilet paper.”
I kicked a boot into the grass angrily. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier? I spent a lot of time reading this kind of stuff. Hours…” I muttered, suppressing a shudder at the nightmares.
“Well, unless you’d rather give up your soul, we best get moving. Hopefully you brought some good walking shoes.” He turned and began walking to the center of the Arch.
I nodded as I followed him. I glanced at the dozen or so people around us, but it was almost as if they didn’t see us at all. I waved at one, curious. He was only ten feet away. He smiled, but his eyes let me know he was looking past me. I glanced the other way to see he was staring at a friend who was getting ready to toss a Frisbee. I held out my hands, flipping both off simultaneously. They didn’t react at all, and I shivered.
I hurried after Death, not wanting to know how he had managed to conceal us from the humans. “Now that we are here, can you finally tell me who’s in charge down there? There are so many options, but I really doubt it’s Lucifer. That’s kind of discriminating against everyone else if he’s in charge.”
Death turned to face me. “One lesson you should already know…” he said in a tight, frustrated voice. “Is to not say certain names out loud. And that’s a long list of names. It’s not like earth, Nate. You say the
wrong fucking name down there, and you have no idea what kind of shit storm will rain down upon you.” He stepped backwards, and the world flashed black for a moment, revealing the Grim Reaper, the Horseman of the Apocalypse, holding his wickedly lethal scythe, taller than his own body. His mask – a human skull, but slightly elongated – flashed into place, and I again considered the impact craters visible on its surface, wondering what sort of a caliber bullet would have left a mark on his Mask.
Then he was Hemingway again, a man in a sharp suit.
Flicker.
Death.
Flicker. Hemingway.
Flicker. Flicker. Flicker. Back and forth, faster and faster…
Then we were suddenly standing in a dead landscape. Condensed clouds of drifting, shifting, black fog roiled and crashed over each other with such mass that as one crested and struck another, the weaker of the two dispersed like a wet water balloon hitting pavement, evaporating in an instant. The land was dead. Ash covered the earth in knobby, distorted pale pillars like precariously balanced stacks of totaled cars, and as I took a step, the pale earth beneath my boots puffed up into the air as if it weighed almost nothing. Such fine immolation that it could make the dust practically float like feathers. The sky crackled with black lightning in the distance, seeming to somehow throb with pulses of darkness rather than flashes of brightness – like a sudden shade thrown over the moon.
Speaking of… I looked up at the sky, staring at those shifting, charcoal clouds. They were limned with red and orange fire, like staring up at a bed of coals.
No sun or moon could be seen through the infinite darkness of pregnant, hostile clouds.
Death pointed a skeletal claw off to his right and a pillar of white simply evaporated, collapsing like a demolished building. I blinked.
“Death is all around you, now. You sought this. You asked for this. But this is only the beginning of the decay, the heartache, the woe.” He said it like a neighbor pointing out patches of petunias in the front yard while bragging about the garden out back. “This is all you can conceive at the moment, but as you descend, your horizons will be… broadened,” he said with a mirthless, rasping chuckle.
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