by Conn, Claudy
Obviously Gais had spelled the room, and I realized it probably gave him a warning of my arrival. This was what Rolo had tried to tell me was a dumb move, and just as I stood silently agreeing with him, I noticed blood not only covered my arm but was dripping onto the stone floor at my feet, leaving a puddle.
I glanced away from it and scanned the room again, not quite able to focus for a minute. Not good. My arm should already have been healing—the Fae in me should have been healing the wound.
As half human, my wounds healed slower than most Fae, but I healed. However—not this time. It was getting worse by the minute. It looked already infected, and I knew I was in serious trouble.
I was beginning to feel the poison surge through my system and felt powerless to stop it. My human element was receding into shock, but I didn’t feel as though I were being paralyzed. “Rolo …” I whispered.
You have to let go, Z. Let go of your human! Rolo screamed the words into my head, and I tried to concentrate. How does one let go of what they have been? How does the body reject what it is sure it is?
Before I could explore the possibilities and help myself, I was staring at Gaiscioch, who had suddenly shifted into the war room, only ten feet away from where I tottered.
I straightened up, determined not to appear weak—determined to hold my own against the grinning bastard. It occurred to me that he was way too handsome for the evil thing he had become. He should look the part … like a shark.
He shook his head and smirked at me. “Well then, just what kind of a warrior are you? Letting one of those things connect with you—tsk, tsk. Not as proficient with your Fae skills as you thought you were, eh, Daoine?”
His tone goaded me and somehow gave me the strength to sneer at him with a great measure of bravado I was far from feeling. Bluster, I told myself, bluster … and get the hell out of here. Did I listen to me? No.
I prepared myself as instinct took over, guided me, and told me just what he had in mind. I waited as he looked me over. I waited for the moment he would shift at me with his death sword aimed.
I sensed it the moment he went into his mind. I sniffed at his scent and forced myself to wait a fraction of a moment.
If I timed it wrong I knew I would have his death sword buried in my gut.
Just as I felt him shift, I jumped out of his way. His face was a mask of fury, and he lunged towards me, but again, I was ready for him, and this time, I shifted.
This time I listened to Rolo screaming in my head to shift out of the war room. It was time to escape, and I shifted—heading for the relative safety of the Dark King’s retreat, hoping it would allow me entrée once more. Once again I had come face to face with my father’s murderer and I had allowed him to live. I felt heartsick … and then I realized I also felt really sick …
The Dark King’s retreat did more than allow me to enter. It seemed to enfold me within; as I collapsed onto the glass flooring just within its doors, I felt as though its magic arms were somehow wrapped around me, taking me into its protective shield as it whispered, “Daoine—you are allowing your human to kill you. You will die if you don’t find yourself. You need to forget the human in you. Let go—you must let go …”
That was just what Rolo had told me. Was that Rolo still speaking? I felt myself slip into a haze.
Was I dying? No. I couldn’t die yet, I had to kill Gais—I had to. I couldn’t die without doing that first, and something else, something so important, someone so important.
Danté—I had to see Danté, if only for the last time. My mind exploded with his name, and I heard the anguish in my voice reverberate all through the Dark King’s retreat as I shouted with the last bit of strength I had.
“D-a-n-t-é!”
* * *
My enfant’s voice pulsated in my head and gripped my essence. My name reverberated through my mind. I felt it pierce me with fear, and without thinking I shifted towards the sound. I found myself outside the blasted Dark King’s palace. I could see it all now as though it mocked me. I could see it in all its full glory, and a fury inside me, heedless of the Dark King’s power, demanded, “I am a Royal Prince of the Tuatha Dé—allow me entrée now!”
“You have never been denied, Danté, Prince of Lugh. Your right of passage has always been there for you to see when you decided to open your eyes. If you could not see past the slight shade of black magic holding you apart, how then will you face your enemy?”
