by J F Rogers
“It might be a quicker, more pleasant journey as a falcon,” he suggested.
“I’ll need to go back for a sack to carry my things.”
He reached into a pocket in his robe. “I’ve just the thing.”
“Of course, you do.” I laughed and recalled last year when I flew to Ceas Croi alone. “Will you tie the pouch on my foot, so I don’t drop it?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Such calm emanated from him. I soaked it up, allowing it to energize me as I changed into a falcon. I clutched Drochaid in my beak.
Sully gathered my things and stuffed them in the pouch. He held up my shoes. “Better not to take these, I think.”
I nodded my little bird head, sending my small body rocking. That had been my decision last time. They’d add too much weight. I’d have to go barefoot. Again.
Sully tied the pouch to my foot. He kissed his hand, then touched my head. “God be with you, little one. You are loved.”
If I’d been in human form, I might’ve teared up. But my bird form didn’t feel the need to cry.
He pulled Drochaid from my mouth and slipped it into the pouch.
After another nod, I took to the sky. As usual, peace swept over me. Whether it was the sky, Sully, Drochaid, clear direction from God, or all of the above, I was at peace.
****
Amazing how much quicker it was to fly, to soar above the stumbling blocks. In less than an hour, towers peaked above the tree line. Beyond the trees, the full castle rose from the cliff’s edge and sprawled over the hills. Ocean waves crashed, sending up a spray, and seagulls squawked. I was countless miles from home in another realm, yet the familiar sounds of the ocean and gulls eased my mind, as if I were flying home, not to my enemy.
I landed in the woods to change. When I flew to Ceas Croi last year, at least I’d arrived inside. I had smooth ground to step on. Now I was in the woods full of debris. My feet were tough, but shoes helped. I tiptoed out of the woods. Even then, I had to walk with care along the dirt road to the stone road. Each path was easier on my feet, but the closer I got, the larger the castle loomed.
The place was silent. Eerie silent. Like when a fan suddenly shuts off or the power goes out. I neared the castle gates. No guards were present. The gate was wide open. The courtyard should have been bustling. But it was barren. No animals. Nothing. A ghost town. I half-expected a tumbleweed to cross my path.
A slight breeze swept through, but rather than a tumbleweed, it carried the fasgadair’s electric scent. I shivered and tiptoed to the castle’s grand entryway like someone sneaking in. Alastar probably already knew I was here. I could almost sense his sick enjoyment like he was in my head…or I was in his.
Drochaid pointed to the enormous front entryway. An elaborate chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Straight ahead stood a massive staircase, which split at the landing, then continued upward on either side to their own balconies.
Hallways headed in many directions, but Drochaid pointed to the right where the electric scent grew stronger. Sun streamed through giant stained-glass windows, illuminating the hall in a variety of colors. I followed Drochaid to a throne room. Squat stairs led to a gated platform where a subject likely addressed the king but wouldn’t be able to reach him.
The king’s throne stood on another platform with two sets of stairs on either side. Behind the throne, four massive windows overlooked the ocean. The sun blasting in shadowed the chair. Was someone there?
I inched toward the throne like a kid turning the crank on a jack-in-the-box, knowing what’s coming but pressing on. I steeled myself not to jump. The tile chilled my toes and traveled up my spine as I neared, peering into the darkness until I could make out the outline of a figure. Na’Rycha. Alastar.
“Greetings, Sister.” His voice sounded strange, sleepy. With a mixture of hatred, sadness, and glee. I couldn’t read his expression. Too much distance and too many shadows concealed the details.
“Where is everyone?” I checked behind me, expecting fasgadair to peel themselves from the shadows and surround me.
“The selkie? Some are dead. Others fled. A large group dove into the ocean and haven’t returned.” He leaned forward. “What could I do? My men were hungry. We’ll search the nearby villages soon. I have many soldiers to feed.”
I wanted to see his face—traces of my brother. I edged closer. “Where are your minions now?”
“They don’t care for sunlight. They’re in the dungeons, resting.”
