by Lexi Ostrow
“Ach we dinnea need that ta happen once more!” Kellan shouted after the pair.
Odette had a feeling she had missed something private because all but her chuckled. It was a reminder that they were helping her, risking their lives, and she did not know much of them—nor they of her. They were hunters and protectors, and they did so with nothing gained in return.
This was why I didn’t leave when Shawn begged me. I had people who needed my help, people who didn’t know what they were walking around with.
The silent confession was quickly dismissed as Lucius poked fun at his mate once more. Eliza actually punched her mate and followed him towards the front of the craft, which was where the only door was, Odette noted. Aside from a curtain—that she prayed held a commode, although she wondered if the smell would overwhelm them—it was the only door on the ship. Curiosity got the better of her, and she called after the pair.
“Eliza?”
“Yes?”
“Should we need the facilities, how long are we on board?”
“If all goes well, meaning if Lucius doesn’t crash us into a mountain range or get us hopelessly lost, we should be in the air for approximately four days. To answer the next question, I procured some incense from Felicia to disguise any odors that may occur, and all our food is cured meats and bread. No tea for the trip, boiling water inside this craft would be unwise.”
Odette crinkled her nose at the idea of no warm tea and the facilities being shared, behind a curtain no less. She knew, from a few years prior, what particular areas of London smelled like due to the sewage system, and she was less than thrilled. She nodded at the pair, but they’d both slipped behind the private door.
“What of the people below? Certainly, we can’t believe that the whole of London will not look up.” Odette asked before Eliza could close the door.
Eliza frowned for a moment again, and Odette felt slightly sorry for making the talented inventor feel awful.
“The simple answer to that is we will be too high. If they see us, though, well, there are no measures in place, as I had no help from the Angels in constructing this.
Odette turned and looked at the three men with her. Kellan still appeared to be a little green despite the way his mouth had fastened around the bottle of spirits. Philippe was looking out one of the tiny round windows, his body a tense line, and she couldn’t help but wonder what was occurring in his mind. Her father—no, the man who raised her—was only looking at her.
Odette knew there was something childish in her demeanor, but she was not ready to speak to him. He may have only been carrying out the wishes of the Angels he consorted with, but he had also allowed her to live a lie and essentially hate who she was at the core of her being.
And she did hate herself.
Finding out her true bloodline had done nothing to ease the anger at the species of demons that had lead to her mother’s death. In fact, it had hastened it. If Layel’s wings were as white as a blanket of freshly fallen snow, then how had he lain with her mother? How had he been forgiven? Which lead to anger that if he had been a Pure Angel, why not seek her out? Why continue a charade of lies and deceit when he was clearly familiar enough with Thomas Agardawes that he could have stopped by for a bloody spot of tea?
Thinking about everything as she watched the man’s dark brown eyes look into hers fueled the anger she had very barely squelched out. Her fists tightened, and she had a distinct feeling the small snarl in the room had come from her.
“I have nothing to say to you and no comprehension of what an old man can do on a mission to Hell.”
Stark pain flashed in his eyes as if she had hit him. He recoiled back from her a step, and within only a moment, the determined, authoritative man who had raised her was back in the room with her.
“I do not care for your attitude, child. Be angry, but never doubt the knowledge I have on the creatures we fight. As your father told you, I know many things I am not allowed to share, things I will take to my deathbed when I am good and ready to die.”
She scoffed at him, but said nothing, opting to turn and take a seat next to Kellan. “Give me some of that bottle, or I promise you, I will make sure your Irish accent is a bit squeakier in the future.”
He laughed but didn’t hesitate to pass the spirit. She didn’t even lift it to her nose to smell it, just wrapped her lips around it and titled the bottle. She sputtered and pulled the bottle back, choking from the intensity of it, and passed it back to Kellan.
“Not a word, Irishman. Not a bloody word.” She scowled, but he didn’t hold back his laughter.
Greyston walked up and took a seat in front of her. As he was turning to say something, she saw the door open from upfront and Eliza peek her head around the corner.
“We’re set to lift her up. I promise you, she’s as safe as she can get. However, Philippe, Master Agardawes, would you mind sitting down?” She twisted a strand of her blonde hair, and it lifted off her neck.
A sharp pang raced through Odette, and she felt a throbbing in her gums. “Agh” The cry tore from her, and Philippe had her in his arms before she’d even realized she’d doubled over and slipped from the seat.
The burning in her gums was intensifying, and so sharp, it brought tears to her eyes. She closed them tightly, took three deep breaths and was knocked off Philippe’s knee as the giant airship jolted forward.
“Bloody hell!”
Based on the word choice, only Thomas Agardawes or Greyston had cursed. She knew Philippe reverted to French when he was flustered, and there was no trace of an Irish accent indicating it was Kellan.
Her forehead hit the ground, but she could barely feel it over the pulsing pain in her mouth. Frantic, she stuck her forefinger in her mouth and pressed into her gums. They were smooth, and nothing pulsed under her touch, but the moment she removed her finger the pain came back. Tears pricked her eyes, and she could feel them sliding down her face.
“Odette, ma belle felle, what’s wrong?”
