Gravel crinkled beneath my feet. The scent of pine filled my nose. I dropped my arms to my side and knew I would finally get to see my ocean.
I was free.
Chapter Four
RUMPELSTILTSKIN
My mind grew clearer with every step. My vision steadied and heightened. The raven beat on towards the outer edges of dream. Reality already started to haze, the world falling away from the ordinary to the fantastical.
Trees of white shot ever upward, disappearing into dark clouds. The earth flattened, and soon there were no trees at all. I continued on through the thickening darkness, following the raven.
All at once it stopped and circled overhead. I quickly saw why. Before me lay a straight gravel path, and on either side vast oceans of black.
A lone lantern hung from a wooden pole beside the path’s beginning. The raven landed on the rusted handle and pecked at the glass. I knew it wished me to light it. I grasped the lantern off its hook. The bird took off and hovered, waiting.
With a twist of my wrist a small globe of yellow flickered to life. I held it out, wanting to see better what lay ahead, but against such darkness it was a lost battle. I would have to be content with a foot or two. The thought didn’t thrill me.
The raven cawed and took off into the shadows, I with no choice but to follow.
A chilling stillness consumed the place the deeper I trudged. The air hung soundless, heavy. Even the snapping of my leather boots grew muffled until there was only silence. Intrigued, I tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said. Only a hush issued from my mouth.
“Hello!” I yelled again. Nothing.
My curiosity strengthened.
I turned my attention to the ebony oceans. The gravel cut into my kneecaps as I knelt down and peered into the water. I held the lantern by my head. My stomach rolled. Where my reflection should have been was only black, my very existence not even a glimmer atop the surface.
I lowered the light, the liquid below consisting of an eerie sludge.The ooze gripped the bank of the gravel path and pulled loose pebbles into its thickness. It was only then I realized the path was disintegrating.
I shook my shoulders and straightened my doublet, continuing down the path.
Blisters started to grow on the bottoms of my feet. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and dribbled down my temples. The path continued to narrow, to be swallowed, causing my heels to nearly slip off the edge.
But the raven kept beating onward through the darkness.
I stopped. The path split, the two roads only as wide as a hand. It was as Tristan said. A caw echoed from the left, the bird signaling I better get a move on.
I went left, following the raven. Towards horn.
Stepping one foot before the other, I performed an odd balancing act, progressing along the precarious path until a familiar shape took form out of the gloom. I held out my lantern and the pale light illuminated a door. A single door crafted with horn.
Blood rippled through my chest. This was the entrance to dream.
The raven landed atop the structure, bent down, and pecked at the door. He peered at me with great intensity.
A simple doorknob of carved horn shone in the light. Reaching out, I hesitated two pulses before grasping it tightly.
The ground shook beneath my feet and vibrated into my bones. Bubbles burst up from the ocean and black waves consumed the path behind me. The water rushed towards me.
Panic searing my nerves, I turned the knob and flung the door open. A blast of wind pushed me back and tore the lantern from my grip. It sunk into the burbling ooze, snuffing out the light completely. I bent forward, trying to press my way through the door, but my feet kept sliding backwards across the loose gravel. Back towards the deepening ocean waiting to consume me.
I wouldn’t be beaten by sludge.
Shielding my eyes from the storm I ground my feet into the earth and marched forward. Grasping hold of the frame, I dug my nails into the horn and forced myself closer. My arms shook and my fingers burned, but I wouldn’t relent. With one more heave, I thrust myself through and landed in a patch of grass.
The door closed shut. The wind calmed. I heard my own gasps for air. Sound returned.
I knew I was elsewhere.
Pushing into the earth I stood and brushed the dirt off my knees and elbows. I had landed in a type of clearing, a thick hedge cutting through the green. The moon hung like a giant and bathed the land in light that rivaled the sun. That was nothing to the voices dancing through the breeze.
Laughter. Giggles. Cheers.
