Dark Glitter

by C. M. Stunich

  “You just bring two fingers dipped in the sacred waters and you touch them to this here charm.” Rosinée lifted up a necklace by the string, a dried chicken foot dangling from the end of it, decorated with beads, bits of bone, and tiny gems.

  “I could just kill you and try to search out where you've hidden the key,” I said and both Papa Cocodril and Rosinée laughed at me.

  “You could try,” she said as her husband muttered something under his breath.

  “Would be a bloody battle, no?” he asked, shaking his head like he was disappointed with the whole situation. Well he should be considering he lost the key he was meant to protect in the first place. I shouldn't have to make a trade. And I also wasn't so sure I wanted the Swamp Witch to reproduce. She'd had her club attack Arlo, so she could, what, steal his bodily fluid for her spell? “You got that werewolf out there. He seems like a fertile sort of folk? Go mate him when you finish your gumbo and we can be done with this exchange.”

  “I'm not mating him,” I said with a wrinkled nose. Not after his comments just now. The arrogance … Rafe truly believed I was going to choose him as a Lord. What a fool. “You'll have to wait until—”

  “No,” Rosinée said, her fingers tightening around the wooden spoon she was using. “I won't wait.” She paused and looked over at her husband. “Wipe that fool smile off your face,” she growled at him as I spooned a bite of gumbo in my mouth and had to resist the urge to groan in pleasure.

  Truly, it was one of the most delicious things I'd ever eaten in my life.

  But I wasn't about to tell the Swamp Witch that.

  “If she be needin' a lover,” Papa Cocodril said and before he could get out another word, I reached over and slapped him across the face hard. “No, no, not me!” he said, dropping his spoon in his now empty bowl and holding up his hands, palms out. The look of fear he cast in his wife's direction spoke volumes as to how their relationship must play out.

  I didn't want that with my Lords.

  I'd need to be careful in the future and stop doing things like tossing Arlo out a window and into the swamp. I wanted us to be equals; I did not want to lord myself over them the way Rosinée was doing with her husband.

  “Not me, girly, I meant you can be your own lover. As long as you get that special little shiver of pleasure,” Papa Cocodril wiggled his eyebrows at me, “then the spell will work.”

  “I can masturbate?” I clarified and the old man chuckled.

  “Oui, you can be your own lover and the universe will love you just as good.”

  I finished the last few bites of my gumbo and turned to look Rosinée in the dark brown of her eyes.

  “Make me a fae's bargain,” I said and my voice radiated with power. I wasn't even one hundred percent sure what I was doing.

  “A fae's bargain,” Rosinée ground out through clenched teeth, but like she knew she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. “Fine.”

  “Two fingers of liquid from my cunt,” I said blatantly, “in exchange for the key that was entrusted to Papa Cocodril by the previous Lord of Spring, the one that unlocks the Spear of Lug and the location of said spear, delivered no later that one hour from now.”

  Each word I spoke perfumed the air with the sweet scent of flowers as my wings burst from my back and uncurled over the back of the chair. A glow suffused the room as power took hold of my lips.

  I held out my hand and Rosinée offered hers.

  “I agree,” she said as I sliced her palm with a fingernail and her breath hissed out in pain. I let her do the same to me and we clasped hands, smearing our blood in an ancient ritual of power and promise. If one of us were to break the bargain … we'd drop dead.

  Not even a goddess like the Veil Keeper could escape the pain and punishment of a fae's bargain.

  Standing up, I wiped my palm on my naked hip and stared down into Rosinée’s ice-blue eyes. I didn’t trust her, not with the fae’s bargain, not even with my truth telling powers, but bringing myself to orgasm with a little masturbation was not a high price to pay for that key.

  And if she somehow managed to wiggle out of our agreement with careful words and well-placed tricks … I would kill her. Or my Lords would. Fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe tore her throat out. The two of them couldn’t be the best of friends since he’d jumped into the fight with the rougarou to save Arlo. I hadn’t seen that part of the conflict with my own eyes, but Reece had told me all about it.

