CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SILVANUS
The Raven Forest
Shadow Realm
Sleep, I say to the beautiful creature after she reaches climax and her body begins to heal. Already, her aura glows twice as brightly as it did when I first encountered her.
Her eyes drift closed, and her body goes limp. I pull myself from within her slick folds and inhale deeply. Then, I reach down and lift her into my arms.
The shadow creatures continue to watch us with cautious curiosity, and follow as I carry the female back to her companions. When I spot the white linen that was wrapped around her, I reach down and pick it up. I drape it over her as I place her limp body just beyond the line of the Glyph of Warding .
She will remember nothing when she wakes. It is possible she might receive fragmented images from her subconscious mind, but she will think of them as nothing more than a strange dream. She is not ready to fully understand what she is. And that realization cannot occur until I decide what to do about Morrigan—an obstacle that is proving quite frustrating.
***
EILISH
I wake with a start.
Sitting up, I find myself on the opposite side of the wards of our camp and I can’t explain what I’m doing out here. Suddenly afraid, I immediately stand and hurry into the safety of our protected enclosure.
It’s then that I realize I’m no longer exhausted. Instead, I feel strangely invigorated. It’s the first time I’ve felt… good. Well, the first time that I can remember, anyway. Yet I also feel strange. Yes, I’m stronger and that horrible exhaustion seems to have disappeared, but there’s also a cloudiness in my head that I don’t understand.
I notice Cambion sitting at the far end of the encampment. He’s still deep in his trance, his palms face up on his crossed legs, his eyes white and unseeing.
In the distance, beyond the lines of the wards, I hear something. I glance out into the darkness and imagine I see numerous eyes staring back at me from the depths of the dark trees. But then the eyes are gone, and there’s nothing there but the forest.
Kkkkk-krick
When I hear the sound again, I back up. A hand presses to my mouth as an arm pulls me against a hard, but warm chest, and my heart starts to pound.
“Shhh, Eilish,” Dragan whispers into my ear.
Immediately, I feel relief. He releases my mouth and I turn around to look at him. He’s crouched and attack-ready. We lock eyes and he slowly raises a finger to his mouth. Shhhh .
He must have heard the same noise I did. His wings are flexed behind him, black and foreboding. There’s no sign of Thoradin.
I nod solemnly and look towards the woods, but I see nothing beyond the darkness. I know Dragan possesses Darkvision, and I wonder if he’s able to see whatever’s out there. I bring my gaze back to Dragan and notice how tense he is and powerful. His eyes are fixed on something in the distance.
In the dim light of the dying fire, I can see only the thick trunks of two trees.
Dragan stands and takes a quiet step forward, his jaw clenched in deep focus.
Another sound, from behind a nearby tree. It’s followed by still another crack, and I feel my heart slide up my throat as I realize the sounds are coming closer. Whatever is out there is maybe two feet from us now. The seconds pass as if they’re hours and a moment later, Flumph emerges from behind the tree, his arms full of acorns.
“Flumph,” I say on a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed to see him.
“Angel,” he replies, looking pleased with himself.
My shoulders deflate and I turn to see Dragan, who appears irate. “Fucking sprite!” he hollers in exasperation. In response, Cambion’s eyes roll forward and his posture loosens, and Thoradin suddenly appears from beyond the darkness on the opposite side of the camp.
Flumph stops walking toward the fire. “What?” he asks innocently. “I got us some grub.”
“What the fuck are you doing, wandering off?” demands Dragan. “Do you understand where you are?”
“Yeah, we’re in the forest.”
“The Raven Forest,” Dragan corrects him.
“Raven, Hawken, Eaglen, Sparrowen, what frickin’ difference do it make?” Flumph asks with a frown.
Dragan inhales deeply and his eyes narrow on the sprite. “The Raven Forest is haunted, you fool.”
“Haunted, like ghosts, haunted?” Flumph asks, his previous candid manner now evaporating.
