by Sumida, Amy
“But how was she reborn?” The King looked perplexed. “It shouldn't have worked. Sabine should have just swam forever in the well because she had already lived her life.”
I stared at him in shock as the pieces all fell into place and I finally understood what had happened. All this time, I'd thought Odin had pulled me out too soon. I'd felt the well pulling at my memories and had assumed that it was the way of things, that my memory had to be cleansed before I could be reborn, because how can you live a new life with memories of the old one? I had never considered that if reincarnation is not a possibility, than the well wouldn't have been prepared for me, wouldn't have even known to put me back into another body. Odin hadn't pulled me out prematurely, he had saved me.
“Maybe she would have,” I whispered, shaken deeply. “Maybe she would have spent forever swimming in the birthplace of souls but Odin grew impatient, waiting for her to be reborn. He bartered away an eye for the knowledge needed to bring Sabine out of Hvergelmir. Then he dove into the well and pulled her out, placing her in the belly of a witch.”
Gasps went round the room and then whispered conversations started. The King held up a hand and everyone quieted again. He was staring at me strangely, like I was an alien. Not only an alien but an alien who'd just told him his belief system was faulty and barbaric. He was intrigued but also a little pissed off about being so fascinated.
“And so Sabine was born,” he paused and touched my cheek with a fingertip, lightly. “You were born into a new body.”
“Yes.”
More gasps which he once more subdued. “A body changed by your soul, I suspect.”
“I'm told I physically resemble Sabine, Odin bound Sabine's hair with my soul when he put me into my mother,” I frowned. “That's why I resemble her, not because I have the same soul. I mean, how could a soul change the physical body?”
“How can you even ask that question?” The King parried. “You're a witch, you use thought to change the physical all the time. It's called magic, my dear, and you seem to be more magical than any of us expected.” The room was quiet, holding its breath. “Now to answer your original question, yes your soul can be fey.”
“So that means?” I wasn't sure I wanted to be part faerie. What if I was part goblin? Yikes.
“Just that you may be more fey than we thought,” he shrugged. “It will out. The more faerie blood you have in you, the stronger your magic will be. It's as simple as that.”
“Oh,” I relaxed, “that sounds kind of great.”
“It is kind of great,” he winked at me. “Now, back to these human machines.”
Chapter Sixteen
I talked with the faerie High King and High Queen until I thought my jaw would fall off. I told them about the Industrial Revolution, about electricity and the telephone. I told them about cars, planes, trains, and computers. The brownies seemed to perk up when I described kitchen appliances but the sidhe were more fascinated by the internet. The idea that the knowledge of an entire world could be anyone's for the taking, boggled their little faerie brains.
I was finally able to excuse myself and return to the room I was given, where I peeled my bloody dress off and balled it up so I could place it on the floor without staining the carpet. Then I wandered into the bathroom to see if the mystical faerie tree-castle came equipped with showers. Turns out, faeries have plumbing just like us, showerheads and all. Though they're a lot prettier, all curlicues and gold.
The living furniture continued to be a theme in the bathroom, with the exception of the tub and the fixtures, which were all gold. I ended up taking a bath instead of a shower, piling my long hair up on my head, and the metal was actually nice to lie in, retaining the heat of the water well. I ended up dozing off for a few moments.
I awoke with a start, forehead creasing as I tried to figure out what noise had bothered me. Steam still rose around me in a rose-scented cloud and I was deliciously warm. Why did I wake up?Then I heard it again. A soft shuffling in the other room.
I came fully awake, immediately locating my gloves, which I had left on the sink. I slid up out of the water silently and crept over to them, sliding them on my wet hands. Seconds counted in situations like those and I wasn't about to waste any time drying my hands. I shook my hands down and released the blades with a gentle click, then paused to listen for any sign that my visitor had heard them. It was deathly quiet for a moment and then the shuffling sound came again.