“Aren’t you bothered by the sun?” Rays beamed on either side of his throne. Hopefully, they’d keep him right where he was.
“Indeed. But it won’t kill me. And I couldn’t risk missing an important meeting.”
“Why did you want to meet me?” Was there a way to reach the little boy inside him?
“Oh-so-many reasons.” He lifted his fingers to count them off. “One, you’re my sister. Two, you have some incredible powers. Three, I think we can help each other.”
“Help each other.” I huffed. “With what?”
“We have common goals. You want Morrigan dead. I want Morrigan dead.”
“Isn’t Morrigan like an adopted mother to you?”
“Hmph.” His fingers curled around the throne’s ornate arms like spider legs. “What kind of mother do you suppose the queen of the undead could be?” Bitterness, like venom, dripped from his voice. “Do you think she read me stories at night? Tucked me in? Smothered me in hugs and kisses?”
“So, she wasn’t mother of the year. Why do you want her dead?”
“Why do you want her dead?”
“Because I’m supposed to kill her. It’s my destiny.”
“And I also want her dead. See? Common goals. Let’s help each other.”
He didn’t answer my question. He probably wanted more power. Isn’t that what it always came down to with evil creatures? “How do you propose to do that?”
“Well, I’d have to trust you completely. You’d have to become a fasgadair.”
“That’s not even possible.”
“I know what your blood does. But have you tried drinking fasgadair blood? It could work.”
“No way.” Drink blood. I shuddered. Never going to happen.
“I won’t work with anyone who isn’t a fasgadair.”
“And I won’t work with a fasgadair.”
“So, we’re at an impasse,” Alastar said.
“It seems so.”
He seemed trapped by the sun streaming in around him. With no other fasgadair around and him in his weakened state, it was probably safe to leave. “If that’s all, I guess I’ll be going.” I turned around.
Something clicked. Blinds covered the windows, blocking the light. With imperceptible movements, Na’Rycha materialized and grabbed my neck. “If you won’t help me willingly, I’ll have to coerce you.” He smiled a sick, twisted smile. “And satisfy my curiosity in the meantime.”
I struggled to breathe. My fingers couldn’t squeeze between his fingers and my neck.
God, help me!
Everything went dark.
Chapter Forty-Five
◊◊◊
I WOKE IN A dark room. The ropes pinning my arms and legs to the chair burned. I had to loosen them…somehow. Was there anything around that might help? It was a gathering room with couches, chairs, and a fireplace. Paintings of the sea on the wall. Lamps on tables. But nothing to remove the bonds.
Fire.
Duh! I stared at the rope, careful to start a small fire at the outside edge to minimize any burns.
Na’Rycha appeared before me, smothered the flame with his hand, and laughed. “There’s no point. Even if you could loose those bonds, you couldn’t escape me. I’m much too quick. But if you were a faz-geh-deer”—his rising voice drew out the word—“you’d have a fighting chance.” Grabbing the chair arms, he leaned in close.
His electrical scent shivered over me. A c
urrent I wanted to ignite. His grotesque enlarged irises in my face. I fought the urge to spit in them.
“I miss being in your head”—he trailed an icy finger across my forehead—“reading the thoughts you fought to conceal. No matter.” He straightened. “Any time you decide you’d like to join me, let me know, and we’ll stop this unnecessary torture.”
Torture? My heart sped up, urging me to flee. I fought against the ropes.
He backed away. “Just know…this will hurt me as much as it hurts you, Sister.” His sinister laugh rippled the air between us. “Okay. Maybe not quite as much. Bring them in.”
The door opened and four fasgadair entered.
“My lord.” The vampire in back bowed and left the room.
The remaining three monsters glanced at each other as if one of the others might know what was happening.
“You.” Na’Rycha pointed to the closest one. “Bite her.”
Confusion remained on his face, but he relaxed, apparently having no issue with being told to feed on someone. He bent over, brushed my hair away, then gripped my neck. Tight. Then he sank his teeth in. I screamed as he pierced my flesh.
God, help me!