“Ghosts, banshees, imps, ghouls, goblins, the list goes on,” Thoradin answers with a shrug.
“Why do you think I told you not to allow the fire to go out?” Dragan continues, pointing at the fire which is nearly nonexistent. “What if someone or something saw you? Or followed you?”
I’m suddenly reminded that I awoke on the opposite side of the Glyph of Warding . I wonder if Dragan saw me, but I assume not. I then realize how lucky I was not to have been taken away by some awful creature.
Flumph looks worried, glancing over his shoulder like he’s afraid something did follow him and is standing there now.
“I thought you said you put a shadow cloak or somethin’ like that on us?” the sprite argues. “I thought we was invisible.”
“We aren’t invisible,” Dragan grumbles as his gaze moves to Cambion and grows angry again. “What happened to keeping watch?”
The Seelie King shrugs from where he’s reclining against a tree, appearing as comfortable as possible given our situation. He’s incredibly handsome, but I don’t trust him. And he doesn’t trust me. So, I guess we’re at an impasse.
“Do none of you understand the position we’re in?” Dragan rails as he glares first at Cambion and then at Flumph. When his gaze rests on me, it softens.
“Do you ?” asks Cambion icily. “Last I checked, you were the one who brought us here.”
“This was the safest place I could think of.”
“The Raven Forest?!” Cambion yells at him.
Dragan’s eyebrows arch in an expression of defensiveness. “Right now, our only concern should be guarding the angel.”
“Alleged,” clarifies Cambion, and then glances past me as if he’s looking for a sign of my wings.
The topic of my wings has come up so frequently and yet there’s still no sign of them; I begin to wonder if the sprite didn’t just imagine seeing them. Maybe I wasn’t the only one on Atacomite ? Then I start to consider what will become of me if the sprite is wrong. If I really don’t possess my wings and I’m the same as all the other angels, what then? I figure Dragan will just turn me over to Variant, as his edict orders.
“If she didn’t have her wings, then why would something have been chasing her in the first place?” asks Dragan, glaring at Cambion.
“Chasing her?” Cambion repeats and seems at a loss.
“When she arrived at Anona’s,” Dragan begins but the sprite interrupts.
“She was outta her damn mind on Atacomite an’ was goin’ on ‘bout somethin’ followin’ her. She was, like… convinced o’ it an’ scared outta her skin.”
“As you said, she was high,” Cambion responds with little interest.
“Something was following me,” I insist.
Cambion faces me, frowning, but then centers his attention on Dragan. “The angel possesses plenty of value without her wings.” He speaks the words slowly, as if spitting out each one. “Maybe it was Variant’s men trying to arrest her, according to his edict. Maybe it was a lonely group of gypsy men.” He shrugs. “Your fair angel seems like quite the tasty snack after a hard day laboring in Precinct Five. Or maybe… maybe she imagined the whole thing,” his voice is deep, tinted with his natural authority.
I wish I could show them my wings just to end the constant fighting. I can only hope that I truly possess them.
Not yet, Eilish. You’re not safe. The voice in my head, quiet through most of the night, has returned. Tell them they must have faith , it instructs.
Straining to speak, my voice lifts out of my chest; its edges are hoarse and cracking. “I need… you to trust me,” I manage.
Looking at me, Dragan and Thoradin appear to soften. Cambion, not so much. His expression remains hard.
“We don’t even know who you are,” he points out and glares at me.
“She don’t even know who she is,” Flumph adds.
Silence falls on us once again. Cambion seems revived, at least. The exhaustion’s left his face somewhat and now, he just looks angry. Although, on him, the emotion is somehow flattering. His sharp features are brought into focus all the more by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. When his eyes meet mine, he holds my gaze in a way that makes me feel more naked than I already am beneath the thin fabric that poorly conceals me.
