Fallon [Darklands]

by Autumn Dawn

  Rain was in awe of the colorful costumes and elaborate hairstyles of the local women. While the men seemed to prefer darker colors and simple pants and tunics, the women swept around in the full spectrum of the rainbow, in styles ranging from harem pants and cropped vests with tulip or full sleeves, to exotic robes and Grecian style gowns. The crowd wove around them, the packed sand under their feet muffling some of the noise as the scent of baked goods and savory delights filled the air. Butchers with their logs of hanging sausages and crocks of cured meats stood next to venders with colorful jars of layered dried fruits and nuts, glass cases full of confections and rows of fat-bellied wine bottles. Several stands with steaming kettles and carved wooden boxes full of bread served customers in a pavilion-covered dinning area, filling their wooden bowls full of something that smelled good. Dishwashers accepted the bowls and cups, keeping the area clean as diners left.

  "Yellow arches, eat your heart out,” Rain murmured, her mouth watering. Before she could ask what they were serving, her attention was captured by the stall on her left. She gasped. A beautiful jacket of wine-red velvet was displayed on a wooden mannequin, complete with matching choker and earrings. Cropped, close-fitted at the bust for a woman's body, it was decorated with a one inch band of red and white crystals at the edges and fastened with a gold clasp between the breasts. The sleeves were full and made of a sheer, burgundy fabric with ruby and diamond colored crystal cuffs. At least she assumed the stones were crystal—she wouldn't dare display real stones like that in an open market. A black silk sarong and gorgeous sash were tied around the mannequin's hips, teasing the shopper with visions of trying it on.

  Rain took a deep breath and put it out of her head. Where would she wear it, even if she could afford it? Ignoring a tempting embroidered gold and silver sheath displayed next to it, she lowered her gaze and tried not to drool over the jewelry in the case below it. A vine necklace with marquee cut white crystals sparkled next to matching earrings displayed on black velvet. The rest of the jewelry was impressively designed, but nothing, in her eyes, matched that pretty set.

  She glanced at Fallon, found him near, yet conversing with another man as she window shopped. He caught her eye, smiled, and waved her on. Since he seemed content, she was more than happy to keep looking.

  "Good morning. Would you like a manicure or a haircut?” an older woman with a hopeful smile greeted her as she moved to the next stall. Before Rain could decline, Fallon stepped forward and paid the woman.

  "Pamper her,” he told the shopkeeper. “My ward is being very patient with my preoccupation and deserves the reward.” Giving Rain a dazzling grin white enough to keep her blinking, he turned away and resumed his conversation.

  The shopkeeper's eyes widened at the coins he'd set in her palm, and she beamed. “Come, dear, have a seat. My daughters and I will make you the loveliest girl in the Citadel."

  Before Rain knew what was happening, she was seated in a comfortable chair and bombarded with questions about split ends, what color nail polish she preferred and how long it had been since she'd had a pedicure.

  "Er, never,” she admitted, trying to catch a glimpse of Fallon before the beautician tackled her ragged ends. It had been a long time since she'd been to a salon, and never had she had three women hovering over her like the personal maids of some pampered duchess. It felt marvelous and novel, and was a far cry from how she'd expected the morning to go. The girls even massaged her hands and feet, which tickled, but felt shockingly good. When they finished painting pretty silver and gold designs on her nails, the elder woman handed her a fruit drink, then beckoned in a man with clothing cradled in his arms.

  "For you, milady, compliments of Lord Fallon,” he said, displaying his wares with a flourish. A midnight blue top very like the red one she'd admired was draped over his arms. This one had short tulip sleeves and was embroidered in silver and gold with a silver and crystal butterfly clasp.

  Her attendants “ooohed."

  The man offered an apologetic bow. “We are very sorry the one you admired is not in your size, but we would be happy to have one made for you, or to offer you a look at our other inventory."

  "Oh, this one is beautiful, but.... “she looked around and tried to catch Fallon's eye. He allowed her to hold it for a moment, smiled slightly, then turned his attention to the man he was speaking to, a different one than last time.

