rogue shifter 06 - torn apart

by Gayle Parness

  "It's so dark."

  "Of course, forgive me." The fog grew brighter and I was able to see him again. I rubbed my arms and continued to move in place, trying to warm up my body. I thought about asking for him to warm things up a bit, but now wasn't the time to complain. He might leave me in the mist.

  "I'll give you the grand tour, but take notes, because I'll expect you to find your way around without help from now on." A map and a pencil appeared in my hands. I clutched at them reflexively so they wouldn't fall and become lost in the vapor. Unfortunately, the map looked just like the actual space, swirling and pulsing with a magical fog.

  "How the heck am I supposed to read this?" As usual, my fear was morphing into anger.

  "By using your magic, your demon magic. We'll go one room at a time." Isaiah touched my forehead. "Feel where your body warms." I became instantly aware of a throbbing warmth behind my left ear, right below my birthmark. His fingers found the spot. "Channel through here. Will the room to clear."

  I tried and the mist dissolved, revealing a room full of light and stunning beauty. Gilt mirrors covered an entire wall, reflecting not only Isaiah and myself but also the three crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, adding sparkling elegance to the decor. Paintings stood out along the pale yellow walls, mostly landscapes, each one more lovely than the one next to it. In them were mountain ranges shaded in indigo, golden seas, skies of a brilliant coral and rouge. Every tone was vibrant and alive. This was not the greens and blues and browns of my world, but the violets, reds and oranges of his. I forgot to breathe.

  Built into the outer wall were four arched windows which over-looked gardens of exotic trees and plants. Beyond them, the artwork came to life with a golden sea where spectacular waves, looking to be ten feet high, rolled in to crash against a shoreline of royal stone. The house was perched on a cliff, the familiar scent of sea air reminding me of Crescent City. A twinge of homesickness hit me hard and I turned away.

  "I've always loved the sea." Isaiah sighed. "My mother despises it and lives in a mountainous region far from the shore."

  I stared at the fancy chandeliers. "Now you've gone to the other extreme."

  "You don't approve?"

  "Well...pretentious comes to mind..."

  "The people I deal with bargain with me for favors. This helps to remind them of who has the upper hand." He sprawled in his "throne" to make his point. All he needed was the crown. "My private quarters are..."

  "Less flashy?"

  "I was about to say that they're more comfortable. Perhaps more tasteful."

  I took a good look around. "So you're rolling in dough?" I teased.

  "Power is the currency here. And yes, I'm rolling." He stood again and made a sweeping gesture. "This is the receiving room. When visitors first arrive, they are escorted to the waiting area, which is through that door. There they wait as long as it pleases me to make them wait. It can take days if I'm busy. If I don't wish to see them, they are told to leave. If I do, they are escorted here."

  "Who tells them to leave?"

  He smirked. "Whoever I order to do the job. Some of my visitors are extremely annoyed when I refuse them. I've lost quite a few over the years."

  "Visitors?"

  "Servants."

  "Oh." I crossed my fingers, hoping he wasn't going to give me that particular job. I looked down at the map, which continued to ripple and shift around as if it couldn't make up its mind as to the placement of this or any other room in the house.

  "What room is this?" Isaiah asked.

  "The receiving room."

  "You're sure?" I nodded. "Look at the map."

  There was indeed a receiving room, labeled clearly, which seemed to have settled on a definite location in the upper right corner. Next to it was a smaller room labeled "waiting room". "If you're certain, it'll remain fixed."

  "Kind of defeats the purpose of having a map, doesn't it?"

  "This is an exercise for you. No other resident needs a map. We want to go somewhere and we're there, just like the fae."

  "Can I move through the lines while I'm in the DR?"

  "Sure, if you want your body to burn to ash."

  "But aren't the ley lines still the ley lines? Or do you use different ones?"

  "In Faerie, they're composed mostly of seelie fae magic, in your world they are balanced between the two, and here it's mostly unseelie and demon magic that runs through the rivers. Until we awaken more of your demon, it wouldn't be safe."

