Sixty-One Nails cotf-1

by Mike Shevdon

  The water was initially cool, but warmed quickly so I had to turn it down. How hot had she had it? It reached a comfortable temperature and I stood under the shower head letting the water run down over my eyes, my face and down my body. I was dog-tired, but the shower was a good idea. I used the soap provided and scrubbed myself from head to toe.

  Once out of the shower, I wrapped my damp towel around my waist and looked at my reflection. It didn't look like me, but that was OK. My glamour had held and I had become accustomed to my new face. Is that what she'd meant by the side-effects?

  Taking her advice about maintaining my image, I took advantage of a disposable razor to scrape the dark shadow from my chin. I was conscious of the woman in the room next door and I felt I should at least be presentable. I had no idea what she was expecting, but having a chin like sandpaper wasn't going to impress.

  I splashed my face with cold water and dried it on the hand towel. Looking up in the mirror I looked tired but scrubbed, which was probably as good as I was going to get. I considered putting my underwear back on, but then rejected it having just got myself clean. Instead, towel secured around my waist, I took my clothes back into the bedroom.

  Blackbird was sitting propped up on the pillows, her bare shoulders showing above the duvet. Her hair was dry.

  "Where's the hair dryer?" I asked her.

  "There isn't one."

  "How did you dry your hair?"

  "It dries itself."

  That didn't really help me.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I'm going to try and dry my hair with a towel."

  I went into the bathroom accompanied by a light chuckling from the bed. When I emerged a few seconds later she was grinning.

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  "Something is amusing you."

  She tried for a straight face and failed, using the duvet to hide her grin.

  I did my best to ignore her, hanging my clothes over the chair. To be honest I was unsettled. She was unlike any woman I had ever encountered.

  "Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

  I walked around to the free side of the bed, lifting the edge of the duvet and the sheet beneath it to sit on the edge of the bed, so I could slide in next to her and slip the towel aside.

  "Is there something you've forgotten?"

  I twisted around to look at her.

  "Lights?" she prompted.

  I grabbed the towel again, wrapping it back around my waist, and padded around to the light switch next to the door and back again in the dark, trying to avoid tripping over random pieces of furniture in the unfamiliar room.

  I slipped into bed beside her accompanied by her suppressed mirth.

  "Do you always laugh at men you're about to sleep with?" I lay on my back while she moved the additional pillow onto the floor and lay back beside me.

  "Only the ones that amuse me."

  "And I amuse you?"

  "You come across as so rugged and then you're so demure."

  I didn't have an answer to that, so I lay in the dark looking up at the ceiling where the dim light from the night sky showed around the edges of the blinds drawn over the angled loft-windows. After a moment she moved across and nudged my arm so I would lift it and she could duck her head under and lay alongside me, her head resting on my shoulder and the naked warmth of her along my right side. Her hand draped across my chest. She hugged me around the middle then relaxed.

  "Don't be hurt," she whispered.

  "I'm not." I stroked down her arm, feeling the minute imperfections in her skin. She gave a long sigh and relaxed into me, her breath ruffling the hair on my chest.

  "Niall."

  "What? What is it?"

  "You were snoring."

  "Was I? I'm so sorry. I'm just so tired and–"

  She lifted herself up and leaned over me, pressing her soft lips to mine. My body stirred in answer, but she drew away.

  "Sleep, Niall. You need to rest. We have time."

  She kissed my forehead and then untangled herself from my arm and settled down beside me under the quilt. I murmured something that was meant to be "Good night, Blackbird" and sank back into sleep, exhaustion finally claiming me.

  Sleep was like a black well holding me inert and for a long while that was all I knew. It was only later that I began to dream.

  I was walking down a path, my bare feet brushing through grass stiff with frost. Dark evergreens enclosed my way. As I walked, the path opened out into a circular glade, the sky speckled with stars that didn't sparkle; cold, hard shards of light against the blue-black sky. The clearing was about twenty yards across and at first it was unoccupied. I moved to the centre and turned around, trying to find a familiar constellation and orientate myself. As I turned, I saw the figure at the edge.

  She was tall, her hair falling in long waves down over her shoulders and over the bust of her gown. It shadowed her face, leaving only the tip of her nose and the sensual curve of her mouth un-shadowed. She was grey, or maybe that was the starlight, because everything about her, even her face, caught the sallow pallor from the pale light.

  "You came," she told me.

  Her voice was soft and intimate with a satisfied smugness in its tone. I didn't answer; I wasn't even sure I could speak.

  "They told me I had dreamed you, so dream you I have," she smiled.

  I looked around for the path where I had entered the clearing but, in the way of dreams, it had gone. I turned back and she was a few steps closer.

  "What do you want?" I found my voice.

  "They told me I was getting old and that my wits aren't what they used to be, but you're here."

  "Where is here? Who are you?"

  "Do you not know me, little brother? Are we not of the same flesh, you and I?"

  "I don't have a sister." I looked around desperately for an exit, backing away from her. The word "brother" triggered a memory and I looked back at her to find her a step closer.

  "The question is, little brother, who are you? Where are you that you have become so lost?"

