by Cassi Carver
“No.” Rachel shook her head. “Tell me what to do, Darri. Do you think Eva is right? Would it be kinder to end the boy’s life myself rather than hand him over to the Monster?”
Rachel hated to ask this question of her closest friend and truest lover, but they shared a bond few could understand—they had both lost a child to Brakken’s rage. Darrinda’s last child had been a disappointment to the Monster, and Brakken had used him as a target to practice his mythical bow skills.
The babe hadn’t died as Rachel’s had done. But then, he hadn’t regenerated yet, either. No one wanted to say it, but they were beginning to doubt he ever would. And displeasing Brakken as he did, even if he did survive, the best the babe could hope for was to be sold as a slave to one of the smaller clans on the surface.
Rachel had comforted Darri the best she could, with her kisses and her body and her time, but in the end, it was never enough to take away the pain that hid like a living thing behind Darrinda’s eyes.
Some said that Brakken was punishing them for being “unnatural” and choosing each other’s company over his, but it wasn’t as if Darrinda had turned Rachel away from the man—he’d accomplished that on the first day they met when he revealed his cruel and twisted nature.
If she thought her newborn child would have a chance if she gave Darri up, she would find it in herself to make that choice. Not forever—but at least until the boy was old enough to travel on his own and escape this prison. But in truth, nothing they did would appease Brakken. He’d tortured the pair before they’d fallen in love, and he’d tortured them even worse after.
When a stronger contraction rippled along Rachel’s belly, she almost choked on her saliva. “Why are they coming so fast?”
“Guard!” Eva called out. “Rachel is thirsty. Will you please bring her something to drink?”
The man returned a minute later, grumbling all the way, and almost threw the cup at Rachel’s hand. Water sloshed on her nightgown. “Anything else, Your Majesty?” he mocked. “A hot bath, perhaps, with scented oil and rose petals for the lady?”
“Thank you for the water,” Rachel said, keeping her voice moderate and pleasant.
“Yes, thank you for the blessed glass of water,” Eva spat. Since Eva still enjoyed mounting the men, she sometimes got away with talking in a way that would earn Rachel a bloody lip. “We have a female in labor, Prien, and you act like you had to solicit the Sanctiáre themselves for the Cup of Life.”
“Listen to you hens clucking like the sky is falling,” he said. It was easy to see why he was one of the few people the Monster trusted. “I could cut the boy out of you, Rachel, and you’d be fine in three days. But mention childbirth and the whole lot of you start acting like humans fresh off the farm.”
Prien seemed to mull that over, then he pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt. “You want help, Rachel? Right here, right now, I can end your labor pains.”
Rachel would have liked to think he was just being cruel and trying to intimidate her, but these were Brakken’s finest, after all. He would probably delight in thrusting the blade into her gut.
“No…thank you,” she answered. “You know a child’s gifts are never as strong if their birth is cut short in any way. And since we don’t even have a healer here to seal the gifts, I’d rather not take the chance. I know King Brakken is hoping this boy will be one of his special ones. It’s Gavin’s own son, after all.”
Prien laughed, and it was a wretched sound. “I used to think you were one of the smarter ones, Rachel, but you’re as daft as the rest. Do you really think my king is going to wait and see what gifts this child develops? Hell, it will probably be born looking more like that one there than Prince Gavine.” He thrust a finger at Darri and chuckled until his eyes watered. “Oh, Rachel, I would almost feel sorry for you if that wasn’t so funny.” And he left the room, still laughing.
Darrinda took Rachel’s hand. “Don’t listen to him. Remember that Gable Two is meant to be the replacement for Prince Gable—and Brakken loved nothing in this realm as he did his favored son. You asked me if I thought you should end the babe’s life, and my answer is no. I still believe my son will regenerate someday, and as long as we have hope, Rachel, we must persevere.”
“And besides,” Eva said, “you seem to be forgetting what Gavin told you. He said he would do whatever it took to make this right. I believe him.”
