CHAPTER EIGHT
CAMBION
Geldingstock
Fae Realm
I’m fuming.
What the fuck is Dragan thinking, coming here and bringing this angel with him? Doesn’t he remember what fucking Variant did to Baron? Right in front of us, no less? We’re lucky to still be alive.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself as I think back to the day the four of us signed the pact and took the oath. We were each given immortality. The only way we could die was if one of us bore the title of murderer—something Variant made plainly clear he was willing to do when he did it to Baron.
I hope he doesn’t track Dragan here, but if he does, I’ll have to turn the whole lot of them over to Variant, pretending I had nothing to do with any of this.
While I am living a life of banishment, it’s really not so bad. I have everything I could want. As far as prisons go, mine could be much worse. It could be what Dragan’s facing, and has been for the last one hundred years already.
I lead my unwanted guests through the garden in front of my stately home and open the door, granting them entry.
Trym, I address the owl riding on my shoulder through our telepathic connection. I speak to him in the old language of Elvish . Trym is my animal familiar. Keep sentry and scout the perimeter of Geldingstock for strangers. Should you see any, alert me immediately.
Trym alights and flies off overhead, eager, as always, to do my bidding.
Once I follow the rest of the party into my home, I watch them pause to take in their surroundings. The sprite immediately appears impressed with my ornately carved wooden furniture, expensive rugs, and priceless art. Dragan narrows his eyes as he takes in the splendor surrounding him, while Thoradin appears simply bored.
“Nice to know you’ve been living the life,” Dragan grumbles as I steal a few more glances at the angel slung over his shoulder. She’s certainly beautiful; no one can argue that. Perhaps once I return her to her health, she will choose to repay me by favoring me with her delectable body.
“Banishment isn’t to me what it is to you,” I respond. “Bring her upstairs.”
Dragan doesn’t say anything but follows me through the foyer, the living room, and into the hall. From there, we voyage up two flights of stairs. Then, the three of them trail after me down another hallway until we reach the last room and I throw the door open wide.
“Put her on my bed,” I command.
Again, Dragan says nothing but does as he’s instructed, placing the girl on top of the green silken linens. She sinks into the billowing, feather duvet and pillows surrounding her. The sheet Dragan must have stolen from Anona starts to fall off her shoulders, and I notice how careful the gargoyle is about pulling it back up to her chin. I find the whole display rather odd. Dragan is not, by rule, gentle.
He’s quite the opposite. Or so he used to be.
“She has no clothing, so you’ll have to provide for her,” he says gruffly.
“Ah, a beautiful, naked, and unconscious wife. Quite the welcoming gift,” I respond before deciding to delve into the more important area of our conversation. “Now, back to the subject of her angel wings…”
Dragan takes a deep breath, as though he’s going to need it. “I can’t say with any certainty whether she has them or not.”
“Then the sprite could be flubbing?”
“I ain’t flubbin’!” the sprite yells, darting up between the two of us. It’s a courageous little thing, I’ll give it that. Annoying as fuck, though.
Dragan rubs his chin. “Flubbing or not, I’ve seen nothing to prove she has wings.” His frown grows. “My magic failed to force them out of her. And I attempted to do so on two different occasions, but each time I felt like my magic was blocked somehow.”
“Blocked?” I repeat as I glance down at the sleeping girl and shake my head. I return my piercing gaze to Dragan as ire begins to build inside me. “Your Shadow Magic has never been blocked before?”
“Never,” Dragan answers, as though this isn’t a huge deal. “My magic has never failed me on any other occasion.”
The anger builds.
“Look, I ain’t sure why Shadow Dick’s magic ain’t workin’ right,” the sprite declares and I have to stifle a smile at his term for Dragan. “But on my life, the angel got wings—I seen ‘em with my own two eyes.”
“But, alas, no one can prove it,” I say, whirling to face Dragan as I unleash my fury upon him. “You fucking asshole! You’ve come here, wasting my time, inconveniencing me and putting my safety as well as that of my people in jeopardy!”
