Bittersweet (22 page)

“I already have a drink,” I corrected. I doubt she even heard me.

Zanthiel was, of course, oblivious to it, the way he always was when human girls flirted with him. Unless he wanted something from them. Then it was game on, and the girl didn't have a hope of winning.

When the awkward order taking had concluded, I turned my attention back to Abby and Davin, trying to resume a normal conversation. I made it a point of ignoring the shivers that slid through me every time Zanthiel's arm brushed mine.

“I thought you were leaving. Going back to wherever it is you came from before you can't.” Davin finally said. He was never very good at playing nice with people he didn't like.

“I shall be. Just as soon as my traveling companion is ready to leave. She says the word, and we're off.”

He looked pointedly in my direction and Abby gasped. Davin's mouth gaped.

“Nooo. You have got to be kidding me. Tell me you're not going back there.” Abby reached across the table and clamped on to my hands, as if that could somehow hold me here.

“I have to, Abby. I can't let her win. Not like this.”

“I thought you said it was over with Adrius.”

Zanthiel faced me, his brows arched and eyes widened with dramatic expectation.

I ignored him. “It is. But that doesn't mean I can just let him die.”

“So you're going to die instead. How is that better?” Davin added.

“I'm not going to die. And I won't be alone,” I said, hoping to ease their fears.

In unison they both glanced at Zanthiel.

He smirked.

“Wonderful. So your protector is a psychopathic pixie,” Davin said.

“Psychopathic
f
aerie
,” Zanthiel corrected, still smirking.

“Whatever. You can't do this, Lorelei. It's crazy. I won't let you go.” Davin climbed out of the booth and stood in front of me.

I sighed. This was exactly what I didn't want.

“Davin. I'm not leaving right now. And northing's set in stone. It's just a...possibility.”

Zanthiel opened his mouth to say something and I elbowed him in the ribs.

For once, he got the hint.

“I'm not going to sit here and listen to you plan your suicide. I'm outta here. Abby?”

Abby climbed out of the booth, without a word. Her dark eyes were heavy with sadness and she gave me one last look before nodding to Davin and taking his hand. No matter how angry they were with me, it brought me some relief, knowing they'd finally found one another. They were perfect together.

The door to the tavern slammed shut just as the waitress returned with a tray full of drinks. She grinned at Zanthiel and set them in front of him, completely oblivious to the fact the rest of our party had just taken off. Man, I missed the Lemon Balm.

“Here you go, sugar.” She beamed, handing him a bill which had what looked like a phone number scrawled across the back.

I rolled my eyes. Zanthiel didn't even glance at it, but handed her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.” Then he smiled, and I thought she'd be reduced to a puddle on the floor.

“You know what, I think I'd like to see the menu,” I said. She barely glanced at me, but managed to pull herself away to do her job.

I glared at him. “Why did you do that?”

“She earned it. Did you not see the way she balanced that tray on one hand? Magnificent.”

“I'm not talking about that,” I snapped. “Why did you tell them I was going back to Mythlandria? You knew I didn't want anyone to know. I don't want them to worry.”

He picked up a glass, inspecting it in the light hanging above our booth, then set it down. “They should worry. You may never return. I thought they might like to say their good-byes.”

Something tightened in my gut. “I will return and that's not an answer. Are you trying to make my last moments here with the people I love miserable?”

“On the contrary, Lorelei,” he said, in a serious tone. “I was hoping you would reconsider. Since you won't do it for me, perhaps you will do it for them.”

I blew out a sigh, letting my anger depressurize. Folding and unfolding the damp napkin next to my drink, I fixated on my hands.

“But you won't, will you? Nothing will keep you from saving your prince.”

“He isn't my prince, anymore. And I have no choice. My magic is hurting people. My father is still alive... somewhere. And he might be the key to fixing the veil,” I said. “If it seals, I lose you too.”

“So your lost love has nothing to do with this inane crusade?”

“Zanthiel, this was always the plan. I can't live with myself knowing his life is at stake because of me. I'm the only one who can break the curse. You know this. It would be selfish of me not to try if I'm able. After all he's risked to save me....” My voice trailed off. It was still uncomfortable talking about Adrius. Especially with Zanthiel. I knew things between us would never be the same. It was over, he was gone, but the feelings I'd buried were still too close to the surface to start digging through. Like a hand buried alive, it would rise and pull me under if I wasn't careful. And if I was going to do this I needed to keep a clear head. Separating from my emotions was the only way I would live through it.

I choked on my words as I pleaded with him. “I need your help. I can't do this without you.” My stomach twisted with guilt. I know what it seemed I was asking. For him to risk it all, to save the man I'd chosen over him. But that was only the partial truth.

“I wonder,” he said, still watching my expression.

“What?”

“What will you do if you return to the Mythlandria and everything you hope for comes to pass, yet you find he is still in love with Venus?”

I swallowed, wincing at the painful reminder. “Then I will let him go, and cross one thing more off my to-do list. Will you help me or not?” I tried to give a light shrug, but the weight of his words made it difficult to move.