  "I can use the lines in Faerie." I pouted.

  "Your cheetah cushions you."

  "I used the demon part of the lines to escape from Kennet."

  "In your world, not here."

  "You used the lines in Faerie."

  "I was summoned, so I traveled with my own magic. However, I strongly recommend that you don't remind me of that summoning. My bones ached for days. And I haven't forgotten the last summoning either."

  I winced and changed the subject."Why don't you talk like this at my house?" He didn't sound as stiff as he usually did.

  "I like to keep my dealings with other supernatural groups on a formal basis. With you I've become—spontaneous and I enjoy it. Don't abuse it. Let's continue." He moved toward the door that led to the waiting room. "The rest of the tour will be given in Fae. You must answer any of my questions in the same language. In most situations, yes, sir or yes, lord will suffice. You'll be saying that a lot while you're here."

  I answered in Fae and he blessed me with a smug smile. The "lord's" head was swelling in proportion to the size of his rooms.

  We traveled through the waiting room, the dining room, the ballroom, the music room, the sitting room, the library, the kitchen, the pantry, his office, the exercise room, the glass-enclosed indoor pool and pool deck and the security office. After at least two hours, we finally made it to the staff living quarters. Upstairs was his private abode, off limits to me and almost all of his staff.

  The downstairs made the Carmel villa look like a lean-to.

  Each room started out as a misty swirl until Isaiah forced me to reveal a section keying into my personal magic. I had to concentrate, because if I tried to reach for the magic I used automatically, the magic of the fae, I'd feel a sharp stabbing pain between my eyes. Reaching for the demonic ley lines became easier as the tour progressed and I was able to spend more time appreciating the beauty of his—well, palace might be the best way to describe it. However, Isaiah referred to it as a compound.

  For the entire journey Isaiah spoke to me in Fae and expected me to respond in the same language. After a while, he wouldn't let me get away with just "yes, lord" or "no, lord". I had to answer in entire sentences.

  We were in another hallway covered in portraits, when I looked down at my map. It was a jumbled mess again, with only a few of the rooms in a clear space.

  "You're forgetting." He frowned.

  "I'm tired and thirsty," I growled back.

  He relieved me of the map. "I can't have you collapsing on me. If you can take us to the kitchen, I'll get you something to eat."

  "What if I get lost?"

  "I'll still feed you, but you won't get dessert."

  "Ha, ha." I thought about what the kitchen might serve. "I hope you guys don't eat spider legs and snake tails."

  "You'll eat or go hungry. You won't starve in three days, but if your energy drops I'll be annoyed, so I suggest that you close your eyes and swallow what the cooks prepare." His tone was teasing, which made me hopeful the food was going to be somewhat normal.

  "First, I'm changing your appearance. You'll feel the same and look the same to yourself, but to others you will appear as a buxom redhead."

  I rolled my eyes, then realized something else. "Stan saw me as my true self."

  "I trust Stan with my life and yours. No one else has seen you. Remember, you're a werewolf by the name of Salina Hernandez and I acquired you after I killed your husband. All of his goods passed to me, including you."


  "So now I'm not even a servant. You've reduced me to stolen goods."

  He laughed. "Go ahead. Lead me to the kitchen, wench." He gave my shoulder a gentle nudge, pushing me in the correct direction, I hoped.

  I twisted my mouth in thought and spun on my heel, heading back the way we'd come. Near the pool, I got us turned around completely, but then quickly realized my mistake when I saw the gym. I backtracked once more and groaned with relief when I stumbled into the kitchen, followed closely by my very pleased trainer. Fortunately, the various rooms we'd passed through were still mist-free and easily recognizable.

  We hadn't encountered anyone else the first time we'd surveyed the kitchen. but now, there were a number of creatures scurrying about, looking like cooks and their helpers.

  A male hurried over to us and spoke in Rux. Isaiah told him to speak in Fae. "Lord, how can we please you?" The small creature was no more than four and a half feet tall with long brown hair, braided elaborately into many plaits. His eyes were small and deep set, but his smile was broad and warm.