I wasn’t in the mood to play at puzzles and riddles with a robotic voice, and I think I made an animal sound because I felt it deep in my throat, but I didn’t care. I felt the thousands of years of civilized behavior wash away in the storm and the primal take over. I waved my fist for emphasis, but physical movement wasn’t needed to gain my entrance; my determination was what was needed, and sure enough, the twelve-foot-high entrance with its magnificent doors opened wide.
I stepped through.
Z’s essence, our bond, beat and surged through my blood and pulled at all that I was. I was hit with something that felt like a small bolt of lightning—but lightning all the same. Something was wrong with her, and I felt terror clutch at my insides and knew a fear I had not felt in thousands of years.
I shifted then to Z, to her body lying there in a fetal position on the glass floor. She was so damn still … so bloody damn still …
I saw the pool of blood under her arm … her torn clothing, nylon ski clothes—even in the midst of my fears, the question flickered: why was she wearing …?
No time. I had to do something. I was on my knees and about to lay my hands on her wound and her heart when an invisible force stopped me in mid-motion.
I roared with the fury I felt, “She will die!”
“Yes, and if she does, then it was meant …”
I looked up at a projected image of a woman—no, a Fae … yet, something of a human—and I knew this was the Dark King’s consort. She had evolved, and I could see, even though it was just a projected image, that she was definitely no longer the human she had once been.
We Seelie Fae have always referred to her as the Dark King’s human, but now she was so much more—she was Seelie Fae.
She had put up a barrier I could not break. With all my magic I could not touch my Z and heal her.
“Please … I can heal her,” I begged, and I would have groveled. I would have forgotten all that I was to save my Z. I looked at her and saw she was slipping away from me. I could hear the faintness of her breathing.
“She can heal herself. She is Daoine, and it is all part of the prophecy. She may die or go on to be one of the Daoine’s most mightiest warriors, but both ends can only be achieved by her will.”
“She is unconscious!” I continued to beg. I couldn’t break free from the power that held me immobile, and I was helpless to aid my beloved. “She cannot help herself while she is unconscious.”
“Radzia MacDaun can do many things, and what you call unconscious is only true of the human in her. The human in her needs to take a ‘back seat’ as humans say. I believe she will find her way.”
“I can’t take that chance—let me go … Let me heal her!”
“No.”
I concentrated and put all my magical and scientific skills into one thought—to break free from the shield she had me wrapped within. I had to get to Z. It was all I knew, all I wanted. I felt the outer walls cracking, and then the force of her power hit me like a punch to the gut, as the Dark King’s consort quickly built up another wall against me.
My Z was going to die, and if that unthinkable thing happened, I would bury my death weapon into my own chest, into the heart we Fae supposedly do not possess …
* * *
Weak and cold. I felt weak and cold … and something worse. I felt as though my life force was quickly ebbing out the back door. Come on, Radzia … break free, I told myself. You can do it. Get hold of yourself. Myself? Who is myself …?
Daoine princess, Rolo said in my head. You are a Daoine p
rincess.
Part of me was tired, and that part just wanted to let go. Another part, a larger, stronger part, thought of Danté and then my mother, who would surely slip into madness if she lost me as well. That part—that part heard Rolo and fought to regain the Fae I knew I was.
Who are you fighting, I asked myself. Me—I was at war with myself, my human self, and I knew I was going to have to say good-bye to most of who I had been all my twenty-one years, in order to become the Daoine I needed to be.
First, I needed to live, find Danté, and get the hell out of Dodge! In that order—and in that order I severed ties with my human cells and started to repair the damage to my body, my immortal body.
That’s right, I told myself, you have behaved like a wimp of a human, and although I did not really blame myself, I was disgusted with myself. I had always been proud of who and what I was—the human, the Fae. And what I was, I suddenly realized, was a Daoine princess!