  Rolling her eyes at his generosity, she accepted the clothing with shy thanks, going behind the curtain in the back of the tent to change. There were even matching sandals. Wondering what she looked like, for she'd yet to see a mirror, she drew back the curtain.

  Fallon glanced at her and froze. Very slowly, he inhaled, his eyes wandering from her head to her feet. By the time they met hers again, they were a glowing, brilliant green.

  Beaming, the shopkeeper took her arm and pulled the breathless Rain in front of a full length mirror. Rain gasped.

  That had to her, but she couldn't believe it. Her hair was prettily braided and swept up from her face in a princess's coronet. She hadn't paid much attention when the shopkeeper had applied makeup, other than enjoying the attention and praying she wouldn't look like a clown when she was done. Instead, the woman had used a light hand to highlight and conceal, achieving an exotic, ethereal effect. Rain touched her rouged lips, startled by the jewel effect of her silver and gold nails. The girl in that mirror was lovely, and this had to be a dream.

  Fallon hadn't planned on giving Rain the vine necklace until later, but she was so breathtaking that he couldn't resist. Her lips parted when he removed it from its velvet pouch and clasped it around her neck, and her breath came faster as he slipped in the matching earrings. Then he drew back a few inches and admired her glowing skin and ruby colored lips. It was her eyes that gave him pause, though. The shining green hinted of tears, an emotion he hadn't meant to invoke.

  Slowly, she reached up and closed the distance. A kiss like a soft summer breeze brushed his lips, hesitated, was gone. It shook him more than he expected.

  She lowered her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Unable to bear the currents between them, he raised her face. “The least you deserve.” Vaguely aware of the avid curiosity of the others, he lifted his head and offered his arm. “Are you hungry? There's a restaurant in the Citadel I think you'd enjoy. I'm starving, myself.” Arranging for her clothes and his other purchases to be sent to her quarters, he led her from the shop, keeping the conversation light until she'd recovered.

  It was mildly embarrassing and intensely satisfying that he'd been able to move her. While glad she was enjoying herself, he was a little worried. Turning her head with gifts hadn't been his plan—he was surprised he'd managed to spend what little he had on her so easily. Perhaps the shock of her surroundings had thrown her off enough to make it work, but it had been easy enough to pamper her. Would she grow used to it? Demand it? Needy women made him ill, and he prayed that he hadn't just created one. On the other hand, she needed clothes, and creating a pleasant mood on her first day had helped immensely.

  He hadn't been wasting time while she shopped. He'd summoned his personal secretary to him the moment they'd entered the market place, then spent his time catching up on events and organizing his household. He had a suite of rooms next to the vast Citadel gardens, and had arranged for Rain to occupy the room next to him. Security would be easier, and she'd have easy access to a familiar face. The idea that he'd like having her close he ignored.

  Rain tensed as they neared the massive Citadel gates, currently raised for the day. It was not the sight of the multiple rows of iron gates or the long tunnel cut from the blue mountain that was the Citadel that made her stomach flip, though. Guards stood at the gate—Haunt guards. Fully shifted, with wolfish faces and bodies covered with hair, they might have come straight from the cast of Howling III. Each guard wore black pants, boots, and buckled leather vests similar to Fallon's, though none she saw had his red insignia. Armed with pistols an
d wicked looking knives—one Haunt even carried a tomahawk at his side and had a rifle holstered on his back—they gave new meaning to intimidation.

  Nausea from the adrenalin dump threatened to embarrass her. Shaking from battle instincts, she shifted her weight to her toes and cursed her new clothes. Stupid fool! How could she have been so easily sweet-talked out of her sturdy jeans and running shoes?

  "Easy,” Fallon said, equal parts command and soothing in his voice. He kept moving toward the portal. “They're not holding the gate against you."

  "The last time I saw these things, they were tearing my father apart,” she snarled bitterly, unable to stop the low growl rumbling at the back of her throat. She could feel her canines lengthening, sharpening, the change that came without her bidding when in danger. The guards were looking at her, and she knew her eyes were glinting gold. Not that they'd care—they made her useless little changes look like costume makeup. Her eyes jumped around, looking for handholds in the smooth rock face, searching for the most likely nightmares to plow over if she had to run.

