I can't, I whispered back at him. I just can't.
If you fall, I will catch you. Trust in me now and I'll prove it to you. Gadrael's head was tilted to the side like he was listening for something. Like he was listening to the two of us. I turned and without thinking too much about what I was doing, I jumped.
The rush of fresh air was a welcome relief from the stench that had permeated that room. A stench that I hadn't even really noticed until I was falling, unglamoured from a second story window in front of a busy street. Not that I would be the first thing any passersby noticed. The corpses and the blood and the men with guns would be. I didn't know who had cleaned up that mess on Main and Fifth, but I hoped whoever they were, that they would be here soon.
All of these thoughts and more raced through my head as I fell, seemingly in slow motion and landed softly and without incident on the Esperanza's front lawn. When I looked up, I found the M.E.T. members embroiled in brutal combat with not only the hellhounds but also Elizabeth, Lynna and Mai. Corey was nowhere to be seen, but then, he wasn't a front line kind of guy.
Get up and run, Samael growled before the touch of his magic faded alarmingly away. I wanted to call out to him as I stood and raced for the series of alleys that ran between the home and the apartment complex behind it, but there was no time. A howl of hatred had just erupted from the room I'd defenestrated myself from and was now echoing through the neighborhood along with a crashing and tearing of wood and glass.
I reached into my back pocket, praying that the extra glamour I'd started storing there for emergencies wasn't broken. I breathed a sigh of relief as my fingers brushed warm glass and extracted it quickly, downing it in one gulp as I raced past a series of green garbage cans and exploded into the apartment's parking lot.
I didn't let myself stop until I was bursting through the gate of a chain link fence that separated the complex from the street. One quick glance behind me told me that at least for the moment, I wasn't being followed. The flow of people around me broke like rapids around a rock and when I raised my eyes to try and meet theirs, they all ignored me. Surely they had heard the gunfire at the funeral home? How could anyone miss the sound of screams and machine guns when they were less than a block away?
I turned in a slow circle trying to gauge the mood of the neighborhood. It was a fairly rough part of town but not so tough that someone wouldn't have at least called the police. I huffed out a sigh and decided that maybe it was another of the shields, glamours, whatever that had been placed around Main Street. Whoever was making them sure had a fucking talent for it. Nothing about that fight had ever made the news, and I decided that despite the intense massacre that had just occurred, this one wouldn't either.
But that doesn't mean Lou and Mom are okay. Lou and Mom might be dead. And you've got to get Corey out of there. He dies, you die.
I stifled a wave of worry that fought to drown me in its intensity and tried to figure out exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I couldn't just walk back over there, could I?
No.
It was short, sharp, and crisp, but Samael's message was clear.
Where are you? What do I do? I asked, feeling lost and completely, utterly alone. I tried to summon up some of that new courage I'd been feeling lately. That initiative that let me know that I could, at least in part, take some semblance of control over the situation. But that little bit of myself that I'd been discovering lately seemed to have been completely doused by Rachel's passing.
Wait for me, I'm coming. This time, the voice in my head wasn't Samael. It was Amadan. He'd never spoken to me like that before, and I wasn't sure I liked it. I wasn't sure I liked either of them doing it, but at least with Samael, it felt … normal. Or as normal as fae telepathy could ever be. I folded my arms across my chest and tried to sidle over towards the bus stop. I had to at least pretend I had a reason for standing there. At least pretend that everything was going to be okay.
Images of my mom and Lou ran through my head like a montage, complete with weepy piano music. I didn't let it bother me. They would be okay. They had to. I couldn't lose anyone else. I didn't know how I'd react if I did. Rachel had almost completely undone me.
A rough hand grasped my arm causing me to spin, ready to lash out, but it was just Amadan, glamoured this time to look like a golden haired GQ model in an Armani suit. I curled my nose at the image but allowed him to drag me away from the inquisitive eyes of the people around me.
