Chapter 23 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Once the remnants of my suffocating panic ebbed away, I slowed down.
Why did this keep happening? My Soulsayer ability kept going haywire, overriding every sense, slipping further out of my control each time.
It was bad enough feeling like I was drowning in a pool of my own emotions, but then to have my senses surge like a lightning bolt shocking that water . . . brutal.
God, I desperately needed real training. I’d be more likely to hit the jackpot at one of Lochlainn’s crooked casinos than find someone to train me. Soulsayers were rare enough in Hallow Land, so in Luckland—virtually nonexistent.
My mind kept replaying the intrusive voice on loop.
Like come on, Lochlainn’s grandmother? I hadn’t even touched anything of hers. Or did I? The words sounded so clear, so crisp—as if she said it right into my ear. So unlike how the voices usually were.
And she slipped into my mind like a pest sneaking through a cat door with no effort or warning.
And as for the whole new, unusual, hand-vine-flower-unlocking thing—
Fucking hell.
I combed my fingers through my long copper locks, a coping habit I’d picked up over the years. As if my anxieties were lice my fingers could scrape out.
Something was off with Lochlainn. He’d never been this much of a prick. The laid back, lighthearted, taking-a-piss version of him seemed to be on vacation today.
It took him all of three seconds to agree to me seeing the archives. Like it was no significance to him—just pocket change lost.
So why’d he back out now? And in such a hugely dick way?
Maybe I happened to stroll in as the convenient punching bag after his tiff with Pogue. I don’t know, I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.
The look he gave me—that lethal, warning glare—rattled me.
Then my new ability showing up again. Fothermucker.
Lochlainn will shit a brick when he realizes I broke out of his precious top-security fortress.
I hadn’t even told David about my new little party trick.
Told myself I was too overwhelmed by everything to bring it up, but in truth, I was nervous.
I’d never heard of a Hallow Lander having more than one ability—especially something nature-based.
It didn’t make sense. But then again, a lot still didn’t make sense to me about this realm.
What the hell was wrong with me?
My mind slipped back to the prophecy David mentioned.
A child with powers unparalleled to the Skell King’s.
Was this part of that? I’d really been banking on taking that crazy nonsense with a grain of salt.
I mean, I could hardly hold a simple phone call with the dead—or fold a fitted sheet. The idea of being in the same league as the Skell King was a complete joke.
Breathe. Just breathe, I reminded myself.
In my meandering, I’d wandered several blocks before finally stopping in front of Luckmarket Square. It was bustling with people. Elaborate tented stalls lined the perimeter of the cobblestone square in an abundance of colors. Pure social joy.
At its center, a circular patch of grass cradled a beautiful fountain in the shape of a golden oak tree. Fat droplets trickled down from the branches like its own personal rain shower. The base was a pool of clear water, shimmering with scattered sunken coins that caught the light like orbs.
This part of the city was so authentically Luckland.
Those with heavy pockets had their fill, flaunting their gold-touched fashion, carrying boxes and bags full of new trinkets and fresh goods.
Common folk took to the stalls as vendors, luring coin in with sweet scents or sights.
People of every variety chattered away as steam sizzled from food stands while boisterous calls lured patrons to come try a bite.
High-pitched giggles erupted as rare little ones sprinted by.
Potent smells wafted off apothecaries, drawing in tempted souls.
And beautiful Brassers trailed teasing fingers up the arms of men, hoping to make quick coin for their company.
It was chaos. It was charm. It was culture. It was Luckland.
One smell in particular was reeling me in. Chocolate. Warm, rich, and completely irresistible. I was too weak to fight its magnetism and too emotionally in need of a fix. It had a spice to it—something like cinnamon.
The chocolatier was snuggly tucked between an exotic fur shop and a trap shack. A small metallic squeak caught my gaze. A tiny cage was lightly swinging in the breeze. Cages of varying sizes and lengths glittered with enchantments, faintly buzzing with power.
What in the world were people trying to catch? Actually, now that I thought about it, I wondered if those would work on Brownies . . .
I ducked my head beneath the velvet tent opening, letting the delicious scent guide me in as if it were holding my hand. Inside, a gray-haired woman worked with swift, practiced motions—twisting and stretching a golden-brown sweet, over and over.