I padded to the bathroom door, thankfully I'd closed it, and pressed my ear to the crack. Louder now, I heard footsteps. I frowned, maybe it was just one of those brownies, come to turn down my bed or some other nonsense. I grabbed a thick, velvet robe from a branch near the door and quickly wrapped myself in it as I continued to listen for new sounds.
While I stood listening, the door was pulled open, revealing a grinning red cap. I cursed under my breath and charged him but this one was ready for my claws. He had a thick bracer on his forearm which he used to deflect the blow. He wasn't expecting spelled steel though and the bracer gave under the blades, leaving four gashes in the shiny metal. The red cap lost his happy face and frowned at the ruined bracer.
While he was frowning, I slashed at his throat and he leaped back. I followed him out, slashing at him every step of the way and he kept backpedaling until another red cap shuffled into the fray. He came at me from the right as I was trying to fight his buddy head on, smashing into me and taking us both straight out of my bedroom window.
I screamed as we fell, I happen to be afraid of heights, but the red cap took the brunt of the fall and cushioned me. He pulled me to my feet before I could ponder this, and shoved a rag into my mouth, tying it securely in place with a strip of cloth. My hands were grabbed by yet another red cap and pulled behind my back, claws still extended. My hair had come down and was hanging around me in a terrible mess but at least it was dry, the rest of me was still dripping.
“I thought you only screamed in the bedroom,” a silky voice slid over me and I peered through my hair to see Arach. I tried to mumble a reply but my mouth was full of rag. He just chuckled and brushed some hair away from my face. “Pull the levers on her gloves, they'll sheath her claws,” he said to the red caps behind me but he kept his eyes on mine. “You've seen the High Court, little blood-letter. Now you shall see the Fire.”
A sack was flung over my head and I didn't get to see much of anything for quite awhile.
Chapter Seventeen
“It's a little cold for a Fire Court,” were the first words out of my mouth after they removed my gag.
Arach stared at me for a second before huffing a quick laugh. “Allow me,” he said as he turned toward an unlit fireplace. He pursed his lips and blew a stream of flame onto the waiting wood. It caught immediately, crackling merrily at me and banishing some of the chill. “It's the night air coming in the open window. Castle Aithinne is actually the hottest place in Faerie, touch the walls and you'll see what I mean. The stone itself is warm. We fire fey don't actually need a lot of heat, we generate our own, but we do enjoy it. The fire should push the cool breeze out soon, is this warm enough for you now?”
“Yes, it's ever so lovely, thank you,” I smiled sweetly and he smiled back before I grimaced. “And I'd love to give your walls a little touch but I'm a bit tied up at the moment. Unless you'd like to take these fucking ropes off now?”
“Oh,” he frowned, “yes, of course.” He moved to my back and removed them quickly.
I rubbed at my chaffed wrists and eyed him.
“Okay, how about some real clothes?” I decided to press my luck. “You think you could manage that?”
“Clothes have already been laid out for you,” he waved toward the bed that I hadn't even noticed.
We were in yet another bedroom. There was thick carpet on the floor and tapestries on some of the walls but that's where the similarities between this room and my last, ended. These walls were smooth, polished stone, soaring up to a lofty ceiling... which wa
s probably where all the heat had gone. High above my head, the walls were carved with little nooks and there was some kind of light source tucked into each one. It gave the room a kind of flickering glow, not at all comparable to the bright orbs of the High Court.
The furniture; a bed, a table, and some chairs, were all made of metal. Shining silver inlaid with delicate gold designs. They looked sturdy, things built to last... and withstand fire. The bed was hung with black silk curtains which were pulled back to reveal fluffy pillows and a thick comforter of dark blue silk worked with silver embroidery. It was striking and sumptuous but somehow came across feeling spartan. There were no frivolous items in the room.
“Thank you,” I finally said after my slow perusal. I gathered the bundle he'd indicated and looked pointedly at him.
“Five minutes,” he chuckled and left the room through a huge, metal banded, wooden door.
