Facets of Feyrie Box Set, page 64
part #1 of Facets of Feyrie Series
Chapter Thirteen
I’m not sure I can keep it up, my body hurts, and my vision is full of black spots. Any minute now, I’m going to barf all over shiny man, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The one good thing out of this shit is that he looks as bad as I feel. My wounds aren’t healing at all anymore, and I’m pretty sure that my Magiks pool isn’t refilling either. I’m fucked nine ways over.
At least I killed my fucking uncle. Dad might be a bit pissed off, but he’ll get over it. I owed that motherfucker a lot. Dad lost his mate, my mother, and I lost everything. So maybe some little part of me thought it only fair I get to kill him. I’ll get Dad a Christmas card or something, isn’t that what families do to say I’m sorry? Maybe that hooker I asked him about getting.
‘Pay attention.’ Clenching my teeth, I focus on the Guide.
This guy cheated and filled himself full of someone else’s power. My Magiks knew immediately that something was wrong. Even with the current imbalance between the dark and light, there shouldn’t be that big of a difference between the two of us. Hell, if we had been on Sidhe land, I’d be the one with the upper hand. Instead, I’m the one about to pass out. I’m getting my ass handed to me by a guy who probably can’t do a single pushup.
The Light Magiks burn when they hit me. He might be a complete wuss when it comes to a bit of hand-to-hand, but he isn’t when it comes to slinging that light shit around. The good thing is, he’s tired too, enough that this—I punch him in his mouth—hurts more. When his Magiks hit me again though, I’m laid out flat.
Spitting the dust out of my mouth, I roll to my side to try and climb to my feet only to fall back on my face. Well, this sucks. Pushing myself harder, I try again and fall again. Blood coats my hands and arms, it’s also running down my stomach to pool at my waistband. I’m fucking spent. Every part of me is tired, even my hair that is now singed and injured. The silly things tried to bite him, and he fried them.
I hope they can heal.
‘Are you quite finished?’ Phobe’s using that pissy tone. I want to tell him that I can keep going, I want to so bad, but we both know I can’t.
‘Yeah, for the moment. Can you smack him once for me, though?’
‘I shall deal with it—’
‘No! Don’t kill him; it will fuck things up and will more than likely kill me. The only one who can take his life is me. That’s if those fucking books are telling the truth.’ His frustration bleeds through to me. He’s not the only one, but Jameson was crystal clear about it when he showed me the old books he found in the library at the Sidhe and well, one day I was bored enough to read them.
‘You trust those books?’
‘Yes, the Sidhe directed Jameson to them.’ Lifting my sore, tired head, I watch him cross the few yards between him and dumbass and smack him with a Schoth’s dead body. Laughing, I fall back on the ground and continue laughing when Phobe’s familiar arms wrap around me to lift me from the cold ground.
Since my finger is in such fine form from all its use lately, I use it to salute the Guide, who’s laying on his back with a stupefied look on his face. I rest my head against Phobe’s shoulder and pass the fuck out.
* * *
Jameson
It takes genuine effort, but I turn my head enough to the side to peek through my swollen eyelid at the commotion. We’ve moved again. First, we were in the warehouse, then that horrible house where they tortured me until I could no longer scream. We’re holed up in some boarded-up storefront now. There are chairs that resemble those from the hair salon, and I indulge in them often. There’s honestly nothing better than the feeling of someone else washing your hair and massaging your scalp.
I’d give everything I own for something so simple as that.
“That fucking bitch has killed me!” Kael’s roar of anger fills the small space. Followed by groans of pain and the scraping sounds of someone rolling around on the floor. My one good eye adjusts enough for me to see him, in human form, sprawled out on the floor covered in blood and little else. Biting the side of my tongue barely keeps the smile off my face. I know Iza’s handiwork when I see it.
“Something she did trapped me like this… in this fucking frail form. That two-faced motherfucker promised me I would heal I’m not—” deep wheezy breath, that has a rattle is never good. “—healing. Nothing is healing.”