“Don’t start, Cambion,” Dragan growls, but I’m not intimidated.
“I’m sure word of the missing angel has reached Variant by now, and he’ll come looking for her. Or his emissaries will. And if their trail leads them here, there’s no telling what they’ll do to Geldingstock if I’m unable to talk them out of it.”
“Are you or are you not a creature of magic?” Dragan demands, his jaw tight.
“I’m not sure what my being a ‘creature of magic,’ as you say, has anything to do with this!”
His eyes narrow further and the deep olive of his skin grows red. “Your magic has everything to do with it!” he rails. “If Variant and his forces arrive, you could magic your village away, hide it in plain sight, call in an Aura Of Warding , or summon all the animals of the forest to fight on your behalf. This is your realm, Cambion—your magic is strongest here!”
“And, maybe, I could stall Variant for a few days at the most.” I take a moment as I restrain the anger flowing through me. Anger is not a bedfellow of logic and rational dialogue. “The point is that I don’t want to call Variant’s attention to me. I’ve lived here in peaceful comfort since we were banished, and I find no argument with my banishment.”
The redness of Dragan’s skin grows until I’m quite certain he’s ready to bust a gasket, as the saying goes. Or is it blow a gasket? Hmm… no matter.
“Since when have you become such a fucking dandy?”
“Since when did your stupidity overcome your instinct to survive?”
Dragan, never one to back down from an argument, takes a step closer until we both are standing face to face, glaring at one another. Then, he glances around himself and chuckles. “You’ve been so busy playing house and tending to your goddamned garden, you’ve forgotten what it means to be a warrior! And look at you!” he continues, staring down at me in distaste. “You’re dressed like a fucking girl!”
“Clearly, you have no eye for fashion,” I grumble at him wearily.
He sneers at me, shaking his head. “You were the fucking King of the fucking Seelie Court , for Chrissakes! Maybe I need to fucking well remind you, Cambion, that you’re a man and you still possess a fucking cock!”
I laugh coldly in response. He doesn’t know the half of it. “Oh, believe me, I remember I have a fucking cock, you prick.”
“Then act like it—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Just ask any of the eligible women in this village, and they’ll be quick to tell you just how much they enjoy my fucking cock!”
Dragan’s expression falls and the frustration that appears in his eyes is telling. I laugh even more loudly as I realize I’ve got the upper hand in this argument. “Please tell me you’ve at least been able to fuck yourself senseless in that hell-hole you call the Gorge?”
Dragan doesn’t answer.
I laugh louder. “Then all you’ve got for company are your gargoyles?”
He still doesn’t respond, but it’s answer enough. My eyes go wide and I can’t hide my shock. There was a time when Dragan could outfuck me with his hands tied behind his back. And did. On a regular basis.
“Unbelievable! No wonder you’ve been searching for ways out of your dismal abyss.” Then my laughter dies and the smile drops off my face as I remember the situation I’m in, the situation this asshole put me in. “I’ll help your angel, but then you take her and your fucking henchman and that sprite and you get the fuck out of here and never come back.”
“This isn’t so simple, faerie ,” Dragan starts, spitting the words at me.
The prick knows how much I hate that term. “Yes, it is. Variant won. You need to accept it the way I have.”
“I will never accept it, because it isn’t true.”
God, I can’t fucking stand him. Truth of it is, I never have. He’s an arrogant, stupid barbarian and he always has been.
“Isn’t true?” I laugh at him like he’s a bigger moron than I had previously thought. “Look at reality, you fool! Variant is the one in power, not us! He’s in control.”
“Maybe for the foreseeable future.”
“Not just the foreseeable future, you fuckhead!” I yell, unable to keep my anger in check now. Dragan is just so fucking stupid. “We’re the lucky ones!” He scoffs at that. “Look at what Variant did to Baron!”
“What’d he do to Baron?” the sprite asks, even though he clearly has no idea who Baron is.