“Where's Samael?” I asked, surprising myself with the question. I should be asking about my mom or sister or Corey. Amadan scowled, dragging me over to the Impala and depositing me at the passenger side door.
“He's busy,” was all he said, voice harsh and distracted. Something was wrong. Something worse than thirty people being gunned down at a funeral in broad daylight. I almost didn't want to know. “Get in. We're leaving.”
“I need to get my family out of there,” I protested, refusing to even open the door until he acknowledged that. Amadan whirled around to face me, blonde hair flying around his choleric face like a swarm of angry bees.
“You will get in this fucking car, Your Majesty, if you value your goddamn life!” he screamed with that hitch in his voice that told me I better not push. Somewhere between returning from Faerie and losing Rachel, I had seemingly forgotten my rules about not pushing the fae. Maybe I really did believe I was queen. I kept my arms crossed and face stubborn although inside, I was trembling just a bit. Maybe my spirit hadn't been completely put out, maybe it was just simmering there, waiting for fuel for my inner fire.
“No,” I responded quietly drawing several sets of inquisitive eyes to our argument. More and more people were starting to take notice of the man in the designer suit that shouldn't have really been in that part of town arguing with the wild eyed woman in the black dress. We were creating a dangerous situation for ourselves. Amadan stared at me, really stared at me, the whites of his eyes glimmering in the late afternoon sun. He looked absolutely mad, his pupils thinning to tiny slits as he tried to control himself. And then, as the crowd around us began to murmur and whisper, he reached out a hand and brushed the arm of the man nearest him.
The man with the shaggy beard and the tattered blue raincoat began to shake, his yellowed eyes rolled back into his head as the crowd at the bus stop split into two groups. One that tried to move away as he crashed to the ground and began to seize and another that thought they were being helpful, drawing cell phones like soldiers drawing swords while others attempted to still the man's flailing limbs.
I stared back at Amadan, mouth agape, more than just a little terrified. How had I forgotten that he had killed the orange fae with just a touch? He smiled at me, slow and easy and dangerous, as I rushed to obey, snatching the handle of my door with vigor and throwing myself onto the black upholstery of the passenger seat.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed as Amadan relaxed into his position behind the wheel. He started the car and pulled out without looking, providing us with a series of angry honks and me with a belief that he was as bad a driver as I was.
“Doesn't exist,” Amadan replied softly, hitting the accelerator and making a grossly illegal U-turn. “And don't look at me like that. I wasn't threatening you. I was just trying to distract the general public from our argument. They were being nosy.” He sounded crazy, completely crazy. I turned my face towards the window and watched with surprise as he drove us around the block and straight back to the street that crossed in front of the funeral home.
“What are you doing?” I whispered fearfully as we raced towards the scene of the crime. If I saw the bodies of my family, I would lose it. I really would.
“Don't worry, we're not stopping, just looking,” he replied as we passed by the white and black sign that advertised the home's services. I forced my eyelids to remain open. And saw nothing.
The lawn was perfect, no blood, no bodies, no broken window where I had thrown myself from, no men in black with wicked guns. Nothing.
“What the fuck?” I screeched as I watched my mother and sister approach my mother's champagne colored Cadillac, looking calm and relaxed as if nothing at all had happened. “What the fuck?” I repeated as we whizzed by and continued back towards the highway and the exit that would take us home.
“Relax,” Amadan commanded, eyes on the road but unfocused, attention still elsewhere. “Relax and I'll explain later.” I turned around in my seat, gazing out the back window in confusion. Where was that thing that had tried to get me? Where were the dead bodies that I had seen splattered against the columns of the porch?
“What the fuck?” I whispered, turning back around and slumping forward, feeling both drained but relieved. “Am I going insane?”
“It's a glamour,” Amadan replied, merging onto the highway and seamlessly imbedding us into the rush hour traffic. “Just a glamour.” It wasn't a very good answer to my question. In fact, it left me with even more questions. Scary ones.