“From the looks of it, you’re not going to live long enough to kill her. What the fuck did she do to you?” Sharon asks coming into view. She eyes Kael’s battered body and then rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand how a mage or whatever she is, can do what she does. She took out my entire nest, and I plan to kill her for it.”
Kael surprises everyone by laughing. The deep, wet coughing that follows doesn’t stop it either. He laughs right through it.
“You idiots. You think she’s... a... fucking mage?” The laughing gets louder and sounds grossly wet. Something inside of him is loose and bleeding. The instincts that allow me to do my little bits of healing are screaming at me. The Feyrie inside of me senses more; something dark is inside of him. Something that’s part of Iza.
“Iza isn’t a mage. Iza is half dragon and—"
I can’t help myself, it’s hard to talk, and there’s a good chance they won’t care about a word I say, but I have to interrupt, “Yeah, your niece,” I laugh a little and mine doesn’t sound much better than Kael’s. “She’s going to kill all of you because that’s what Iza does, she kills things. You’re too stupid to see it, yet.” The big lug, Reggie, must have understood well enough because he crosses to me in a few long strides and punches me in the face. I’m tied to a chair against the wall, so there’s not much space for me to go anywhere except the wall, my head thumps against.
“For someone so strong, she lost well enough to our boss,” he says while standing over me with a smirk on his face. At least, I think it’s a smirk. It could be a frown, and the room isn’t orienting quite right. It's spinning, and I wish they’d stop beating on my face—up until now it was my best asset.
I attempt to smile up at him and say, “She must not have been trying hard.”
“Why in the world do you think that? Boss said she’s severely injured.”
“You sound like one of those cheesy henchmen from the movies. You know the one who dies in the dumbest way?” He raises his hand to hit me again and stops when Sharon grabs his arm.
“If you hit him again, Reggie, you might kill him. I don’t want to end up being the one tied to that chair in his place.” She cautions him. Through the blur of blood in my eyeball, I can see the strength of his desire written on his face. Oh, yeah, he doesn’t like me, and he’s almost stupid enough to hit me again and tempt fate. Almost. He lowers his arm and steps back, his eyes on Sharon.
He has a crush on the vamp. That’s an interesting bit of information to have and maybe use later. I suspected it before, but he’s looking at her with big dumb doe eyes now. That’s a weakness that can be exploited. The Schoth taught me that. He’s not that smart and easy to rile up. Sharon isn’t always around to calm him down, either.
When the door slams open, admitting the Guide and his bodyguards, I cough instead of laughing like I want to. He looks rougher than Kael, and his wounds aren’t healing either. The exception is, he’s not dying like the dragon.
Turning to Reggie and Sharon, he says, “You two gather your things. I want you to go give her a message for me.” He hands them something in a brown envelope. “I did the hard work already, she’s not a threat anymore,” he orders, with power in his voice. But I catch the grimace of pain as he sits down in the chair at the scarred desk across from me. “Tell her either she meets us at our next safe house or I kill the imp.” The two nod and leave me, and both bloody men in silence.
“You told me I’d heal,” Kael asks from the floor, breaking the tension.
“And you believed me?”
“She’ll kill you too, you know. I think by the time it’s all said and done she’ll kill all of us.” Kael wheezes and falls into silence.
“My master says differently. Her death will free us to rule all the worlds… well, me. You’ll be dead, dragon.” It’s said snidely. This man isn’t surprised Kael is dying. “As angry as she was, I expected more of a fight.”
Kael’s sudden laugh ends with a wet cough, then he says, “That girl is just like her mother… she wasn’t angry at you.”
“How do you know that?” The doubt in the Guide’s voice is comical.
“Because you’re alive,” Kael says, with such smugness that for a moment I don’t realize he’s stopped breathing. The utter stillness of his body clarifies his demise. This time I do laugh, one down.
Chapter Fourteen
“You know, I was hoping that the motherfucker didn’t exist. But I could feel something out there in the world, something dangerous to me. Whatever it is, revolves around that man,” Iza says, then runs to the bathroom her hand covering her mouth. The sounds of her retching tighten my stomach.
