Chapter 22 #2
A gaunt arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing her belly with a harsh pinch, the claws shredding her cloak. The hand at her throat retreated and the sound of lips smacking together made her gut twist. The echoes of growls and squeals almost drowned out the roaring panic in her ears.
The Faerie pressed against her. The cold chest flush against her screaming spine. Its shadow covered her as it lowered its chin to her shoulder. In her periphery, she caught the sight of a sharp chin and aquiline nose.
“A little butterfly has flown into my web,” he drawled, “and she is delicious.”
Avice whimpered, his grasping talons bringing memories of the disgusting Mister Inman’s groping hands.
Her knees buckled under the Tall One’s grip.
She knew they were among the first to retreat underground when Christendom drove them from their homes.
She would feel pity for them, if she did not have one holding her in his deathly grip.
She finally sucked in a breath, counting on her alliance with Trewoofe to save her. “I am not a little butterfly. I am Avice, the Well King’s little witch.”
The Tall One rubbed his marble cheek along hers, making her blood curdle.
“I have heard whispers of the King and his friendship with one from above, but he is not here, is he? The filth from above poisoned us in the below, and he took that away to save us…” He licked along her neck. “…and he never came back.”
She recoiled from the freezing slime of his tongue, reminding her of the alcohol-stained breath in the ale cellar.
“King Trewoofe is alive. He will be furious with you when he finds out what you are doing to me,” she bluffed.
Her sleeve fell back as she lifted her arm, revealing her iridescent scar.
“He cares deeply for me. He marked me and gave me a gift.”
“I will take my chances; it has been so long since I have had a human woman.”
Avice baulked at that.
“Never again,” she hissed.
The hilt of her iron blade twitched in her fist. The arrogant Faerie had not thought to disarm her before grabbing her.
She jerked up.
The iron bit into his gleaming skin. She carved a line through his tattered sleeve and tore deep into his flesh, scraping bone.
The Tall One screeched and loosened his grip.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Avice sucked in a breath and wrenched free from his claws.
She spun on her heel, blade brandished as she backed towards the quartz stairway. Her eyes squinted through the gloom, trying to assess her attacker.
He would have been beautiful.
Once.
The Tall One towered over her, shimmering skin wrapped his skeletal frame. His body was sharp and angular, reminding her of the points of an arrowhead. He held his carved arm up to his face, and blinked his mismatched eyes: one green, one blue, and each cut by a diamond shaped pupil.
The steady drip of his blue blood was the only sound for the briefest of moments, until Bramble bounded back into her sight.
Relief blossomed in her chest as her familiar dashed to her side.
His coat was slicked with the sheen of blood.
For a heartbeat, she thought it was her Grim’s.
Then, Avice flared her nostrils, Bramble reeked of a Tall One – rancid meat and rotten bone.
Are you well? he asked, not tearing his fiery gaze from the Faerie before them.
“Yes,” Avice squeaked.
I am sorry. Two were stalking you and this one slipped past me. I killed the other.
Bramble stalked towards the Faerie, hackles bristled, and teeth bared.
“You killed Robin?” the Tall One shrieked.
I did, and I will do it again, Bramble snarled. His eyes flicked to the Faerie’s dripping arm, each drop saturating the air with a rank scent. Though it seems like my witch has already had her pound of flesh.
The Tall One pulled back his lips in a growl, revealing a jagged gash of a mouth. “She has defiled the sacred well with her human metal.”
Avice flushed with rage. “You were about to defile me.”
Wait until the Well King hears about this. Bramble snapped his jaw in the Tall One’s direction. You should leave, now. Unless you wish for my fangs to find you.
The Tall One chittered. He glanced between the pair, as though he were deliberating what do to next. Finally, he held up his hands – one stained dark blue with his blood – and retreated into the gloom.
Avice doubled over and let out a ragged breath. She sheathed her knife, and pressed her hands to her racing heart, fumbling to run her fingers over her pendant. She turned her head as she panted, meeting Bramble’s soft gaze.
“You are a good, good boy,” she croaked, willing her pulse to settle. “Thank you, Bramble. I would be lost without you.”
The Grim whimpered, lifting a paw from the ground. I am relieved he left. I do not know whether I could have killed another.
Avice straightened up, eyebrows pinched together in concern. “Did the other one hurt you?”
Yes, Bramble admitted.
She ran her hands through his fur and pulled them away, turning her palms to her face. She scrunched her nose at the stench, her skin had been stained dark blue, but it mingled with smears of the Grim’s night sky blood.