“Variant fucking murdered Baron and put him six feet under!” I continue as I shake my head, wondering if I’m talking any sense into Dragan’s stupid brain. “And he did it as a message to the two of us. I’ve listened, and you should do the same.”
“Heal the girl,” Dragan says, his hands fisting at his sides. Clearly, I’ve provoked the dumb fucker.
“Heal her yourself,” I spit back at him.
He glares at me. “You’re well aware that I can’t heal her, or I already would have.” He’s correct, of course. His dark magic won’t heal an angel. Only magic born of light will. Hence his reason for coming here.
“I want no part of this,” I respond, making no move to heal anyone.
But before Dragan can say anything, the girl’s eyes dart open and she stares right at me. Then, she opens her mouth as if to scream but passes out again, instead. I feel my breath catch and all of my anger bleeds away. Her eyes were wide, beautiful, the color of a clear, blue sky—and the expression in them was one of pure panic.
She needs me.
The way she looked at me was imploring, begging.
It’s at that moment that I begin to realize what she truly is, as if this knowledge had been stoppered until now. Whether she has her wings or not, she’s the ultimate example of a creature of light. Such that I am. The fae have always regarded angels as the most revered of all creatures. And I haven’t done my part to honor her. Not yet.
“Our time to leave is approaching rapidly,” Dragan announces, sounding impatient.
“Open the window,” I demand, removing my jacket and setting it carefully over the armchair at the foot of my bed. Dragan does as instructed and I face the sprite. “Fetch me the flowers there, sprite,” I tell him and point to the vase in the far corner of the room.
“Don’t no one ‘round here know how ta say please ?” the sprite grumbles, but does my bidding all the same. He brings me the bunch of daffodils, roses, tulips, and daisies, and I place them around the girl’s body, ensuring the petals touch her skin. Instantly, the hue of the blossoms begins to intensify, the yellow of the daffodils deepening into gold. The lavender of the rose becomes a rich violet; the red of the tulip, crimson. And the green of the stems is more verdant than it was seconds ago. What’s even more strange is that the leaves of the rose and the daisies begin to grow, reaching out as if they’re on fast forward.
“What the bloody hell?” I say, mostly to myself.
“She’s an angel,” Dragan scoffs above me, as if that response is explanation enough.
I reach into the fabric pouch I keep upon my person at all times and remove the crystals from within it. As the Atacomite is poisoning her entire body, I must cleanse her from head to toe. It’s usually a lengthy process to remove Atacomite from someone’s body, but time isn’t a luxury we currently have. And though I know I can pull most of the poison from her body, it will not come without cost to her. She’ll be extremely weak as her body heals. I, of course, have the ability to aid in her recovery, but we won’t be in one another’s company for much longer. A shame.
Above her head, I place a piece of Celestite in its natural, geode form. Celestite will help minimize her pain as it aids in removing the toxins plaguing her. The blue crystals sparkle, reminding me of the glittering blue of her eyes. Up close such as I am to her now, I can truly see how remarkably lovely she is. Easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I suddenly feel pangs of shame that I wasn’t quicker to offer my assistance. Well, I’ll make up for it now.
I place purple Fluorite , one of the most beautiful crystals, on her forehead. The Fluorite will strengthen her bones as the Atacomite leaches valuable minerals and vitamins from them. On her throat I place Azurite , a small, deep blue stone, which will protect her brain from any damage.
When I realize where the rest of the crystals must go, I glance up at Dragan who studies the girl intently, as if he’s attempting to remember the curvature of her face.
“I must have access to the entirety of her body in order to proceed,” I say.
Dragan frowns, but faces his henchman. “Thoradin, turn your back.” Thoradin does as he requests and Dragan looks over at me.
“Aren’t you going to turn your back?” I ask him with a teasing smile. I must admit I enjoy baiting him.
“No. I’m in charge of keeping tabs on you, to ensure you don’t do anything to her you shouldn’t.”
I frown up at him. “As if I’d ever accost an unconscious woman.” I shake my head as I reach up and pull the white sheet away from the sleeping angel, revealing her breasts.
