Faebound Rhapsody

by Amy J. Wenglar

  “It’s not…that kind of proposition,” he blurts, his ears turning pink with embarrassment. “It’s…something else. Though, now that I think about it…” A slow, mischievous smile spreads across his face.

  “Don’t think about it then,” I snap. “I’m spoken for.”

  Not that Atticus Drake would respect such a thing if he wanted me in that way, but I have to put it out there.

  “You have me pegged all wrong, Sophia,” he says, his smile fading.

  “Well, you have quite the reputation,” I say, shrugging. “You’re Atticus Drake. You’ve done some pretty horrendous things.”

  "Oh, yes.” He chuckles. “The stories you must've heard about me,” he sighs before taking a sip of wine. "All true, I assure you. I'm not exactly a saint, you know.”

  “Far from it,” I mutter. “So, what is it you want from me?” We could go round and round all day, but I’m ready to understand why I’m here.

  “I need your help.” He sets his glass aside and joins me on the couch. “And I’m afraid we don't have a lot of time.”

  My help? Plot twist!

  “Story of My Life,” I grumble. “What’s this about?”

  Atticus frowns, turning so he’s facing me. "We share a common enemy, you and I,” he says, his dark eyes flicking up to meet mine. “You've met Summer, have you not?"

  My heart drops into my stomach. That wasn't the name I was expecting to hear, though it shouldn’t surprise me. Summer isn’t the most likable creature in the world. If I had to guess, she has many enemies.

  "Yes, I've had the pleasure." I make a face.

  “Then, you know that she and the Fae Prince—“

  “Yes, I'm very well aware of who she is to the Fae Prince,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  You’re rubbing salt in the wound, Drake.

  "But I fear you may not have the whole story."

  Atticus reaches for his glass, taking another sip of wine and draining his glass. He gets up, walks back over to the bar and pours another glass. I've hardly touched mine.

  “Oh, I have plenty of stories,” I say with a bitter laugh. “What’s one or two more to add to the mix?”

  He brings the rest of the bottle back to the couch. "As you probably know, I was married to a woman named Helena. She was the love of my life. I treasured her…loved her more than anything. I would've died for her.” He pauses, a faraway look flitting across his face. “When I found out she and Auberon were having an affair, I went mad. It was…not one of my prouder moments." He stares down at his glass, tracing the rim with a long, elegant finger.

  “She brought out your crazy then?” I ask.

  “Yes, I suppose that is accurate.” He arcs a brow. “In my angered, half-mad state, I called upon Summer to help me…I-I…wanted to get back at Auberon. I wanted him to pay for this infidelity in the worst way possible…” He presses his lips together. “Summer was lightbound to the Fae Prince. She shared his magic, and together they had immense amounts of power. So, you could bet that she wasn't too happy to learn that her husband had been unfaithful to her either. She was out for revenge, just as I was.” He looks up at me and I nod. This is some juicy but useful information, and I want him to continue. “But, what I didn't realize was that Summer was after far more than revenge. She wanted Auberon's throne…the Seelie throne. This infidelity gave her an excuse…a reason to turn on her husband so she could steal his magic and overthrow him.” Atticus shakes his head. “She was hungry for a kind of power I couldn’t fathom. I was still a young druid, only just coming into my power while she was a centuries-old Unseelie princess.”

  He takes another sip of wine. “I may not have understood her lust for power, but I understood the emotional side of it. We were both angry…scorned by our respective partners. We wanted Auberon and Helena to pay for their indiscretion.” He pauses, lifting his gaze to mine again. “I never wanted…I never wanted Helena to die for it. I wanted to punish her, of course, but…”

  He pauses, his face twisting into a vulnerable and very pained expression. “When I found Helena’s body, it looked like a suicide. But I knew it wasn’t. I realized at once that Summer killed her. The dark magic in the room where I found her was stifling…suffocating.” He pulls his eyes from mine and stares down at the floor. “Helena’s death was Summer’s doing. But it was too late. My alliance with the Unseelie Princess had infused my soul with a kind of misery…a kind of darkness I couldn't explain or understand. It's the same darkness that fills her own soul—darkness that no mortal should ever have to endure. I coped with it the only way I could: I did the most vile and unspeakable things I could imagine.”