As the pain receded and my Daoine body began to heal my wound and dispel the dark ugly’s poison, I felt my mind begin to stir and knew my Danté was near. An image of him holding his death sword too near to himself stirred me. As I tried to shake off the deadly sleep, I am pretty sure I called out his name, because I heard him roar out mine like a Fae possessed. I felt many things inside me stir.
And then I saw him clearly in my mind with his death sword unsheathed and held to his throat. I realized that if I didn’t heal myself quicker he was going to—
“Noooo!” I sat up immediately, and he was on the floor with me, his big arms enveloping me. I felt his face on mine and his tears on my cheek, and I pulled back, looked at him in wonder, and then shoved him off with my Fae strength and shouted, “You let that Morrigu bitch touch you!”
And he laughed out loud, and then he slapped his thighs and bellowed and then laughed some more. I did not think anything was funny.
“It is time for you to leave,” Crystal said in that soft, alluring voice that immediately got your attention and kept it.
“Wait!” I looked at Danté. “Sally—I have been worried sick about Sally. Do you know if she is okay?”
“She is fine and safe,” he said as he attempted to put his arms around me again.
I stalled him with an arched brow as I turned to Crystal and asked, “Leave … time to leave?”
Even as I waited for her to speak, I felt Danté once more try to touch me. I slapped his hand away and gave him the evilest eye I could level at him.
“Yes, Radzia MacDaun—the time has come for you to get to your queen,” Crystal offered gently.
“Yes, you are right, we have to tell the queen about the maps I saw and warn Breslyn—”
“Maps? You saw maps?” Danté was diverted into asking me. Mistake—I wasn’t ready to give him a break.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” I answered curtly. He deserved to writhe beneath my frigid glance and squirm from the power of the ice dripping from my tone.
“Not speaking to me, and yet, it is I who must get us to Tir,” he answered smugly. At least it seemed smugly to me, but then he said, “Take my hand, enfant … and I will take us home.”
His voice was a caress and very difficult to resist, but, you see, jealousy is a cruel beast that works you until it enslaves you, and I was still under its grip. “Perhaps I would rather stay here than take your hand.” Childish, I know, but that was what came out of my mouth.
He released an impatient sound—maybe it was more a grumble than a sigh—and put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Chur Tir na nog.”
As I waited to be transported to Tir I made an awful face at him and said, “That’s it? Spell Tir na nog?”
He frowned and explained, “In this context chur actually means ‘return to Tir’, and only a Royal has the power to invoke the words, but something is wrong. We should already be shifting out of here.” He looked at Crystal. “It isn’t working.”
“It will not work,” she said with a soft smile.
“Why not?” Danté demanded, standing up and pulling me up beside him in spite of my resistance. He is a gorgeous prince, all muscle and strength, and while he wasn’t looking, I admired.
“Only the princess may invoke the command.” And so saying Crystal left us to figure out what next to do.
“Huh,” I said, and now I was smug. “Only the princess … I guess, big boy, that means me.” I rubbed my nails against my shoulder and then blew on them as I cast him an awful look. “I guess that means me. Right then … here I go,” I said, moving away as though I were actually about to leave without him. But as he stood there frowning unhappily, I reached out and took his hand. Wasn’t about to leave him in the land of the uglies with Morrigu on the prowl.
I didn’t have to physically dive into my Faeness. It was just there; I knew what to do—I knew what to see in my mind’s eye as I repeated the words Danté had said, “Chur Tir na nog.”
Danté had my hand, but apparently that wasn’t enough because he pulled me into his arms, and it felt wild, hot, and right. I had missed him so much, and for the moment, just that moment, I forgot the grievance I had against him and allowed myself to just enjoy the pleasure of his arms.
The next thing I knew we were in Queen Aaibhe’s antechamber. When I stepped away from him, it was like stepping into the cold again. Almost immediately I missed his embrace and the warm feeling of belonging.
The doors opened wide, and the queen called to us in anxious tones, “In … come in. There is no time to waste. Now—tell me …”
~ Five ~
SOME HOURS LATER and after quite a bit of scolding and affection, the queen sent us on our way, on yet another mission. Sighing, I wished we could have had a moment alone together. I really needed some time with Danté.