  “I’ll be back,” I told the odd couple, leaving the hut to stand in the middle of a tiny island in the Louisiana bayou. If I was going to do this with the allotted hour time slot, I’d have to do it here, and while outside seemed like a much less palatable option for most people, I was fae. I was Veil Keeper. I was divine. The Horned God was my consort and the earth was our bed, so I had no problem finding a mossy patch of ground and relaxing against the trunk of a large tree.

  Scanning the trees and the rippling waters around the island, I looked for a pair of red wolf’s eyes but couldn’t find them. Wherever Raphael LeRoux was hiding, he was laying low. It was below me to call out and ask him not to peek. Fuck, that would only encourage him to look, I bet, asshole that he was.

  So I decided instead to close my eyes and think of my three fae Lords, waiting for me at the edge of pack property. I could feel them, tethered to me by magic, and I reached out on silent wings as I dropped my hand to my inner thigh and trailed my nails along my skin, imagining that it was Killian’s long fingers approaching the wetness of my cunt.

  “Mon cher?” I heard him ask from miles away, his voice as warm and silken to my ears now as it was when he was actually standing beside me.

  “It’s me,” I told him … them. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was communicating with them, but I didn’t care. That knowledge was buried somewhere deep in the Veil Keeper’s psyche, and I was accessing it through sheer need. That’s how much I wanted them. “I need your help.”

  “Girl, you don’t gotta ask Old Reece twice for help wit’ dat.”

  A surge of violent heat shot through my body making me gasp, taking my pathetic clumsy attempts at teasing my inner thigh and squeezing my own breast and turning them into impossible acts of erotica. My thumb tracing across the hardened peak of a nipple became Reece’s thumb, the fingers dipping inside my heat became Killian.

  “Arlo?” I asked, but he was silent when I called out to him. His refusal to answer me seemed purposeful, almost defiant. “My Lord of Spring?”

  “I’m not helping you impregnate that fucking swamp witch whore,” he growled out, making my skin ripple with pleasure. Even though he was being a complete ass, the sheer desire and possessiveness threaded through his voice turned me on even more, a feat I didn’t think possible with Reece’s sex magic poisoning my veins.

  “We need the key, Arlo,” I whispered with my magic, biting my lower lip as I traded out two fingers for three … then four, the power rolling between the four of us convincing my aching body that it was Killian’s cock instead. My hand on my breast became Reece’s, and the sound of my own groaning turned into Arlo’s as it hit my ears.

  “Fuck,” he growled, and I could just imagine him reaching down to take hold of his own cock, stroking himself to the vision of me lying naked and prone in the swamp, fucking myself with my head, teasing my own nipple into a hardened pink point. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I worked my body with the help of Reece’s magic, my magic, the careful dance of my thumb on my clit, my fingers buried in hot wetness. The orgasm rose inside me like a phoenix from the ashes, brilliant and flaming, cast red-hot arms of pleasure across my skin as I arched my hips toward the sky and opened my eyes, tears blooming at the edges.

  As I did, I caught a glimpse of a man in the trees, his hand wrapped around his cock, his red eyes half-lidded and heavy with desire. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but our eyes locked at just the right moment and the magic swept through me, convincing my body that it was Raphael’s hard, mus
cular form atop my own, driving me to the precipice of pleasure and over the other side.

  I came screaming, my voice echoing around the crowded bayou and stirring up turtles, gators, birds … and sprites. But fuck them. If they saw, I hoped they enjoyed the damn show.

  Rafe however … I was fucking furious with.

  Panting and shaking, my body trembling with the aftereffects of my climax, I rose to my feet and felt the whisper of the magic I’d shared with my lords drifting away in the musty bayou breeze. Catching Rafe’s eyes had cut my connection to the other three.

  “You fucking piece of shit!” I snarled as I stormed through the bushes toward him and cracked him hard across the face, not caring that his cock was half-hard and fresh seed glimmered in the palm of his right hand. I’d taken him straight to orgasm right along with me, and I hadn’t even meant to do it. “Who gave you permission to watch?”

