Facets of Feyrie Box Set, page 31
part #1 of Facets of Feyrie Series
“Do what?”
“Be who you already are. Who only you are strong enough to be,” he reassures me.
He smiles, and I give a little smile back, but not for the reason he thinks. Unfortunately, I’m not feeling all gooey inside. It’s more a baring of teeth than a happy one. Who I am isn’t something any of them have seen.
“I’m not sure they can handle the real me,” I warn.
“They seem to be handling you just fine.” He kind of laughs as he says it.
Chewing another piece of steak, I stare out the window contemplating his words. Does he realize I’m working extra hard to—behave? Ha, behave. Be nice if that weren’t the actual truth.
“I’m not used to being around other people.” Other than Phobe. He is the only one I was comfortable with. The kids are hit and miss but getting better.
There’s also a good chance that Phobe is coming back. I’m not stupid. I know he was made to do some awful things to the Feyrie. Phobe is the boogeyman to most of them. A fair description, but still. That’s more hassle I don’t need. If these people find out who he is, they might very well hate him.
“But you don’t have to be on your own anymore, lass.” With a few exceptions I prefer it, but I can’t tell Alagard that. It’ll hurt his feelings. Wait. Since when do I care about hurting someone’s feelings?
All right, sharing time is done, and I’m not the best at it on any day. I think I’ve hit my hard limit. The need to help them is one I can’t fight. Being their savior? Yeah, I can fight that all I want.
Pain shoots through my head so unexpectedly that I drop my plate and fall to my knees in it on the floor.
“Iza?” Alagard asks in concern, getting on the floor with me.
Agony rips through my poor brain. I grab my head and squeeze to try and make it stop. Distantly, I feel the impact of my upper body on the cold stone floor. I try to get up, but I don’t have the ability to do it. Instead, my sight turns inward, yanking me down a long, dark tunnel. Pain tears through my head again.
“Nika!” Distantly, I hear Alagard yell for the healer.
The tunnel ends abruptly, and I grunt with the impact. Blinking, I look around—no, it isn’t me looking around. What the shit? The interior of a vehicle of some kind surrounds me.
Help me.
The words echo in my mind. It’s a girl’s voice, young—my gaze swings around of its own accord. I’m seeing through her eyes! Unable to control it, I focus on what I can, I’ll remember if nothing else. A man is leaning over me/her—a human man. I start yelling. No! Fight! But when I strike out with my arms, they are much smaller than my own. In vain, I try to send my Magiks down the connection between us. I try to tell her that I’ll be there. I’ll save her. I try everything I can think of, and nothing works. She can’t hear me even though I know she’s close by.
Panicking, I latch onto the strongest thing inside of me. Phobe.
‘Phobe! Save her!’ I scream in my mind.
A flicker of something shiny fills my gaze with tears. It’s a knife. No! No! I repeat over and over. Light floods the vehicle, and I quickly file away everything I can about the car, the man, just as the light blinds me.
‘I can’t, Iza. She’s too far away.’ Phobe’s voice flits through my head.
The connection fractures, and as my vision rights itself, I find myself looking up from where I lay on the floor covered in mashed potatoes. Nika kneels on one side of me. Alagard on the other. Angry with myself, with the situation, I wave them off and slip and slide until I gain my footing.
Without a backward glance, I walk quickly towards my room. Right now, I don’t care about trying to look dignified. I break into a run.
Chapter Ten
Almost to my room, I come to a jarring stop as every hair stands up on my body. My eyes rise from the floor to look up into the fiery eyes of the man who never leaves my thoughts—but left me. The man I called out for and who couldn’t help me. Help her.
Suddenly frozen all I can do is stand there and look at him. Six months he’s been gone—six fucking months. I won’t lie to myself—I missed him every second of it. Feeling him out there, somewhere in the world, but never knowing where he was.
As our eyes hold, the world around us fades away, and it’s just the two of us. Each breath is syncing as step by step as we draw closer.