Cambion’s eyes trail down my body, to the place where the sheet wraps around my shoulders and plunges between my breasts. He stands up and approaches me, then takes an edge of the fabric in his hand. Unsure of what he’s going to do, I simply watch.
Dragan stands up and takes a few steps closer to us, watching Cambion intensely, his jaw fixed. He looks like he’s ready to spring to action any moment.
“What are you doing?” Dragan growls.
Cambion ignores him and stares at me unabashedly. His eyes are beautiful pools of amber, but they’re cold. No longer able to look him in the eyes, I glance down and watch as what appears to be yellow embers dance between his fingers and the thin sheet I’m wrapped in. But instead of the embers lighting the fabric on fire, the sheet begins to fold back on itself then forward, like invisible hands creating origami. I watch, amazed, as the sheet arranges itself until I’m no longer wearing a sheet at all. Instead, I’m wrapped in a white, sleeveless dress that ends at my knees. Above me is a cloak, also crafted from the sheet. Its hood is large and it covers most of my hair, reaching down past my ankles. For the first time since I can remember, I’m dressed.
“Fancy!” Flumph announces, then laughs goofily.
“How did you do that?” I ask the Fae King as I look up at him in wonder.
His eyes linger on mine for a few seconds before he answers. “Transmutation,” he says quietly.
“I don’t know what that is,” I respond.
His gaze has softened, as has his tone. “Transmutation is the ability to modify energy and matter,” he begins. “It’s the magical art of turning one substance into another.”
“You could turn tin to silver?” Flumph asks.
Cambion nods. “I could also turn you into a toad, if I felt so inclined.”
Flumph frowns at him. “Life’s hard enough as a sprite, prick.”
A sly smile parts Cambion’s lips, and I find him incredibly sexy. “Kindness suits you,” I say. His smile drops, replaced by the same stoic expression. “Thank you,” I finish.
“How are you feeling?” Dragan asks from behind us, his voice concerned. He eyes Cambion and then me as if he doesn’t approve of the easy conversation that just passed between us. I can see jealousy in his eyes and I’m not sure why, but it invigorates me.
“Better,” I reply honestly.
The Seelie King closes his eyes and places one hand into the remaining embers of the fire. He doesn’t, as I expect, cry out in pain.
“Come,” he says, motioning for me to move closer.
“Why?” Dragan begins but I silence him with a shake of my head. I need to get Cambion on my side, and I need to get him to trust me. If this is one small step in that process, I’m willing to take it.
I sidle up next to him and drop down to my haunches. He looks at me pointedly.
“If I touch you, am I going to be whisked into one of your visions?” he asks, frowning.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a shrug.
He inhales deeply but doesn’t say anything more as he places his other hand on my shoulder and bends his head. An image flashes in my mind when he touches me, but I don’t lean into it because I’m fully focused on the warmth flooding my body through his touch. It feels like taking a full breath of air after nearly drowning. My eyes shut of their own accord and I breathe in his energy.
When he removes his hand, I immediately feel cold again. I open my eyes and glance at him, noticing he appears surprised. When I look down at the fire, it begins to sputter as if Cambion stole its energy and, as I watch, the coals lose their glow and we’re thrust into darkness once more.
“Your strength has been returned to you,” he says as he eyes me with interest.
“How can you tell?” I ask.
“Because I attempted to bolster your life force with some of my own but, instead, you fed mine.”
I feel my eyebrows lift in surprise. “I can’t explain it, but I woke up feeling much better, stronger.”
I hear Dragan quickly instruct Thoradin to get more wood.
“Interesting.” Cambion studies me with narrowed eyes. He still doesn’t trust me, that much is obvious, but as he continues to hold my gaze, I see something flash across his eyes—something carnal, something that looks like desire. Maybe he’s remembering the vision from earlier? The one I had of us when our limbs were entwined, the powerful smiles we shared while he moved himself within me. It’s a vision I haven’t forgotten.
Soon, the fire returns to its full strength.