“But my family – ” I gushed, suddenly afraid again.
Relax, Samael whispered, sounding both weak and very, very far away. They are safe.
A burst of warm magic filled my gut, whether his or mine I didn't know, but as I hunched forward, eyes wide at the sudden sensation, I felt rather than heard the answers I was looking for.
My family is safe; Corey is safe; I am safe; that thing is gone; the M.E.T. members are dead.
I told you my love, you can come to me for anything. I'll take care of everything.
“Thank you,” I whispered aloud as the magic crawled down my arms and into my fingers, down my legs and into my toes. Something had happened. Something big that I wasn't aware of yet. “Thank you,” I said again and I meant it.
I slumped back into my seat and tried to focus on Amadan, whose glamour was gone and whose blue lips were now moving, violet tongue dancing as he screamed words at me that I could no longer hear.
Thank you, I said again and then my mind was no longer my own and I passed out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHANGELING
“Dangerous by nature, changelings are fae born with an innate talent for glamour. Legends tell of human children spirited away by the fae and replaced with changelings. Unfortunately, the majority of these stories are true. A changeling's true form is a source of debate among Faerie Doctors and those that reside at the Three Houses. Some say that they are brown skinned and squat with large mouths and eyes of solid black. Others say they are fair haired and tall, slender and waspish, with the eyes of an elf. Perhaps they are both or neither, this author has yet to have encountered one of these creatures. Or so he thinks.”
A wet tongue lapped at the rapidly drying tears on my face as my eyelids fluttered open, and I struggled with sleep leaden arms to stop the puppy from continuing its wet and smelly exploration of my facial features. I tried to remember why I was crying. Was it a dream, a memory, or something else entirely?
I sighed and rubbed my hands down my face before taking a second look at the gray furred pup in my lap. There was no denying that this was the same puppy I had seen a few days ago, but instead of a sleepy newborn, it was now a hyperexcitable toddler. Either I knew nothing about the growth rates of dogs or this little guy was aging at an accelerated pace. I frowned down at the wriggling mass of fur and tongue as I struggled to remember what was going on.
I was in the bed I usually shared with Corey, tucked under mounds of extra blankets and propped up by an excess of pillows. The last thing I recalled was talking to Samael in the car with Amadan and then nothing. I blinked sleepily as I checked both nightstands for my cellphone. When I didn't find it, I grabbed the pup under one arm and stood up, glancing quickly at the clock before I slipped my feet into a pair of red and white checkered men's slippers and shuffled towards the door. The fact that it was four thirty in the afternoon didn't help me. I had no idea if I'd been asleep one day or a week.
My muscles and joints protested in aching voices for me to go and lay down again as I pushed open the bedroom door and slipped quietly into the hall. The sound of arguing voices drifted up to me from the kitchen below as I set the struggling puppy down and examined my attire before exposing myself to whoever was down there. I was glamoured and dressed only in a baggy gray shirt and flannel pajama pants. Corey's. All of it was Corey's. It even smelled like him, like his magic. Strong tea and spices. It wasn't the first time I had worn his pajamas, but as I stood there, slightly disturbed by a smell that I had always liked, I had an inkling that it was probably going to be one of the last.
I was tired of waffling back and forth on the issue of my relationship with my necromancer. I knew what my heart really wanted although I was scared to go through with it. It was time to break up with him. It wasn't fair to either of us for me to keep pretending that I loved him. Even for his help. I wasn't a whore. I didn't need to prostitute myself out for his magic. Either he was my friend and he cared about me and would want to help or Samael would find a way to take care of me. I knew he would.
I smiled, pleased at myself for coming to such a difficult decision and glanced back down at the pup who was running in circles around my ankles and yipping. The voices downstairs had stopped, and I now heard the clomping footsteps of someone racing up the stairs towards me. I took a step back and waited, suddenly nervous, to see who it was.
It was Samael.