The fasgadair released me and stepped back.
Warmth trickled down my neck. I wanted to grab it, to stop the bleeding. But my hands were bound.
Na’Rycha pushed a cloth against my neck as the stumbling fasgadair choked on my blood. The demon fell to the ground, blood spewing from his mouth. His body jerked, then stilled.
The veins in the fasgadair’s face grayed. Gray spread throughout his entire face and neck. His skin sifted to dust.
Na’Rycha, still holding the cloth to my neck, nudged the fallen fasgadair dust statue with his foot. The statue crumbled. Its clothes flattened to the ground.
“That was interesting. I thought you made fasgadair return to gachen form.”
“Or die.” Too bad he wouldn’t make that mistake.
“Let’s try another, shall we?” He signaled a fasgadair in line. “Next.”
The fasgadair shuffled forward at a sloth’s pace.
Na’Rycha snapped his fingers at the other fasgadair who stared trance-like at the insanity unfolding before him. “Clean this up, would you?”
The third fasgadair jumped to the ready, picked up the flattened clothes, and headed toward the door.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Na’Rycha called to him. “Leave the clothes with a guard and return.”
The third fasgadair slumped off.
The second fasgadair stood before me, not eagerly awaiting his turn.
“Careful not to bite her in the same place,” Na’Rycha motioned the beast forward.
Such a strange thing for him to be concerned about.
The second fasgadair took his sweet time bending over my neck. His moist breath stank like month-old meat in a compost bin. His teeth sank into my skin, and his hesitation ended. Instinct and bloodlust took over as he drank my blood.
I cried out again from the pain. My head swooned as the monster siphoned my blood.
“That’s enough.” Na’Rycha pulled him away. Blood ran down my neck, wetting my dress.
Na’Rycha returned the cloth, pressing it tight to my neck.
The second fasgadair acted much like the first. He fell to his knees as he choked on my blood. His mouth gaped like a fish out of water, hands clutching his throat, attempting to suck in air. Blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell onto his side. A tremor ran through his body. Another twitch. And done. Wide, lifeless eyes stared. Like the other, his pale face grayed, starting with his veins, then fanning out across his flesh.
Na’Rycha let go of the cloth. He stepped back as if aiming to kick a soccer ball in the goal, ran forward, and booted the dust body. The clothes went soaring. Dust filled the air and settled in a triangular formation.
Na’Rycha returned the cloth to my neck and applied pressure.
What was that about? Was he insane? Angry? Both?
My body weak, tired, my mind couldn’t focus. The room swam.
“Next!” Na’Rycha called.
The last fasgadair was still by the door. Like the other, he moved at a snail’s pace.
“Now!” Veins sprouted along Na’Rycha’s temples and neck. He was coming unhinged. Or was this his normal?
The final fasgadair appeared before me with movements imperceptible to the human eye. One moment he was by the door, the next, standing before me. His gaze downcast, he dared peek at Na’Rycha.
“You know what to do.” Impatience or irritation clipped the ends off Na’Rycha’s words. I half excepted him to break off the fasgadair’s lower jaw and ram his teeth into my neck. But that might make it challenging for him to suck my blood.
The final fasgadair reacted as the others had until he too became dust.
“Aghhhh!” Na’Rycha spun around, veins bulging, and stamped his foot. So, this is what a fasgadair tantrum looked like.
Barely conscious, I let my head loll to the side and my gaze drop, only vaguely aware of the trickle down my neck. Yet I found his response amusing.
I heard faint laughter. Was that from me?
Na’Rycha spun around on me. “You think this is funny?”
I tried to shake my head. Perhaps I did. I couldn’t tell. The giggling continued, the world growing dark.
“How is it you saved Aodan? Why are these three dead? All three!” His voice rose, on the verge of a pathetic whine. “What is different?”
I shrugged—I think. Then darkness.
Chapter Forty-Six
◊◊◊
WHEN I WOKE, THE room was still dark. How long was I out? Minutes? Hours? Days? There were no clocks. Just the dark room with oil lamps lending light to reveal the furniture and paintings.