  The Haunt at the gate never took their eyes from her.

  "You've been surrounded by us for days now. Your father was one of us. You carry our blood,” Fallon said softly. Ever calm, he watched her as if she were no more deadly than a child with monsters in her closet. He kept them moving toward the gate.

  Pain made her fingers curl as her fingernails thickened, lengthened. “I'm not one of you,” she rasped, the change making speech almost impossible.

  Humor coloring his voice, Fallon glanced at her, noted the tell tail changes that had tipped the Cult off in Scotland. “I can see that."

  She didn't even think. Turning on him, she aimed for his belly with her deadly nails and tried to shove him over backwards, hooking her foot behind his knee. One shove and she could run, race for the forest portal....

  It didn't work. Instead, Fallon crushed her to him, shifting her balance so she was plastered to his chest. Fury and fear had her sinking her nails deep into his back, through the leather of his vest. He grunted, and she felt the warm flow of blood seep from the gouges. Shocked, she released him and backed off. Blood stained her hands. Sickened by the sight, she stared at him in horror.

  He grunted again and flexed his back muscles slowly. “We need some ground rules for these arguments of ours, sweetheart."

  Miserable, she turned her head and stared blindly at nothing, her mind a careful blank. As shock calmed her, she felt her body change back to normal.

  Fallon took her arm in a firm grip and strode for the gate while she was still biddable. Loudly, for the benefit of those watching, he said, “If you're not hungry, all you have to do is say so. I can be dense with women, but even I understand a ‘no'."

  Heavy with irony, his tone only made her feel lower. Panic attacks with claws could be deadly enough, but she'd never attacked a friend before. Of course, she'd never had a friend to attack, and even now, she wasn't sure that Fallon was one. That didn't stop the sickness tearing up her guts, however.

  Fallon didn't need to hear an apology, not with her bowed shoulders and hidden face shouting it out. A surge of pity mixed with lingering irritation. That half-change of hers was unsettling. Their kind was either-or, not an odd mix of both states, and by the look on her face as she'd changed, she had no control over it. Maybe that had contributed to her fright. In human form, Haunt had human senses, except for sharpened hearing. In Haunt form, they had the keen senses of wolves coupled with superior strength, speed and agility, though they sacrificed the power of speech. Rain seemed to be stuck in between, and it had looked painful.

  She didn't look up as he guided her up the steps of the citadel and down the stone corridors. Arched windows let in light, showcasing the parquet flooring and colorful castle inhabitants. Five minutes of walking brought them to his private wing and deep into his personal security, security that had been tightened to protect his ward. Briefly wondering what the guards at her door thought of his grim expression and Rain's bowed head, he took her into her room and walked straight through it, exiting out into her private pleasure garden. Once there, he released her. “I find the sunshine calming. I suggest you remain out here until you've settled in.” He accompanied the “suggestion” with a fierce look, then he left to attend to the holes in his back.

  Rain watched him stalk off, then closed her eyes. Hideously embarrassing, that emotional display of hers. Bad enough it had happened in public, but she was still tense from her view of the Haunt soldiers. Logic told her she'd grow calmer around them, but she'd never love them. Fallon was one of them....

  She shivered.

  He'd left her in a garden. Walled, roughly the size of a school bus, it had a winding path that led to a bench set under a shady fruit tree. A small pool provided a place to gaze. Pear trees had been trained against the walls, alternating with a pink flowered vine she couldn't identify. Flowering bushes alternated with herbs and mixed flower clusters, providing washes of color. Well clipped grass formed a soft carpet between the flowers and the walls.

  With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and padded over to the bench. She was still tired from long months of running, and though she'd been too long in the London fog and Alaskan chill, the sun was beginning to show its strength. She used the pool to rinse her hands. To her surprise, she found brilliant blue and gold fish swimming in the water.

  "Pretty,” she murmured. Someone took good care of this place. From what she'd seen, she figured that Fallon could probably afford the best help.