  He shakes his head, continuing to stare down at the floor. And I’m pretty sure he’s crying. Atticus Drake is telling me his deepest, darkest secrets and showing real remorse over them.

  “I couldn't help myself,” he continues, his voice trembling. “I was dead inside. The darkness had completely overtaken me…I could not stop myself once it consumed me. I used it to curse the Fae Prince Auberon. I sent him to exile, where he would live and suffer in the human condition for the rest of his life. Then, I let him believe he was responsible for Helena’s suicide. I wanted him to suffer just as I was.”

  Atticus pauses and pours himself another glass of wine, which he stares at for a moment before he looks over at me.

  “My alliance with Summer was solid at first,” he continues. “I did everything she wanted me to do. I did her bidding. I was even her lover for a time. But, everything changed when the Seelie Fae caught up with me, and they threw me into a Fae prison. They starved me… tortured me, day after day.” He laughs. “The Seelie are not all fun, games, and kindness, Sophia. They can be the cruelest of creatures when they need to me.”

  He laughs again, his face full of bitterness and regret. “Summer let me take the fall for what happened to Auberon. She abandoned me. Left me to rot in that prison for centuries while her curse of darkness ate away at me.” He fixes me with a firm look. “So, when I escaped, Sophia…it wasn’t to go after your…Alexander.” He makes a face. “I knew you would come for him…restore him. I knew you were the one who could not only help him but help us all.” He offers me a weak smile. “The Fae Prince wasn’t the only one sitting around, waiting for a young, naïve college student to rescue him.” He chuckles. “And when you finally found him, that was when I made my escape into this realm. I knew that once you found him, it would only be a matter of time before you found me, too.”

  I stare at Atticus, unable to believe the long, drawn-out saga he’s just presented me with.

  “What…I don’t…understand. What can I do to help? And why should I care what happens to you, Atticus Drake? You’re an evil son-of-a-bitch. You have wreaked havoc on our world for too long. And, what? Now you’re sorry? You’re a good guy now? Is that how it works? You’re handsome and charming and know how to pick a good bottle of wine, so I should—”

  “Because what happens to my father affects me, too, Sophe,” says a weak voice behind me. “That’s why you should care.”

  I turn, shocked to find Colin MacLeod standing in the entryway.

  “Oh my God,” I whimper, vaulting over the back of the couch and straight into Colin’s open arms. Tears burn my eyes when I pull back to look at him. He looks nothing like he did the last time I saw him. He looks thin and frail. His face is gaunt and full of lines and wrinkles as if he’s aged 50 years. “Colin…what in the world…what happened to you?” I cradle his face in my hands. His green eyes, which used to be vibrant and full of life, are now lackluster and dim.

  “I am dying, Sophe. And I need your help. We need your help.”

  16

  No way. There's no way. Colin is one of my best buddies, not to mention one of the most powerful Druids I know. Okay, so he's one of the only Druids I know…but that doesn't matter. He's one of my best friends. He’s too young to die, but as I gaze into his lifeless green eyes, I see that it’s true. This is not the same guy who saw
me off to Nevermoor a few weeks ago.

  “I’ll just leave you two alone,” Atticus says, slipping past us as he exits the room.

  Colin stumbles forward, his legs so weak they can hardly hold him up. I clasp his bony hand in mine and lead him toward the couch. He walks with a disjointed gait, as if every step causes him immense pain.

  “Sorry, Sophe. I’m having a bit of a flare-up,” he says, puffing with exertion as he plops down on the couch. “It’s not always this bad.”

  “It’s…okay,” I say, still unable to believe that this is really Colin. I watch, my heart breaking as he situates himself on the couch, wincing with pain. “Hey, do you think your dear old dad would care if I helped myself to some more of his wine? He has another unopened bottle over there.” I offer him a tight smile as I try to keep things casual between us. “And I could certainly use some right about now. I think you could, too.”

