Blood of Retribution

by Bonnie Lamer

  Mine. What does that mean? “What’s yours?” I ask the trees, feeling stupid talking to them.

  Surprisingly, I get an answer. “All.”

  I scowl. “That’s kind of greedy, don’t you think?”

  Mine, is the only response I get this time. “You need to bolster your vocabulary. When all you do is repeat yourself, people stop listening.” And when you talk to trees, people lock you up in a mental ward.

  “All. Mine.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I got that part, thanks.”

  “Death.”

  “Hey, good for you, you added a new word,” I say, clapping my hands. “I assume you mean my death. Good luck with that. And you’ll have to get in line. Lots of people want to kill me.” I feel like an idiot standing in the woods talking to air, but even the leaves aren’t going to get away with a death threat. “Why don’t you show yourself so we can see if everything really is yours by seeing who can kick the other’s ass.” I’m going to feel really stupid if a leaf steps up to the challenge.

  The wind continues to blow but there’s no response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re all bluster and no substance.” That sounded funnier in my head.

  Giving up on this one-sided conversation, I close my eyes and teleport back to the palace. Wow, I really wish I could see where I’m going to land. I barrel into the maid that I was speaking with before and we knock heads. Like the floor incident wasn’t already enough to give me a headache. I think the maid is worse off than I am, though, because she twists her body awkwardly and falls to the ground, immediately grabbing her swelling ankle.

  With a sigh, I bend down to her. “Sorry about that. I’m not known for my perfect landings,” I say. I reach out to her ankle, which makes her nervous. “I’m only going to heal it,” I assure her. She nods and doesn’t flinch when I lay my hands on her. Channeling magic, I focus on her ankle and repairing the soft tissue damage it sustained. In just a moment, her ankle is good as new.

  The maid gives me a small smile as she twists her ankle around making sure it’s all better. “Thank you,” she says shyly. Pushing herself up from the floor, she says, “I will show you to your room now if you like.”

  With all the excitement, I kind of forgot why we’re here. “That would be nice,” I say with a smile. That will give me some privacy to tell Kallen about the talking trees.

  Kallen comes to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “I will never get used to you disappearing like that.”

  I wrap my arm around his back. “Good. I don’t think I want you to.” I look around. “Where did Isla and Dagda go?”

  “They figured you had the situation under control so they went their separate ways. Dagda is working on putting together a security detail and Isla is heading up the investigation into her house being blown up.”

  Yeah, I bet she is. I feel sorry for whoever it is because after I’m through with them, she’ll take over. This is not going to end well for the guilty party.

  We follow the maid through a corridor that follows the path of the river flowing through the great hall. We go past the throne room and keep going until we come to an old-fashioned elevator. At least, it would be considered old-fashioned in my realm. In this one, it’s probably just considered an elevator. It’s a gilded, metal see-through box that has a gate that slides open, which emphasizes my whole ‘trapped in a gilded cage’ feeling. It’s manned by an elderly Fairy who rises from her stool and smiles brightly as she opens the gate for us and then secures it in place after we’re tucked inside. It’s a little bit cramped with the four of us. I feel her draw magic and the elevator starts to rise. It’s now that I notice the distinct lack of cables attached to the metal cage. It is solely magic that is making us go up. Boy, I sure hope her magic hasn’t faded like the scribe’s magic has. Just in case, I hold tight to Kallen in case I need to teleport us out before we’re elevator pancakes when the old Fairy’s magic fails. Kallen chuckles at my lack of faith, but I don’t loosen my grip on him. When we are safely at the third floor, the old Fairy opens the gate and Kallen and I quickly step out. The ride was a little bumpy, but it wasn’t too bad. I’m still going to take the stairs from now on.

  The third floor sprawls before us in all its tacky grandeur. This is obviously the private section of the palace. There is a sitting room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the escape of the river from its palace confines to its widening and flowing grace that goes off into the woods. A great gorge has developed and formed beautiful rock sides in varying shades of red and orange. It must be beautiful when the setting sun hits them. I guess I’ll find out tonight.

  The furniture is slightly less tacky than the stuff in the public areas, but not much. It’s all overstuffed and comfortable looking, but it’s gold. With forest green trim. The walls are a brilliant white that almost hurts the eyes. The carpet below our feet is also white. I feel like I’m ruining it just by standing here with my shoes on. There is no way this room could be considered cozy. I don’t see myself curling up with a good book here any time soon.

  From the circular sitting room, there are ten closed doors that I assume lead to bedrooms. It is obvious which doorway belongs to my biological father. The thing is massive with two large oak panels and brass knobs on each. There are lion head knockers and the doors gleam as if the sun is shining on them. The maids must use a lot of wax on the things. On either side of Dagda’s room, there are doors that are not as large as his, but definitely larger than the other seven. Following my eyes, Kallen says, “Those are for the Royal Offspring.”

