by Zoe Parker
Three hours later I’m covered in feathers, frustrated beyond belief and after what feels like an eternity, almost ready to put the damn big bird in to cook. Dressing a bird is apparently a lot more in depth than they say.
Now I need to make a sauce to pour over it. Playing the video on my phone again I plug in the blender. The video says I’m supposed to stew the giblets in a soup pot for an hour or so but since I forgot I need to hurry it along.
So I figure by using the blender to liquidate the giblets I can just dump them on the bird. Isn’t that basically what the broth is?
Plugging the blender, I cram a couple organs into it and quickly run out of space. Okay, fine, I’ll do a couple at a time. Forcing the lid closed I hit the ‘smoothie’ setting. I want them smooth, right?
When it starts smoking, I’m only a little concerned. When it starts shaking all over the place and making super weird noises, I have a flashback to the microwave horror.
Oh, shit.
It dies and I yank the cord out of the wall. It’s smoking like a bonfire and the giblets are not smooth!
Fuck.
The goblins step in, and the blender and the mess accompanying it quickly disappear.
I turn and focus on the bird.
Sliding it onto the rack I shut the door of the oven with a sigh of relief. Leaning on the counter I watch the oven start cooking it. Feeling satisfied that it didn’t immediately catch on fire, I head to my room to shower.
Leaning against the doorjamb is this tall, solid wall of muscle that smiles that dimpled smile that makes me want to poke his cheeks. He goes to kiss me, and I dodge under his arm.
Bird. Stink. Wash. Off. Then we can make out.
When I hear his laughter, I know he heard my thoughts. Climbing in the shower, I almost hope he climbs in. He pokes his head in the door, kisses me hard on the mouth, and then he’s gone.
Oh. He was still in my head.
So, like I normally do in the shower, I think.
Think, Iza, think.
Someone attacked the Sidhe. The humans sent people to try and take my kids. I add it to the growing mental list of things I need to research.
Phobe was also sneaking off and eating humans, but that doesn’t really bother me that much. I mean, I get it. He’s sneaky, I’m… not.
And if I have to guess he was after something specific.
‘Yes, locations. Information about your missing dragons. And how much they know about you,’ Phobe supplies.
Gone but not gone, I see.
He still scares the hell out of me in some ways. Especially now. We had hours of the best sex imaginable. Something inside of me knew it was time to take that step. But now I feel awkward—no—that’s not the right word.
Shy? Am I really being shy? Chuckling at myself, I wash my face.
‘Does this mean you still want to… make out?’ he asks smugly.
Throwing my head back, I laugh. The shower door flings open and he drags me out of the shower to the bed.
I forget all about the big bird cooking.
Chapter Fifty-One
Phobe
Watching her sleep is strangely enjoyable. And if the memories in my brain serve, probably somewhat disturbing.
Before me lay the salvation of the Feyrie, whether they realize it or not. Their ideas and beliefs are skewed. They think all she will do is awaken the dark king who will save everyone. She is the only reason an attempt to save them will be made at all. That makes her much more important than the dark king in the scheme of things.
Honestly, I will only fight for her. I do not give two shits about the prophecy or the Feyrie, but I care for her. I will do anything that needs to be done to make sure she survives, even if it means destroying every single creature in existence.
Whatever threat exists, I will find.
For her, I will go to war—not for vengeance, not for freedom but for her and only her. I will make sure she gets where she needs to be, and may the so-called gods have pity on anyone who gets in my way.
I will not.
Moving her hair out of her face, I stroke her cheek with my thumb. It concerns me that the Sidhe was attacked. That it came from someone unknown. Something is fishy with some of the people here. Iza should be able to feel a traitor but if they are not always the traitor—what if someone is borrowing their bodies?
There are two ways that a body can be borrowed. One that is parasitic and burrows into the brain of its host, and one that can take them over spiritually. I think this is a case of the latter.
I am not sure who it is.
There are suspicions, but those are not enough. Not this time. I know that Life is sticking his nose in, especially with Iza. But the prophecy has always been his baby.
“You know, when you think super hard, you get little lines, right here,” Iza says, poking the space between my eyes.
“I did not know this.”
“So what ya thinking about?”
“Who could be doing the attack here without you knowing.”
“I dunno. I checked all the strands and I found nothing.”
I tell her about my theory.
“So, you think someone is borrowing someone’s body?” she asks me.
“Yes. It would explain their ability to get through the wards and avoid detection by either one of us.” I watch her face closely.
“We aren’t going to be able to find them, are we?”
Kissing her slowly, I enjoy that still-sleepy look she is wearing. Then I give her the bad news. “More than likely, no. Unless you see them try to use Magiks while borrowing the form, they are undetectable.”
“That’s how they evaded the slaughter of the Feyrie?”
I nod to answer her question.
Chewing on her lip she climbs out of the bed to slip a robe one, all the while thinking through the information I gave her. “I have to check the bird.”
Following her through the house, I watch her face when she looks in the oven.
“There’s a spoon in there on it. Well, what’s left of a spoon,” she mutters, thumping her head against the wall once. She straightens and says, “How can we draw them out?”
There is only one thing that might draw this creature out.
“Use me,” I offer.
She makes a face at me. I know why Iza has been protecting my identity like she has. I killed many Feyrie—millions. Some of the Feyrie here will remember the face I wore then.
“Iza, I can change my face.”
