Angel

by Plum Pascal

  “Gather your things,” I say to him. “We’re leaving.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Dragan

  Grimreap

  Shadow Realm

  I awake to the sound of shifting sheets. It’s impossible to know how long I’ve slept— exhaustion still calls to me and my body is reluctant to wake—but Eilish is tossing and turning from where she lies beside me. I roll over as she lets out a frightened moan. Gently, I clasp her shoulder. She calms at my touch, but suddenly, I’m no longer in this room with her.

  I’m standing in a familiar chamber, the sight of which makes me shudder. The last time I was here, I watched as Baron was stabbed through the heart with a dagger made of ice. This was the room where it all happened—the beginning of the end: the balance of our realms lost to tyranny and greed, the end of life as we knew it.

  But now, the hall is empty. Cold air hangs around me, reminding me of the chill I once felt in this same spot—where I watched Variant standing over Baron’s limp body. Now I see an expanse of clear, carved ice—so smooth, it looks like white marble.

  At this altitude, the air is icy and my breath comes out in clouds of white. Slender, fluted columns hold up the high, lofted ceilings. Their tops are ornately carved, decorated with intricate leaves and scrolls.

  When the four kings ruled, the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the balance of all things: light and shadow ruling alongside one another. Now, the scene is different. It shows only a large portrait of Variant, his wings held aloft and his body suspended in cloud. In the image, Variant is deified, his already impressive features enhanced to make him look even more powerful and foreboding. Its intention, quite obviously, is to intimidate those who are brought before the king.

  Bright, colored light streams in through the stained-glass windows—each depicts a scene from and after the Great War; my eyes stop when I recognize a familiar scene. I wince as my eyes catch an image of myself, kneeling in surrender.

  At the far end of the hall are steps carved from ice, which lead to a low platform boasting an impressive throne made entirely of icicles. Long, frozen rods fan out from the base of the chair; their sharp ends compose the back of the throne.

  It’s then that I realize Eilish is standing beside me, her eyes fixed on the two massive double doors that mark the entrance to the room. I follow her gaze in time to see the doors open. Through the growing crack between the doors, a beam of white, blinding light obscures the two figures entering the room, I can only make out their shapes—one large, proud and muscular, the other the size of a child, posture submissive.

  Panic floods through me as I search for a place to hide, sure we’ll be seen when the two turn away from their conversation in time to see the most wanted fugitives in the kingdom. The door closes and the identity of our company is revealed. One, a lightfoot halfling, and the other, the most dangerous man alive: Variant.

  My breath catches, and I watch as Variant scans the room with a steady gaze but makes no comment on our presence. It’s as though he looks right past us. As though he can’t see us. I don’t understand how this is possible, but I stay where I am and fight the instinct to hide.

  Variant is dressed in a handsome suit of light blue satin; a sword with an intricately ornate hilt hangs at his waist. His pale, long hair is slicked back, and his face is fixed in an expression of fury. The halfling beside him has to hurry to keep up with his long, powerful strides.

  “Where are they?” the king demands.

  “We still don’t know, your grace,” responds his companion, a quivering man, small even for his race. He’s balding and wears a pair of thin spectacles.

  “Why don’t you know? We have eyes throughout this kingdom, and you imbeciles can’t manage to find the two most famous men in all the realms and one blasted angel?” he’s nearly shouting.

  The halfling’s voice quivers even more in his response, “After they left Geldingstock, there’s been no sign of them, your grace. We’ve searched every corner of Shadow, Mortal, and Fae.”

  “Then why aren’t they currently prisoners in my dungeon?”

  The halfling looks on the verge of passing out from fear. His face is devoid of color, and he wipes his palms earnestly against his pants. “Perhaps they perished, your grace?”

  “They’re immortal beings! The only person who can kill them is standing in front of you!”

  The halfling flinches in response to Variant’s reaction. “But Liege—” begins the halfling, eager to cover his mistake.

