by N. M. Howell
“Sorry, Taelor,” she muttered under her breath. Exhaling slowly, she drew his magic toward her, filling her up instantly like a wave of calming blue energy that pulsed through her like a beacon. Her eyes flung open and she gasped as the magic overwhelmed her. She then released it and blasted the magic forward, desperate to rid herself of the all-consuming foreign energy.
The result stunned her. The magic was so strong, so fierce coming from her that it blasted all ten men down to the far side of the alley. All five assassins froze in place, in varying states of disarray; their limbs were frantically strewn outward, their bodies folded in half. Even her guardians froze momentarily before shaking out of it and pushing themselves back up to stand.
Each man stood in silence, staring at her with their mouths open. Taelor looked even paler than usual, an ice blue tint to his pale skin that matched his midnight blue eyes and windblown hair. From across the alley, she could tell that he shook slightly and had a drunken look in his eyes. Her magic had that effect, another thing that she detested about it.
Her guardians all stood in the alley staring back and forth for a long moment before someone broke the silence.
“Holy shit,” Arry said, and laughed. “That was so bloody cool.” He ran toward her, patting his hands up and down her arms, shaking her slightly to make sure she was okay.
Grayson proceeded to walk toward her, his movements slow and calculated, as usual, followed by the rest. He got within a few steps of her then paused, his dark, stormy eyes gazing deep into her own, his eyebrows raised in question.
Rhea shook her limbs out, ridding herself the remnants of Taelor’s strange magic. She then nodded up at Grayson and ran a hand through her hair, a quick nervous laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Taelor was last to join them. He swayed slightly on his feet, his eyes locked permanently on hers, his expression one of mild curiosity and admiration. “I guess that means we have our princess back.”
Rhea shook her head frantically and stepped back from him. “No, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have to. Please forgive me.”
Taelor shook his own limbs out, frowning at her. “You did well. We were all starting to think maybe you’d forgotten who you were.”
Rhea frowned. “That is not who I am. That is the last time I’ll ever use my magic, so don’t even ask.”
She glanced past Taelor’s shoulder toward the five assassins who remained frozen in place. She raised her eyebrow and turned back to Taelor. “How long do we have?”
Taelor turned and shrugged, his lips twitching up to something that resembled a smile. “Rhea, you blasted them with more magic in one go than I’ve been capable of my entire life combined. I don’t think they’re going to be returning to normal anytime soon,” he said.
Keaven’s mouth hung open in awe, his head shaking back and forth slowly in sheer amazement. “If ever,” he said. He then turned to her and beamed. “Right on, Rhea. That was wicked.”
Rhea’s frown deepened as a deep ache set in her heart. It was one of her biggest regrets, her strange and dark magic. It was a power that she had inherited from her father, only even the evil King Aeris couldn’t draw that much magic from others. It was part of the reason he hated her so much and part of the reason he kept her alive. It was also why he never let her out of his sight as a child. He couldn’t risk losing such a powerful weapon on his own side. Rhea’s stomach clenched in a painful knot at the thought.
Everything else she had, she was fortunate to have gotten from her mother. Her looks, her attitude, her kindness. But her magic, no, that was from Aeris. Who else would it be from? She was a succubus, for lack of a better word. She didn’t have her own magic, apart from the natural abilities inherited from her mother. She drew on the magic of others, sucking out their powers for herself. It was unpredictable, but all she knew from the very few times she’d used it, was that it took the magic from the original user, preventing them from wielding it for a time, and came out tenfold, if not more, when she used it. From the looks of the frozen assassins at the end of the alleyway, she figured it was far more potent than even that.
“What have I done,” she whispered to herself. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and fell to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. She’d let herself to return to who she was, something she’d promised herself she would never do. She would rather die than be her father’s daughter, and glancing up to her guardians around her, she realized none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for any of them.
“You guys have to leave,” she whispered. “Please. I can’t live like this with you here. I know you have the greatest intentions, thinking that bringing me back to the Otherworld will save everyone, save our realm. But I’m not the one to do that for you. There’s nothing I can do to help, even if I tried. You have to find somebody else.”
Her five guardians all stood around her, staring down at her for a long moment, allowing her to grieve the loss of her former human self. Finally, Grayson knelt down next to her and placed his strong hand on her shoulder. Even his hand felt heavy, like carved stone pulling her down with the weight of the entire world.
“Don’t feel guilty for who you are, Rhea,” he said. His voice was slow, smooth. It sent a chill through her body and tugged at the pit of her stomach. “You are not your father. And the magic you just wielded, it saved our lives.”
Rhea let out a shuddering breath, looking up at her guardians in turn. They had all been hurt quite badly, she noticed. Each wore a brave face, even looking quite thrilled, smiling down at her the way they were, but she could tell from the way they held themselves that they hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “This is all my fault.”
Roan shook his head, his bare arms gleaming in the muted daylight. Wet snow dripped down the curves of his muscles, his tan skin a beautiful contrast to the falling white. “We would battle to the ends of the Earth for you, Rhea, you need to understand that. I know you’ve pushed us away, but we’re your guardians. We’d fight a thousand of these guys if it meant keeping you safe.”