Weathered eyes met mine.
“Some fresh caramel, doll? This one’s just about ready.”
“Actually, I was drawn in by the smell of chocolate.” I attempted a genuine smile. “What do you have that smells so spiced?” My thumb motioned to the square where my senses were first possessed by it.
She beamed. “Ah, yes! Just finished a batch of carrot cake truffles. Would ya like some?”
“Absolutely! I’ll take a few, thanks.” My mouth watered in anticipation.
“My pleasure.” She placed three rounded chocolates into a small mesh bag and pulled the strings tight. “That’ll be three coins.” Trading money for the sweet treasure in hand, I nodded my thanks, then stepped out of the tent.
As I walked lazily, my eyes peeked into a couple more hidden tents stuffed between stalls.
Heat flushed through me as I caught a glimpse inside one particularly large tent.
It was lit by the faint golden glow of orbs.
Translucent wings spun in a slow, rhythmic dance as ivy coiled up her body like a living body suit, barely covering her nipples and inner thighs.
Her full breasts swayed with each movement, hips rolling in a seductive ritual performed for several gentlemen seated in front of her.
With a slight flutter of her wings, she lifted into the air, every curve on display, an offering to their greedy, unblinking eyes.
Drool pooled at the corner of one man’s gaping mouth.
No doubt she’d make a decent wage today.
The next tent over, a young woman bartered with a short, grumpy man from behind the counter. Small glass bottles littered the tables and shelves labeled in sharp, handwritten script. Another apothecary. Multiple signs hung from the awning: Pooka Potions! Luckwart! Gold Leaf Tea!
Pooka Potions? I chuckled to myself, remembering the time Breena warned me about partying with Pookas.
Creatures who looked just like everyone else until they drank.
Apparently, alcohol would trigger them to lose control and shapeshift, often taking a poor soul for a wild ride.
I really thought she was joking. Until one night, we were stumbling home from a bar when we heard a young man wailing for help.
A wild horse galloped through the street with him on its back, his eyes were wide, and he was clinging to the mane for dear life.
It looked like a bat out of hell. Bins knocked over, people scattered, chaos ran rampant.
It was completely unhinged. My immediate response was to help, but Breena yanked me back, howling with laughter.
“No! No! It’s a Pooka!” she cackled. “He’s her hostage now. Just has to ride it out ’til morning. We can’t interfere. He’ll be fine.”
Apparently, once a Pooka tricked you into mounting up, you were trapped into a night of mayhem and mischief, with no choice but to ride or die . . . literally.
Poor guy. Probably flinched every time he saw a pony after that.
I wasn’t much of a potion person, so I passed the stall without a second glance. Instead, I found a cozy spot at the base of a small flowering tree across from the fountain. Private enough, but still perfect for the entertainment of people-watching.
My mouth was salivating as I opened the mesh bag of chocolates. They were rich brown and dusted with a delicate powdering of gold. I popped one into my mouth and held back an embarrassing moan. Fuck me sideways. They were incredible. Carrot cake haters didn’t know what they were missing.
A flash of light had me jolting back against the hard tree. I instinctively threw up a hand to shield my eyes.
Pudge appeared, rosy cheeked and giddy-eyed.
Short strawberry curls bounced as he shimmied his shoulders, eyes locking onto the truffles.
The devious little Cherub snatched them up without hesitation, tossing both in his mouth at once.
Wet, muffled giggles escaped his chocolate-dribbled lips as he chomped away.
A plump hand patted his round protruding tummy.
“Hey! Those were—”
Another flash. He vanished.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” I huffed, muttering a curse under my breath. “That little—” Shaking my head, a laugh I couldn’t resist tumbled out.
Pudge was the most adorable little devil you’d ever meet.
Honey and Huck had their feral sides too, but his brand of chaos was unmatched.
Honestly, I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see him hijack my sweets.
It’d been his hobby for years. Didn’t matter where I was: classroom, lunchroom, field trip, bathroom, car, date.
He’d just appear, wreaking havoc like it was his divine right.
And no matter how many times I’d ask, he never answered how he knew when to show up—or how nobody else seemed to see him.