An odd, graying light slowly rises through the forest, though its source is invisible to me. “What is that?” I ask Dragan, unable to keep the fear from my voice.
“It’s the closest thing to daylight the shadow realm knows,” he answers.
For a moment, it strikes me as odd that they call this the shadow realm because, without light, not a single shadow exists here.
“Thoradin and I are going into the walls of the city to look for food and warmer clothing. You three will stay here and wait for our return,” Dragan instructs, and instantly, my heart starts pounding. I don’t want to be away from Dragan. Especially not here, in this wretched forest.
“When you leave, your enchantments leave with you,” Cambion responds guardedly. “I can’t protect us here.”
Dragan nods. “You’re not wrong, Cambion, but we don’t have a choice.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been considering the options open to us, and I believe you’ll be safest here.”
“We’re safest with you,” I tell him.
He looks at me and appears torn. “Grimreap isn’t the place for you, Eilish,” he explains. “There are only three of us who could protect you and, in the city, that won’t be enough.”
“The shadows of this forest are already taking their toll on us,” Cambion argues. “At least in Grimreap, we can bolster our strength.”
“I’m aware,” Dragan says. “And I’ve weighed that fact, as well. I still believe it is safer for you to remain here.”
“You already made your decision when you brought us to the Raven Forest,” says Cambion. “We travel with you to Grimreap.”
“This isn’t open for argument,” Dragan grumbles.
Cambion’s eyes narrow. “And neither was it open for argument when you forcibly removed me from my home and anchored me to this hero’s quest. Our story doesn’t end in the woods outside Grimreap; we’re coming with you.”
“You know Grimreap’s reputation as well as I do,” Dragan counters. “You know you’re safer here.” He glances at me. “ She’s safer here.”
“I know Grimreap’s reputation, yes,” Cambion continues to argue. “But I don’t believe we’d be any safer in the forest. I have some sway with the beasts of the fae, but here, the animals answer to different masters. Protection isn’t something I can offer. I can feel my magic growing weaker by the moment. At least inside Grimreap, we can feed off the energy of our forbearers.”
“You wouldn’t last a minute inside the walls of the city. The three of you are practically glowing,” returns Dragan, his voice pulsing with anger. He’s by far the most intimidating creature I’ve ever seen. But he’s also beautiful, in his own way.
“Are your brains made of stone, too, gargoyle?” Cambion asks with mock cordiality.
“The three of you remain here,” Dragan declares with finality.
“You’re not going to leave me behind like a cow for slaughter in this fucking forest,” Cambion spits out. “Besides, if you’re going into Grimreap, you’ll need me.”
“How’s that?” Dragan gives him a cold glare as Cambion continues.
“I’d assume you weren’t about to enter the deadliest city in the world as the most recognizable man in all of the Shadow Realm?”
“Of course not,” Dragon replies. “As you know, I can employ the Mask Of Many Faces.”
Cambion seems unimpressed. “An elementary charm at best. Need I remind you I’m a master transmuter? All energy and matter bend to my will. I could conceal us far better than either of you could,” he finishes and looks between Dragan and Thoradin.
“You lack the strength,” Dragan replies with little interest.
“Because I’m stuck in this fucking forest!” Cambion rails. “Grimreap will bolster my strength again and I will be a valuable asset.” He takes a deep breath. “Three able-bodied men are better than two.”
“He has a point, liege,” Thoradin puts in.
Dragan’s jaw is tight. “Fine. We all go.” He turns to the sprite, which is hovering nearby. “And Flumph?”
The small creature seems surprised at being addressed. “I ain’t got no masks or transmuters, Demon Prince,” he returns. I have to admit, I find his appellations for Dragan funny even if Dragan doesn’t.
“Just,” Dragan looks him over, worry creasing its way into the mature lines of his face. “Just stay hidden.”
Flumph makes his way over to me and successfully wraps himself within two folds of my cloak.