However, off we went, leaving Tir and the queen as we shifted into beautiful, green Ireland—Killarney to be specific.
Danté didn’t speak as we shifted, but he drew me to him, and before he would allow me to step away, he held me and looked down into my eyes with those gold and glitter-filled, beautiful eyes of his.
I couldn’t deny the bond I had with him. It just was. However, I still needed to make a show of resistance. I heard him sigh impatiently, and then he only held me tighter, and with a show of authority.
I knew I could have probably broken away from his embrace. I knew I should probably make some effort to do so and drive my point home, but I didn’t. His arms felt so damn good, and then he rested his chin on the top of my head, stroked my hair, and whispered in my ear, “Black velvet …”
It was what he said about my hair when we had made love, and my eyes closed as I recalled how it felt when he had nibbled at my ear and then kissed my neck and worked his way down to my breasts …
And oh, that got me ready to have him right there and then, and I knew I wanted him inside me.
I shook myself free of desire. First, he had some explaining to do. Plus, now, now as we stood on the grassy knoll overlooking the Middle Lake of Killarney, there was something else we had to do.
No time to admire the mesmerizing beauty of our surroundings. I was horrified to look ahead and find a horde of yet another ugly caste of Unseelies screaming at an inner-ear-breaking pitch as they streamed out of an open monolith portal.
It seemed like chaos reigned, and then we saw Breslyn, Ete, and another two beings—one a human, an unusual and handsome hunk of a human, a Druid I sensed at once. The golden-haired female with him was part Fae. We had already met in battle not so long ago—Shee Willow of the violet eyes.
The four of them had formed a circle and were fighting the dark monsters back towards the portal. Each of the four had their death weapons in hand, but even so they had a serious problem, as they were dangerously outnumbered.
I blinked myself into black spandex, and I must have looked good, because Danté made a low-throttled sound in his throat as he looked me over and said, “Time to fight … but, damn, I wish it was time for something else …”
I liked the sound of that, but at that moment one of the two-headed uglies, larger than his brethren, was waving a weapon around at Breslyn’s head. I realized all at once … “Danté—he has a death weapon!” I found this unbelievable. Gais had actually entrusted one of these slow-thinking beasts with a Seelie death weapon? Why would he have done that? There just weren’t enough of the weapons to take the chance on losing one to us.
Danté knew immediately what we should do. He grabbed my arm, and we shifted to Breslyn’s tight circle. I stood beside Ete, with Willow on the other side of me, and laughed. “We have to get together just for a simple brew one of these days, you know.”
She laughed and took off both heads of the ugly who had gotten too close to her, and I beamed happily as I turned to do the same.
Blood and gore ruled for the next few minutes as we slashed and diced and dropped them one after the other, but there were so many, and they just stepped over their dead and kept coming, insane with need and hunger, which made them all the more determined.
We worked in harmonized action, synchronized to protect one another, but I worried as Breslyn and Danté were poised to take on the big ugly with the Seelie death weapon.
No time to watch them as three uglies came at me with their outstretched claws aimed for my face. I took them down, and Shee Willow giggled and said, “Wow, Z, stay close to me—you are good.”
“Is that your guy?” I indicated the hunk fighting at her back.
“Yes, Shayne … you’ll meet him later.”
I laughed. It all seemed so absurd, slashing through gooey uglies and talking like girls. Not the life I had envisioned for myself last year when all was right with the world and I was still in university mode.
No time to think about that as I sliced an ugly in half, kicked him out of my way, and went after the next two-headed beast.
Two more uglies came at us, and we took them on together. Honestly, other than the poison they emitted from their tongues and claws, they were of little danger to us. However, some were breaking away from the pack, and Ete called out to us, “Z … Z, can you come with me? I saw a few of them break off and head for the village.”