  The question made me laugh. "You'll never hear that from me."

  "We'll see." Isaiah's eyes glinted. In English he said, "My new werewolf is hungry and thirsty. Feed her, Nil, and then show her to her bedroom. No wine." He said to me, "You can rest until five, but then I expect you to freshen up and put on the clothing I've provided. You will arrive in the receiving room by six. Be on time, Salina." He placed the map on the table.

  "Is there a clock in my room? My phone alarm doesn't work."

  He looked at the small male. "Send someone to see to it." The servant nodded in the usual way. Isaiah returned his gaze to me. "Six o'clock." It was an order.

  Nil gave me a goblet of juice, fresh baked bread and a delicious soup, thick with vegetables and a meat I didn't recognize but which smelled pretty good. I felt it was wise not to ask what kind of meat it was. I ate every bite, even wiping the remains of the bread along the inside of the bowl to soak up the last drops of the delicious broth. Nil seemed pleased that I'd eaten with such enthusiasm.

  My room was nearby, medium in size and quite comfortable, with a full-sized bed, a desk, a chair and a bookcase full of books written in many different languages. My appetite sated, I laid my tired body down on the bed and closed my eyes.

  When I woke up, I had company.

  "What part of get up at five o'clock don't you understand?"

  "What time is it?" I'd completely forgotten to set the alarm.

  "Five forty-one. I have an important visitor arriving at 6:05 sharp." Isaiah was dressed in a long robe made of a rich fabric subtly patterned in rust and dark blue.

  "Where's the shower?"

  "Through that door." He tilted his head toward the right.

  "I can still be on time."

  "Move your little butt." As he disappeared with an annoyed scowl, I jumped out of bed and ran into the room he'd indicted. Closing and locking the door I stripped off my clothes as quickly as I could. I yelped when the cold water hit my skin, but the temperature heated up quickly and I was able to wash, dry, dress and be on my way in fifteen minutes.

  He'd left me a strange outfit, but I didn't have time to protest his bizarre choice. It was a tight dress in an elastic neon purple fabric that came down to my mid-calf. I was grateful that it had a slit up the side because I was still able to run pretty fast. Odder still, the dress included a wide stretchy silver belt that had a sheathed blade attached where I could access it easily if necessary. Thankfully, the silver shoes were flats so they didn't hinder my progress. I made it to the receiving room at 6:02, panting, my hair still damp.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Isaiah looked me over. "Next time pull your hair back in a more professional style, but not too severe. We still want you looking sexy."

  "There wasn't a mirror in the bathroom." I combed my fingers through what to me was my blonde hair. Nothing felt different.

  "Ah, so you haven't seen the new you." He took my hand and led me to a wall mirror. The woman staring back at me looked to be around my age and height, but that was the only similarity. Her hazel eyes were surrounded by a cloud of dark red hair, her lips were the pouty kind that guys loved and her breasts were much larger than my modest ones. I still felt exactly the same, thank goodness, because I would have been tipping forward from the added weight if he'd actually changed my body to look like that.

  "Isaiah..."

  "Don't complain. You're supposed to be the werewolf wife of my enemy. If you weren't hot, I wouldn't have kept you. I killed your husband and now you're my new assistant." A pad and pen materialized in my hands. The sudden appearance made me fumble them, the pen falling to the floor.

  "Can you give me a heads up when you're gonna do that? What if it was something breakable?" I bent down to pick up the pen.

  He ignored my question. "You'll take notes. When he leaves we'll discuss what was said. If he speaks to you, don't answer, just look down at the floor. If I tell you to answer him, then answer with one word. Do not under any circumstances refer to him as "sir" or "lord" or any other title of respect. I will not introduce you. If he asks your name you will say nothing. Do you understand?"

  This was Serious Isaiah, so I kept my smart mouth locked up. "Yes, sir."