“Oh, Eva…” Rachel gritted her teeth through the pain of a contraction then shook her head. “He said that because he felt guilty. I haven’t heard one word from him in eight months. He did what he had to do to protect his ‘princess’, and now I’m sure he’s forgotten all about us.”
“No!” Eva almost shouted. “He said he would find a way to send his father to the Abyss and take us to his island to live in peace. I believe him.” Her lips quivered. “I have to believe him.”
Darrinda scooted closer to Rachel and wrapped her arm around her shoulder to support some of her weight. “We may not have a lot in this world, my love, but we do have hope. Don’t allow the Monster to take that from you.”
Rachel turned and rested her cheek against Darri’s breast. “You are right. What would I do without you?”
Darrinda kissed her hair. “If it’s up to me, we will never find out.”
As soon as the words left her lips, a familiar shape materialized in the center of the room. He stared back at them, wild-eyed and insane with his completely black eyes and a face framed in long snow-white hair. “Lies!” he screamed.
Rachel was so frightened, she swore her contraction sputtered out mid-cycle. She rose from her position reclining against Darrinda and got to her knees. “My king. To what do we owe this honor?”
“You lying whores! I come to check on Gable Two, and I hear that my son plans to send me to the Abyss? What lies are these?”
Rachel had never seen Brakken look so crazy or so pained. “No, Eva doesn’t remember well. She didn’t spend as much time with Prince Gavine as the rest of us. She’s simply confused.”
“Nooo!” Brakken cried, and he began to beat his knuckles against his own face and pull chunks of his long white hair from his scalp. “Gavine! Why, Gavine? Why would you betray me this way? I am your father! I have loved you and indulged you for a thousand years!”
Rachel had seen Brakken kill and she’d seen him in a bout of sickness where his cruelty was unmatched, but she’d never seen him go so far off the deep end as he was now. His scalp and face bled from his abuse, and his eyes streamed with tears as red as rose petals.
“Gavine!” he bellowed, and it was so loud it felt like it shook the entire kingdom—maybe the entire realm. Finally, he dropped to his knees, as if he couldn’t bear his own weight, and all the while he wailed like a wounded animal.
After another minute, he went eerily quiet, his face streaked with bloody tears. Rachel was quaking so hard, her teeth rattled together. Then Brakken calmly lifted his chin and met Rachel’s eyes. “Nothing has changed. Gable Two is mine. And you can rest easy, Rachel. You will not be delivering the boy tonight.” He held out his open palm, and his bow and a perfect silver arrow appeared in his grip.
“I won’t?” she whispered.
“I am no physician, but I imagine it will be difficult to deliver him when he’s nailed into place.” He drew back the arrow and aimed it at Rachel’s abdomen, and she knew exactly what he planned to do. Her hands flew to her belly, even though that would simply nail her hands to the same place.
When Brakken released the arrow, Rachel screamed. But before she could feel the impact of the spike in her gut, Darrinda pounced, throwing her body over Rachel’s.
“No!” Rachel cried. “Darri, no!”
She grasped Darrinda’s writhing form and rolled her to her back. The arrow was embedded in her chest, just above her heart. Why? Why would he do that to such a gentle woman? Was this their lot in life—forever being abused and regenerating until one day when Brakken decided he didn’t want them back?
Brakken growled and laughed at the same time, and it was a sound Rachel might imagine coming from the pit of hell itself. He walked to where Darrinda was lying and nocked another arrow. “Ha! I thought hurting Gable Two might teach you a lesson, Rachel.”
He released another arrow and this one launched into Darrinda’s convulsing chest, straight through her heart. After a moment, she stopped convulsing altogether as her body went quiet. “But now I see where to hit you for maximum effect—in your heart.”
The thing led Kara up the mountain, the hand holding hers feeling very warm and real, even though it appeared as a shining, indistinct oval of a mitt.
And although Kara could swear she’d only been halfway to the top when she’d freed the rabbit, the pinnacle was quickly coming into view. What had looked to be completely covered in clouds before, now stood under a wide-open sky.
