by H. D. Gordon
After offering Griselle what felt like an awkward smile, I glanced back over my shoulder at Adriel. He stood in his preternaturally motionless manner, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He inclined his head, encouraging me to go ahead.
With a sigh, I stepped past Griselle and found myself in a warm living room. The smell of roasting meat and vegetables filled the space, and my stomach growled as I noticed a caldron heating over a fire on the opposite end of the room.
There were no windows. The only light was provided by the flames beneath the caldron and a lantern that sat atop a desk pushed up against one wall. The rest of the walls where lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves, and on these shelves, all manner of object was arranged rather haphazardly.
There were totems and vials with liquids I couldn’t guess at, stones of various shapes and sizes, poultices and knickknacks and intricately carved pieces of dark wood. I knew it was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help it. The room was a museum of odd objects, an eclectic collection of items that nonetheless seemed to share a purpose.
As I made these observations, Adriel assumed a position in the corner, watching in utter silence, those scarlet eyes practically glowing in the gloominess.
“Come over here, sweetheart,” Griselle told me. “Come sit by the fire. Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” I replied, and did as she asked me, coming over to sit atop a large ottoman that was pushed near the flame.
Griselle chuckled at my answer. “So am I,” she said, and there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes that I could relate to, but that caused a small shiver of fear to dance up my spine.
Despite the lack of apparent danger, it would be a lie to say that I didn’t consider the possibility of Griselle pushing me into the fire to bake me like some witch in the woods. I might have been legitimately concerned if not for the fact that if the Mixbreed wanted me dead, there were much less time-consuming ways for him to accomplish it.
So I pushed these thoughts away and took a seat beside the hearth. Griselle gathered some items from the shelves as I did so, and I found myself studying her beautiful hair again, wondering at the way it seemed to be in constant flow, almost like a liquid. I wondered what race the female was, what kind of being, exactly, I was dealing with here.
I considered asking as I watched her slow and steady movements, but her smile was so kind when she glanced over at me that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It didn’t seem appropriate, perhaps would even be rude.
The thought struck me rather abruptly that it shouldn’t matter what race she was if she was kind to me.
It shouldn’t, and yet, it did.
This was a shameful realization that I decided I would probe more later on, when I wasn’t about to get magical ink needled into my skin by a stranger with fascinating hair.
Griselle finished gathering items and approached me over by the fireplace. She lined up three bowls on the stone hearth, stirred whatever was in the black cauldron with a long metal spoon, and served large helpings into each of the three bowls. As I watched meat and carrots fill the dishes, my stomach growled audibly.
“It’ll take a moment to cool,” Griselle said, claiming a seat in a chair beside me. “In the meantime, you can choose which ink you’d like, and a design.”
She produced five vials from the folds of her dress that she’d gathered from the cluttered shelves just a moment ago and lined them up on the hearth beside the steaming bowls of stew.
She waved a hand at them. “These all have the magic required to clothe you after a shift,” she said. “Just choose a color, and make sure it’s one you won’t mind seeing on your body forever, because the ink is permanent.”
I pulled my eyes away from her glittering hair and studied the vials she’d indicated. The first was filled with ink so black one might get lost in it. The second held emerald ink that reminded me of the forest surrounding Mina. The third was filled with silver, like the gleam of a deadly blade. The fourth contained sapphire ink, a color so close to the shade of a certain Hound’s eyes that I felt my throat tighten a fraction. And the fifth vial held ink that was the color of rubies, a glittering crimson that nearly glowed with beauty.
“Where will it go?” I asked.
Griselle sat across from me, watching with those kind, mischievous eyes, and that perpetually flowing golden hair. “Where do you want it to go?” she asked.
I thought about this for a moment, and the answer hit me rather abruptly. I reached over my right shoulder with my left hand and patted the spot on my back where the Masters had branded the crescent moon into my skin.
I’d had the moon-shaped scar as long as I could remember, just like every other Dog. Along with the collars, the brand had been a constant reminder to us, and the rest of the world, that we were property, that we were owned.
“Right here,” I said.
Griselle gave me a knowing look, and I got the feeling that I was not the first former Dog to request that particular placement of the ink. She nodded slowly. “I can cover the brand,” she said. “But the part of your skin that has scar tissue will be highly sensitive to the needle. It will hurt... A lot.”
I swallowed. Of course it would. The purging of old scars always hurt, didn’t it?
“I can take it,” I said. “I don’t want to see the brand every time I look over my shoulder in the mirror.”
Griselle’s eyes filled with what I thought might be respect, and she nodded. “As you wish,” she said, and waved a hand once more at the vials lined up on the hearth. “Now all you have to do is pick your poison.”
I stared at the vials, almost unable to believe that such magic was available to me. To be able to shift and instantly be clothed… To be in full control over who saw my body and when, it was sadly almost unimaginable.
“Here,” Griselle said, placing a bowl of stew into my hands. “Eat. Then decide.”
When it came to eating, one did not need to tell me twice. I lifted the bowl and blew on a spoonful of steaming soup, discretely sniffing the stuff for poison because I was a rather distrustful little Wolf.