  "I'm not lost."

  "Are you not? Then where are you, little brother? Where do I find you?"

  "You're a dream," I accused her. "You can't hurt me."

  "Why should I hurt you? I just want you to come home." Her voice was quiet, close, gentle.

  "I don't want to come with you. I have a home."

  "And where's that, lost brother? Who have you been telling our secrets to?"

  I didn't answer, just twisted around, finding all behind me a tangle of snag-thorn brambles, eager to catch and tear. When I looked back she was two steps closer.

  "I don't have to tell you anything."

  "But you have been telling, haven't you, lost brother? Come, little lost one, tell your sister what you've been doing? Tell me where you are."

  "I'm not telling you anything. Leave me alone!" I was getting desperate. I could hear my own heartbeat thumping in my chest.

  "Do you not have a kiss for your long-lost sister? Am I not welcome in your arms?"

  She lifted her arms in welcome, holding them out to me imploringly. At first I thought it was a trick of the shadows, but her hands slowly started to dissolve, floating on an infinitesimal breeze towards me. Her forearms slowly expanded into specks of dust, spreading gently outwards to either side of me, forming a crescent with her at the centre.

  She appeared to grow and fade at the same time, becoming translucent, even in that dim light.

  I began to hyperventilate as my heart raced to find an escape. A cold welled up though the soles of my feet and leeched up my ankles, a cold that ached and pierced, stilling any feeling but bone-chilling numbness.

  "Come," she said, drifting slowly towards me. "Embrace me, brother."

  TWENTY

  "Rabbit! Wake up! Wake up, damn you!"

  Blackbird was shaking me by the shoulders, but it was like trying to climb out of the dark well of dream that had claimed me. I was so cold, my
teeth were chattering and my whole body was shaking with it. My breath was coming in short gasps. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were open, but everything was clouded in misty grey.

  "You think you've won," I heard her say through gritted teeth, "but I haven't even started."

  She threw back the duvet and tore the white sheet back from the bed. Sliding across my legs, she straddled me, hip to hip, skin to skin. She took a deep breath, lifting her right arm high, her fingers stretched wide. Warm light filled her palm, spreading down the veins in her arm like molten gold.

  Then she slammed the palm of her hand hard onto my chest.

  "He's mine!" she shouted to the ceiling.

  Heat poured into my chest like opening a furnace door. The tightness binding my ribs relaxed and I pulled a huge breath into my lungs. My body flooded with tidal warmth. I felt the cold shrink and recede until it nestled like a tiny shard of ice in the stone which still hung around my neck.

  Her hand slipped under the thong and grasped the stone, giving it a sharp tug, so it came away in her hand. She held it up, above and between us, an expression of regret in her eyes. Her eyes closed, her hand opened and dust fell from it, drifting down onto my bare skin.

  At that moment, dawn broke, bathing her in soft pink. Copper curls haloed around her head, catching the first light of day. Her breasts were pale, full and perfect, nipples dark and erect. The curve of her waist only emphasised the swell of her hips. As the light turned slowly golden, she slid her hands down onto my shoulders and leant over me. Her eyes had a corona of emerald around the black of her pupils, giving them a luminous quality. She had an unearthly beauty.

  She spoke one word greedily, possessively: "Mine."

  She kissed me hungrily and my body responded, wanting her, needing her. She kissed me harder, catching my bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, then moved back down my body, planting kisses in a line from my neck down to my nipples. Heat welled into me. Sensuous warmth radiated out from her kisses as she wriggled slowly backwards until my hardness pressed against her. She moved up and then down and I shivered as I slipped inside her.

  Biting her bottom lip, she pushed herself upright, back straight, eyes closed in concentration as she began a rhythmic oscillation. She lifted her arms, slowly from her sides, each motion bringing them a little higher until they were outstretched, palms upward. Her chin lifted and she looked balanced, poised.

  Behind her, great wings unfolded, delicate and pale, changing colour like oil on water as they unfurled until they were full and transparent, like dragonfly wings. She opened her eyes and the wings blurred into invisibility. The room whirled into motion, paper tumbling about as the draught caught it from the dresser and the sheet billowed out behind her, rippling in the vibrant air.

  She raised herself in one long slow movement, her tongue pink against the dark of her lips, her eyes glowing with green fire in their depths.

  "Mine!" she declared, and thrust downwards, pushing me over so I cried out, and my body arched in answer to hers.

  I slowly regained myself, breathing into her hair in the dark with her draped over me, nuzzling into my neck. The darkness had returned as if the dawn had reversed itself. I realised that the light I had thought was coming through the blinds had been inside the room. She had summoned the dawn to dispel my dream.

  She'd said she was a creature of fire and air and I had believed her, but I hadn't understood what that meant. It didn't tell the half of it. She was elemental, scary and incredibly beautiful. My arms were tight around her waist, my fingers interlocked behind her back and I hugged her to me, pressing her skin to mine.

  She mumbled something.

  "Huh?" I answered breathlessly.

  She turned her head slightly and nibbled my ear and then whispered softly: "Mine."

  "Am I still dreaming?" I asked her.