When they got to the top, the rabbit-creature stopped on a large, flat boulder, leaving Kara standing in the middle of the slab. Kara’s heart was beating so wildly, skipping and jumping beats at random, she figured if she were human, she might have gone into cardiac arrest.
The creature turned to Kara and spoke, but the tinkle of chimes and longer notes was something Kara couldn’t even begin to interpret. “I’m sorry,” she answered. “I don’t understand.”
When the creature went silent, as though listening, Kara continued, “I’m here for a feather. There’s a very bad black-wing. His name is Brakken. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him… But he’s terrorizing the inhabitants of the Shadowland, and I need help sending him to the Abyss. Can you help me?”
The thing tinkled a response, the small sound of dainty chimes this time. “I’m sorry. I really can’t understand you,” Kara said, her frustration mounting. She hoped the real Sanctiáre got here soon, because that thing in front of her didn’t even have wings, and she needed feathers, damn it.
As the thought flitted across her mind, the creature started to gain something of a form. Its upper oval, where the face should be, started darkening with splotchy color—two gray slashes where the eyes would be and another for the mouth. No ears, no nose.
And then the mouth opened, just a dark hole in an otherwise illuminated façade, and the sound that came out was like Niagara Falls rushing over the keys of a giant’s grand piano. Kara cringed and put her hands to her ears, knowing that whatever she was hearing was enough to damage her at some level that she would never heal from. “Loud,” she whispered. “Too loud.”
She shook from head to toe, the ringing in her ears more than just physical pain. She didn’t think her kind was meant to experience this on a corporeal level and live to tell of it. When her hands came back from her ears, they were soaked in blood.
The rabbit-gone-light-bulb drifted toward Kara and lifted its mitts to the sides of Kara’s face. It made a gentle cooing sound as it held her cheeks, and a moment later, the pain was gone. The thing edged back to the perimeter of the granite slab and lifted its “face” to the sky, keeping its voice very quiet now. The sound was like a trumpet with the volume turned to low.
And a second later, six bright lights floated down toward them. They were so small and yet so blinding, it was like witnessing the splitting of an atom. And when they got to the granite clearing, they grew, probably eight feet tall like the other and as though mimicking that first creature, they developed eyes and mouths as well.
The first one to speak dropped Kara to her knees as though she’d had the carpet pulled from under her feet. But the first quickly said something, and the group grew quiet, chattering amongst themselves, almost excitedly, in a melodious convergence of notes. A moment later, light extended from behind all seven creatures, and the light gained substance until Kara was sure they must be the wide, white wings of the Sanctiáre.
Relief swept through her. Wings. And wings meant feathers. All she needed was one. Still squinting from the glare, Kara smiled, closed-lipped and nervous. “Hello and thank you. I was wondering if I could have a feather, please? Only one.”
They didn’t move, just continued the chatter, and Kara wasn’t sure what to say, or even if they understood her language. “I think we’re all on the same side here, wanting the bad guys to go where bad guys belong, right? May I please have just one feather?” She pointed to her back and made a plucking gesture. “Fea-ther.”
One of the Sanctiáre came forward, and Kara smiled for real. She extended her hand and waited for the thing to place one beautiful white feather in her palm. But it ignored her hand and circled around behind her instead, as though carrying out an inspection.
“Foe…” it sang, and it was the first thing Kara had heard that sounded like a human word.
Foe? Oh, shit. “No! Not a foe. I’m a friend. I’m a good guy.”
The Sanctiáre, towering above her, lifted its mitt and trailed it across Kara’s shoulders. At the contact, her body began to tremble and she could hardly remain standing from the oppressive weight of it.
“Foe-miiina…” it tried again. And suddenly the others were crowding forward, extending their tentacles of light and prodding her as though they’d never seen a woman before. Their voices were loud now, loud and disorienting, and the sounds were like pure pain against her eardrums. The power of their touch filled her with an energy she wasn’t sure she could contain. She felt her soul leaching out, but her body was paralyzed, unable to scream or flee or beg for mercy.