My head pounded. The room spun.
The door opened.
Had someone peeked in? Or gone out?
A fresh rope replaced the one I’d tried to burn. I tried again, but I had trouble focusing. Pain stung my wrist. “Ow!” Had I missed? I tried again, this time hitting my mark. The rope smoked. A small flame ignited, and the fibers began to unfurl.
Na’Rycha materialized before me and smacked the fire out. “Stop doing that. It won’t work. There’s no way out. Not in your present, human state. Particularly with so much blood loss.” He straightened to his full height. “Since you’re awake, let’s give this thing another try, shall we?” He pointed to a fasgadair behind him. He bent my head to reveal my neck, the unbitten side. “Bite her.”
He’d probably kept the fasgadair deaths a secret. This one didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and bit. Blood seeped from my veins as he sucked. I’d never get used to blood rushing from my neck. It made me shiver, but it didn’t hurt as it had before.
“That’s enough.” Na’Rycha pulled him back.
The fasgadair wiped his mouth. Pain filled his eyes. He fell to the ground. His body seized as he moaned. Then he stilled. We waited for his body to turn to dust, but it didn’t. Olive skin with a healthy pink tinge swept through his features until no trace of the pale fasgadair existed. He sucked in a deep breath and sat up, gasping as if he’d nearly drowned.
“’Tis true.” Na’Rycha sat on a nearby couch, his eyes riveted on the fasgadair who’d returned to whatever he’d been before…gachen, selkie. Whatever he was, he was no longer a fasgadair.
Whoever this was who’d been saved, clutched his heart, then his arms. He studied himself as if he received a new body. Then he jerked his head toward Na’Rycha. “What happened?”
Na’Rycha stood, bent over to the man as if he were about to explain, then twisted his neck. I hadn’t even seen his arms move. Before the guy realized anything had happened to him, he fell over, dead.
“Why—?” I couldn’t squeak out the rest of the words. But what was the point? My head swam. I wasn’t strong enough to lose any more blood. I struggled to remain conscious.
Na’Rycha stood and opened his mouth. His words garbled in my mind. Two of him stood before me. Then three. Then nothing.
****
“Fallon!” Something shook me. “Fallon!” A hushed voice kept calling my name.
I fought to open my eyes. With each blink, a face emerged. Declan’s once beautiful face now marred by unnatural pale skin. His once beautiful green eyes. Now eerie green, inhuman irises stared at me. I closed my eyes again. Better than looking at that.
He shook me again.
“What do you want?” I growled.
“’Tis me. I’ll get you out of here.” He untied my binds.
“No.” I tried shaking my head, but I could barely move. Bandages tugged from both sides of my neck. Pain emanated from the wounds. My head hurt. I couldn’t think.
Declan paused. “No? You want to stay here?”
“I don’t want you to rescue me. You’re a–a—”
“Who cares what I am if I can get you to safety?”
“I care.” Talking hurt. My throat burned.
He resumed untying my binds. Once free, he pulled at me to pick me up. I fought him with what little energy I had.
“Why are you fighting me? Let me save you.”
“Let me save you.” I didn’t have the energy for this. Why was he being so stubborn?
He stared at me, mouth agape. “You can’t mean that. You’d want me to risk killing you to save myself? I might die too. Even if I survive, I can’t help you in human form. Don’t you understand? I need to be this way. I have the strength and power to free you. Without it, I’m nothing.”
I shook my head—I think. “You’re no good to me as a fasgadair. Only as a gachen.”
He continued to stare.
“Please,” I begged. “Let me change you back.”
“I can’t forgive myself if I kill you.”
“You won’t.” I hoped. Please, God, I know this is what must happen. It must be from You. Please, please, please get through to him. “I won’t go with you as a fasgadair.”
Declan peeled back the bandage on the left side of my neck, the side with only one set of bite marks. “Forgive me.” I barely noticed his teeth pierce my skin. But that familiar jolt of electricity struck, and shame washed over me. How could I react like this to my brother?
