by Plum Pascal
“Don’t do that,” he warns with a glare.
Well, excuse the fuck outta me for gettin’ tired an’ lookin’ for the nearest bench! I don’t say nothin’, though. I just start up flyin’ again, feelin’ real sorry for myself.
Part o’ me feels like callin’ him out on bein’ a prick but then I’m thinkin’ he might flick me harder if I does. Plus, he sort o’ doin’ me a favor, I guess. Well, more like he doin’ the angel a favor. But I know this ain’t for her, neither. Dragan ain’t exactly the charity type. Soze it’s really more like he doin’ hisself a favor, ‘cause he must realize this angel could be the answer to overtakin’ Variant.
Not that I think Dragan’s all bad. One thing I hears over an’ over agin ‘bout the King o’ Shadow is that he be honorable. An’ before Variant took control o’ the three realms, it was common knowledge Dragan was the most powerful o’ the four o’ em. I just hope he’s still got some o’ that power left—an’ I really hope he got some o’ that honor left, too.
We walk through stone hallway after stone hallway ‘tils we reach a wide-open room o’, you guessed it, more stone. In the center o’ the stone floor’s a whole bunch o’ branches all piled up, like the God o’ Kindling just airdropped Dragan a gift.
Soon as Dragan walk into the room, the branches suddenly start consumin’ theyselves in fire. The flames engulfin’ the branches ain’t really burnin’ the wood, though. It’s like they’re ghost flames, ‘cause while they lappin’ at the wood, they ain’t burnin’ it. An’ the flames are blue which is kinda weird, too.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The Pyre of Shadows,” he answer like I should know what the hell that mean.
No sooner do he say the words than I watch his guards start shufflin’ toward the pyre in single file. They’re walkin’ at a good clip, like they ready to jump over it or somethin’. ‘Course, the pyre’s pretty high. Like, it would reach their waists easy, soze I dunno what they’re thinkin’ but they definitely ain’t gonna make it if they try ta jump. They’ll have some deep-cooked balls though, that be for sure.
They keep walkin’ closer to the pyre like they ain’t too worried ‘bout their gonads. As soon’s the first one touch the flames, he disappear! Like “poof,” he gone!
“Where’d he go?” I ask as I turn to face Dragan, who don’t look too concerned.
“The flames transported him to Anona’s. Once all of them go through, we’ll follow.”
“An’ the pyre ain’t gonna burn me?”
“Did it burn the others?”
“I dunno. I can’t see ‘em, ‘cause they be on the other side.”
“You won’t be harmed,” he answer with little interest.
Dick.
FOUR
Flumph
Shadow Realm
Soze we go through the Pyre of Shadows, even though I ain’t rightly sure why it be called that. It ain’t like it be burnin’ with shadows. It should be called the Pyre of Blue Fire or maybe the Pyre that Ain’t Gonna Burn Ya Balls. Regardless, after I crosses over, I’m happy ta see I still be the same Flumph I was from the other side.
“Well, I’ll be a witch’s titty,” I say when I recognize the backside o’ Anona’s tavern. I turn to my right to see Dragan standin’ there. “That Pyre jist takes you wherever?”
“You preconceive your destination before you set foot into the fire and then, yes, it takes you wherever you want to go.” He clear his throat. “Only if you possess Arcane Magic, that is.”
“I thought the whole idea o’ Variant banishin’ you to the Gorge was to keep you banished?”
Instantly, Dragan’s jaw tighten ‘til it look like he gonna crack his demon molars. “I’m a master of magic,” he grind out.
“So?”
“So, the Pyre of Shadows was my answer to finding a way out of my banishment,” he say, all pompous-like. “Variant can banish me all he wants but there’s nothing he can do to keep me from honing my craft.”
“’cept turn you to stone after an hour?”
I almost laugh but I keeps it in. Dragan look surprised that I said what I did an’ honestly, I’m kinda surprised, too, but it were funny. He don’t respond.
I don’t say nothin’ more, neither, but instead jist watch as Dragan’s centurions disappear ‘round the tavern. As in, they literal disappear from sight. Like I can’t see them no more.
“How the fuck they do that?”