They came from the other side of the hedge. I wasted no time in trying to discover the source of the merriment. The bush prickled my skin as I spread the branches apart, the twigs easily bending and snapping.
My mouth fell open.
A broad, bustling city boulevard lay directly on the other side. I stepped out onto the cobblestone street, barely missing being run over by a carriage. An arm shot out of the window, a bottle of champagne in hand. The reddened face of a man quickly followed.
“Don’t dawdle!” he shouted. “It’s rude to be late!”
“Late for what?” I called after him.
“Heaven,” a woman answered, racing past. Her heeled shoes struck the stones, and her striped silk gown rippled behind her.
I lost sight of her as she disappeared into a throng of other merrymakers clad in velvets and diamonds. Fashions I’d only seen in paintings or in books from far off kingdoms. People from Nubia and those from the lands described by Marco Polo. Women with eyes lined in black coal, and men wearing pointed shoes. All headed towards the same direction, and they sparkled and glinted as they ran through the streets like blood through veins.
I followed them.
Grand homes ticked by, and not once did a stream of shit or beggar dying of disease block my way. The place was a world devoid of reality and ruled purely by fantasy.
Rising from the horizon a palace of yellow and shimmering windows stood. Fireworks burst overhead, gasps and cheers echoing every explosion.
Gravel crunched beneath my feet as we wound through gardens and passed fountains of forgotten gods. Shoulders squeezed into my sides and heeled shoes clipped my toes as we entered the grand doorway.
Marble and stone encased us while black and white tiles spread down every hall. Violins throbbed as bows cut down thin strings, and drums pounded my bones. I broke free of the crowd, grateful to catch my breath.
They poured out onto a polished dance floor, joining an ocean of swaying couples. The scent of clove, rum, and vanilla hung heavy and intoxicating as it rose from their heated bodies. I kept my distance, wanting to avoid being struck by an errant elbow or bejeweled fan.
I slunk along the edges of the room, watching as women twirled and men’s hands glided across their silk bodices. All the while, I tried to ignore the music thrashing in my veins and the heat smoldering my scar. I wiped it across my trousers, but the sting only deepened.
My fingers trembled.
Lifting my arm I turned my hand over. My stomach twisted as cold dread surged through me.
The scar deepened. Reddened. Pounded. I knew it meant only one thing. Fate was here. And so must then Laila. But where?
I closed my fist, hissing as the pain sparked through every tendon.
A flash of red and pink filled the corner of my vision. I spun and stepped aside, narrowly avoiding knocking over a servant carrying a tray stacked with a tower of pink macarons.
Giggles bubbled behind me.
“Come here,” a coy voice demanded.
I turned, seeing a blonde woman sitting on a chaise of blue damask. A primitive hunger filled her green eyes, and her lips pouted as if wanting to be kissed. Her skirts were hiked around her hips, and her stockinged legs were spread open.
“I need a man,” she said, running her hands over her inner thighs, “and you look good for the job. I’ve watched you standing in the shadows. Your face serious and shoulders square.
There’s nothing I rather do than tear you out of that stiff black you wear with my teeth.”
She bit her lip, and I shuddered as she freed one shoulder from her bodice.
“I think you are doing well enough on your own,” I responded with a hard swallow.
Her eyes darkened and cheeks flushed. Her hand moved farther up her skirt. She gasped and quivered.
“One can always do with a little help,” she said, lowering her chin, and exposing her right breast. “Unless you are a voyeur. Perhaps watching would please you more?”
She moaned rocking her hips, pleasure rippling through her. Her eyes rolled back and her lips quivered.
Idiot.
I made to turn away, but was stopped by a strong hand clapping my shoulder.
“My God man, how can you deny yourself such willing beauty?” a man asked beside me.
He slipped his fingers within the jungle of his cravat, unraveling the fabric from his neck. Lean muscle flexed beneath his shirt, and his square jaw tensed in anticipation of ravishing this woman. An air of entitlement and wealth imbued his every movement.