This is her third trip to the bathroom to vomit, to dry heave and suffer because there’s nothing left to come up. The first two times she didn’t make it that far, the floor and my lap felt the wrath of her upset system. I cleaned us both up and gave her cool rags to place on her wounds and face. No human medicine will work on her, and there are no healers that can heal her now, not with her separated from the Sidhe as she is.
There has to be something I can do. Perhaps it’s time to ask the Sidhe itself? Michael is lost in his computer land, looking for information that may help us while Ruthie is brooding in her room with the TV turned up too loud. She came and checked on Iza once and then said to give her some type of drink and it would help. Teenage females are odd, there was some concern for Iza in her, but she’s so blinded by her desires and frustrations that it’s not enough to be here helping Iza now. Selfish child.
That leaves only one capable of caring for her, “Make sure she rests, I shall return—watch her closely.” Adriem stands from the chair he has been broodily sitting in and nods. If something happens to her in his care, I’ll kill him, and he knows it.
Hours later, I find the Sidhe. It’s one of the few things that I can portal to if it’s not trying to hide from me. I don’t make it inside, but I do manage to come out near it. Finding it wasn’t easy, it hid well, and Iza refused to let any of us know about it. Rather smart of her to keep that knowledge only to those who have gone with it. It’s why she had to call someone to pick up the wingless, instead of sending them herself.
Standing outside in the dark, I watch the man and woman, hands clasped, walk right by me. It’s two Nightmares, and they look relaxed and smiling while making small talk to each other. For all appearances, like a couple taking a stroll. That’s not the case, and anyone who attempts to get inside will discover that. Hidden deeper in the shadows are more of their brethren watching with sharp eyes, and other creatures mill about even more hidden. They’re taking the security serious.
A note of sound fills the night sky. The Sidhe knows that I’m here, I greet it by brushing my shadows against it. Carefully, I show it what I came here for, and I also show it the condition Iza is in. The sadness I get in return is palpable, this creature—energy, whatever it is, cares for her. The ground rumbles beneath my feet and the Nightmares gather near its source, prepared to take on the enemy, but this isn’t an enemy. A crack appears a few feet from me, and a root unfurls upwards, the end glows an eerie purple color, much like Iza’s eyes, holding something.
A ring.
Peeling out of the shadows, I step forward and take it. Gently, I place it in my pocket and look around at the startled faces, and say, “Be thankful for the sacrifices she’s making for you.” Turning, I wrap the dark around me once again and begin to run. I can’t portal back to her, and time is precious. I don’t want her on her own for any length of time. With the state she’s in it’s dangerous. Iza believes herself to be dying and, with the emotions entangled in this belief, is unpredictable, incredibly so. Adriem can help guard her, but he can’t keep her from doing the things she wants to do.
I’m not even sure I can.
Impatient with my progress, I stop as great leathery, black wings unfurl from my back. The humans have seen the monsters. Hiding is no longer necessary. Flapping them experimentally, I jump and use them to lift into the air. With great flaps, I move towards the pulse of her, pulling me unerringly towards her.
As I fly, I think of what I saw on the news stories as I journeyed here. Militaries from around the world are gathering, joining together to face the Schoth threat. There’s no doubt at all that the Schoth are invading. A war unlike anything humans have ever seen is coming, and without the help of the Feyrie—they will all die or become the slaves of their soon-to-be conquerors.
Iza is the only one who can save them.
Chapter Fifteen
Waking with a start, a scream of pain caught in my throat, I immediately roll over and bury my face in the pillow. The dampness is cold against my skin, but I ignore it, using the suffocating feeling of the pillow to modify my breathing. Gods, I was dreaming of Jameson and no, I was Jameson, and they were torturing him. Jameson has no idea how to be resilient to such things, no way of being prepared for that type of pain.
All he did was scream in agony.