But, really, after everything, could one even blame me?
To my delight, I detected no poison, and again, there were much easier ways to kill me. Upon the first spoonful, I discovered that the stew was hearty and delicious. Griselle and Adriel must have felt the same, because hardly a word passed between us as we collectively devoured the contents of our bowls.
After I was done, my stomach pleasantly full and warm, Giselle gathered my bowl and set it aside.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“Thank you,” Giselle replied, the warm smile reappearing. “I made it special this time. No poison.” She winked.
I nearly choked on my own saliva. Maybe I hadn’t been as discrete in my sniffing as I’d thought. I wasn’t sure whether I should apologize or pretend I had no idea what she was talking about. When Adriel chuckled softly from his spot against the wall, I shot him a look that only made him smirk bigger.
Luckily, Griselle let me off the hook. She didn’t seem to be taking my wariness personally. I decided that I liked her.
“So, have you chosen, moon child?” she asked. “Which ink tickles your fancy?”
I nodded, leaning forward and plucking the vial with the red ink from its spot on the fireplace. “This one,” I said, staring at the enchanting ruby-colored liquid. “I think I like this one.”
Griselle and Adriel exchanged a look that seemed to convey some message I wasn’t privy to, but then, she met my eyes and smiled that sweet smile once more.
“Sure thing, dearest,” she said. “No problem at all.”
6
The ink worked just as Griselle and Adriel had promised, and I shifted back and forth between my mortal and Wolf forms despite the fatigue it caused.
I still could hardly believe it.
Griselle had been right about the pain; the tattoo had hurt like hell, but she was a talented artist, and the result w
as gorgeous. I’d let her choose the design that would best cover my brand, and she had created a red rose in full bloom over the moon burn. The detail to the piece was so exquisite that it seemed as though the very petals of the rose would be silky to the touch.
“Make sure you pull it out by the root, or it’ll just keep coming back,” Adriel said, dragging me out of my thoughts. He gripped a weed near the soil and twisted his wrist in a deft movement that uprooted it efficiently.
I glanced around at the garden, just one of many in Mina, according to Adriel. The smell of peppermint, basil, lemon and other scents for which I had no names, filled this patch of land. The various plants were heavy with full blooms, their produce ripe for the picking. A wooden fence enclosed the space, no doubt to keep out various wildlife that might wander in for a feast. Vines bearing berries and grapes crawled over the fence’s surface, which had been painted a pleasant shade of green.
Wooden boxes had been constructed in a pattern that created rows to wander down and tend to the plants. Every box held something different, and little labels with plant names were stuck down into the dirt beside them. Brightly winged insects flittered from here to there, the brilliant sun glinting off their backs as they zipped by. A few other people wandered between the rows, digging and watering and harvesting. They smiled and waved hello to Adriel and me, but otherwise left us alone, for which I was glad.
But when I studied one of the people more closely, and sniffed discretely at the air to confirm, I was too curious not to ask.
I knelt beside the Mixbreed and gripped a weed the way he’d shown me, yanking it out by its roots. “That female over there,” I said, “she’s not a Wolf.”
Adriel glanced up from where he’d been gathering tiny tomatoes from a tall green stalk. “No,” he confirmed. “She’s not.”
“What is she?” I asked.
He continued collecting tomatoes, not looking at me. “She’s a Sorceress,” he said. “And?”
I paused, looking for the words. “And… What kind of place is this? I thought it was a home for freed Dogs.”
His deft fingers paused over the tomato he’d been plucking, and his head turned toward me, his scarlet gaze falling on me with its full force. Somehow, I’d forgotten how scary he was, how he could likely snap my neck before I could blink if the mood so suited him.
Unbidden, Ryker’s words came back to me: You have no idea what his kind is capable of.
I swallowed hard and held Adriel’s stare, though it was admittedly difficult to do.
I barely breathed as he began speaking in a voice so smooth and low that goosebumps broke out on my arms despite the warmth of the bright sun above.
“Dog is their word, Rukiya,” Adriel said. “So stop using it in reference to yourself and others. And Mina is a home for everyone who needs one. There are Wolves here, yes, but there are also magic users and blood drinkers. There are Fae and Halflings and even a half demon.” He paused, his red gaze blazing like hellfire, though his expression betrayed no emotion whatsoever. “And, of course, there’s me. A Mixbreed. ”
Silence held for a moment, the chirps and clicks of the garden insects the only sound save for the rapid thumping of my heart. I’d offended him, and it made me uncomfortable. I opened my mouth to tell him that I hadn’t meant any harm, but he spoke again before I could.
“I think you get the point,” he said, gesturing to the plants. “If you see something that needs to be done, just do it. Everyone else does the same, so the work spread out among us doesn’t amount to much individually. You’ll have plenty of free time.”
“Okay, but I—”
I didn’t finish, because Adriel was already gone, having disappeared into thin air, leaving me to stand in the colorful garden with my foot stuck firmly in my mouth.
After I’d pruned the garden of even a whisper of a weed, I moved on in search of another task to complete. Though Adriel’s method of addressing me was wholly annoying, I had to admit that I felt a little better knowing that I was doing something to benefit the community in Mina—as strange as that community might still seem.