  As if summoned by her speculation, a young woman appeared at the door to her apartment. “Mistress?” Her dusky yellow sarong swayed gracefully as she moved closer, giving a glimpse of her straw sandals. Her matching, sleeveless top hung around her neck with a scarlet cord. A sash of the same color decorated her waist as she paused at the pool. Long dark hair flowed free to her waist, and she had an enviable tan. “My name is Malian. Is there anything you would like? A meal, perhaps? The master said you might be hungry."

  Rain sighed. “How is his back?"

  Malian was slow to answer, but returned a gentle assurance. “He is fine. In two days, the marks will have healed. But come! The change to the Darklands must be difficult. How may I help?"

  "I don't know. I guess I'm a little hungry. What is this fruit above me?” Rain didn't feel like putting the girl to any trouble.

  The girl smiled. “Hairy sugar fruit, but it is not yet ripe. I took the liberty of bringing you a light meal, if you're interested."

  Rain sighed again. Well, if the girl was determined to feed her ... she followed Malian into the apartment, surprised at the simple elegance. Decorated in ice blue and yellow, with touches of white and plum, it was cool and inviting at once. Two couches faced each other in the sitting area, and a bed with a silken coverlet promised a good night's sleep. A roomy tub, surrounded by unlit candles, offered a tranquil soak. A mirrored armoire with one glass door showed linens ready for her use.

  Malian had set a wide, flat soup bowl on the table. A delicate, wonderful smell arouse from it as Rain took a seat. Malian poured her some juice from a frosty beverage and smiled. “Allow me to put your things away in the wardrobe while you refresh yourself, mistress. Enjoy."

  Rain did. The soup was fish in a clear broth, both tangy and sweet. Whatever it was, she would definitely like it again. While unfamiliar, the yellow juice was also very good. “What is this called?"

  "The juice is nectar from the yellow leaf stalk, mistress, and the soup is called ‘sour pot.’ Do you like them?"

  "Definitely. This is good stuff."

  "I'll be sure to share that with the kitchen. Tell me, what things do you most enjoy doing? It will be my pleasure to see if we can duplicate them here."

  Rain thought about it. “I like to take things apart and see how they work. I read science, history and biographies. I do some martial arts, but not really for fun. I like to swim and go fishing ... and eating. I always like to eat."

 
Malian laughed. “Well, the eating is easy. We have an extensive library here at the Citadel, and excellent fishing on the bay. As for the other, I think something can be arranged. What would you like to do first?"

  Rain thought about it, thought about the Haunt outside her room. “Uh, the books sound good. Could you bring me a stack? And maybe, if you know about anyone with a broken gadget, I'd like to have it. Tools, too, if you can borrow some.” She might never have had a go-fer before, but Rain didn't feel hesitant to use her services. If Fallon wanted to pay for a servant, fine. He was part of the reason she was stuck here, anyway.

  "Yes, mistress."

  "Thanks."

  Rain went back outside to look at the fish as Malian cleared the table. When she was sure she was gone, she took out the Bell and set it. Now that she was here, she could flash back to Earth at anytime, at any of the various points she'd set it for. Unwilling to risk the noise in the garden, she quickly slipped the device back into the casing. She stared at it, considering.

  No money. That was that hardest thing on the run, getting money honestly. Whatever passed for money here, she was almost certain it wouldn't fly back home. Basic elements like gold and silver or gems she could cash in, but short of stealing them, she was out of luck. Without them, she would be back where she started, scared, tired and hungry. How could she earn some?

  She grimaced. She was going to have to leave her room, see what was in demand, what there was to work with. Her father had believed her inventions would make them rich—now was a good time to test his theory.

  She took a deep breath for courage. She was going to have to face the Haunt.

  She made it as far as the door before chickening out. Always bad with directions, she told herself she'd probably get lost. Maybe she could wait for Malian.

  Unfortunately, it was Fallon who opened the door scant minutes later to find her still dithering. He raised one blond brow. “Going out?"

  "Maybe. I haven't made up my mind,” she said defensively. She glanced at his midsection, wondering about his back, but her eyes skittered away from his buckled vest. That thing was a subtle form of torture.