  There was a huffing sound against my throat, that I interpreted as more laughter.

  In answer she nibbled down my neck and then slowly, taking her time and with infinite care, she proved to me she was real.

  I woke bathed in true sunlight in a snapshot from Kareesh's vision. The sheet was strewn across the floor, striped by yellow bars of light and the quilt was mounded in a heap at the bottom of the bed. The angle of the sunlight told me it was late morning and I sat up in bed, stretching to ease muscles that I hadn't used in too long.

  I rose and went into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water. The shock of it woke me further, but still left me with a dream-like quality I couldn't shake. I looked up in the mirror, seeing a face that looked almost familiar. I had changed. In some indefinable way my glamour had altered, something was different.

  My eye caught sight of the reflection of my shoulder, showing a semi-circle of teeth marks. I traced it with my finger. "Mine," she'd said. She had marked me as her territory.

  I thought about that in the shower. I wasn't sure I was ready to be possessed in that way, but she had pre-empted that and claimed me for her own. If I didn't like it then why couldn't I stop smiling? That troubled me in a way I couldn't articulate all the way through dressing. I thought about it as I put the room into a semblance of order and then made my way down through the house.

  She was in the lounge bar where we had been the night before, wearing a white silk shirt, which she tied at her waist, along with a long full dark green skirt. She was sitting at the table holding a mug of coffee over a plate of sausage, bacon and egg.

  She put the coffee down carefully on the saucer. "Good morning, sleepy head."

  Just the warmth of her voice brought back echoes of last night, inducing a low tightness in me. I sat down opposite her, covering my reaction, disconcerted by the influence a few innocuous words could have on me. She grinned as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

  I noticed little changes in her too, or was it simply that I was seeing things differently? Her hair had a copper highlight I hadn't noticed before and her lips were stained as if she'd been eating raspberries. She looked up from her bacon and caught me staring.

  "Did you sleep well?" she enquired politely, as if we had somehow slept separately and she was unaware of my nocturnal state.

  "Like a baby," I admitted. I felt rested, restored.

  "Excellent." She put a piece of bacon into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  "You?" I enquired in the same polite tone.

  She swallowed. "Me? I was restless, up and down all night." Her eyes were wide with innocence.

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Don't be. I slept till late."

  "You're eating well," I commented on the full breakfast she was half-way though consuming.

  "Restlessness makes me hungry."

  The landlord appeared, whistling merrily and carrying a plate of toast for Blackbird. "Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?"

  "I'll have the same, please." I indicated Blackbird's plate.

  "No problem. It'll be five minutes." He walked back to the kitchen, whistling the tune "She Moved Through the Fair".

  "He's cheerful," I commented to Blackbird.

  "Overspill." She grinned over a sip of her coffee.

  "Overspill?"

  "Our room is above theirs. I think they woke up in middle of the night and neither of them felt like going back to sleep." She grinned mischievously.

  I coloured at what she implied. "You mean–"

  "It's like when we were walking around the backs of Covent Garden. Some of my magic spilled over onto you, concealing us both. It's the same here, only it's stronger when there are two."

  "Oh."

  "Don't be embarrassed. It's a nice thing."

  I remained slightly pink at the impact we had had on our hosts, watching her eat breakfast.

  "You look different," I commented. "Nice. Fresh."

  "Hmm. It's amazing what rampant sex does for a girl." She grinned impishly while I looked over my shoulder to see if we were overheard.

  "No, I just meant you look…"

&
nbsp; "Contented?" she suggested. "Satiated?" She speared a sausage with her fork and bit the end off, making me wince.

  "No, I meant that you looked happy."

  "I am happy. It's good for a girl to get what she wants, once in a while. You're mine, now."

  Her use of the possessive pronoun echoed her words from the night before, disturbing me slightly.

  "You don't own me, Blackbird." The words came out sharper than I intended and her brow creased into a frown. "Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound as harsh as it did, but you can't own people. They belong to themselves."

  She shrugged off the apology. "I should have explained it before, but there was never a good moment." She dipped a piece of bacon into the yolk of her egg and popped it into her mouth.

  "Explained what?"

  "You haven't lived long among the Feyre, so you don't know, but they're different."

  "In what way? I mean, I know they're different, but in what respect?"

  "Their customs and practices are different. These days when humans choose a mate they sort of come to a mutual agreement about it between themselves, after a lot of dating and negotiating and promises and things. It's so muddled. No wonder so many relationships fail." She talked about it like it was an academic exercise, something she'd heard about, observed even, but never participated in. "The Feyre, on the other hand, are much more straight-forward and uncomplicated. The males make themselves available and the females choose who they like. It's easy. I chose you, and you're mine." She was very matter of fact about it.

  "I'm only half-Fey," I pointed out, pouring myself the remaining half cup of coffee from the jug. "And so are you."

  "In this respect, that's the half that matters," she explained reasonably.

  "What if I don't want to be chosen?" I was getting upset, but she remained calm.

  "I told you, the males don't get any say in the matter. It's a female prerogative and that's the end of it."

  I folded my arms, feeling defensive.

  "You were OK about it last night," she commented.