Chapter 13 #2
The light was gradually paling, easing my concerns about being in the forest at night, and a grin slowly spread across my face.
I could do this. I could make an escape in the dead of the night and I would find a way to hunt the spirits of the forest and seize them too.
I was going to do what I’d come here for, no matter the cost. I would prove that I was no weak-
I cried out in alarm as something sharp pierced the skin of my hand, some small beast taking a bite out of me in my moment of triumph.
I snatched my hand free of the drainpipe before I could think better of it, my cry turning into a shriek as I pitched backwards, my arm flailing wildly.
With a surge of will, I threw myself back towards the wall, grabbing the drainpipe again, though the jolt of movement saw me slipping several feet towards the ground.
I tightened my hold and jerked to a halt, my eyes clamped shut against the oncoming demise I’d somehow avoided.
As I peeled my lids back, I turned my injured hand, expecting to see the tell-tale double piercings of a drath spider’s fangs, knowing my end would be rushing for me within the hour without antivenom to save me.
I blinked at the large, brown thorn which stuck out of my skin, a tiny spec of blood ringing the small wound.
I arched my neck and spied the rose vines a few feet above me where they’d tangled with the drainpipe, their pale pink blooms seeming to laugh at me as I found myself not in the hands of death but suffering from a pricked palm.
Groaning at my dramatic imagination, I plucked the thorn free with my teeth and continued my slow descent with shame clinging to me and the definite relief that there had been no witnesses to me panicking over a thorn. Though in this forest, who was to say a rose couldn’t be lethal?
I pushed my thoughts away from that path before I could allow myself to believe I was dying again and thumped down onto solid ground with a cocky smirk. Who was a prisoner now?
I looked about, the spot I’d descended into surrounded by low walls, rotting trellises and decorative statues which represented various woodland animals. I didn’t linger to inspect it more than that, needing to lose myself in the depths of the forest before that boorish Fae realised I was gone.
My steps led me back and forth through the rose garden, their sweet scent cloying as if it had puddled here and couldn’t escape.
I rounded a wall, then ducked beneath a trellis which sagged with the weight of the white roses that had utterly smothered it and finally found myself looking out into nothing but trees.
“So long, you arrogant ass,” I told the castle at my back. “I’ll miss the way your vulgar personality almost made me want to gouge out my own eyes and stuff them in my ears.” I held my middle finger up over my shoulder and strode triumphantly into the trees.
“I would say I’m impressed but you were painfully slow in that descent and almost lost your life to a thornbush,” a low voice drawled behind me, and I whipped around in alarm.
Hendrix stood leaning with his back to a towering ash tree, his foot kicked up nonchalantly while he slowly sliced a pear with a hunting knife and peered at me from within the depths of his hood like I was little more than an irritation to his day.
I stilled, my hand going to my pocket and curling around a stone while I snatched my slingshot from my belt with the other. It had been little work to fix the band back into place and I felt better with my weapon in hand, no matter how meagre it might seem in the face of the enormous Fae.
“I’m leaving,” I growled defiantly, and his posture didn’t change while he lifted a slice of pear to his lips and ate it.
“Are you?”
“Yes,” I growled.
He said nothing, didn’t move to stop me, didn’t do anything at all other than eat another slice of that damn pear.
I scowled at him, then took a step further into the trees. Still, he made no move, did nothing at all. In fact, his focus wasn’t even on me anymore while he just ate his pear and leaned against that tree like a psychopath.
Good. That was good.
I started walking, my pace increasing with each step, my head turning to keep him in my line of sight until too many trees divided us to make that possible and I finally broke into a run.
There was no sound of pursuit, no cries for me to stop.
I was free. He was letting me go. I didn’t know why or what reasoning he had, but I didn’t care because I was going to run and run until the distance between us was impossible for him to breech and even if he changed his mind there would be no finding me.
I shoved my slingshot back into my belt and raced into a wide clearing in the trees, birdsong falling to an abrupt halt at my arrival and just as victory sung my name in a sweet and breathy voice, I crashed headlong into an enormous body built of water and ice.