How can I not feel a little sorry for him? Especially since in that dream-that’s-not-a-dream he wasn’t breaking, he was screaming, crying, and begging, but not breaking. Bravo, Jameson. You’re so much stronger than I thought you’d be. How much longer he can keep it up is the biggest question on my mind. I have to find him. He needs help.
Rolling onto my back, I scrub my hands down my face. The nausea is still present but lessened, probably because I don’t have anything left to puke up anymore. Sitting up gingerly, to the protest of the various cuts and bruises on my body, I move around to test out my limits.
A few broken ribs, probably a fractured right arm, if the limitations of movement and sharp pain are any indication. Also, a couple of deep gouges in my stomach don’t appreciate me moving around. They’re bandaged but sore as hell.
Climbing out of bed, I lean one hand against the wall and grit my teeth as the world swims around me. I need two things, no, three things: shower, food, and water. Grabbing a bottle of water while using the wall to hold me up, I slowly make my way to the bathroom, I chug most of it in one drink. Tossing it on the floor towards the garbage can, I pull my sweaty clothes off. Three times I try to turn the taps on and miss, damn things keep moving. A masculine arm moves past me and turns on the water. The shower fills with the cleansing steam of blessed heat.
“Do you need help getting in?” Adriem sounds nervous, asking, and it makes me laugh. Well, the noise that came out of me was supposed to be a laugh but sounded more like a weird wheezy snort.
“Yeah, probably.” I manage to stutter out. A chuckle follows someone lifting me and carefully sitting me on my shaky feet.
Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I wave him out and bury my head under the hot spray of water. I have no idea how long I stand there, letting the water take away some of the aches and pains, but it's long enough that the water temperature cools.
With the tepid water, I soak the bandages to make it easier to remove them but taking them off still stings like a sonofabitch. I toss them towards the garbage can too. Mustering up some energy, I grab the small bar of soap and a washcloth and start scrubbing. Removing the filth and dried blood reveals exactly how damaged I am.
There are abrasions, claw marks, skin tears, and bruises marring most of my body. Twisting around, I see that even my butt has bruises on it and none of them are healing like they usually would. They’re not lethal, but they’re not much better than when they were inflicted either.
Phobe just had to go and be right, didn’t he?
Hurrying as fast as I’m able, I finish washing up, including trying to wash my poor hair that is lethargic and still—concerningly so. Drying off is a painful experience, and I give up halfway through. Cursing under my breath, I walk out into the room to hunt for some band-aids. Some of the wounds are bleeding, and taking another shower is out of the question.
Adriem is sitting on the edge of the bed with bags full of first aid supplies sitting beside him and a worried frown on his face. The once over he gives my nude body has nothing but concern in it.
“Sit down and let’s get you patched up, you’re a fucking mess.”
“I had no idea,” I reply sarcastically, laying flat on the bed so that he can start with the worst ones.
“Where’s Phobe?” I’m asking that question a lot lately.
“He went to run some errands. He should be back—”
“OW! Motherfucker!” I give him a dirty look but wave for him to continue. I’m pretty sure he dumped acid on my stomach and not antiseptic.
“Sorry, I’m not the best at this.” He doesn’t sound sorry, the little sparkle in his eye belies that fact.
“Any news?” He opens his mouth to answer me, but the door flies open and Michael, with Ruthie mid-yell behind him, strolls in.
“Holy shit, you’re naked!” Michael exclaims.
“Oh, my gods, are you serious?” I say in mock shock. He crosses the room, cheeks red but his blue eyes are serious as he studies the wounds that Adriem is cleaning, except now with a lighter touch.
“Iza, you’re hurt.”
“I told you she wasn’t indestructible.” Ruthie sasses from the foot of the bed. I look past Adriem’s shoulder at her. The smile of triumph she has on her face fades, and she turns away from me. Someone save me from teenagers.
“Thanks, Ruthie. I remember a time you were the beat-up one in the trunk of a car.” I see the moment that my jab hits home, her face pales, and she looks guiltily at me.