“You heard me, you jackass,” I accuse, recognizing the stupid, angry words coming out of my mouth but unable to stop them.
My anger is real, wrong, or not.
He stops so close to me, and I feel his breath on my face as he leans down to rest his forehead against mine. The mashed potatoes squish between our heads, and I don’t care. It’s a struggle to hold onto the anger, and I try hard to, but the longer I look at him, the more it fades. Logic is starting to take its place. It isn’t his fault. None of this is his fault.
It’s not just the logic, it’s, well my brain is turning to fucking mush. All I can do is look at him. Drink him in with my gaze. Breathe in the scent that’s uniquely Phobe and him alone.
“I will always hear you,” he whispers, his breath warm against my mouth. “I’m… apologetic that I couldn’t help the child.”
Like fingers grazing my scalp, I feel him trying to sink into my mind like he always has. But unlike before, I don’t let him. Can’t let him. As hard as it is, things are different now. There’s too much left unsaid, undone between us for it to be that easy.
That doesn’t stop me from throwing my arms around him and hugging him for all I’m worth. He might be a jackass, but I’m allowed to acknowledge that I missed him. I pull away and plant a sloppy kiss right on his mouth.
He came back.
Pulling completely out of his embrace, I step back and stare at him. He’s standing there with his lips slightly parted, frowning, the most puzzled look in his eyes. I surprised him.
Taking his shock as an opportunity, I study the changes in him. He’s a little more filled out. He no longer has that hungry look he always had in prison. Which means he’s eating more people. His hair is shorter. The long black strands I’m used to seeing touch his shoulders are tamed into a very cool looking, choppy style down the middle of his head.
His ears are pierced. Two shiny opals sparkle in the low light. Phobe’s been watching TV, too. Wrapped in his plain black t-shirt and jeans, he’s quite a sight to see. All lean muscle and power. I swear it looks like his skin is seeping black smoke. I blink. His skin is seeping black smoke.
Rolling my eyes, I keep ogling the show-off.
Lean feet peek out from beneath the hem of his jeans. He isn’t wearing shoes, but then again, he never did. The swirl of his Magiks along his tattoos is brighter, newer, but so are some of the tattoos. His power has grown, probably from eating all the people.
Gods, I missed him!
It only surprises me a little when I pull back and punch him as hard as I can in his pretty face. With a last look at him, I whisper a request to the Sidhe and step through the door that appears on the wall. His laughter follows me into the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
A laugh bubbles out of my healing broken jaw as she disappears into the wall. Iza is already using the power of the Sidhe. Her power. And she hits like a truck. My tongue snakes out to lick my lips. The taste of her still lingers there—along with part of her dinner. Standing face to face with her after weeks of watching from the shadows feels good.
Tasting her feels better.
Studying the dispersing shadows where she disappeared, I acknowledge that she’s adapting to her new abilities well. I’m not disappointed in her progress, but she still has a long way to go. She’s saturated in power. I can see it. Feel it. Want to explore it. Will explore it. As of yet, she doesn’t know how to wield it completely.
A whisper of words from my forlorn—the fiend counterparts— and I lose the stupid smile on my face. A dragon approaches. Shadows seep out of me and brush against the intruder. Alagard. My skin tingles as my glamour locks more firmly into place. Dragons have better eyes than most. This old dragon doesn’t need to know who I am. None of them do.
“Looks like she’s happy to see you, lad,” Alagard says with amusement. “Who might you be?”
I ignore him. None of these creatures have the right to demand anything of me, no matter how politely spoken. Iza distracts me too much, and I don’t want them to see the reactions she causes. Those moments are private, and no one should intrude upon them. I flick a gaze to him, then dismiss him. Alagard is right. She’s happy to see me.
She is also angry with me.
Pulling shadows around me, I step into the bits of the NetherRealm that exist in the Sidhe to pursue her. She’s ahead of me, but not by much. Iza might be able to traverse it here, in her seat of power, but there’s no darkness in existence I cannot traverse.