  Royal Offspring? How charming. I close my eyes and shake my head. “Do I even want to know what they look like on the inside?”

  Kallen chuckles. “The one on the right is a pastel nightmare.”

  “The one on the left?”

  “Tolerable,” he says. “Barely.”

  The maid starts to walk to the room on the right but Kallen stops her. “For security reasons, we will stay in the other room.”

  A confused look washes over her face, but she is quick to school it. “Of course,” she says. “I will have someone prepare it for you.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I say, not comfortable with having Dagda’s staff wait on me.

  I can tell she wants to argue, but Kallen comes to the rescue. “Thank you, Mathild. We can take it from here.”

  Color flushes into my cheeks. I’m supposedly uncomfortable being waited on yet I didn’t even bother to ask the maid her name. I’m a walking contradiction. “Thank you,” I say sincerely, hoping the emotion in my voice will make up for my faux pas.

  She smiles. “Please let me know if you need anything.” She walks towards the pastel room, presumably to take care of whatever niceties had been put in there for our arrival.

  Kallen opens the door on the left of Dagda’s and pulls me inside. He’s right, this room isn’t so bad. I’m guessing it was planned with a boy in mind because the colors are all dark and vivid, blues mostly. The large oak bed is placed in the center of the room, not along any wall. That seems odd, but the way the room is set up, everything else surrounds it. I guess it’s kind of cool like that. It will take some getting used to, though. There’s an odd sort of security knowing that there is a wall along the back of the bed, one less side that an enemy can come from. Maybe that’s just paranoia on my part from all my death threats. I doubt most people worry about things like that.

  Always wanting to conquer my fears, I take my husband’s hand and pull him to the bed. He doesn’t resist and talking trees have been pushed to the back of my mind. “I think we should test the mattress, make sure it’s to our liking,” I purr with what I hope is a sexy smile.

  From the way his body responds, it is. His hard muscles have tensed with desire and his expression is purely predatory. “Amazing how often our minds are in sync,” he says, making his shirt disappear so I can see his sleek muscles move under his skin.

  If I wasn’t trying to seduce him, I’d
snort. Our minds are hardly ever in sync, but that’s part of the attraction. I like that we look at things differently and can learn so much from each other. “Not fair,” I say placing my hand on his bare chest. “I’m way over dressed.” Before the last word is out of my mouth, I am only wearing my bra and panties.

  Crawling onto the bed, I give him a sly smile and then lasso him with my magic. The surprise on his face dissolves into lust as I use my powers to bring him to me. Pulling him onto the bed, I press him against the mattress, stroking his smooth, hot skin. Only I can do the touching because I have his arms captured still. He lets out a low growl when he realizes it and I grin wickedly and continue to explore his body. Soon, his low growl is for a completely different reason than wanting to be set free. Straddling his body, I lean down to kiss him and he captures my lips with no plans of letting them go anytime soon. With a low moan, I press myself to him, eager to share everything I have with him.

  I am so lost in him that my first thought after hearing the blood curdling scream is that if the person isn’t dying already, I’m going to kill her. Kallen and I pull apart and my clothes are instantly back in place. Jumping off the bed, his long legs get him to the door faster and he swings it open, practically tripping over Taz.

  “Watch out, you whacka!” Taz says with a growl. Kallen just glares at him for a heartbeat and then steps over him.

  The screaming is coming from behind the door of the pastel room. It has to be Mathild. Kallen reaches the door and tries the handle, which of course doesn’t give. He opens it a second later with magic and barges into the room, with me and Taz right behind him. The three of us stop short to see what is going on. Mathild is alone in the room. She’s standing in the far corner, hands crushing against her ears and her eyes tightly closed. From her screaming, I expected a bunch of zombies or something trying to eat her alive. What the hell?

  I give Kallen a questioning look, but he just shrugs. He doesn’t know any better than I do what’s going on. Great. I guess I’ll find out. I take a step forward only to find myself suddenly falling face first on the carpet, narrowly missing a dresser. I’m going to kill Taz. “What are you doing?” I demand, swinging my head back to look at him. He has the bottom of my jeans in his mouth, which is how he tripped me.

  Spitting out the denim, he says, “Saving your reckless hide from doing yet another stupid thing today.”

  In general I don’t like it when anyone calls me stupid, but coming from a forest creature, it really pisses me off. “You are on dangerous ground,” I warn him as I get to my feet. “I’m trying to find a reason why I shouldn’t wrap your little hairy body in bacon and leave you out for the jackals.”

  “There are no jackals here,” Taz huffs.

  “Then I’ll feed you to a crocodile for god’s sake. You’re missing the point of what I’m saying.”

  “I know perfectly well what you are saying. It is you who is misinformed about the indigenous wildlife here.”

  Oh my god, I’m seriously going to kill him. As I stalk towards him, I realize that the only voices in the room now are mine and Taz’s. The screaming has stopped. I look to the corner where Mathild is and find Kallen holding her while she sobs and she is getting snot all over his t-shirt. He is so taking a shower before I touch him again.