Zanthiel studied me a moment longer. I took a long sip of my drink to evade his gaze.

Finally, he spoke. “If that is truly the case, we leave for the Nevermore tomorrow at nightfall. Together.”

 

 

I woke up coated in the residue of a bad dream. The kind of icky feeling that stays with you all day. I knew this day was going to suck. I just had no idea how much.

Zanthiel and I crossed into the Wyldes of the Nevermore through the veil that thankfully, hadn't yet sealed. Towering trees surrounded us. Their unruly branches fought each other for sunlight as we tread beneath them. The air was thick with the smell of sap and damp soil. It wasn't the most appealing part of their realm. Or the safest. Wild things lurked behind every tree, perched on every limb. Only Zanthiel kept us both safe, with his skilled ability to avoid dangers like puddles so deep you could never find your way out if you fell into one. Or flowers with pollen that lulled you to sleep for a hundred years should you inhale it.

I glanced back at the shimmer of magic fading behind us. “How much time do you think we have before the veil seals?”

“Hard to tell,” he said. “I believe whoever is controlling it might be waiting for something to occur.”

“Something like what?”

“The right time. When whatever it is they are waiting for has come to pass.”

I shook my head. “That's comforting.”

“You're being sarcastic. None of this is within your comfort zone.”

“I don't have a comfort zone. Not anymore.”

“Everyone has one,” he replied.

“Is that so?” I crossed my arms. “What's yours?”

“You trust that there is a higher power overseeing all there is, ensuring good will triumph over evil. You do not believe in fate and yet you cling to the belief that there is a pre-assigned purpose to life. It allows you to remain passive.”

I frowned. “I asked what
your
comfort zone was.”

“I know what you asked. I am giving the answer you need to hear. Not the one you requested.”

“So now you know me. Is that it? You have access to my mind and I'm just an open book to you? Well, you're wrong. There is a lot you don't know. Because if you did, you'd know that what I
don't
need is any more of your insights into my soul. If you had any clue who I really was, you'd know that all I care about is finding a way out of this mess. And doing it with the least amount of amateur psychoanalysis, and
death
, as possible.

Hiding from the truth and denying it to my last breath—that was definitely within my comfort zone. But so was doing what was right.

“You can tell a lot about an individual when you remove them from their comfort zone. I see you, Lorelei. I see more of you than you wish to admit. There is a strength in you yet to be tested.”

I stepped over a vine that slithered toward my foot. Self-reflection must have been outside my comfort zone too, because I needed to change the subject. “I don't want to talk about me. How do we find my father?”

“I do not know. But there are some who do. Beansidhe witches. Three very old, very powerful seers.”

“Let's find them.”

“We already have.” He pointed toward a small dwelling.

“There are three witches, who, it is told, can conjure a vision of the path to where you wish to go and warn you of the dangers you will encounter en route.”

“And they are seers?”

“Yes, rather powerful ones. They were once loyal to
Octãhvia
.”

My eyes sprang open. “And you think they're going to help
me
? The person who killed her?”

“I believe they will be drawn to the power in you. The power that was once hers. It will force their allegiance. Dark magic has the ability to do that.”

Pushing back the hair that had blown into my face, I looked at him. “I don't want that. I've never wanted that. Using magic to control people, force them to do things for you against their will. That's just not me, Zanthiel.”

“Beansidhe are not
people
,
Lorelei, so you can rest your weary morals. They will take quite a beating in this realm, if you insist upon holding so tightly to them.”

I heaved a sigh. It was hard to maintain morals in a place where they simply didn't exist. Nonetheless… “Maybe we should just ask for their help and see if they offer it.”

“Did you think I was perhaps suggesting you cast a spell over them?” He scoffed. “Of course we will
ask
for their aid. I'm merely saying they will give it, because of who you are.”

We approached the dwelling where we were to find the witches. Or so I thought. Chills chased up and down my arms. The hovel, which was a kind description, nearly reeked of dark magic.

“Death has darkened this doorway for near a millennium,” Zanthiel said, unsheathing his blade.

Shudder
. “Do you ever get the feeling that something awful is about to happen?” I whispered over my shoulder.

“Yes. But I'm more accustomed to being the awful thing about to happen. I prefer it that way.”

“I bet you do,” I said creeping closer.

“This hovel is a trod that will lead us to Noctria, where the witches can be found.”

I stepped toward it and he grabbed hold of my arm.

“Don't go any closer.”

Frowning, I looked at the decrepit shack. The walls were made of broken rotting wood planks with gaps large enough for a small child to crawl in and out of. The door was partially open and I could see decay inside. The floor was littered with stains. Old blood spilled, or drained, perhaps. I didn't really want to know. The path led to the far side of the room. A fire leaping with green flames filled a massive hearth. It was assembled with an assortment of bones, piece and fragments cemented together with copper mud. I shuddered. “Are those…”

“The bones of the dead? Yes. And that is the lair of a necromancer. A place not with a thousand armies would I let you enter. So forget any idea in that pretty little head of yours. It's a death trap. And you, even with your magic, would become nothing more than a mantelpiece decoration.”