I shucked off the robe and quickly pulled a long-sleeved, black, silk dress over my head. It clung like a second skin down to my waist and then fell loosely to the floor. It felt a little obscene but it was better than nothing and it didn't restrict my gloves. In fact, the wide skirt combined with the snug top would make for easy maneuvering if I needed to fight again.
“You look wonderful,” he was back.
“Yeah? So do you and every other sidhe,” I shrugged. “Somehow I don't think you abducted me because of my pretty face.”
“Not quite,” he laughed and settled himself on the large bed. “You put on the wrong garment though,” he waved at a delicate, white, frothy thing. “I'd intended for you to wear this tonight and the dress tomorrow.”
“You expected me to flit about in that tiny scrap of clothing,” I raised a brow.
“No,” he grinned. “I expected you to sleep in it.” He got up, picking up the white silk as he did, and walked over to me. I took it from him automatically when he offered it, staring at his hypnotic eyes. “You didn't bleed at all tonight,” he whispered like he was reciting poetry, “but the sight of that red cap on your brow, the blood of his enemies dripping down your face, was even better. You're one of us and I'll have you as well and bleed you. Maybe at the same time.”
“Or maybe you'll be the one bleeding,” I snapped my blades into place and pushed them between us.
He flowed backwards like he'd intended the movement all along, laughing as he went. “Retract your claws, lioness. You're safe enough tonight. I'm too weary from the journey here, to fight you now.” Then with one last, long look at my blades he left.
I heard the thud of a large bolt sliding into place.
Chapter Eighteen
I slept surprisingly well in dragon boy's bed of doom. The bed curtain's, once they were pulled closed, blocked out the weird lights and I was able to ignore the fact that I was in a dragon's lair, resting up so I'd be fresh for whatever tortures he had planned for the morning.
It all came back to me as soon as I woke though and I jumped out of bed and slipped into the black dress in a rush. The last thing I wanted was for Arach to catch me half dressed.
I didn't have long to wait either. I was just coming out of the bathroom when he opened the door to the bedroom. He smiled wide, the angles of his sharp cheekbones seeming sharper. Behind him, a little creature similar to the one I'd killed the day before, veered around his legs and came into the room bearing a large tray laden with food and drink. He placed it on the table and quickly went back the way he'd come, giving me creepy looks the whole way.
“You look well rested,” Arach said as he closed the door and walked over to the table. “Come, sit and break your fast with me.”
“Sure,” I sighed, “why not?”
I took a seat across from him at the table and watched as he cut slices of bread, fruit, cheese, and meat. He arranged them on two plates, placing one before me, and then filled two crystal wine glasses with what I hoped was water. He handed me one of those as well and I sniffed it to be sure. Yep, water. I took a big, relieved drink.
“So tell me your plans, Dr. Evil,” I lifted a brow at him.
“I'm not a chiurgeon,” He frowned, “and what plans are you referring to?”
“It's a movie reference, never mind,” I waved my fork at him. “Oh crap, I forgot to tell the High King about movies. He'd have loved that. And I mean your plans for me, for today. Is it just run of the mill torture I have to look forward to, or what?”
“Torture?” He looked honestly surprised. “I have no intentions of torturing you. I just thought we'd get to know each other.”
“Get to know me and the taste of my blood,” I added, “let's not forget that.”
“I'm a dragon-sidhe,” he frowned, “it's part of the courting process.”
“You're kidding,” I snorted. “Dragons like to bleed each other when they wanna get busy?”
“I'm not a dragon,” he cocked his head, “and what is get busy?”
“Get busy, knock boots, bump bellies, do the horizontal mambo, have sex,” I shook my head. They spoke English but not my English. “And how are you not a dragon?”
“Ah,” he nodded, “I'm fey, my blood is bound with the dragon but I am not dragon exactly.”
“Oh, like how werewolves aren't wolves exactly.”
“Yes, indeed,” he smiled. “I have no idea what the mating rituals of true dragons are but we dragon-sidhe like the blood. I can get to know you intimately, in a moment, by tasting your blood.”