It was like I kept waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop. To think that all this time, all those years I’d spent in cages, fighting for my life, there was a place like this… It was almost too much. Too much to even process.
And I still had so many questions, or at least, I thought I’d have questions if I could get my mind to focus on something other than the tormenting thoughts of my last interaction with Ryker. It was sadly ironic that I’d finally been freed from the collar and the control of the Masters, and yet, I was so… unhappy.
Broken, I thought. That’s what I was. Not unhappy, just… un-whole.
As I moved from one task to the next in an attempt to pull my own weight within the community and keep my mind off the Hound, more questions slowly began surfacing.
How had this place come to be? What had the Mixbreed done with the Silver book? What was happening back in the Wolf territories? What were the other Pack Masters making of the events that took place at The Games? Would they seek revenge, hunt me down for what I’d done?
As it would turn out, I wouldn’t have to wait long for the answers.
After leaving the garden, I wandered further into Mina in search of a new task, the questions still rolling over in my mind.
My feet took me up the cobbled streets, past the stone structures and the magically made canal. As I walked, I saw creatures of all kinds, most of them identifiable by their scents rather than any physical feature. Most, but not all. Some were so spectacular physically that I had to remind myself several times not to stare.
I passed a beautiful Fae couple, their wings spread open on full display upon their muscular backs. The female had skin the color of late summer sunsets with hair as white as a unicorn’s mane. She wore a long, flowing dress that draped her curves elegantly.
Her mate was equally stunning. Tall and strong with smooth skin shaded blue like ocean water. His hair was almost longer than the female’s, colored a shiny midnight blue.
As they passed me, I turned to study the wings attached to their backs, as I had only ever heard about the Fae folk in the stories I’d been told as a child. These stories were well known among the Dogs, often offering the only form of entertainment between working and fighting in The Ring.
Fae, these stories had claimed, were clever and untrustworthy. They had strange magic that was equally respected and feared. They made incredible warriors, with immense strength and the ability to affect the emotions of those they came into contact with.
The males’ wings were large and shaped like those of a dragonfly, and when they were not in use, it was said that the Fae males could fold their wings into the skin of their shoulders and back, making them look like nothing more than intricate tattoos. The females could do the same, but their wings were feathered like a bird’s, rather than an insect’s.
As I stared rather shamelessly, watching the Fae couple mosey away, I marveled at the rainbow of colors that flashed over their wings as the light hit them. The effect was utterly magnificent.
Then, the sound of music drew me around a corner, and I stood transfixed as I took in the scene there.
A small fountain sat in the center of the square, depicting a strikingly beautiful female pouring water out of a pitcher and into a cup held by a curly haired child with an angelic face. Though the fountain was a captivating work of art, it wasn’t what made me pause. Rather, it was the people gathered around that fountain.
A tiny male with dark, wrinkled skin sat atop a wooden crate, plucking at the strings of an instrument with fast, expert fingers. Beside him, an even tinier woman—(likely only as tall as my thigh while standing)—danced all about with such glee that it radiated outward. Little bells were attached to her hips, her wrists and ankles, and they emitted a melody that wrapped around the notes the man was playing to make music that was absolutely merry.
Around them, children whirled an
d swirled, dancing throughout the small square as if they had not a single worry in the world. A little girl with eyes of swirling silver and blue and claws for feet darted by, giggling as a boy covered in brown fur, but walking upright, chased after her. Several pups in Wolf form chased each other as well, the easy playfulness of their actions somehow heart-wrenching.
I stayed where I was, tucked away in the shadow of a building, watching. A group of Pixies—no bigger in size than a piece of fruit—perched on the lip of the fountain, chatting and flitting from place to place like butterflies. A pale male with eyes as black as night and fanged teeth that jutted out over his bottom lip twirled a female whose race I couldn’t begin to guess at, though she, too, was lovely in her otherness.
And there were several others, creatures of all kinds, just like Adriel had said, laughing and dancing and living together in what seemed to be absolute harmony.
I stood in the shadows, unable to join them, and also unable to leave. It was almost as if this whole place was something that had been dreamed up, and I was still terrified of what it would mean if the dreamer ever awakened.
It was so hard to equate all the things I had heard about the Between Realms and all the things I’d heard about the other races with what I was seeing here.
I had always assumed that most of the supernatural races were violent by nature, that the idea of all of us living in harmony was absurd, considering how the various races couldn’t even get along with their own kind. But, Mina… The town challenged everything I’d ever deemed to know about the world. Could it be that supernaturals were not actually inherently violent? And, if not, then what did that mean? If not, what did that say about our world?
I was too numb to think about it. The implications were too much just then. I could only stand where I was in the shadows and stare while my frozen heart beat dully in my chest.
His scent hit me a moment before his voice spoke in my ear. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
Before he’d even finished the question I’d moved away and set my body into a defensive position. It was a reaction that was as natural to me as breathing. I eyed the stranger who’d been dumb enough to sneak up on me and had to admit that he was rather handsome.