  "Sure, Sophe,” he says with a weak grin. "You are the guest of honor around here, after all. Help yourself.”

  I busy myself with the wine and take a moment to ponder my situation. This is possibly the biggest predicament I’ve ever faced. Do I help my best friend, which will also help Atticus Drake? Or do I leave Colin to die, consumed with the same hungry darkness that has plagued his father for centuries?

  With trembling hands, I fill two wine glasses to the brink of overflowing. I sit down beside Colin and take a few big sips, hoping to calm my frazzled nerves. Colin chokes down one sip before he sets his glass aside.

  “So, we have a lot to talk about,” I mutter. I have no idea what to say to him. He seems so frail and delicate. The last thing I want to do is anger or upset him. “First off, this darkness that affects you…I’m confused. Does it affect you because you are in some kind of secret cahoots with your father? Are you guys plotting to take over the world?”

  Way to walk on eggshells, Sophia.

  Colin frowns. "Were you not listening to anything my father told you, Sophe?” he asks, his voice tinged with irritation. “My father’s alliance with Summer was anything but an alliance. It was so one sided, it wasn’t an alliance at all. He was a slave to her. He’s still enslaved to her to this day. Even here in this realm, she still, somehow, exerts some control over him. And this darkness curse she’s placed upon him to keep him chained to her? It’s insatiable…consuming him. It will never get its fill. And, as you can see, it’s moved onto the next in line.”

  Colin snorts with disgust as he holds out his skinny arms. The lean muscle that had once graced his biceps, long gone, replaced with crepey skin that sags from weary bones.

  "I don't understand. What makes this darkness insatiable? What…does it feed on?”

  I’m not sure that I want to know what it feeds on, but I know that Atticus Drake doesn’t run this fancy resort without having some kind of ulterior motive. He may have turned over a kinder, more generous new leaf in his old age, and he may want to renounce his evil ways. But there is still something sinister going on here. There’s no doubt about it.

  The darkness feeds on people, Sophe,” Colin admits. “I-I…didn't realize it at first. I didn't know it was even affecting me. But the signs were there, even back in Berlin. I just refused to see them for what they were.”

  In Berlin, Colin always seemed like he was under the influence of something strange. I remember the exhaustion settling into the lines of his face and how his eyes would glaze over, leaving him spaced out and distant. It was like he wasn’t there at all.

  “So, your own father sold you out to the darkness?” I ask, horrified. “Offered you up as its next meal? I mean, my father once sold me out, too, so I get it, but—“

  “My father has kept this darkness bottled up inside of him. He’s allowed it to consume him from the inside out because he was trying to protect me from it, Sophe,” Colin says, his eyes flashing. “If he had let it overtake him, it would’ve only moved on to me. That's how it works. It’s a hereditary curse that never dies. It just moves on to the next in line.”

  “Well, it’s already found you,” I point out, as if it isn’t already obvious enough.

  "Because it’s becoming too big to contain,” Colin says. “My father…he employs vampires…to compel and bring people to him so he can—“

  “What?” I ask, a sour feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.

  “He feeds on their souls,” Colin says as he lowers his gaze from mine. "It's the only way he can satisfy the darkness.” He pauses, noting my disgusted expression. “But do you see these accommodations, Sophe?” He gestures toward the window. “My father works very hard to keep them all comfortable here.”

  “By having them live in a constant state of vampire compulsion?” I murmur, remembering the way Jessica Naughton walked around in a daze.

  “Because he wants this whole thing to be as painless as possible for them. He doesn’t want to kill them,” argues Colin. “My father is an old man who’s ready to die, Sophe. Sure, he may seem young. He may appear as if he’s full of pep and vitality, but it’s a facade. Underneath it all? Underneath the glamour he shows to the world? He is suffering. He wants nothing more than to destroy the darkness curse so it can’t harm anyone ever again.” Colin’s green eyes are adamant. “He is ready to die. He wants to be with Helena again.”

  “Be with Helena?” I snort. “You sure he’s going to the same place?”