  With a final glower at Taz, I walk to Kallen and Mathild. “What’s wrong?” I ask, wishing she wasn’t using my husband as a repository for her mucus.

  Kallen shrugs. “She stopped screaming as soon as I touched her and now she’s…” he looks down at her and is at a loss for words. I can tell having her cling to him like that is kind of freaking him out. She seems to have a death grip around his waist and we’re probably going to need a hammer and chisel to pry them apart.

  I don’t know why I’m not being more sympathetic. Geez, she’s terrified and I’m worried about her snot and clinginess. As I pause to consider this, I feel it. I feel the presence in the room now. The one that’s thriving on the anger and terror, pushing away anything else. I turn around in a full circle, looking for an embodiment of the evil that I believe has now exposed itself.

  There it is, in the doorway looking like a grim reaper. Black cloak, covered face, evil laugh. “That is such a cliché,” I say, disgusted by the whole façade.

  Apparently, that wasn’t the expected reaction. The evil laugh stops and the body under the stereotypical robe tenses. As soon as it does, I feel pressure against my brain. It kind of feels like someone’s trying to peel it back so he can get to the good stuff in the middle. I feel like a banana. Not wanting to have my brain ripped apart, I push back at the magic trying to force its way into me.

  As the dark figure and I do battle, the room falls away. Where the walls once stood, there’s black, an all-consuming black, a complete absence of color. Images begin to appear, images that I think are supposed to scare me. There’re spiders. I haven’t been afraid of a spider since calling a few million of them to build me a web. There are snarling animals, but I grew up in Colorado and my familiar is a Tasmanian devil. Please. I’m not running in fear of those. Next come images of death. Grotesque corpses, mutilations, and human sacrifices are appearing all around me. Okay, this is going to sound terrible and may be considered proof of the desensitizing of teenagers by movies and video games, but I’ve seen way worse in a Wes Craven movie. I’m not a fan of horror movies, but I’ve seen a few.

  It dawns on me that the brain meld thing that the devil wannabe was doing was probably to find my deepest, darkest fears. Since my magic was too powerful to penetrate, old Grim over there is trying random things hoping to hit the jackpot. Now I’m even more annoyed. I pull more magic so I can end this once and for all when the room fills with a noxious gas. It smells like manure mixed with vinegar with a little sulfur thrown in. It infiltrates my nose, making my nose hairs stand on end. I can’t decide if I need to scratch my nose or blow it but I find myself wishing for a sneeze, hoping it would set things right in there. I can taste the gas at the back of my throat even though I have my lips tightly closed, trying hard not to take more of the stuff inside of me. Regardless, after a couple of seconds the room starts spinning. The black walls are gone and the regular walls have come back and they seem happy about it because they’re dancing. Everything in the room is dancing. Suddenly, the room turns sideways causing my stomach to lurch, making me want to hurl. But, a scratching against my cheek tells me it wasn’t the room that flipped. I did. I’m lying with my cheek on the carpet and I can’t move my arms or legs. There’s nothing left to do now but close my eyes. So I do.

  Chapter 13

  For the second time today, I wake up without Kallen by my side. My head is pounding and at the slightest glimpse of light, my parting eyelids slam back together and go on strike. My mouth tastes like I shared dinner with Taz and my whole body aches. What the hell happened to me?

  Slowly, forcing my unwilling eyelids to work again, I begin to understand why Kallen’s not here. I don’t even know where here is. Ignoring my pounding head that feels like two kangaroos are kick boxing inside of it, I open my eyes wide and sit up. I’m in a cage. A gold, barred cage that looks like a bird used to live here. The only other thing in the cage with me is the red velvet pillow I’m lying on. Looking down at what I’m wearing, my attire is a fantastic impression of a harem girl straight out of Arabian Nights. What a nightmare.

  “The bird awakens,” a voice cackles.

  I spin my head around so fast I’m surprised I don’t snap my spine. Standing about ten feet away from the cage is the dark figure from the pastel bedroom. She has let the hood fall from her head and as cliché as that whole look was, I wish she hadn’t. She is atrocious looking, though I’m not sure ‘she’ is really the appropriate pronoun. She could just be a somewhat feminine looking male with a high pitched voice. I’ll go with ‘she’ for the time being until I find out otherwise. Her head is bald save for a few wisps of blackish gray hair. There are open sores here and there on her scalp that I’m pretty
sure are oozing. Gross! Her nose is long and crooked like she was once hung from it and whacked around a bit like a piñata and her skin has bruises that add to the ill effect. The bruises are in varying degrees and size, but none of them look like they’ll be healing anytime soon. Where her skin is not black, blue and green from bruising, it’s this really unhealthy sallow color that resembles candle wax. Hold a match too close to her and I bet she melts.

  “Where am I?” I ask, pulling magic.