  “I’ve heard enough!” shouts Variant, his forehead pulsing. “No more of your drivel, or the next person to perish will be you.” The halfling cowers and Variant’s mouth curls in disgust. The king shakes his head and stands quietly for a moment—his body is taut with rage. “Bring me Anona,” he instructs.

  The halfling hurries back toward the door while Variant approaches his throne. He slowly ascends the steps and angrily flicks the tails of his coat before sitting. Moodily, he stares at the door, waiting for Anona to enter.

  She comes in not more than a few seconds later, escorted by a large guard. Her left eye is black, and her clothes are ripped and torn. Her usual cool, calm demeanor has vanished. Instead, she appears small, her body caving in on itself in a posture of submission and fear.

  Her head is bowed in the king’s presence as she shuffles forward slowly.

  “I’m going to give you a second chance,” Variant tells her. His arrogant voice is measured—it borders on uninterested. At his words, Anona’s head snaps up, her eyes well with tears of gratitude.

  “Oh, thank you, my king. I promise I will never fail you again. You’re generous, I—”

  He holds up his hand and her voice stills. “I’m going to give you a second chance,” he repeats. “But first, I need you to do a little job for me.”

  “Anything, my lord,” she responds eagerly.

  “The angel you were harboring is traveling with two companions, Dragan and Cambion. Find all three of them, return them to me, and all is forgiven. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “And bring the three of them to me… alive.”

  “Yes, my liege,” Anona agrees and drops her head in deference.

  Variant nods to the guard, who releases the chains around her wrists. She rubs at her skin. The guard begins to lead her from the room just as Variant speaks again.

  “Oh, and Anona?” He adds, and she turns to look at him. “Fail me again and I’ll have your head.”

  Her eyes widen before she turns and continues to follow the guard out of the room.

  “Leave me,” Variant instructs the halfling with a flick of his hand.

  Quickly, to avoid further infuriating his master, the small man shuffles out of the room behind Anona and the guard.

  When the door closes behind them, Variant rises from his chair. His jaw is clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides. In one fluid motion, he pulls the sword from its hilt at his waist and slices violently through the air until the sword meets the ice at the back of his throne. As the blade connects with the ice, chips fly across the space with a deafening shatter. He yells angrily before returning his sword to its scabbard. He swivels on his foot, his coattails flicking up behind him. His strides echo through the hall as he makes his way out of the room.

  The vision shakes until the image of Variant fades to black and I blink, only to find myself returned to a bedroom, my hand still lightly gripping Eilish’s shoulder. Her eyes are open and she’s looking at me.

  “When… What was…” I struggle to find the right questions.

  “It was a vision,” Eilish answers softly.

  I nod. I’ve figured out that much. “When did it take place?”

  She sits up, and her cheeks flush when she realizes her breasts are exposed. Then, she smiles at me as I reach over and take one of her nipples between my fingers. Instantly, I feel myself getting hard again.

  “Dragan,” she breathes, discouraging me from my more lecherous thoughts.


  “I can’t help it,” I inform her with a laugh.

  “We need to figure out what that vision was,” she says, and I can tell she’s spooked by it. Yes, it threw me, as well, but my priority at the moment is burying myself inside her. Shame it isn’t also hers.

  “I don’t know when it could have taken place,” she answers; her voice is low but she seems surprised. I watch her eyebrows draw closer as she processes whatever it was we both just saw. “I’ve never had a vision like that before,” she admits.

  “Some angels possess powers of clairvoyance.”

  I’d personally attained a high enough level in my Arcane Magic to see things I wasn’t physically present for. But even with the Arcane Eye, I was never able to see beyond the realm in which I was present. The distance we’d just covered is staggering. If what we’ve seen is truly a vision, then Eilish is more powerful than any of us know.

  “Do you believe we just witnessed a vision of the present?” she asks.

  “Or the very near future,” I respond. “And, if such is the case, Anona will be after us soon.”