  “You called to me!” he screamed back, gritting his teeth and putting his clean hand up to the palm print on his face. “I was patrolling the area and you whispered that you needed my help.”

  “I never called to you,” I said, wondering if I’d somehow made a mistake and project my need to every person in the immediate vicinity. Ugh, if that was the case then Rosinée and Papa Cocodril would’ve felt it, too.

  “You did,” Rafe repeated, but I didn’t have time to argue. I’d gotten what I needed and it was time to make a trade—a baby for a key. At least this trade was a fair shade better than the fairytales—I didn’t have to give my own firstborn up, simply help another have her own. That much, I could do.

  “Forget it. Go home, Raphael LeRoux, I can find my own way back from here.” Without waiting for a response from him, I whirled on my heel and stalked back to the swamp shack that held my damn key.

  It appeared my magic had bled out a little more than intended, as Rosinée and Papa Cocodril were frantically mauling each other when I stepped back through the door. She was straddling his lap and his hands were buried deep inside her voluminous skirts while their tongues wrestled one another.

  Pausing a moment, I cleared my throat.

  “Quickly, girl,” Rosinée panted, arching her neck and holding the amulet out to me. “Quickly while the magic is still fresh.”

  My eyes narrowed at her as I stretched my wet fingers forward. “The key?” I reminded her, pausing before touching the decorated chicken’s foot.

  “On the table. Now hurry up so me husband can put a baby in my belly.” She shook the charm at me even as Papa Cocodril's lips made their way down the line of her throat.

  With my free hand, I snatched the key from the table where she had left it for me, then touched my two fingers, wet with the product of my orgasm, to her charm. Magic visibly sparked and hissed as my juices met the chicken foot and then it was done.

  “Yes,” Rosinée groaned in ecstasy, “yes, I can feel my body come alive again. Go, Veil Keeper. You’ll find your Spear in the old Saint Louis Cemetery. Look for an angel watching over the dead; she be holding your treasure.”

  “Wait, then where do I use the key?” I demanded, but it was too late. The swamp witch and her magical lover were rapidly shedding clothes and I knew there would be no more discussion until they were done copulating.

  It could take hours, and that was time I didn't have. Hopefully, the keyhole would be obvious when we got there.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” I muttered, leaving the shack and closing the door firmly behind me even as the distinctive grunts and moans of their babymaking followed me out into the bayou.

  Placing the key tight between my teeth, I dove headfirst back into the water and began making my way back to the point I'd entered. Hopefully Rafe had followed my directive to leave as I was in no mood to speak with him. It'd be a long walk back to Wild Hunt land, but it could be just what I needed to clear the anger I felt toward him. He had intruded on a private moment with my Lords, regardless of their physical presence, and it was an offense that could not be lightly forgiven.

  When I arrived back to the dock where I'd left my clothing though, I found Amelie waiting for me.

  “Successful trip?” she asked with an easy smile, and I let her help me out of the water. I took the key from between my teeth and held it up, grinning.

  “Nice work, girl. You really are gonna save us all, huh?” Amelie chuckled and handed me my clothes so I could dress. “Rafe came running through here with his tail between his legs a few minutes ago. Asked me to see you safe back to the faery boys. Everything okay there?”

  “No,” I replied, “it's not. But I will deal with your alpha another day. Tonight, I have a Spear to find and some memories to retrieve.”

  As much as I wanted to feel excited, or even simply optimistic about the retrieval of one-fourth of my lost memories, I simply couldn't muster anything more than a grimace.

  Was I really prepared to take the bad with the good? From the shards of memory I had regained on my own, there was no shortage of bad.

  Was I strong enough to endure it all over again?

  The boys must have sent a message ahead, because when the four of us arrived back to The Wild Hunt clubhouse, my entire Hunt was ready and waiting.

  “Keeper,” Fionn greeted me with a respectful dip of his head, “lead us and we shall follow.”

  I cast my eyes over my Wild Hunt, all sat ready on their gleaming bikes, dressed in their club patches and bandanas. The older ones scowled, while the younger ones looked excited, but I knew in my heart that they would not betray me. Not tonight, anyway.