“Do they know the face I see?”
Thinking about it, I am not completely sure. But I do not remember ever using that form. Ever.
“How does using you help, though?”
“The dark king, Iza. His presence will draw them out.”
“Oh, that’s a little different.” Cocking her head to the side, she comes over and surprises me by wrapping her arms around my waist. Then she says, “Are you ready for that?”
Here she is, her life in danger, and she is worried if I am ready to admit who I really am?
Hell.
“The Feyrie are not ready for that, not yet. Let’s focus on the humans for now. At least they are a threat we know,” she says, and she is not wrong. There is a good chance they will rebel completely.
And while Iza is preoccupied with the humans, I will work on figuring out who our mole is here—who is being controlled—and do what needs to be done.
When I find them, I am going to kill them.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Iza
He has that frown on his face again. It’s really his only tell that something is on his mind. He’s lying across from me on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Unlike me, he doesn’t need sleep. Ever. I wonder if that allows him to get more done or get bored more often?
He rolls to his side and kisses my cheek before climbing out of the bed. Guessing, I’d say he’s going to try and see if he can find out who the traitor is while I’m fiddling with the humans.
Or
not traitor. If they’ve been body-snatched, it’s beyond their control now. From what Phobe said, they lose a piece of their soul every single time they are occupied. Until eventually there is nothing left.
For all intents and purposes, they’re dead.
Sunlight creeps in through the window. I had no idea it was that early. Groaning, I crawl out of bed and drag some clothes on. As I near the kitchen I can smell the bird cooking. It had to cook all night in order to be cooked enough for Thanksgiving. It weighs something like 200 pounds.
The house goblins are taking care of the side dishes. And I’m hoping no one notices the melted blue plastic spoon stuck to the right leg. Why did I even have the spoon near the big bird?
Oh, I remember now. I was feeding the not-giblets to the goblins.
Putting on my gloves, because no one likes getting burned, I open the massive oven door and peek in. The big bird is a golden-brown color and the skin looks crispy and yummy.
Sliding the rack out, I lift the bird out and put it on the counter. God, this thing is huge. Carefully, I tug on the stuck spoon. I don’t want the bird to fall apart because I was a dumbass and left a spoon on it. It takes part of the meat but otherwise no noticeable damage. Good, the bird is still pretty.
Smiling, I stab it with my daggers, lift it out of the pan, and put it on the huge decorated plate the goblins made for me. Grabbing the plate by its fancy gold handles, I carry it to the dining room. The huge table is covered in all kinds of fantastic foods, human and Feyrie. Some are even still moving.
The goblins went all out today.
Grinning, I place the bird at the center of the table and stand back feeling a little, tiny bit proud of myself. I cooked a bird for our day of thanks.
“My Lady, that actually looks edible,” Nika comments, taking a seat across from me.
Casting a dirty look at her I fight the urge to throw potatoes in her face. She seems so surprised I made something edible. Sarcastic dragon.
Phobe startles me when he pulls my chair out for me.
‘The humans do this for their females,’ he assures me.
Shrugging, I sit down and giggle a little when he lifts the chair and I both up to scoot us to the table. Looking around the room, I discreetly touch each individual with my Magiks. Noting each face, whether they are smiling or sad, and what I see… makes me smile so hard my face hurts from it.
People are serving themselves, talking, smiling. Some of them simply look happy.
Thanksgiving is a great day to have with my family.
Christmas will be even better. We can give presents on that day. And have lights everywhere that twinkle to music. And cookies, and hot chocolate, and the kids and I can try to catch the fat man. Maybe we can bake lots of cookies to lure him down our chimney. Not that we have one yet, but we will for the holidays.
Jameson and I need to do more research… Wait, not everyone is here. I climb to my feet and search the room and inside on the Web for him. Only one thing is loud and clear.
Jameson is afraid.
Climbing up on the table I shout, “Where the hell is my nerd?”
Acknowledgements
Thank you, the reader of this book, for all the support you have given me to write it. Without you this world wouldn’t exist to anyone but me.
Jason, you are my rock. And yes, there are days I might want to punch you right in your pretty face, I still love you to distraction. Thank you for feeding me when I zone out all day. For making sure I have enough sense to sleep, for being the one person who tells me it’ll be okay, no matter what. Love you tinkertits. (Every book will have a diff nickname for you)
Vicki Ward Duran, Kelly Stephens, Amy “The Biscuit” Naylor, Heather Endsley. Thank you, ladies, for your laughter, support and for keeping me on task. Love you!
Thank you, Squad!
As always, my kids. You were the only beautiful things that came out of my existence.
About Zoe Parker
Writing has always been a dream and a curse of mine. It seems I've spent more time living in my head than sky-diving or climbing mountains. But really, why stop at sky-diving when I can explore other worlds? Writing is as important to me as breathing. I think I'd rather lose a limb then stop writing. The places I've visited, the things I've seen in my imagination were better than climbing mountains any day. In here I can fight for the poor dragon, I can cheer for the black knight. I can make the little guy strong enough to toss cars. And if you allow it, I'll drag you right along with me.
Click the Links!
If you’re interested in learning more about the world of Zoe Parker you can find her at:
Facebook group, all kinds of mischief in there: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ZoesSavagesquad
And you can always keep updated via her website:
www.zoeparkerbooks.com
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/ZoeParkerAuthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/zoeparkerauthor