  “Yes,” she agrees with a succinct nod as she fumbles with her cloak and pulls it over her shoulders.

  “What’s more, Anona has connections in Grimreap. Variant—and any other being of light, for that matter—would never search for us here. Anona, however, is a different story.” Most likely, she’s already heard about a rogue manticore and the mysterious outsiders who defeated it. It won’t take long for her to determine the connection.

  Disguises and sneaking around dangerous cities are now no longer an option. Still, it’s some relief (and also a surprise) that Variant doesn’t know where we are. It means we aren’t completely screwed.

  “Then we need to move?” Eilish asks. I can see she’s shaken, and I help her to the bench at the foot of the bed. After restoking the fire, I take a seat beside her. One of her legs is tucked up beneath her and, from my seat on the bench, our legs our touching. I try to keep my eyes away from her cloak, open again to reveal the line of her cleavage.

  Fuck me, but I want her again. And I want her bad.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, pleased to see the heavy bags beneath her eyes have receded.

  “Better,” she says with a small smile. “A lot better, actually.”

  I return her smile. Almost without thinking, I take her hand in my own. It’s nearly comical to me how small and delicate she is. My hand doubles the size of hers; I roll her thin fingers between mine. It’s meant to be an expression of comfort, but my closeness to her has caused my cock to swell. When I look down, she’s staring intently at me. I wonder if she feels the same need. I crave nothing more than to devour her, to plunge deep within the folds of her body, to enter anywhere she’ll have me.

  “I want you again,” I confess.

  Her breathing comes in shallow spurts. I reach down and place one hand on her bare thigh, then drop my head lower, until our foreheads touch. She inhales quickly and I see the pulse jumping in her neck.

  Keeping my head pressed against hers, I continue to gaze into her eyes. I move my hand further up her thigh and inward, until I reach the soft flesh between her legs. “Spread your legs for me,” I order.

  She does, and I run my index finger down her moist slit. Her chest swells and she sits taller until her face is level with mine. Her lips are flushed, fuller than usual.

  She wants me to kiss her.

  I lower my mouth to hers, closing my eyes, and I push my finger into her as she moans. Her slick walls close in around my finger and my cock aches. I pull my finger out and then shove it all the way in again as she begins to rock against me.

  I’m hungry for more.

  Just as I position myself between her legs, my senses alert me that we’re no longer alone. My eyes snap to the door where I see Cambion standing in the entryway, his face frozen in an expression of complete surprise.

  ###

  Cambion

  I open the door to Eilish’s room to find her and Dragan sitting on the end of the bed. Her cloak has fallen from around her shoulders, revealing her white breasts and pink nipples. My cock hardens instantly and I have to swallow down my desire. Desire mixed with jealousy, because I wanted her first.

  Dragan kisses her at the same time that he starts rubbing her clit, then shoves his finger inside her. From my vantage point, I can see the pinkness of her flesh and I watch his finger disappear inside the folds. When she moans, I have to hold myself back from demanding my own turn.

  Dragan stands then and positions himself between her thighs, readying himself to enter her. I wonder if I could watch him fuck her. I already know the answer; I won’t be able to look away.

  But before he does, Dragan looks up and sees me lurking in the doorway. Eilish follows his gaze and turns to me in shock. She immediately closes her legs and pulls her cloak tighly around herself.

  We all just stand there, staring at one another.

  Just as I’m about to turn and walk out, something remarkable happens.

  Giant wings suddenly sprout from her back.

  Huge and full, they unfurl to take up the entire room. The fire in the corner bathes Eilish’s white, feathered wings in soft light.

  I’m so shocked, I forget my jealousy and just gaze at her, open-mouthed. I notice Dragan doing the same. Neither of us says anything. Eilish glances to either side of her and seems as flabbergasted as we are.

  The sheer size and suggested power of her wings astonishes me. I feel something tap my shoulder and the humming sound of Flumph’s wings stop as he lands on my shoulder, beside my ear. I’m still staring at Eilish in disbelief.