  “It’s what he believes will happen,” Colin whispers through clenched teeth. “And that’s what he needs to hold on to right now.” He reaches for his glass, taking another tiny sip of wine. “My father is trying to do the right thing now. He’s doing the best he can.”

  I don’t know what to think or what to believe. Colin wouldn’t lie to me. Not about something like this. But how did Atticus Drake go from being the bad guy to being…the somewhat-good guy? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. The world’s most evil druid isn’t supposed to have a heart or a conscience. He’s supposed to laugh maniacally and twirl his mustache while concocting sinister schemes.

  Jo said that I should hear people out once in a while. Perhaps this is one time I should take that advice.

  “This is so screwed up,” I whisper, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

  “It is. But I promise it isn’t as gruesome as it seems.”

  "Oh sure,” I say with a bitter laugh. "He’s feeding on human souls. Perfectly natural. Not at all creepy. Not at all gruesome.”

  “What I mean is, they don't feel anything. The people who are here are happy. They are not hurting. They are not suffering. Over time, they grow weaker. It doesn't just happen overnight—“

  “So, what? That's supposed to make it okay?” I exclaim.

  "Well, Sophe, he either keeps this darkness curse satisfied until we can destroy it, or he lets it consume him so it moves on to me,” Colin snaps. “So I can pick up where he left off." He makes a face. "I don't know about you, but the idea of picking up where my father left off doesn’t really appeal to me.” He shakes his head. “My father is doing the best he can. He's trying to keep me alive. He's trying to keep the darkness curse away from me.” He pauses. “So, you can either sit there all high and mighty, judging us. Or you can help us destroy it.” He shrugs. “As a Summoner, you’re the only one who can.”

  “No pressure,” I say, breathing out a slow breath as I pour another glass of wine. “Just the weight of the world on my shoulders…as usual.”

  I sip my wine in silence while I deal with all of this. How could I refuse to help him? Is it because I don’t trust myself? Because I’m not sure I can handle this sort of responsibility? Alone? Without the witches, Chris, or Alexander to help me?

  As usual, I don't have a lot of time to figure it out. This darkness curse is killing Atticus and latching itself onto Colin. If I want to restore the balance in the world…if I want to destroy Summer and break this curse, then I must offer my help. Even if it means helping my so-called enemy.

  “Well?” asks Colin. “What’s
it going to be, Sophe? Not to rush you, but…” He makes a sweeping gesture toward himself. “I’m obviously not getting any younger here.”

  I take my last sip of wine and set the glass aside, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I start to give him my answer when the door flies open. Atticus charges in with his mage following behind, hot on his heels. His arrival seems to suck the air from the room as his dark magic sends pain pulsing between my temples.

  Maybe he and Colin are going to kill me now.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, his brows pulling together. “But, I’ve just received word that the Fae King and Queen have been assassinated. The Fae realm has fallen.”

  I leap to my feet, nearly upending the coffee table along with my empty glass of wine as I whirl around to face Atticus.

  "The King and Queen are…what?” I shriek.

  My head spins, and my legs buckle beneath me. Leaping to my feet with such reckless abandon wasn’t the best move. The wine goes straight to my head. To my surprise, Atticus rushes to me, taking my elbow and steadying me before I can collapse back down to the couch.

  “It's true,” Atticus says with a slight bow of his head.

  "What…what does that mean then?" I ask, my voice thin and reedy. “What will that—“

  I halt. Bells chime off in the distance, except I don’t remember seeing any bells on this island. Atticus and Colin stare at me, their eyes wide with curiosity.

  “What’s with the bells?” I whisper. Colin’s mouth falls open, and he steps away from the couch to join his father. They stand there gawking at me, their faces drawn and worried, as if I’m about to explode into a million pieces. A swirling sensation just beneath the surface of my skin sends waves of magic rolling through me. It’s as if my insides are shifting…making space for something.

  "It means that the Fae must crown a new queen,” Atticus whispers. And then, to my surprise, he and Colin sweep into low, well-rehearsed bows at my feet.