His short, dark hair was clean and spiked up, face still glinting with metal studs in his lips, eyebrows, and ears although the chains were gone. He was wearing a bizarre assortment of plate metal pieces on his shins, forearms, and chest over a set of shimmering, black material that reminded me of a knitted sweater but one that had been made with some sort of metal instead of yarn. His legs were encased in more of the same metallic fabric with smaller threads, and his feet were covered in a thick pair of steel toed boots, the tips reflecting back my pale expression and tired eyes.
Except they weren't mine.
My eyes were as blue as the Caribbean ocean, bright and alert, pretty and round. These eyes were sloe-eyed, slanted and dark, navy like the Pacific on a stormy day. My hair was wrong, too. Instead of auburn waves, it was a dark mess of violet, almost black, framing skin that was so pale it nearly glowed.
I screamed, startling both Samael and the puppy as I stumbled back into the wall, knocking one of Corey's macabre paintings down. It crashed into the hardwood with a resounding boom before falling forward and slamming into the floor with a thump. I stood there, panting, my heart pulsating like a mad thing while I tried to get a grip on my emotions.
“Don't be afraid, sweetness,” Samael said, approaching me slowly, like a dog catcher trying to trap a cornered pit bull. His movements were careful and planned as he inched towards me, step by painful step before resting an arm on my shoulder. “It's just a side effect of the magic.”
“What magic?” I puffed, trying to catch my breath though it was a pointless question. I knew what magic. The warmth that had surged through my belly in the car. The same magic that had twisted in my gut at the sight of the scales. My magic. His magic. It was one in the same and it was waking up, angry and ready to strike. I could feel it now, coiled in the pit of my stomach like a viper.
Samael didn't respond. He stood quietly, lavender eyes locked on mine while I focused on a marble bust of Lynna that was staring blankly at me from across the hall. Corey and Amadan swam into view at the edges of my vision, exchanging glares as they rounded the corner from the landing and paused several feet away from the two of us.
“Am I … ” I paused wondering if the impossible had just become possible. “Am I whole again?” I asked quietly. Disappointment rained ugly shards of reality down upon me as Samael shook his head.
“No, sweetness,” he responded, voice just as quiet and hesitant as my own. “Not yet. Your glamour has just been … ” He paused, searching for the right words, lowering the net over me before I had a chance to bite. “Altered temporarily.”
“Altered?” I a
sked, trying to get a good look at Corey, but he wouldn't look at me. He was keeping his green eyes on the span of burgundy runner between us.
“You understand that this type of glamour focuses on what you think you look like. How you remember yourself, right?” Samael whispered, leaning in towards me so slowly that I had yet to notice the gap between us closing.
“Yeah?” I asked, still unsure of what he was trying to get at. Images prickled at the corners of my mind. They were hazy and full of static, but they were there, itching, waiting for me to grasp the situation. A situation that had been unfolding for some time while I'd been asleep.
“When we administered the glamour to you, Georgette,” Samael said, my name falling from the tip of his tongue like a piece of charcoal, hot and smoldering, ready to burn me at any moment if I let it touch me. “This is what you thought you looked like.”
My chin jerked up, my eyes focusing on his as I realized that his face was now less than three inches from mine. The blurry images danced forward, teased my brain, and begged me to turn towards them. Just for a moment, they said. Just look at us for a moment.
A moment was all it took.
“Is this for me?” I asked, taking the deadly black blossom in pale hands, their color enhanced by the rosy glow of the moon. Samael's ripe lips turned up as he leaned forward, pressing the warm heat gathered in the metal ter i souldhi against my mouth.
I dropped the nightblossom on the black pebbled path and let my other hand fall to the chain connecting Samael's belly ring to his cock. I yanked the metal links hard, wrapping them around my fingers as I exerted control and pressure over his desire for me.
“I will love you until my soul turns to dust and for an eternity beyond that.” The ancient words spilled forth like caresses from his tender mouth as we followed each other to the rough ground and made physical our love for one another.
Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1) Page 20