“Good to know. Then we find another way in?”

Before we had a chance to choose that option, the door ground open. It hadn't fully opened before there was a being standing a foot in front of us. It was draped in a hooded cloak the exact color of blood, its face completely obscured by darkness.

I sucked in a slow breath at how quickly it had appeared in front of us. We were in trouble. I remembered them from my last trip to purgatory. The crimson riders… they'd been servants of the ice witch and were bent on sacrificing my body and handing my soul over to
Octãhvia
. They might not have been after my soul this time, but they were no less terrifying.

He unnerved me, yet I wasn't afraid. I've seen things that would make your blood run cold. I've done things that have made my blood run cold. This wasn't the first time I'd aced monsters. It wouldn't be the last.

The being pulled off his hood. Even Zanthiel was caught by surprise. It wasn't one of the rat-faced creatures from before. This was a faerie. A Shadow faerie. Thick coils of dreadlocks spilled out over his shoulders and down his back. His beautiful features were angled and ethereal, and a dark tattoo was inked across one side of his tanned face. The Celtic design on his skin stretched from his face down his neck and disappeared beneath his robe.

Strange for a Shadow fey to be here, so far from his realm. But then, they'd been doing a lot of traveling lately. Adrius had even found traces of them in my world, and I still suspected they were behind whatever had happened to Phyllis in the café that day. Memories of the café and Adrius made my chest burn. I pushed them aside.

The faerie approached me the way a snake approaches a mouse. Slithered more than he walked. “My complements to your new accoutrement, Zanthiel.”

“You've come a long way to aid the necromancers,” he replied, steeling his grip on his sword. “Offer your complements yourself.”

A twisted gleam flashed in the faerie's eyes. “Mmmm. I think I will.” He licked his blistered lips and stalked toward me. His menacing glare crawled over my body, hair to faerie shoes.

Zanthiel stepped in front of me. “Allow me to initiate the introductions. This is Lorelei Alundra, the one who killed
Octãhvia
. We are seeking the three witches, and we are prepared to go through you if need be.”

The wild faerie was still leering at me with ravenous eyes. “Surely you're willing to share her with an old friend,” he said.

“She is strictly hands off. Am I understood?” His silver eyes sparked a warning that only the most suicidal would dare disobey. Knowing the nature of faeries, it was of little comfort.

“Humph. Pity,” he whined, circling me in the dizzying way that faeries did.

He lathed a pink tongue across his lips. Zanthiel narrowed his gaze.

“She looks so hands-on,” he added, wiggling his fingers at me. For a moment I thought there'd be more bloodshed, as the faerie was separated from his fingers, but the creature wizened up and retreated.

He led us through to the secret passage we weren't supposed to know anything about.

I expelled a puff of air. I still hated the violence that was so much a part of life here.

Zanthiel handed me a fur trimmed hooded cloak and some furred knee-high boots.

“You will need these,” he said.

But I noticed he hadn't changed his attire at all, still dressed in his black knight-like amour. He took hold of my hand and nodded to the faerie, who continued to devour me with his eyes.

When we'd reached the point where we would cross over into Noctria, Zanthiel turned to the fey. “You demonstrated considerable restraint.”

The fey nodded, but then he darted toward me. “I deserve a small reward.”

I felt a tingle surge through me as the rogue faerie touched my skin.

In a blur of motion, I caught the glint of Zanthiel's blade as he pressed it against the faerie's chest.

“If you remove your hand in the next two seconds, I will offer you a quick death. Anything longer than that, and I will cut you apart, piece by piece. Trust me when I say I'll enjoy every last moment of it.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Zanthiel, you don't have to kill—”

His blade sliced through the faerie and his halved body fell to the ground.

I turned away, cringing at the sound of his sword as it scraped into its sheath.

His voice was against my ear. Cold and emotionless. "This should serve to remind you of what we really are."

I thought back to how afraid I was of him as a child, and shuddered. “It does."

"He was of the Gancanagh. Their touch creates an addiction in mortal women. One they cannot long survive.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about that,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“If that is your subtle way of asking if I am like him, the answer is yes. I am. To take a mortal is to take their mortality. I've never asked for such a sacrifice. Still, it shames me to admit more than my share of mortal girls have died for lack of my touch.”

“Good to know you don't make it a habit of drugging human girls with your touch.”

“You mock me, but it has taken centuries to learn restraint. Not many have that level of discipline,” he said, then his gaze slid to the faerie on the ground. “Had he encircled you in his arms, you might have been all too willing to press against him and follow him anywhere. We could not risk it.”

“Why do you continually underestimate me?” I said sharply.

“Gancanagh are a danger to all mortal females, and before you remind me once again that you are not mortal, let me remind you of the close kinship witches have with humans. Your bloodline is not wholly fey and until you are willing to take a life to save your own, you are still very much connected to your humanity.”