“I’m sorry, Iza… I—” She wrings her hands and goes to step towards me.
I’m not sure I can keep it up, my body hurts, and my vision is full of black spots. Any minute now, I’m going to barf all over shiny man, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The one good thing out of this shit is that he looks as bad as I feel. My wounds aren’t healing at all anymore, and I’m pretty sure that my Magiks pool isn’t refilling either. I’m fucked nine ways over.
At least I killed my fucking uncle. Dad might be a bit pissed off, but he’ll get over it. I owed that motherfucker a lot. Dad lost his mate, my mother, and I lost everything. So maybe some little part of me thought it only fair I get to kill him. I’ll get Dad a Christmas card or something, isn’t that what families do to say I’m sorry? Maybe that hooker I asked him about getting.
‘Pay attention.’ Clenching my teeth, I focus on the Guide.
This guy cheated and filled himself full of someone else’s power. My Magiks knew immediately that something was wrong. Even with the current imbalance between the dark and light, there shouldn’t be that big of a difference between the two of us. Hell, if we had been on Sidhe land, I’d be the one with the upper hand. Instead, I’m the one about to pass out. I’m getting my ass handed to me by a guy who probably can’t do a single pushup.
The Light Magiks burn when they hit me. He might be a complete wuss when it comes to a bit of hand-to-hand, but he isn’t when it comes to slinging that light shit around. The good thing is, he’s tired too, enough that this—I punch him in his mouth—hurts more. When his Magiks hit me again though, I’m laid out flat.
Spitting the dust out of my mouth, I roll to my side to try and climb to my feet only to fall back on my face. Well, this sucks. Pushing myself harder, I try again and fall again. Blood coats my hands and arms, it’s also running down my stomach to pool at my waistband. I’m fucking spent. Every part of me is tired, even my hair that is now singed and injured. The silly things tried to bite him, and he fried them.
I hope they can heal.
‘Are you quite finished?’ Phobe’s using that pissy tone. I want to tell him that I can keep going, I want to so bad, but we both know I can’t.
‘Yeah, for the moment. Can you smack him once for me, though?’
‘I shall deal with it—’
‘No! Don’t kill him; it will fuck things up and will more than likely kill me. The only one who can take his life is me. That’s if those fucking books are telling the truth.’ His frustration bleeds through to me. He’s not the only one, but Jameson was crystal clear about it when he showed me the old books he found in the library at the Sidhe and well, one day I was bored enough to read them.
‘You trust those books?’
‘Yes, the Sidhe directed Jameson to them.’ Lifting my sore, tired head, I watch him cross the few yards between him and dumbass and smack him with a Schoth’s dead body. Laughing, I fall back on the ground and continue laughing when Phobe’s familiar arms wrap around me to lift me from the cold ground.
Since my finger is in such fine form from all its use lately, I use it to salute the Guide, who’s laying on his back with a stupefied look on his face. I rest my head against Phobe’s shoulder and pass the fuck out.
* * *
Jameson
It takes genuine effort, but I turn my head enough to the side to peek through my swollen eyelid at the commotion. We’ve moved again. First, we were in the warehouse, then that horrible house where they tortured me until I could no longer scream. We’re holed up in some boarded-up storefront now. There are chairs that resemble those from the hair salon, and I indulge in them often. There’s honestly nothing better than the feeling of someone else washing your hair and massaging your scalp.
I’d give everything I own for something so simple as that.
“That fucking bitch has killed me!” Kael’s roar of anger fills the small space. Followed by groans of pain and the scraping sounds of someone rolling around on the floor. My one good eye adjusts enough for me to see him, in human form, sprawled out on the floor covered in blood and little else. Biting the side of my tongue barely keeps the smile off my face. I know Iza’s handiwork when I see it.
“Something she did trapped me like this… in this fucking frail form. That two-faced motherfucker promised me I would heal I’m not—” deep wheezy breath, that has a rattle is never good. “—healing. Nothing is healing.”