  “See? What did I frickin’ tell you pricks?” the sprite asks triumphantly.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Dragan

  Grimreap

  Shadow Realm

  While such an intrusion would typically provoke my anger, my fury is quelled by the extraordinary sight of Eilish’s wings. They extend past the posters of the bed on one side and on the other, nearly reach to the fire at the far end of the room.

  “It’s true,” I breathe. Just then, Baron strides into the room but stops as soon as he sees her. Shock takes up residence in his eyes, the same shock that characterizes Cambion. Thoradin appears in the hallway a few seconds later.

  I pull away from Eilish, stunned. She realizes what’s happening and flushes self-consciously, clutching her cloak which has fallen into the valley between her wings. As she does, her wings retract into the smooth markings on her back.

  “Unbelievable,” murmurs Cambion. “The sprite was right.”

  “Great that no one fuckin’ believed me!” Flumph exclaims, outraged. “I been tellin’ ya all along!”

  “What does this mean?” asks Cambion, his voice still hushed in awe. I watch as his eyes travel from Eilish’s face and down the line of her neck before resting at the hollow between her breasts. Even with the cloak pulled together, her cleavage is prominent. Fire burns in me and a feeling of possessive anger begins to brew in my stomach. I don’t want Cambion looking at her like that, like he wants her. Like he would take her now, if we weren’t in the room.

  She’s mine.

  I force the feelings down. Then, I look at Eilish, and I regard her with new significance. My gaze not leaving hers, I respond to Cambion’s question. “It means we have to do everything in our power to protect her.” I think back to the vision of a furious and violent Variant. Fear strikes me once more—not for myself, but for the stunning creature next to me.

  Cambion nods somberly.

  Eilish speaks then, her voice fuller. She rotates to face our intruders in the doorway. “Cambion,” she says, her voice weighted, “we need to tell you what we saw.”

  ###

  Flumph

  When you call someone a liar an’ then you find out that person ain’t no liar, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY SORRY.

  But not these dickheads.

  Fuckin’ typical.

  Shadow Butt
can open his mouth wide enough to stick his tongue down Pretty’s throat, but he can’t use it to give me no apology?

  I’m ‘bout to say as much when angel-face declare she got some news an’, apparently, they’re all ready to move on. I start to call thems on they’s shit, but, ‘fore I can start layin’ into ‘em, I hear the one name that make me wanna hide in the angel’s robe again.

  Anona.

  “How do you know this?” ask the elf king when Eilish is done tellin’ him what she saw in her dream. The elf look pissed, probly ‘cause he weren’t the first to get it in.

  “Eilish had a vision,” Dragan say.

  “Eilish had a vision,” Cambion repeat back. He sound like he mockin’ the big, bad gargoyle. “How do we know it wasn’t just an inconsequential dream?”

  “Because I saw it, too,” say the gargoyle.

  “And I saw myself buried deep inside her, but last I checked, that hasn’t happened,” Cambion spit back, real pissed-off-like. The way he say it, an’ the way he lookin’ at the angel, make it seem like he don’t believe the vision he saw was real. Like he think it was somethin’ she planted in his head.

  “Regardless what you saw,” the demon prince start off, his voice real low an’ tight. “The vision Eilish and I saw was real.” Dragan clamps down his teeth an’ I’m wonderin’ if he gonna launch at Cambion. These two gotta real nasty relationship ‘tween ‘em, an’ they’s always at each other’s throats.

  “It could be a dream and you happened to channel it when you touched her,” Cambion suggests.

  Dragan shake his head, real annoyed-like. “She couldn’t have dreamed it; she doesn’t know what the inside of Variant’s throne room looks like.”

  “We don’t know what she knows,” the elf king say. His eyes narrow.

  “We should trust her and the vision,” Baron or Revenant or Ball-Sucker or Taint-Fingerer or whatever the hells we’re s’posed ta be callin’ him say. “The vision she saw of me was real and true.”