“Arcane Magic,” Dragan answer, but his focus is on the tavern. His eyes be narrowed like he tryin’ to decide which be the best way in.
“You keep sayin’ that. What you mean, Arcane Magic?”
“I mean Nethermancy.”
“Who Nancy?”
Dragan sigh. “Shadow Magic blended with arcane energy results in Arcane Magic.”
“Soze what that got ta do with your soldiers jist disappearin’?”
“The centurions are still standing within eyesight but, through a trick of your senses, you can’t see them. It’s called The Untraceable Step, pure gargoyle magic, sprite.”
“Well, I’ll,” I start.
“Remain quiet until I say otherwise,” he interrupt an’ then close his stone-gray eyes. “I must concentrate in order to locate our captive.”
“Our captive?”
“The angel,” he grumble as he open his eyes an’ looks real annoyed like. Actually, he always look that way.
“I can tell you where she is…”
“You could tell me where she was before you came to see me. Since then, Anona could have moved her and I don’t want to waste more time. This must be a speedy enterprise, because my magic isn’t as potent in this realm.”
“An’ you only got youze an hour.”
“That, too.”
King Shadow Dick close his eyes agin an’ hold his hands out in front o’ him like he suddenly an old, blind beggar. No sooner do he do that than his huge wings come flyin’ outta his back an’ nearly give me a fuckin’ heart attack. The things are black, rubbery, an’ ribbed like bat wings. No wonder I thought he be a demon. With those things archin’ outta him, he damn sure as hell look like one.
“I detect her,” he announce in a deep voice. Then he open his eyes again. “Sprite, you’ve done me a service but, from here, we part ways.”
I clears my throat. This be the part I need to talk to him ‘bout—but was hopin’ for a better time, a little later. “Yeah, about that,” I start. “I had me a gig with Anona which meant I worked for her an’ she gave me housin’, but once she figure I sold her out, it ain’t like I can jist go back there with my tail ‘tween my legs. Especially ‘cause I ain’t gotta tail, anyways…”
“Bloody hell,” Dragan grumble as he shake his head an’ face me real cross-like. “We’ll discuss it later.”
Then he disappear, jist like his team o’ gargoyle soldiers who be still surroundin’ Anona’s tavern only you can’t see ‘em.
I ain’t ‘xactly sure what ta do with myself an’ I really don’t like missin’ out on the action. That’s when I remembers the broken window on the side o’ the tavern that lead into the storage room where Anona keep all the rations. Just so happens, I’m small ’nough ta fit inside. No use in me waitin’ out in the cold when I could be packin’ me things, ‘cause after Dragan bust that angel outta here, it ain’t like I can come back. Nosiree—I’ll be on the run.
I fly to the rear o’ the tavern, squeeze through the broken window, then fly up the wooden staircase to the door. I listen ‘gainst the wood, tryin’ to hear if there be voices anywheres nearby. But all’s I can hear is the sound o’ loud music an’ bad singin’ an’ even louder laughter an’ voices. Sound like a full house. Word ‘bout the angel musta already got out.
I reach my lil fingers in the keyhole an’ play with the latch ‘til I hears it click. Then, I rotates the knob ‘til it open an’ I push the door forward. Pokin’ my head out, I see every table is full o’ Anona’s customers an’ they be all drinkin’. Some o’ ‘em ar
e dancin’, too. An’ no one’s payin’ any attention to the door that lead to the storage room.
Quickly, I pop out an’ float down to the ground, realizin’ I’ll be less noticeable if I’m beneath most o’ these creatures’ lines o’ sight. I push the door closed an’ then start for the staircase. I can hear the sound o’ heavy footfalls on the stairs as soon’s I reach ‘em, but since I can’t see no one, I figure it must be Dragan bein’ all invisible an’ shit.
“That you, Shadow Master?” I whisper.
All’s I hear back is a shushin’ sound, soze I figure it must be ‘cause no one else be that rude.
I follows the sound o’ his footsteps an’ I’m pretty surprised when he turn to the left at the top o’ the stairs ‘stead o’ the right. Guess Anona did move the angel!