A servant passed carrying a tray with a pyramid of goblets. The man grabbed two, his lips pulling into a smile.
“The wine will better the sensations,” he said, handing me a glass. “Then, we can better enjoy this bounty before us together.”
I gripped his collar, jerking him to me. His tendons rolled beneath my knuckles and the goblets crashed hitting the floor.
“I don’t want to enjoy anything of the sort,” I growled, my lips skimming his ear.
My anger only seemed to excite him more.
“Spirited. I like that.” He slid his hand behind my back and pressed his hardness against my leg. “Are you sure you don’t wish to join?”
I shoved him back. He only laughed.
“Touch me again, and I’ll kill you,” I spat, pointing at him.
“Leave him be,” the woman said. “We don’t want a spoiled sport dampening our fun.”
He gave a small frown.
“A great shame,” he said, sitting beside her. “Such pent up frustration yearning for release.”
She held out her hand, her fingers glistening with her own desire. He took it and engulfed her fingers.
I turned away, glad to escape their nonsense.
My palm continued to pulse as I marched through the crowds, looking for any flicker of chestnut hair. But I knew Fate would not let her out of his sight. He would want me to come to him first.
Hatred I hadn’t felt since Edward rolled through me.
Couples continued their fevered dance across the polished floor. A woman dressed in a sari of deepest twilight twirled into my chest, spilling wine on my shoe. I shoved her out of the way, pressing on. A man tossed a half eaten chicken leg, and the bone was crushed beneath silk heels and thick boots. I turned to the right, beneath an archway and passed a woman bent over, her skirts over her head while a man thrust into her. Another man kissed his naked shoulders.
The aura of jasmine, cardamom, and whiskey intensified, along with the putrid musk of humanity.
Still I kept moving. Down another hall and beneath an atrium. The crowds constricted. Faces blurred one into the next. But I could feel them. Their hands tore at my shirt, grabbed at my trousers. Wanting to dance. Wanting to fuck. I tossed my shoulders, ripping away from them.
I could escape their touch, but I couldn’t escape their flames. My mind filled with their voices. Screaming. Pleading. Laughing. Their souls ignited all around. They yearned, and how desperately.
Usually only I could grant these desperate souls such a soothing balm, but here they fulfilled their desires themselves.
Hands desiring jewels would sparkle in gems. Mouths thirsting for drink received goblets of wine. And hearts craving pleasure found partners more than willing to accommodate any dark wish.
My palm scorched in agony now. Sweat beaded on my temples.
A young man sauntered by, his chest bare and eyes rimmed in thick black like an Egyptian pharaoh. He led a tiger on a diamond encrusted leash. He smelled of sweet smoke. I gripped his arm, ignoring the growls from his pet. I would demand he tell me what he knew of this place, or else I would ensure he was kitty’s dinner.
“Our host!” A voice echoed from the crowd.
I turned, the man escaping my hold.
Applause thundered over the music. A woman fell to her knees, the bells around her wrists and ankles silenced as she stared in awe at the man at the top of the staircase.
Fate.
His eyes locked on mine, and a smile curled his lips.
“I hope you are enjoying the party. It’s not every day we are blessed with such celebrity,” he announced in a strong voice.
He walked down the stairs, his leather boots snapping with each step. His black pants hugged his sculpted legs. A white shirt fell loosely from his chest, his muscles resembling marble more than flesh. The only difference I noted was his hair. It was shorn closer to his scalp and glimmered a lighter shade of blonde.
Though my blood simmered beneath my skin, I remained silent. Now was not the time to act rash. It would take all the strategic thinking and coercion in my bones to pry the secret of Laila’s location out of him.
Taking advantage of my self restraint he grabbed me in a tight hug. I stiffened.
“I am glad you finally came. I’ve been waiting ages,” he said, letting me go.
“I don’t doubt it,” I replied through clenched teeth.