Rhea laughed then. “Yeah? I have a feeling the outcome wouldn’t be too favorable.” She forced a laugh, trying to make her words sound like a lighthearted joke, but they just came out bitter and exhausted.
“Who were they, anyway?” she asked.
Keaven cracked his neck as he stared back at the five robed elven men. “They look like Aelon’s people.”
Rhea narrowed her eyes. “My Uncle? That makes no sense, why would my Uncle send assassins to kill me? I’m no threat to him.”
Grayson coughed and cleared his throat. “Actually, you are.”
“How does he even know I’m alive?” she asked. “And were those his guardians? Who were they?”
“Aelon’s guardians have all perished in the war,” Taelor said in disgust. “He sacrificed them in battle with hardly a thought to it.”
“His guardians are all dead?” Rhea couldn’t hardly believe what she was hearing.
“Let’s go somewhere warm to talk, okay?” Roan suggested. “I’m starving, and from the looks of the bones sticking out of your skinny little body, I’d say you are, too.”
Rhea shrugged and pushed the slush on the sidewalk around with her finger, chewing her lip. She’d grown used to hunger and was no stranger to going days without food. She had trained her body to rely on very little, but the idea of food did sound really good right about then.
“I don’t have any money,” she finally said.
Keaven beamed and offered her a hand to pull her up. “Don’t worry about that one bit,” he said with a wink. “We’ve got that covered.” He patted the large front pocket of his thick black coat.
Rhea eyed his pocket for a long moment, more curious to see what was inside than she cared to admit. By the clang it made when he patted it, she suspected he had a decent amount of change in there. From the looks of these guys, though, they�
��d need more than a bit of change to keep them fed.
Finally, she sighed and resigned to going with them. “I guess I have nowhere else to go, really,” she said. “Now that you guys are here.”
Arry beamed wildly and looped his arm around hers, pulling her forward down the sidewalk. The others trailed close behind, all seemingly on guard for any potential attack.
“You guys can relax,” Rhea said a few blocks later. Their tension was making her uncomfortable, and no one had spoken in a while. The silence was unnerving. “I think we can count on the fact that I won’t succumb to two assassination attempts in one day.”
Taelor laughed suddenly and tried to mask it as a cough.
“I don’t think you understand how much danger you are actually in here, Rhea,” Grayson spoke from behind her. He was walking so close to her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She glanced partially behind her, aware of his tall frame looming over her from behind.
“I still don’t understand why people want me killed,” she said.
“Let’s talk in here,” Grayson said, steering the group into a small diner that Rhea hadn’t noticed. The door was nearly invisible hidden within the dirty brick wall of the shabby building.
The place was tiny, barely the width of a small alleyway, and sat behind nothing more than an unmarked black door.
“How did you know about this place?” Rhea asked in awe as she followed him inside.
Grayson led them all down the narrow, dimly lit hallway into the back room, which was packed tight with small square tables and chipped wooden chairs. There was hardly any standing space between the tables, and they all shimmied awkwardly to the far back wall where four tables were pushed together.
Rhea was mesmerized by the space. The room was two stories tall and featured exposed red brick with remnants of old torn music posters nearly up to the ceiling, and low-hanging, twisted metal chandeliers with dripping candles stuck all over them. They cast fascinating shadows across the tables, which she noticed were topped with old records below large sheets of glass.
“Cool place,” Keaven said, his face even more awestruck than Rhea’s. His eyes darted back and forth from the tables to the walls, taking in each detail as if he were memorizing it.
Roan whistled his approval and leaned back against the far wall, stringing his long, muscled leg up over three chairs that he pushed together beside him. Rhea had a feeling he would look at home anywhere he went. She envied him that.
“Can I start you guys with some drinks?” a young waitress asked as she stepped over a chair blocking her passage to their table. She was short and curvy and looked to be no more than twenty. She wore her blond hair short and flipped out, with blood red lipstick and thick black eyeliner that matched the tattoos that ran up the full lengths of both arms and across her chest. Rhea’s eyes settled on a steampunk depiction of a heart with cog wheels over where her actual heart would be.
“Nice tats,” Keaven said. He looked envious, his eyes also stuck to the tattoo of the heart that lingered just over her cleavage that heaved over her tight, low-cut shirt.
Rhea rolled her eyes, inwardly curious as to why that had bothered her in the slightest. She adjusted her chair, bumping into Keaven and pulling his attention from the waitress to her.
“Oops, sorry,” she mumbled and pulled the chair back away from him. “Tight space.”
Why had she just done that? She eyed the waitress, daring her to make eyes at any of them. But the waitress didn’t seem interested in the slightest, though, picking at her chipped black nail polish with a bored look on her face.
Keaven shrugged it off and reached for one of the menus the waitress had dropped onto the table. His tongue ran along the edges of his teeth as he skimmed the drink menu, his lips strategically hiding his pointed fangs. When he glanced up and saw the waitress wasn’t paying attention, he raised his upper lip and flashed them at her. Rhea nudged him with her elbow, and he winked at her.