“Do you see Anona?” he whisper, which is kinda weird ‘cause he ain’t got a head or body soze it’s kinda like a ghost is talkin’ to me. If there be one thing I don’t like, it be ghosts. Soze I gets scared for a second ‘tils I remind myself it ain’t no ghost, but it’s really jist the Shadow Demon King.
I float over to the railin’ an’ look down at the same times I hear Anona’s raucous laughter that pinpoint her to the middle o’ the room. I floats back to Dragan an’ nod. “She downstairs.”
I don’t get no response, but I notice the doorknob start turnin’ all on its own which make me think ‘bout ghosts agin an’ my little wings start beatin’ faster. I watch the door push itself open alls the way an’ then I’m facin’ the inside o’ the room where the angel’s passed the fuck out on the bed an’ she’s totally nekked. Some asshole’s tryin’ to get his todger into her mouth an’ his white ass is facin’ us.
Dragan shuts the door behind us an’ suddenly pops back into sight whiles his wings shoot out his back an’ one of ‘em smacks me right in the goddamn face! I go flyin’ back like five feet an’ check my nose ta make sure it ain’t broke. It ain’t, but it hurt like a bitch.
What a twat face.
I’m ‘bout ta get real angry-like when Dragan grip the guy whose white ass is still hangin’ out his pants. Dragan’s got a handful o’ the guy’s dirty gray hair an’ yanks him back so hard, the guy can’t even make a sound. Then, Dragan flip him ‘round an’ glare down at him.
The guy’s an elf—I can tell by his pointy ears.
The elf’s eyes be so wide, they mostly white, an’ I’m wonderin’ if he gonna shit hisself right there.
Dragan pull the guy closer ‘til it almost look like he gonna kiss him. Which I hope to hells he don’t, ‘cause I ain’t prepared to see none o’ that.
But Dragan don’t kiss him, an’ instead jist stares at him an’ the elf jist stares back. It’s kind o’ an awkward, weird moment soze I jist focus on rubbin’ my sore nose whiles I wonder what gonna happen next.
“You believe you got what you came here for,” Dragan say in a monotone, his eyes drillin’ into the elf’s. “You’ll dress in the hallway and, once the time you paid for is up, you’ll return to Anona and tell her it was the greatest experience you’ve ever had,” he continue, clearly usin’ his demon powers o’ suggestion.
The guy jist nod an’ once Dragan release him, he collect his things an’ make his way out the door. That be when Dragan’s attention turn to the nekked angel on the bed. To his credit, his eyes don’t leave her face. But when he look at her, his expression go right blank. It be like there be a mix o’ awe an’ wonderment, an’ he kind o’ look like he jist got struck by lightnin’ or some shit.
“Didn’t I tell you she was beautiful?” I ask, figurin’ his reaction’s the way every man must feel when they see her. Well, ‘cept for me.
“No, you didn’t,” he bark back an’ his bizarre expression drop clear off his face, replaced with his general grumpy look. He wrap the angel up in the bed linens an’ throw her, sack style, over his shoulder. Then, he an’ the girl go invisible due ta his Nancy Magic an’ he start for the doorway.
The angel don’t make a sound.
###
Dragan
The girl is fucking beautiful.
I’ve long known that angels are the most stunning of creatures, but I find myself ill-prepared for the sight of her.
Her hair cascades around her in pure whiteness, the color mimicked in the tone of her skin. I’ve never seen another creature with hair this shade. It’s alluring—almost as alluring as her pink cheeks and the way her rosebud mouth purses into a near heart.
I steal a glance at her naked body: her breasts are heavy, her hips wide, and her legs long and slender. It’s the body of a woman built for a man, built for fucking. It’s perfection.
Immediately, the shadows within me urge me to take her, to slake myself within the folds of her feminine flesh. I close my eyes, forcing the dark urges back. My hands fist at my sides as my cock strains, eager to feel her wetness. I’m surprised by the power of my reaction to her. Granted, I haven’t had a woman in longer than I can remember, but this need is shocking, all the same.
It’s a struggle to keep my darkness confined. The shadows within me grow stronger and I worry that soon, they’ll completely overtake me, turning me into a creature as cold as the stone I can become. I’ve mastered the shadows thus far, forcing the power back, subverting it. But it rebels and now, as I look at this sleeping beauty, it’s all I can do to keep myself from thrusting repeatedly inside of her.