Philippe’s dark eyes bored into her own, and she could feel his worry eating through her. They were all staring at her, all four imposing men looking down at her on the ground.
Do not keep them a secret, should your companions not know of them, it could get them killed, Odette.
Layel’s words echoed in her mind, and she didn’t know which was the right course of action. What if she was just reacting to the bloody strong alcohol?
“I am fine. I think perhaps that was too strong a drink for me.” She looked into Philippe’s eyes, willing him to believe her lie. They stayed like that a moment, even when the ship lurched again, and she felt a distinctly strange feeling as if they were rising into the sky. Without a word, he broke the gaze and offered her a hand to help her up.
“That is why I do not drink. We need to be sharp. Kellan drop that bottle now. If it’s that strong you’ll get yourself killed,” Philippe said.
“Aye! But we aren’t there yet!” Kellan looked dismayed, but one glare from Greyston and the younger hunter grumbled and put it down. “Fine. But dinnea blame me if I lose me cookies all over yer boots in this damned ship!”
That diffused the tension in the air over her antics, and she took Philippe’s hand, allowing him to pull her up. She did not believe in letting a man support a woman, but there was something about being cared for by him, that made her want it.
He helped her to the seat bench a little further back from the others and left his hand in hers even after they sat down side by side.
“You know, you don’t need to lie to me, Odette.”
Her heart beat furiously at the fact that he had grown to know her well enough in barely a month to know her body language. “I did not lie. That alcohol was strong, I have no idea how Kellan hasn’t keeled over yet.”
He raised a dark brow at her, and she flushed. Odette slowly took her hand out of his, suddenly uncomfortable at the contact, because she realized how dangerously close to the man she was getting.
“So you always check your mouth where demon fangs would grow after a bitter drink?”
Glaring at him, she chose not to answer. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him.
“Fine, don’t tell me the truth then. Suffer through whatever this change feels like on your own. I don’t enjoy a woman’s company, anyway.” He stood up with the words and walked over to where Greyston and Kellan sat engaged, playing with their crystal guns.
His words stung, but she knew he didn’t mean them. She’d lied to him, so he returned the favor in kind.
Odette shifted on the wooden bench and tugged her legs up to her chest, the long dark skirt falling like a waterfall around her legs and the bench like a drapery. The throbbing in her mouth was dulling. She could feel it still, as Philippe had mentioned, where fangs would be. She had assumed they would grow, but not when or what it would feel like. If the rest of the turning felt like the glimpse of the beginning she had just experienced, she had no doubt she would run screaming her problems to those on the hunt to alleviate her anger at them occurring.
Angry with herself, her father and Philippe, she crossed her arms over her chest again and closed her eyes. Eliza hadn’t been misleading them; the ride was quite smooth. A clang sounded, and she opened one eye. All four men sat across from her, excluding her, and she wished Eliza would at least leave her mates side to sit with her. However, she doubted that would occur. When the men didn’t look around, she realized the clang had been from her, and she leaned over the wooden bench.
Her bronzed metal pocket watch had fallen out and lay open on the floor. She growled and scooped it up, holding it over her head as she rolled back onto the bench. The bronze chain dangled and touched her cheek, but she wanted to make sure it worked, so she ignored the chain. The second hand ticked away, and she could see the faint glow of the purple crystal, the one they used to track demons, still in one piece. She’d never understood how it stopped buzzing like a lark around the male demons, but hers had been taken when she’d arrived and given back, so she could only assume her real father had someone change the blood coding to ignore the two specific demons.
They won’t have to do it for a third. There will be no happily ever after as a demon for you. This isn’t a Grimm’s tale. They will shoot you where you stand in two weeks time if you fail.
The thought made her sit upright and crush the pocket watch in her grasp as she closed the lid. Odette had barely realized they had been up in the air over a half an hour until she opened the timepiece. A journey of epic lengths in the airship would feel like forever.
With a sigh, she pushed off the bench and went to go join the men. It was going to be a long trip, and it was all her fault they were there. She had to go tell them the truth.
Eleven
The kink in his neck cracked and drew a groan from him. Philippe sighed and yawned at once and tilted his neck to the side. Five nights of sleeping on a wooden bench was enough to make him want to jump out of the airship. They should have already been there, and yet, they weren’t. His whole body ached, and it didn’t help that, for the past two nights, Odette had curled against him and set his cock pulsing.
After she had come clean about the throbbing in her mouth, he hadn’t left her side. He hadn’t apologized for his snide remark either, and he most likely wouldn’t. He hadn’t been lying or screwing around when he’d told Kellan to lose the liquor. They all needed to remain focused and fucking the most beautiful woman in the world wouldn’t help him kill any demons they faced once they entered the cave. He needed some sort of distance betwixt them if he was going to succeed at saving her.
Kellan yawned, and Greyston sighed and glared at the pair of them. “How are we going to make a proper plan if the two of you insist on sleeping the entirety of the trip?”
“The real question is how have ye not? No whining lass hooting and hollering at ye here. I’m shocked ye haven’t passed out here on tha floor.” Kellan was grinning like a lark, and Philippe snorted, trying not to laugh. Greyston had been as irritable being separated from Felicia as Odette had been about sharing her secret Philippe.