“From the looks of it, you’re not going to live long enough to kill her. What the fuck did she do to you?” Sharon asks coming into view. She eyes Kael’s battered body and then rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand how a mage or whatever she is, can do what she does. She took out my entire nest, and I plan to kill her for it.”
Kael surprises everyone by laughing. The deep, wet coughing that follows doesn’t stop it either. He laughs right through it.
“You idiots. You think she’s... a... fucking mage?” The laughing gets louder and sounds grossly wet. Something inside of him is loose and bleeding. The instincts that allow me to do my little bits of healing are screaming at me. The Feyrie inside of me senses more; something dark is inside of him. Something that’s part of Iza.
“Iza isn’t a mage. Iza is half dragon and—"
I can’t help myself, it’s hard to talk, and there’s a good chance they won’t care about a word I say, but I have to interrupt, “Yeah, your niece,” I laugh a little and mine doesn’t sound much better than Kael’s. “She’s going to kill all of you because that’s what Iza does, she kills things. You’re too stupid to see it, yet.” The big lug, Reggie, must have understood well enough because he crosses to me in a few long strides and punches me in the face. I’m tied to a chair against the wall, so there’s not much space for me to go anywhere except the wall, my head thumps against.
“For someone so strong, she lost well enough to our boss,” he says while standing over me with a smirk on his face. At least, I think it’s a smirk. It could be a frown, and the room isn’t orienting quite right. It's spinning, and I wish they’d stop beating on my face—up until now it was my best asset.
I attempt to smile up at him and say, “She must not have been trying hard.”
“Why in the world do you think that? Boss said she’s severely injured.”
“You sound like one of those cheesy henchmen from the movies. You know the one who dies in the dumbest way?” He raises his hand to hit me again and stops when Sharon grabs his arm.
“If you hit him again, Reggie, you might kill him. I don’t want to end up being the one tied to that chair in his place.” She cautions him. Through the blur of blood in my eyeball, I can see the strength of his desire written on his face. Oh, yeah, he doesn’t like me, and he’s almost stupid enough to hit me again and tempt fate. Almost. He lowers his arm and steps back, his eyes on Sharon.
He has a crush on the vamp. That’s an interesting bit of information to have and maybe use later. I suspected it before, but he’s looking at her with big dumb doe eyes now. That’s a weakness that can be exploited. The Schoth taught me that. He’s not that smart and easy to rile up. Sharon isn’t always around to calm him down, either.
When the door slams open, admitting the Guide and his bodyguards, I cough instead of laughing like I want to. He looks rougher than Kael, and his wounds aren’t healing either. The exception is, he’s not dying like the dragon.
Turning to Reggie and Sharon, he says, “You two gather your things. I want you to go give her a message for me.” He hands them something in a brown envelope. “I did the hard work already, she’s not a threat anymore,” he orders, with power in his voice. But I catch the grimace of pain as he sits down in the chair at the scarred desk across from me. “Tell her either she meets us at our next safe house or I kill the imp.” The two nod and leave me, and both bloody men in silence.
“You told me I’d heal,” Kael asks from the floor, breaking the tension.
“And you believed me?”
“She’ll kill you too, you know. I think by the time it’s all said and done she’ll kill all of us.” Kael wheezes and falls into silence.
“My master says differently. Her death will free us to rule all the worlds… well, me. You’ll be dead, dragon.” It’s said snidely. This man isn’t surprised Kael is dying. “As angry as she was, I expected more of a fight.”
Kael’s sudden laugh ends with a wet cough, then he says, “That girl is just like her mother… she wasn’t angry at you.”
“How do you know that?” The doubt in the Guide’s voice is comical.
“Because you’re alive,” Kael says, with such smugness that for a moment I don’t realize he’s stopped breathing. The utter stillness of his body clarifies his demise. This time I do laugh, one down.
Chapter Fourteen
“You know, I was hoping that the motherfucker didn’t exist. But I could feel something out there in the world, something dangerous to me. Whatever it is, revolves around that man,” Iza says, then runs to the bathroom her hand covering her mouth. The sounds of her retching tighten my stomach.