  "Stand behind me to my left, at least three feet back." Isaiah sank into the throne-like chair. It was pretty fancy, cushioned in a lovely brocade fabric with hand carved legs that seemed to be gilded in gold. Golden dragon wings spouted out of the top behind his head as if the chair was readying itself for take off. There was no other seating in the room. His visitor would be standing.

  I got into position just as there was a bright shimmer near the door on the opposite side of the room. Even from that far away, the smell of rotten fish hit me like a slap in the face. I swallowed down a gag.

  What appeared could best be described as slimy and lumpy. The 5' tall creature had an elongated head and circular eyes, a soft beaky nose that waved around when he moved, and slits for ears. There was no visible mouth. This would make my job of taking notes during "Slumpy's" conversation with Isaiah rather difficult, I imagined.

  It wore a sleeveless gray robe that went down to its lumpy knees. As far as I could tell from this angle, its skin was bare of fur or hair or feathers, but it was covered in a sheen that made me think it was wet. In fact a small puddle was forming on the floor near its webbed feet. It had arms and hands with only a thumb and three fingers, also webbed. Most of Slumpy's skin was covered in bumps that actually moved around, as if there were other creatures wiggling under its skin. Ugh.

  A gill-like slit appeared in his neck. Okay. It did have a mouth after all. It spoke a few words in a language that sounded a bit like a beagle howling.

  "Fae or English. You pick." Isaiah gestured to Stan who was standing at attention near the door, his upper arms curved behind his back and his middle arms crossed over his chest. "Lyters for two." Stan nodded, touched behind his ear and disappeared.

  As he waddled closer, the stench growing stronger, Slumpy began to speak in Fae. Oh great. This wasn't going to be good. With his weird accent, I understood two words out of five.

  They seemed to be exchanging some kind of ritual greeting. When they finished, Isaiah asked him if the archdemon had contacted him regarding the upcoming war. He said no, but that his brother...? partner...? was speaking to her now. He was here because he had important business to discuss with Isaiah.

  His voice grew louder. It seemed like he was demanding to get his territory back—or maybe his house—or his swamp? I couldn't tell. I wrote down all three.

  They argued back and forth for a few minutes. Isaiah said it was his territory now that the Freckstill, (I guessed at the spelling), had gone against their original bargain and had tried to expand it—or unfold it—or refill it. I kept crossing things out and re-writing them.

  The Freckstill—or maybe Mr. Freckstill—or maybe Freckstill was his first name— responded by saying Isaiah had cheated him or tricked
him. I watched Isaiah's eyes turn bright orange with anger after that comment. From experience, I knew that he didn't like it when someone doubted his honor.

  Stan showed up holding a tray with two goblets full to the brim, one with something green, the other red. He offered the red one to Isaiah first, who took it with a nod, and the other to the slumpy guy, who grasped it awkwardly but didn't drink.

  The Freckstill gestured to me, so I looked at the floor as per Isaiah's instructions, not sure if he'd asked me a question or not. Isaiah answered him in Fae, I think it was something on the rude side because they both laughed in that husky guy way. At least I think the Freckstill laughed. He might have coughed. Or burped.

  I peeked up again to see Isaiah's visitor finally lifting the cup to his gill-mouth. Instead of downing a sip, he changed his mind and threw the goblet in our direction. It traveled at an amazing speed, missing Isaiah's right shoulder, even though he'd been in the line of fire a mere second ago. Unfortunately, I was caught off guard and it hit me in the thigh.

  "Ow." The goblet was metal and fairly heavy, so I'd have a bruise. Another injury to rack up to day one in the DR. Although much of the green goop had spilled on the journey, some still managed to splatter on my shins, ankles and feet, causing me to take a step backward in shock and disgust. It smelled like the pond near one of my old childhood houses that was always full of rotten algae and duck poo. Yuck.

  Isaiah stood quickly, gesturing to Stan to see to me, then stalked across the eight feet of floor that divided the two males. He pulled his blade from his belt and stabbed Mr. Slumpy directly in the left eye. The guy dropped like a bag of mackerel, spewing blue liquid from his seemingly fatal wound.