A glimpse of her ahead of me and then she’s gone. A leap and I’m almost on her and then she’s gone again. She is good. I’ll give her that. My claws swipe open air. I miss again. No, she’s exceptional. But I’m better.
With a burst of speed, I run along the shadows of the wall to get ahead of her, watching her look behind her and smirk. Teeth bared I leap and cage her against the stone wall of the Sidhe. She looks up at me, anger swirling her eyes like pearls in the moonlight, then laughter slowly takes its place. Her sharp teeth flash in a smile that gradually fades as something else bleeds into them.
Desire.
I can see it, smell it, feel it, and every cell inside of me reacts to it.
With a growl, I resist doing the very thing I’ve wanted to do since I stood face to face with her like this the first time. Completely lose myself in her.
Using every ounce of self-control, I possess I bury my nose in her neck, smelling her skin to try and minimally satisfy the unbearable push to take from her. My need for her is primal. Our bond is deep and often confusing, but Iza needs more than physical. I don’t know what the more is yet. Figuring it out is at the top of the list. I’m not a creature of emotion, not until her.
Only with her.
“How long have you actually been back?”
My face hidden from her, I smile. “A while,” I finally answer.
“I should punch you again.” I stay there, unfazed by her threat. She can break my jaw ten times over if she wants to. I keep my nose against her skin.
“Creeper,” she says softly. She’s teasing me now. I lift my head to look at her.
Pulling back a little more, I unabashedly study her from head to toe. Able to see past her glamour—with her awake and animated, I want to see the changes her ascension has indeed brought about. Her hair writhes around her head towards me, blacker than the darkest night, with small white teeth flashing in those serpentine strands. Before they were subtle, the little poisonous devils, but no longer.
The corner of her red lips curl up, and I see all those lovely, sharp teeth. They’re almost as long as mine and just as deadly. Her face is slimmer, making her eyes appear even larger. As I watch the second lid—a trait she inherited entirely from her mother—blink sideways exactly like I thought it would. Her body is still lean, but the bones are no longer as prominent beneath her skin. She looks healthy and monstrous and breathtaking.
“I missed you, Phobe.” A breath and her arms encircle my waist again. Without a second thought, I wrap mine around her and pull her tight against me, inhaling the missed scent of cinnamon.
‘I missed you too,’ I say to her with absolute truth. The bond between us twangs as it tightens. This bond is a curious thing that I don’t fully understand, but it’s not unwelcome—this attachment to her. Not anymore.
The Magiks formed it, there is no doubt about that, but they don’t make it grow stronger as it has been doing. That’s all us. These emotions between us. Death can’t even remove it. And even if it could, I wouldn’t allow it. Through it, I can feel her on a cellular level; feel what she feels. Find her anywhere. I dare anyone to try and take it.
Chapter Twelve
Monday has become a movie night with the kids. With all the newness and people I’m more than okay with it. Honestly, I kind of miss spending time with them, but they’ve made friends here. They fit in here. I still don’t feel like I do.
Knox is sitting beside me, holding my hand like he’s prone to do. At first, it was a bit weird for me, but then I came to understand that he needed it. And since it isn’t killing me…
“Is that your ninja you talked about?” he asks me in a loud whisper.
I smile at him as I answer. “Yeah, that’s him.” I forgot about that conversation. I wonder what Phobe will think of me calling him a ninja? Probably tell me that he’s scarier than a ninja, which is true.
Then it smacks me like a rock; hell, Phobe is back.
Somewhat successfully, I’ve managed to keep it together on the outside. Inside, I’m a freaking wreck. My emotions are all over the place, and now I get the commercials talking about hormones tangling up emotions. Supposedly all part of being female of any species.
‘Iza, where is your mind going?’
I send him a mental eye roll and say, ‘Crazy.’
‘I regret to inform you that you hit that stage in your journey many years ago.’
‘Oh look, you’re a comedian.’ The jackass went and found a sense of humor while he was gone. Good for him… not. His chuckle isn’t that big of a surprise. The reaction I have to it kind of is. Yeah, those stupid goosebumps are back.