The Bear spirit became incorporeal as I collided with it, my cry of surprise turning into a splutter of alarm as I was engulfed in icy water and washed right off of my feet to slam down into the dirt.
The Bear disappeared in a rush of water and through dripping lashes and heaving coughs, I found a pair of boots striding towards me, kicking up water and leaves.
Hendrix tossed the core of the pear aside and strode closer like he was simply out for a morning stroll, his hood shrouding his eyes and making him appear as little more than a demon.
I cursed him, flipping over and scrambling away, trying to make a run for it, but I didn’t even get on all fours before his hand locked around my ankle and he started dragging me back towards the castle with a dry melody rolling from his throat.
I kicked and fought, spluttering and coughing in the muddy froth the Bear’s water had created along the forest floor, but nothing I did made the slightest bit of difference. He hauled me all the way back to the castle before depositing me on the floor of the dining room beside the fire.
“You’re late for breakfast,” he clipped, taking his seat at the head of the table.
I fought against the sodden weight of my cloak and was forced to drop both it and my pack to the ground before I could claw my way upright again.
“What the fuck was that?” I demanded furiously, my tunic clinging to my body, hair and clothes dripping mud and water in a puddle which was slowly spreading to consume the rug.
“That was tame compared to what I could have done. So stop whining and eat. I don’t need you fainting on me while we’re out there in the trees, and you know now how futile any attempts at escape will be.
Why don’t you just do us both a favour, give up and remain silent unless speech becomes utterly unavoidable. ”
I looked back towards the door which he hadn’t bothered to close behind us, then glanced at my drenched pack and cursed as I hurried to open it, tossing the clothes and sodden food aside before finally hauling my precious books out.
I sighed in relief as I found the bindings around them had proven their worth yet again, keeping them dry and saving them from ruin.
With a huff of irritation, I sat down heavily in my chair, placed my books beside my plate and proceeded to eat as much of his delicious food as I could manage in the most obnoxious way possible.
At least he didn’t seem inclined to tie me up and make a show of feeding me.
His moods were as changeable as the wind though, so I was going to devour it quickly before he reconsidered letting me eat freely this time.
Perhaps he’d won this round, but clearly he wasn’t looking to hurt me and wanted me for some other purpose.
So I’d simply have to try and get away from him again.
And again. And again. However many attempts it took, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
I’d find my way free of him and claim every spirit remaining in this forest for good measure.
“I believe I know where the Fox is hiding,” Hendrix said, pulling me from my mutinous intentions. “And I’m going to take you with me while I hunt it.”
I scowled at him while ripping into a bread roll with my teeth.
“Why?” I asked through a mouthful of food, and he sneered at me in a way which only made me want to irritate him further.
He cocked his head at me like I was a flea he was contemplating squashing and I reached across the table to take another roll and some fruit. Surprisingly, he did answer me.
“You’re to be my bait,” he said, amusement coating his tone, and I bristled at the implication, the word setting me on edge. What did he mean? Was his plan to tie me up in a clearing like a sacrificial lamb and pounce upon the spirit while it was preoccupied with devouring me?
“Bait?” I asked slowly, lowering my roll while trying to stay calm.
His lips curled with amusement at the change in my tone, and for a moment, I was startled by the difference that small smirk made to his cold features.
He was Fae, so of course he was beautiful, but until that moment all of his expressions had seemed forced, like he was a vessel void of true emotion, a statue with a breath of life within him, the artist who had carved him too caught up in creating perfection in his lines to waste time on offering out any humanity.
But that smirk revealed a slight imbalance to his smile, a dimple in his right cheek, a glint of something wicked in his green eyes, real feeling behind the words, even if that feeling was cruelty.
“You do scream so prettily, lightwing. I believe every feral beast in this forest may be drawn to the poetry of your cries. And I intend to be waiting in the shadows when they arrive.”
I shifted in my seat, refusing to show fear at his plan, but the thought of it set my teeth on edge. I lifted my chin in defiance.
“You aren’t here to hunt beasts. You’re in pursuit of spirits,” I reminded him. “And they are not motivated by death and ruin the way other monsters are.”