“Drinks?” she repeated, her voice sickly sweet with an ounce of impatience. She raised her eyes to Rhea, who offered a small smile.
Grayson cleared his throat and looked to Keaven as if awaiting instruction. Keaven then smiled up at the waitress from the menu, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Five root beers, please,” he grinned. He then turned to Rhea, his eyebrows raised. “And for you?”
“Uh,” Rhea glanced over at his menu, her stomach tightening when her eyes fell on the prices. “Just a water, thanks.”
Keaven rolled his eyes and folded the menu, smacking her shoulder with it as he turned back to the waitress. “Make that six root beers.”
The waitress turned and maneuvered her way out of the room without another word. Not a moment after she disappeared around the corner than did the music turn up quite a bit louder than it had been before. Rhea had hardly noticed it, the beat a soft thump in the background. But she recognized the song that played, having heard it many times blaring up from the club down the street from where she lived. She had no idea what it was called, but she knew she liked it.
“I can see why you like it here,” Arry offered conversationally. He didn’t seem quite as interested in the café as Keaven had, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Rhea since they’d arrived. To her, he said, “Why did you make such a strong effort to hide from us?”
The question took Rhea back. She sat there, meeting his gaze for a long moment, contemplating her response. It had been a direct question, and she owed him a direct answer. “I wanted nothing to do with my old life.”
Arry nodded and chewed on his nail as his emerald eyes sparkled in the candlelight. His freckles looked like smudges of dirt beneath his eyes in the dim room, and the small crinkle against the side of his eyes when he smiled softened his otherwise sharp features. “We know it wasn’t easy for you being Aeris’s daughter, but you have to understand that we’re on your side, Rhea.”
She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands as she took in his words. “Just don’t understand why any of this is necessary. You guys can go, live your lives. I’m certainly trying to. There’s no reason why any of us need to be together, risking our lives having anything to do with the world my father destroyed.”
“We can’t just abandon our world, Rhea.” Grayson’s voice echoed through the room, his commanding presence drawing Rhea’s eyes up toward him.
She swallowed hard and met his gaze, the sorrow and worry deep in those stormy depths made her pause. “It’s not my world anymore.”
“You can deny it all you want, Rhea,” Taelor said, leaning forward on the table, his midnight eyes catching in the flickering light. “The world is yours by birthright, and nothing you say or do will change that fact.”
“But I left,” she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that same girl anymore. I can’t go back. I don’t know what you expect me to do, but I’m sorry to say that I’m not the one who will be able to save your world from Aeris’s darkness. From what I remember of it, it’s not even worth saving. It was so…”
“Whatever you remember it as,” Roan said, “it’s much worse now.” His eyes narrowed as he looked up into the far corner of the room, a haunted look on his face.
Rhea looked to each of her guardians in turn. She opened her mouth to speak, but the waitress came back in the room with a tray full of six frothy root beers, thick ice melting along the tall glass mugs. She placed them down delicately on the table, pulled out a notepad and pen. “Food,” she said, all friendliness gone from her voice.
Keaven picked up the menu again, running his fingers down each column of text as he mumbled incoherent words to himself.
She glanced at everyone in turn, who nodded their approval to him, and Rhea shrugged to him. She would be happy with whatever he wanted to order.
Keaven then looked up at the waitress and grinned, his fangs nearly poking through the smile that made its way from one ear to the other. “We’ll have one of everything.”
The w
aitress stared at him for a long minute, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows raised. She looked as if she were about to question him, but then tucked her notepad back in her small black apron. “Fine.” She turned and left the room, the sound of her voice echoing through the long hallway as she blasted out the order to the cook staff in the back. By the groans and sounds of protests that replied to her, Rhea had a feeling they weren’t too thrilled with their order. She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she looked at Keaven in awe. None of her other guardians even batted an eye, so she figured this must be a regular occurrence for them.
“Hungry?” she asked.
Keaven shrugged and shook his head. “Nah, I don’t even eat real food. That was all for you.”
Rhea was about to protest, but her stomach grumbled loudly, deceiving her. She shut her mouth and shrugged. “Thanks.” She then turned her attention back to Grayson and raised an eyebrow. “So I think you have a lot of explaining to do, seeing as we have quite a bit of time before the food comes.”
“Where do you want me to start?” He leaned back in his chair and reached his arms around his head, intertwining his fingers behind his tousled, charcoal gray hair.
Rhea chewed her lower lip as she gazed at him. He was stunningly handsome, now that she had a proper chance to look at him. His deep, slate-gray eyes and nearly-black hair contrasted with his pale skin and intricately patterned markings. Silver hair of varying shades had become a human trend this past year, and she wondered if he knew about it. She had a feeling he couldn’t be bothered with such things.
Rhea leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself tight. “I think you’d better start from the beginning.”
6
It took Grayson a long while to formulate his thoughts well enough to begin to explain. Just as he opened his mouth to finally speak, the waitress came back into the room with plates and cutlery and an expression of indignant exasperation on her face.