I can feel the shadow power within me accentuating the greed, the desire. It’s building, fueling my need with every second that lapses. I wonder if the day is fast approaching when the shadows will master me, when I become a mere fucking puppet to them.
I’ve noticed myself becoming victim more and more often to bouts of uncontrollable rage and as the faceless years have progressed. I’ve felt my goodness rescinding, my sense of compassion and gentleness the first to be stripped away. Now that coldness is the primary emotion I register within myself, I know that true evil isn’t far away.
I’m a taciturn shell of the man I once was, before I ever answered the call of the Midnight Queen to become one of her four protectors. Before Variant killed Baron and broke the Oath. Before life became the hell it now is.
Once I feel the sprite’s eyes on me, I’m able to shake off the hold the unconscious girl has on me. But before I’m willing to abscond with her, I must know the truth.
I narrow my eyes as I stare at her still form and immediately notice the black ink markings against her white skin. They appear as two swirls that take up half her back and mark the location where her wings should be.
Allowing my shadows to rise up within me, to fill me with their age-old magic and wisdom, I close my eyes and reach out with both hands until I’m touching the girl in the plane of shadow.
Reveal yourself, I order, compelling her to prove she is what the sprite believes she is. Show your wings.
Nothing happens.
Reveal yourself! I think the command again, harsher this time.
But still, nothing.
Time is slipping through my fingers like sand… I’m stuck with a decision. Do I leave the girl to her fate, or run the risk of Anona revealing to Variant that I’ve broken through the figurative walls of my prison?
I open my eyes and look at her one last time. Then, I turn around, ready to leave the girl.
She isn’t my business.
She’s not my concern.
FIVE
Eilish
Mortal Realm
Behold him, a voice compels me. A woman’s voice.
I’m swimming in a balmy sea, floating on an endless tide of elation. I can’t open my eyes, but I also don’t want to.
See him, the voice insists.
And while I feel myself still floating in the warmth of my bubbly sea, the images around me are different, now. I know my eyes aren’t open, yet I’m still able to see. How this is possible I don’t know, but the reason doesn’t particularly matter. Instead, I can see a room through my closed eyelids. Seconds later, I foc
us on a huge and winged man who appears above me.
Shadows cling to his skin, to the rubbery, black wings that arch out of him, bathing him in darkness. He’s impossibly large and broad. Muscles litter the landscape of his body like afterthoughts. He’s power and menace, strength and danger. He embodies the night just as much as the night embodies him.
I’m nothing but afraid of him. He’s terrifying. But the longer I study him, the more I realize there’s something lurking beneath his imposing exterior… something that speaks to me, something fleshly, carnal.
My body begins to respond to him, to the smoldering way he looks at me. And, in turn, I can see his body responding to mine: the way his cock begins to strain against his pants, the way his mouth opens and he scents me on the air with his tongue.
Yes, the voice says, inside my head. Call to him. Appeal to him. Use the power within you to pull him, to force him closer.
Staring up at this mountain of a man, I realize how immense he really is. He could break me in half with nothing more than a thought… Fear begins to echo through me again, beating a wild path inside me next to… exhilaration.
He leans down until only inches of air separate us. His heady, masculine scent invades my senses, filling me with a driving hunger, a need to touch him. He’s so close. He causes my heart rate to increase and I feel my chest expand as I take a deep, excited breath.
His face is hard, and anger vibrates off him. He’s rough and battle worn.
But it’s the light gray of his eyes that draws me. There’s something in them that’s beautiful, something that hints at a code of honor that still exists within him. I realize then that he won’t hurt me.
I want to reach out to him, to touch his olive skin, but my body won’t comply. Instead, I stare at him, taking in the angular lines and planes of his face. His black hair reaches his shoulders and matches the darkness of the stubble decorating his strong jaw, chin and cheeks. He’s stunningly handsome, but not in a beautiful way. Everything about him is harsh, rough, beyond masculine. Everything about him is darkness, shadow, and intrigue.