The one she instinctively knew as the rabbit creature brought both mitts to her face again and its “mouth” tilted into a cavernous smile. “Foe-mina Aniliáre.” And it cooed the sound, as if to calm the others.
It leaned way down and pressed what could only be its forehead to Kara’s and she felt warm all over, like the embodiment of love and nurture had reached into her being and held her. “Foe-miiina.”
If the world had stopped in that moment, all would have been right, but the others converged upon her, forming one massive, brilliant light. It hovered above her, pulsing and flickering, and then it alighted on her shoulders and flashed into her spine, detonating like an atomic blast.
And Kara ceased to exist.
Chapter Fourteen
“She’s awake!” said Gavin’s voice.
She was? She didn’t feel awake. She felt dead. Or more like, she’d be better off if she were dead. Everything hurt, but her back and shoulders had such a bone-deep ache, it was all she could do not to groan aloud. With the way it felt, she wouldn’t doubt that something was broken. Maybe a lot of somethings.
Kara cracked her eyelids just wide enough to see that she was in her apartment. She knew Abbey and Jaxon would be here, smiling down at her, if she could just peel her eyelids back far enough to see them.
“Kara?” Gavin said. “How do you feel?”
She pressed her eyes shut again, not ready to attempt more. “I’m alive.” And that was quite a surprise under the circumstances. “How did I get here?”
“We found you at the base of the mountain.” That was Jaxon’s voice. “You were unconscious.”
“Oh, shit…” Kara moaned, and her eyes inexplicably filled with tears. She finally opened them to blink the moisture away. “Did you find a feather on me anywhere? Was there one sticking out of my pocket…or tucked into my bra? Anything?”
Gavin slipped her hair behind her ear. “No. I’m afraid not.”
He was seated by her at the edge of her bed, and she flung her arm out in hopes of taking his hand. “I’m so sorry, Gavin. I failed.”
He saw her struggle to control her muscles and gripped her fingers tight. “Don’t say that, princess. You were so brave. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Despite her trying to hold back the tears, her wet eyes kicked it into high gear. “I tried, but I don’t think they understood me. They just kept saying ‘foemina, foemina’, and they wouldn’t listen. And then they got mad and zapped me!”
“Foemina?” Jaxon clarified. “Female?”
“Is that what it m
eans?”
“Yes,” Jaxon answered.
Kara rubbed a hand over her face. “Yeah, then that’s what they were saying. Female. Female. Then foemina Aniliáre.”
Gavin frowned. “They called you a female Aniliáre?”
Kara whimpered. She hurt like hell and this wasn’t helping. “I didn’t say they called me that…that’s just what they said before they zapped me.”
Jaxon shook his head, as though mystified. “Have they never seen a female before?”
“Maybe they haven’t. Maybe they weren’t sure what she was,” Gavin replied. “This is my fault. I should never have let Kara seek out the Sanctiáre. Their way of life is a mystery to us, and I shouldn’t have relied on Mazeki’s counsel in the matter.”
Jaxon came to stand by Kara’s head, and he pressed his hand to her forehead, as though taking her temperature. “You’re alive, and that’s what’s important. Nobody is to blame here. Not you and not Gavin.”
Kara put her hand over Jaxon’s. “Where’s Abbey?”
“She’s at home. I couldn’t bring myself to travel back and alert her until I knew what the outcome would be. I assumed regeneration, but when the Sanctiáre are involved, rules can change.”
Travel back? She glanced outside the balcony doors, and the sky was that strange shade, somewhere between dawn and dusk, and it was overcast. But…where were the buildings?
Kara sat up, and the rapid motion made her brain feel like it hit the front of her skull. “Where are we?”
Gavin smoothed a hand down her arm. “We’re still in the Shadowland. I didn’t want to keep you here, but I couldn’t risk traveling with you in that state. You were on the edge of the Abyss.”
If they were still in the Shadowland, then that meant… “Julian? Are we on Julian’s land?” And if so, how was he holding this illusion together?