For the first two days, he’d tried hopelessly to get the communicator to work. Since he’d given up trying to reach his wife, he’d turned all his attention on how to handle the demons. Hour after hour, all they had done was discuss and run through the types of demons that could live closest to Hell and how to kill them. Whilst it was tedious, Philippe had learned something, but he was tired of the talking.
He wanted to just sit next to Odette and try to ease her emotions over everything that had occurred. She hadn’t talked to her father yet, and the old man wasn’t going to hold up emotionally too much longer. Philippe had decided the remaining time before they reached the base of the mountain and landed, would be spent trying to get her to be reasonable.
“Look, Greyston. I don’t want to sound like an arse, but in the long run, the plan is as it always is. Get out, shoot the demons and get the flower for Odette to eat. Betwixt your putain de hormones, and Lucius’s trick, we shouldn’t have any issues fighting anything that comes our way.”
“That doesn’t include Seraphina or another Fallen.”
“Ahh…count Seraphina out, old boy. Don’t forget, I’ve gotten in her head. She’s my play toy if ever I get close enough to control the terror again.” Lucius appeared as if out of nowhere and leaned against the wall.
Greyston gave him a dirty look and kept talking as if his friend and hunting partner hadn’t said a damned thing. “They’re the highest demon rank, and our powers are useless. We would all be fools to assume they wouldn’t be part of the entrance watchers.” He looked to Lucius as if he was waiting for a smart remark, and Lucius grinned and saluted. “I swear to everything, I don’t know why the fuck I didn’t let Felicia kill you. You’re such an arse.”
“Not to interrupt, but if he’s standing here, who’s piloting the airship?” Philippe dreaded the answer to his question as the only one missing was Eliza.
“My adoring mate. I needed to use the loo. Then I’ll be back to talk with you lot. She’s been taking control on and off for the week. I didn’t see the need to let you know, and since we didn’t fall hurling towards our death in the sky, I would say we’re alright.”
“Dear heavens, we don’t bloody have time for this. She built the ship, let her captain it for a bit,” Agardawes grumbled from his spot.
“What the old man said.” Lucius winked and walked back towards the curtain.
“Lovely as this has been for the fifth day in a row, I want to check on Odette. I don’t like that she won’t sit with us when we discuss this. I don’t trust she isn’t going to run off and try to find the flower on her own.”
“Philippe? Take care of her. She won’t talk with me, and I watched shivers overtake her last afternoon when the rest of us were complaining of the heat. We’re nearly a day out now and half a day’s hike to the cave. I don’t want her keeping things from us. An average human would have turned. Layel may think she has two weeks, but we can’t be certain.” Agardawes voice held no emotion as if he was talking about any other mission and not one that included the potential death of his daughter.
Though he wanted to bark at the Guildmaster that she was fine and would make it to the cure, he said nothing. Instead, he just gave a clipped nod and walked over to where she stood near the overtly loud spinning fan at the stern of the ship.
She was staring out the window, her shoulders were covered in one of his cotton shirts, having forgone the hunting outfit that made her look like a night mistress—the disguise the women wore to hunt after dark. Her backside made him twitch with desire. She filled out Eliza’s leather chaps far more so than the other woman, and when she stood, it drove him mad with need. The tension in her shoulders could have probably sliced through stone, and even though the rest of her body was relaxed, he knew she was fighting back something.
“A penny for your thoughts, ma belle felle?” He sl
ipped his hand across her lower back, and instead of pulling away, she leaned her weight into his hand.
Something a lover would do. He mused at the thought and then pushed it away. He’d apologize for his comment the first day on the ship, once they were safely out of Hell, and they could discuss his proper courtship of her. He didn’t remove his hand, and his prick was slowly filling with blood as she turned and her hips brushed his.
Her smile was small and forced. “It’s beautiful down there. Even in the pitch black of night.”
Her words confused him, Lucius could only see because of the crystal illuminating the air attached to the nose of the ship.
“I can see in the dark now.”
The admission was whispered, and he almost missed it. Another symptom.
“I see.”
“That makes four, Philippe. How many more could I possibly have to go?”
Fear and struggle were written across her face, and it pained him. He was supposed to be protecting her, and yet, there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening to her—nothing until they reached the flower.
They’d had no clue how quickly the symptoms would come, or how they would know when she had been entirely turned into a Kappa blood slave. He assumed when she attacked one of them that would be their answer. She had fangs at that point when she grew hungry or angry they elongated. Whilst before, he would have been disgusted, he found himself wondering what it would feel like to have her slowly drag them over his body in the heat of the moment.
The fangs were the easiest of her symptoms. She’d begun to black out, loose moments in time, and yet, be standing perfectly fine. They thought it was the one that bit her trying to take control. She ran from hot to cold, unable to regulate her internal temperature, the same as Lucius and Greyston couldn’t. Night vision was the latest, and he prayed no more would come. She’d not spoken of a thirst for blood, and he banked on the positivity in that.
“Don’t think on it. Put it out of your mind. Only focus on the goal, on reaching the Hell flower.”