“Iza, my head hurts.” I frown down at Knox’s words.
“Do you wanna go see Nika?” The idea of him in pain makes my stomach twist. He shakes his head and lays it on my lap. Well, if I can’t get him to the mountain—I whisper a request to the Sidhe.
“Why in the world am I here?” Nika says from the doorway. I smile. There are some definite perks to this job.
“Knox has a headache. Can you check on him?” I ask.
“It’s perfectly normal—” The look I give her shuts her right up. “Of course.” She crosses the room to the bed and rests her hand on his forehead.
“I can’t find anything amiss. Perhaps a growing pain of some type?” she says after a few minutes.
Frowning, I nod. She pats his cheek and leaves.
“He’s jealous,” Michael says from the beanbag chair he’s sitting on.
My frown deepens. Is he? “I dunno Michael. He seems off.” I stare down at his little face, but he’s sleeping peacefully. If there was anything wrong with him, Nika would’ve found it. Physically, anyhow.
Rubbing his soft hair, I realize that it’s entirely possible. Still frowning, I move him further up the bed and tuck him in. He can sleep in here tonight, and I’ll sleep on a couch somewhere. Not that I’ll be sleeping much anyhow.
After an hour or so, Michael and Ruthie both fake yawn and leave within minutes of each other. Silly kids. I know they’re going to make goo-goo eyes at each other, or whatever gross things teenagers do unsupervised. I should probably give them some kind of ‘talk,’ but I don’t have it in me. Neither of them are on the same level as a normal child their age.
Standing up and stretching, I check on Knox one last time. He’s still sleeping, and despite how innocent it looks, something is off with him. He doesn’t feel the same to me. It’s strange but, then again, a lot is going on, and everyone is adjusting. No, that’s a bullshit excuse. Something is off. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and see if he’s experienced anything strange.
With one last look at him, I turn and walk out the door, heading towards the outside. It’s cold so the Sidhe stubbornly won’t open the door until I grab my coat off the coat rack. It’s annoying and kind of sweet too, even if I don’t get cold. Pacified, it relents and opens the door.
There isn’t any snow yet, but I can smell it in the air. The cold has this distinct clean smell that I love.
I'm looking forward to seeing the snow that’s coming, especially after a scorching summer. To see the world blanketed in white, fluffy drifts is a dream come true.
I wonder if I can eat it?
‘Yes, it is merely frozen water,’ Phobe’s voice drifts through my mind.
‘You’re following me, aren’t you?’ I ask, not too shocked he’s out here.
‘Of course.’ He appears beside me—still only wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and no shoes.
‘You don’t get cold either, do you?’
‘No.’
Impulsively I grab his hand and drag him along with me. He follows without a struggle and, his fingers curl around my hand. Well, then.
‘When I was a kid, my mom used to tell me stories about this place,’ I share.
‘The Sidhe?’
‘Yes. You wanna hear the stories?’
‘Yes.’
That answer surprises me in a good way.
Without looking at him, I start talking. It feels good to talk to him; to share with him. As we walk and talk, I slowly start to relax. I realize for the first time since I got to this place that it feels right to be here.
Not just at the Sidhe but with him.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re just too damned fast girl.” Alagard chides Iza.
She glares at him from the ground—a place she is becoming overly familiar with. “If I’m too fast, then why the hell am I the one on the ground?” she bites out, her eyes flashing in the sunlight. He pulls her to her feet. She dusts off her pants, complaining under her breath the entire time.
“Because the way I’m trying to teach you isn’t working. You fight dirty with no formal sword technique. I end up reacting to protect myself,” he explains.
The Sidhe, sensing her needs, created a training field. I watched the land essentially give birth to stone walls surrounding a large, dirt covered area. A wooden fence also sprang to life, providing a place for weapons racks to hang. I’m currently using it for a place to sit and watch.
I am watching the failure of her teacher.