  “Good,” I replied from the back of Killian's bike. “Let's go then.”

  There was no real reason why we needed to go immediately, no reason except the burning urgency in me that something bad was coming.

  My powers did not extend to the gift of prophecy, as far as I was aware, but the gnawing feeling in my gut warned of impending danger.

  Without any further words, Killian turned his bike and lead the way out of the driveway with the rest of the club falling into position around us. No discussion was necessary. I'd told my Lords where we needed to go, and it was the rest of the Hunt’s job to simply follow.

  It wasn't until we were roaring down the I-10, on our way into New Orleans proper, that I was hit by a wave of agony which caused me to cry out.

  Killian stopped his bike immediately, leaping off and grasping my face in his hands.

  “What is it, mon amour? Speak to me,” he urged. Around us, I sensed the rest of my Wild Hunt had stopped their bikes also, but only my Lords got off to surround me.

  “Ciarah, ‘tit fille,” Reece murmured, “what happenin'?”

  I wanted to answer them, I did, but I couldn't. Pain, sorrow, and fear wracked my body and it was all I could do to sob and moan while my hands clutched at my head.

  Come on, Ciarah. Get a grip, this pain is not your own. You have felt the cold sting of those claws rend your own flesh and survived. You can survive this … this shadow. This echo.

  Gasping for air, I forcefully loosened my grip on my hair then ground my teeth together as I looked to my Knights.

  “Death,” I croaked. “Fae are dying. Lots of them. They need my help, our help. If not to save their lives, then to save their souls. The creatures …” A violent shiver shuddered through me at even mentioning them. “The creatures responsible won't stop at killing their bodies. Once they achieve that, they will consume their souls and there will be nothing left to regenerate.”

  A shocked gasp rose from the club. It was the most unspeakable of punishments, for a fae soul to be consumed. Our race relied heavily on the recycling of old souls as very few new souls were ever created in Faerie.

  It was my job, and my job alone to pass judgement on those who did not deserve to be recycled.

  “Where?” Arlo growled, his glamour shimmering in and out of focus, betraying his heightened emotions.

  “The Saint Louis Cemetery,” I whispered, my eyes unfocused as I sought out the location o
f death and destruction in my mind. “They're waiting for me there. This is a trap.”

  “Then we can't go,” Killian frowned. “These are the creatures who held you? Who tortured you for more than a century?” I smiled softly at him, even through the secondhand fear and agony I was plagued with. My Lord of Winter was a sharp one—nothing got past him.

  “Yes.” I nodded and he scowled, folding his leather clad arms over his muscular chest.

  “Then we must get to the spear another way. It is too much of a risk, to let them near you again.” His jaw was locked stubbornly and I felt a little bad for what I needed to do next.

  They were concerned for my safety, and they had every right to be. These creatures had bested the Veil Keeper once before, and look how that had turned out …

  But that was Gràinne, not Ciarah. Ciarah was the one who'd escaped them.

  “I cannot, will not, abandon those fae to those vile bastards.” I met Killian's defiant stare calmly as I threaded powerful, ancient magic into my words. “You will do as I command, and continue on this quest with me. Our duty demands we do everything in our power to save fae lives, and I will not accept retreat. Am I understood?”

  Kill's eyes flashed with ice-cold fury, but I had layered so much magic into my voice that he was powerless to respond with anything but a curt nod. The same went for my other two Lords, as well as their comrades in arms.

  As one, their eyes glowing bright with Keeper magic, the bikers kicked their rides back into gear and we proceeded towards the cemetery. This time, though, the silence of our ride was broken by Fionn's rough voice.

  “And so we ride,” he growled out, his voice carrying through the still night, and the rest of the Wild Hunt echoed him in unison.

  Guilt sat in my throat like a grapefruit, making it impossible for me to respond. My Lords’ anger was so palpable I could feel it radiating off them in waves.

  Had I not just told myself that I would treat them with respect? Not to rule over them but to rule with them? And yet here I was, imposing my will on them and taking away their ability to choose for themselves.