This is her third trip to the bathroom to vomit, to dry heave and suffer because there’s nothing left to come up. The first two times she didn’t make it that far, the floor and my lap felt the wrath of her upset system. I cleaned us both up and gave her cool rags to place on her wounds and face. No human medicine will work on her, and there are no healers that can heal her now, not with her separated from the Sidhe as she is.
There has to be something I can do. Perhaps it’s time to ask the Sidhe itself? Michael is lost in his computer land, looking for information that may help us while Ruthie is brooding in her room with the TV turned up too loud. She came and checked on Iza once and then said to give her some type of drink and it would help. Teenage females are odd, there was some concern for Iza in her, but she’s so blinded by her desires and frustrations that it’s not enough to be here helping Iza now. Selfish child.
That leaves only one capable of caring for her, “Make sure she rests, I shall return—watch her closely.” Adriem stands from the chair he has been broodily sitting in and nods. If something happens to her in his care, I’ll kill him, and he knows it.
Hours later, I find the Sidhe. It’s one of the few things that I can portal to if it’s not trying to hide from me. I don’t make it inside, but I do manage to come out near it. Finding it wasn’t easy, it hid well, and Iza refused to let any of us know about it. Rather smart of her to keep that knowledge only to those who have gone with it. It’s why she had to call someone to pick up the wingless, instead of sending them herself.
Standing outside in the dark, I watch the man and woman, hands clasped, walk right by me. It’s two Nightmares, and they look relaxed and smiling while making small talk to each other. For all appearances, like a couple taking a stroll. That’s not the case, and anyone who attempts to get inside will discover that. Hidden deeper in the shadows are more of their brethren watching with sharp eyes, and other creatures mill about even more hidden. They’re taking the security serious.
A note of sound fills the night sky. The Sidhe knows that I’m here, I greet it by brushing my shadows against it. Carefully, I show it what I came here for, and I also show it the condition Iza is in. The sadness I get in return is palpable, this creature—energy, whatever it is, cares for her. The ground rumbles beneath my feet and the Nightmares gather near its source, prepared to take on the enemy, but this isn’t an enemy. A crack appears a few feet from me, and a root unfurls upwards, the end glows an eerie purple color, much like Iza’s eyes, holding something.
A ring.
Peeling out of the shadows, I step forward and take it. Gently, I place it in my pocket and look around at the startled faces, and say, “Be thankful for the sacrifices she’s making for you.” Turning, I wrap the dark around me once again and begin to run. I can’t portal back to her, and time is precious. I don’t want her on her own for any length of time. With the state she’s in it’s dangerous. Iza believes herself to be dying and, with the emotions entangled in this belief, is unpredictable, incredibly so. Adriem can help guard her, but he can’t keep her from doing the things she wants to do.
I’m not even sure I can.
Impatient with my progress, I stop as great leathery, black wings unfurl from my back. The humans have seen the monsters. Hiding is no longer necessary. Flapping them experimentally, I jump and use them to lift into the air. With great flaps, I move towards the pulse of her, pulling me unerringly towards her.
As I fly, I think of what I saw on the news stories as I journeyed here. Militaries from around the world are gathering, joining together to face the Schoth threat. There’s no doubt at all that the Schoth are invading. A war unlike anything humans have ever seen is coming, and without the help of the Feyrie—they will all die or become the slaves of their soon-to-be conquerors.
Iza is the only one who can save them.
Chapter Fifteen
Waking with a start, a scream of pain caught in my throat, I immediately roll over and bury my face in the pillow. The dampness is cold against my skin, but I ignore it, using the suffocating feeling of the pillow to modify my breathing. Gods, I was dreaming of Jameson and no, I was Jameson, and they were torturing him. Jameson has no idea how to be resilient to such things, no way of being prepared for that type of pain.
All he did was scream in agony.