Swallowing hard, I look upon the heavy mounds of white flesh that fall slightly to the sides. Her nipples are the same pink as the Rose Quartz I place above her heart. The beautiful, blush-colored crystal will stabilize her heart and circulatory system.
I’m beginning to wonder if I should be concerned about my own circulatory system, because the sight of her perfect breasts is doing something to me. My heart is pounding, and all I can think about is taking one of those nipples into my mouth.
I hear Dragan clear his throat as though he’s uncomfortable, and I suddenly feel sorry for the poor bastard. He hasn’t had a woman in God only knows how long—as difficult as this is proving for me, it must be torture for him.
Reaching out, I pull the sheet further away from her to reveal her rib cage and the lines of her body that taper into a small waist before flaring out with her hips. I haven’t uncovered her sex yet, but I’ll need to soon.
On her stomach I place a geode of yellow crystals, Citrine , to help detoxify her blood.
“Time is of the essence,” Dragan reminds me, breaking my concentration. He sounds perturbed.
“If you must leave, then do so,” I bark back at him. “Fucking cock,” I add under my breath.
He says nothing but makes no motion to exit, so I assume he’s found his patience.
When I pull the sheet away from the angel, I hear Dragan inhale deeply. But my attention doesn’t rest on him for long; the bulge between my thighs is suddenly swelling as I behold her flat stomach and the bareness of her mound. Anona, or someone, has shaven her clean, and her exposed lips are calling to me. I want nothing more than to bury my face in them, to taste her essence, to fill her with my tongue.
“Continue,” Dragan growls. He knows me and my libido well.
With a shaky hand, I place Chrysoculla , a turquoise stone, upon her mound, being careful not to touch her anywhere else. I spoke the truth when I said I derive no pleasure in fondling an unconscious woman. Yes, I admittedly derive great pleasure in viewing the sleeping woman’s nudity, but that’s where my enjoyment ends.
“What does that stone do for her… there?” Dragan demands, as though he believes I’d just been looking for an excuse to touch her in her most private of places.
“It will make her long for your impotent cock,” I respond as I smile up at him. The sprite tries to hide a laugh beneath the cover of a cough.
“What the fuck does it do, faerie ?” snarls Dragan.
“It will aid in her detoxification, reoxygenate her blood, and help relieve her pain,” I answer staunchly.
He says nothing more, so I figure he’s accepted my explanation. I pull the sheet away from her completely and, at her feet, I place Hematite , a deep gray crystal which will support her kidneys. And in each of her hands, I place a piece of Angelite , which, as the name denotes, is an angelic stone that will balance her physical body with the etheric realm.
“Sprite,” I say and face the creature who looks at me with interest. “Touch her,” I instruct.
“Why I gotta do that?”
“Because you’re a creature of light, and nature’s magic will recognize you as such. I can pull your energy to heal her, as well as my own.”
The creature shrugs and then floats down to the woman’s head, taking a seat just beside it as he reaches down and places his tiny hand on her cheek.
I, meanwhile, close my eyes and hover my own hands above the lovely angel, reaching out to the power of the natural world that made me what I am.
Speaking Elvish , I call to the earth, the wind, the sun, and the water, asking for strength to heal this creature born from the flesh and blood of the earth and the angelic realm. I call in an Aura of Vitality , a healing energy that radiates an aura which surrounds the angel in a cocoon of light. I then tap into the immeasurable light of the Fae Realm and call on it to guide me, to use me as its vessel as it purifies her, leaching from her the toxins of the Atacomite .
Light blossoms from beneath my palms and, as I open my eyes, I witness energy passing through one crystal after another, in the form of a bright, radiant light. This life energy pulses within each crystal, causing it to glitter. I can feel the power of the light thrumming from beneath my fingers as it joins the crystals and activates each one, like a current of static electricity.
As the woman is an angel, a creature of light, so will the energy recognize her and heal her with its blinding beauty. But the Atacomite will not leave her system without a fight, and that fight will result in arduous pain and many days of healing .