“Oh,” I started to relax a bit. If this guy just had romance on his mind, I may live through this yet. “So you're not gonna hunt me down and kill me then?”
“Well,” he shrugged, “isn't the best part of courting, the chase?”
“Not literally,” my voice rose a few octaves.
“For us it is,” he smirked. “Don't concern yourself, it will be exhilarating. You'll have a nice run through the forest and the Wild Hunt will ride for the first time in centuries. It'll be just as it was, the cold night air rustling the leaves, the scent of fear and blood on the wind, the screams of pain and then of pleasure.”
“How romantic,” I grimaced.
“Yes, exactly,” he beamed, “now tell me more about these things called movies.”
Chapter Nineteen
Air pumped in and out of my lungs ferociously as I ran through the underbrush of the Forgetful Forest. Arach had wined and dined me all day but as soon as the sun had set, he'd become anxious. His face had taken on sharper lines, his eyes shining like a cat's in the dark. Until finally, he'd reached out a hand that suddenly had claws on the end of it, and sliced my collarbone. He'd done it so swiftly, I hardly had time to register the pain before he was sticking that claw into his mouth and licking at it like it was gourmet ice cream.
Then there came the shivers and the head lolling as he experienced whatever it is that dragons, oh, excuse me, dragon-sidhe experience when they lick someone's blood. He'd looked at me strangely then, a kind of wide-eyed, open-mouthed thing, before he recovered and smiled at me like I was the biggest present under the tree and it was Christmas morning. I didn't like that look and I was right to be wary because the next words out of his mouth were a call to arms.
Then I was hustled out of the mouth of a cave and shoved into the trees. It was full dark by then and I had no idea where I was headed but I knew anywhere had to be better than where I began. So I started to run and fifteen minutes later, I was still running. You don't think fifteen minutes is that long? Try timing them when you're running for your life. Through a scary forest. In the pitch black.
The sound of horns blared behind me, closer than I thought the Wild Hunt was, and my heart started to pound faster. I tripped and fell face first into the grass. Precious seconds ticked by as I lay there, breath heaving, until one of the blades of grass struck me in the shoulder. I hissed and pulled back, jumping to my feet and staring at the vicious plant with hatred.
“What a horrible place,” I griped. “Seems like what this forest has forgotten is its manners.” I s
tared down at the heavy skirt that had helped trip me. “Fuck this.”
I picked up my skirt and drove my claws into the fabric, then grabbed a hold of it and ripped until the whole bottom section pulled away and I was left in a loose knee-length dress. Much more manageable. I nodded and tossed the excess fabric away.
Then the horns blared again and I went back to running for my life. I tried to think as I ran. I needed a plan instead of just running like a rabbit willy-nilly through the brush. I could change into a lioness but that would leave my dress in tatters and my precious gloves lying in that god awful forest. So no, I didn't want to do that.
I doubt I could hide from them. If my guess was right, Arach had my scent from tasting my blood and if a dragon-sidhe's sense of smell was anything like a werewolf's, he didn't even need the blood to begin with. My best option seemed to be finding a place to make a stand.
I made an effort to calm myself and take in my surroundings more carefully but there didn't seem to be an end to the trees and vicious foliage. No clearings in sight. The dark didn't help much either, everything looked more menacing and I had the feeling the Host wasn't the only thing hunting me. There were suspicious sounds to both my left and right. At least my lioness magic helped my eyesight and I was able to see fairly well.
I heard the flapping of wings and the eerie sound of laughter echoing down from above, so I swung my head up and around to try to locate my pursuers. I saw nothing and I hoped that was a good sign but part of me knew I wouldn't see the Wild Hunt until it was right upon me. I ran on, my legs starting to tire and my throat burning. If I ever did find a place to fight, I may be too winded to manage the effort.
The laughter got louder and I felt a whoosh of air near my head. I flung a claw-tipped hand blindly back over my shoulder. A yelp rewarded my efforts and I doubled my speed. Another quick glance showed me a sight that would forever haunt me.