How can I not feel a little sorry for him? Especially since in that dream-that’s-not-a-dream he wasn’t breaking, he was screaming, crying, and begging, but not breaking. Bravo, Jameson. You’re so much stronger than I thought you’d be. How much longer he can keep it up is the biggest question on my mind. I have to find him. He needs help.
Rolling onto my back, I scrub my hands down my face. The nausea is still present but lessened, probably because I don’t have anything left to puke up anymore. Sitting up gingerly, to the protest of the various cuts and bruises on my body, I move around to test out my limits.
A few broken ribs, probably a fractured right arm, if the limitations of movement and sharp pain are any indication. Also, a couple of deep gouges in my stomach don’t appreciate me moving around. They’re bandaged but sore as hell.
Climbing out of bed, I lean one hand against the wall and grit my teeth as the world swims around me. I need two things, no, three things: shower, food, and water. Grabbing a bottle of water while using the wall to hold me up, I slowly make my way to the bathroom, I chug most of it in one drink. Tossing it on the floor towards the garbage can, I pull my sweaty clothes off. Three times I try to turn the taps on and miss, damn things keep moving. A masculine arm moves past me and turns on the water. The shower fills with the cleansing steam of blessed heat.
“Do you need help getting in?” Adriem sounds nervous, asking, and it makes me laugh. Well, the noise that came out of me was supposed to be a laugh but sounded more like a weird wheezy snort.
“Yeah, probably.” I manage to stutter out. A chuckle follows someone lifting me and carefully sitting me on my shaky feet.
Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I wave him out and bury my head under the hot spray of water. I have no idea how long I stand there, letting the water take away some of the aches and pains, but it's long enough that the water temperature cools.
With the tepid water, I soak the bandages to make it easier to remove them but taking them off still stings like a sonofabitch. I toss them towards the garbage can too. Mustering up some energy, I grab the small bar of soap and a washcloth and start scrubbing. Removing the filth and dried blood reveals exactly how damaged I am.
There are abrasions, claw marks, skin tears, and bruises marring most of my body. Twisting around, I see that even my butt has bruises on it and none of them are healing like they usually would. They’re not lethal, but they’re not much better than when they were inflicted either.
Phobe just had to go and be right, didn’t he?
Hurrying as fast as I’m able, I finish washing up, including trying to wash my poor hair that is lethargic and still—concerningly so. Drying off is a painful experience, and I give up halfway through. Cursing under my breath, I walk out into the room to hunt for some band-aids. Some of the wounds are bleeding, and taking another shower is out of the question.
Adriem is sitting on the edge of the bed with bags full of first aid supplies sitting beside him and a worried frown on his face. The once over he gives my nude body has nothing but concern in it.
“Sit down and let’s get you patched up, you’re a fucking mess.”
“I had no idea,” I reply sarcastically, laying flat on the bed so that he can start with the worst ones.
“Where’s Phobe?” I’m asking that question a lot lately.
“He went to run some errands. He should be back—”
“OW! Motherfucker!” I give him a dirty look but wave for him to continue. I’m pretty sure he dumped acid on my stomach and not antiseptic.
“Sorry, I’m not the best at this.” He doesn’t sound sorry, the little sparkle in his eye belies that fact.
“Any news?” He opens his mouth to answer me, but the door flies open and Michael, with Ruthie mid-yell behind him, strolls in.
“Holy shit, you’re naked!” Michael exclaims.
“Oh, my gods, are you serious?” I say in mock shock. He crosses the room, cheeks red but his blue eyes are serious as he studies the wounds that Adriem is cleaning, except now with a lighter touch.
“Iza, you’re hurt.”
“I told you she wasn’t indestructible.” Ruthie sasses from the foot of the bed. I look past Adriem’s shoulder at her. The smile of triumph she has on her face fades, and she turns away from me. Someone save me from teenagers.
“Thanks, Ruthie. I remember a time you were the beat-up one in the trunk of a car.” I see the moment that my jab hits home, her face pales, and she looks guiltily at me.
“I’m sorry, Iza… I—” She wrings her hands and goes to step towards me.