He laughed as if we were old friends. I wanted nothing more than to punch his perfect face.
“You haven’t aged a bit! What has it been? Nineteen, twenty years? Magic is great for the skin.” He pinched my cheek as if trying to see if any wrinkles would crease. I smacked his hand away and he frowned.
“I’ve not come for your compliments,” I said. “Where is she?”
He pressed his lips together and stepped back, turning his attention to the revelers.
“Come! This is a party! Go and dance until your feet cannot hold you anymore,” he told them.
Obeying, they rose and scattered back into their haze of music and wine. Fate motioned me to follow him.
He led me through a maze of marble and glass, passing halls consisting of portraits and candelabras. Exquisite finery fit for a king, or a deity.
As I followed behind him, I wanted to grab every gilded object we passed and bash it into his skull. I touched the bottle inside my pocket, calming myself. What I had in store for him would be far more satisfying than crushing him with a bit of pretty plaster.
He stopped before a door decorated in gold filigrees and turned a sculpted handle.
“After you,” he said, bowing.
I entered a world of red. Red damask, red Leather-bound books, red Persian rugs. In fact, they were the same extravagant Persian rugs from Fate’s private tent in that gypsy camp, when he made me what I was.
All this paled to a malachite urn beside the mantelpiece. I’d never seen one of such size and detail. Intricate carvings decorated the green stone, perhaps a long forgotten language.
Fate neared a small, inlaid wooden table. He lifted a glass decanter and poured two glasses of whiskey. It rolled enticingly in the crystal as he handed me a glass.
I hated his casual attitude. He acted as if we were common gentlemen readying to discuss hunting or politics. Fate knew what I wanted, and he was stalling me with fake friendship and finery.
I threw the glass into the fire, the crystal exploding into clear pebbles. The flames grew as large and wild as my rage.
“Where is she?” I demanded.
He chuckled as he sat down and crossed his legs. Swirling his whiskey, he took a sip, hissing in delight.
“I should have known that’s the only thing you’d want to discuss. No hello or how have you been? That’s your problem. You’re so tight. So single-minded,” he replied.
“I don’t care to have any relationship with you,” I said. “Pleasantrie
s between us are moot.”
He grimaced, but his blue eyes flared.
“I know,” he said. “You are a stubborn man Rumpelstiltskin, which is why I had to find a more creative way of bringing you to me.”
I furrowed my brow at his words. My palms began to sweat.
“Creative?”
His knuckles pulsed as he circled the damask with his fingertips.
“I know you've been running from me. Depriving me of your singular company. Avoiding the destiny I marked you for. But there are things here in this realm I wish you to see, to understand.”
“You mean your plebeian parade of desires?”
His hand gripped into a fist. He stood in a swift motion and stepped right before me. Intensity etched every line of his hard face. He leaned in, his breath heating my skin.
“Do not blame me,” he snarled. “If it is plebeian it is because those that are here wish it to be so. You see, I make no effort to push them in how to live. I give no guidance. They live exactly as they want. They live according to their free will.”
I couldn’t help but guffaw. If there was one thing I knew about Fate, it was his inability to not interfere in the lives of man.
“Oh yes, because that’s always what you do best. Not meddle.”
He smiled as he stared at me.
“I know you find it hard to believe that I am capable of such self control, but here in this realm I take it very seriously,” he said.
I didn’t like the malicious twinkle behind his gaze.
Impatience tore through me.
“Enough! I don’t care about the particulars of your filthy kingdom. You know why I’m here. Where are you keeping Laila?”
He sighed and pulled his right hand down his face.
“That again! Always so focused and not seeing the wider picture. You are proving my point. I didn't make you an immortal to have a mortal mind. The past is what keeps you from moving forward, from seeing. You are letting a woman you spent three nights with nineteen years ago blind you from the truth.”
Twist: A Fairy Tale Awakening (Spindlewind Trilogy Book Two) Page 7
