A Reckoning so Sweet (The Reckoning Book 3) Page 11

  Everything next happens in a blur; my mind barely registers it.

  I go for the jugular, clamping down hard on his throat. Past the fur and the muscle, I find skin. It gives way to my fangs, though it takes me a while to tear through. I maul him again and again until his throat is nothing but blood, grey and metallic. Raegar howls in pain, trying to shake me off, to cut me with his sharp claws—and he does, but it doesn’t stop me. If my mouth lets go of his neck, he’ll definitely kill me.

  For me to live, he has to die.

  The choice was always simple. I don’t know him. He is not my friend, nor is he family. Those are the only people I’d die for. Anyone else, and I’ll always choose me.

  My last bite tears a good part of his throat off, and as he starts to slow, I escape from beneath him. Standing on all fours, I watch Raegar glare at me, the orange in his eyes dimming. He falls, grey blood seeping onto the glowing grass. His chest ceases its breathing. The wolf tongue hangs from his open snout, frozen in a perpetual snarl.

  I exhale, ready for him to get back up and attack. But he doesn’t. He stays down, because he’s dead.

  I killed him.

  Once the adrenaline wears off, I’m able to feel the wounds he gave me. I can’t put any pressure on my back left paw. My shoulder blade is covered with cuts and scratches. Somehow in the fray I’d gotten a deep gash in my chest. The back of my neck bleeds from his first bite, the one that wordlessly told me what his intentions were.

  My entire body aches, and I collapse on the ground beside Raegar’s corpse, hoping that his pack wouldn’t show up. If they do, and they see what I did to him, they’ll definitely kill me. Knowing this, I won’t be able to stop them. I doubt I’d put up any sort of fight.

  I don’t know how much more fight is left in me.

  My eyes close, and I lose myself in unconsciousness.

  Chapter Eight

  Salty air, warm skies, sweet breeze. I stand there, for what feels like hours, soaking it all in. I’m not even on the beach; I’m past the sand dunes near the condos and beach-front houses, on the boardwalk over them.

  I head across the wooden boardwalk, taking off into a run, wanting to swim in the ocean, to build a sandcastle, to do what normal people do on the beach. I feel my mouth curling, teeth showing, adoring the way the breeze feels in my hair. My feet slide to a halt when I see that the beach is empty, save for one man.

  With his back to me, I can tell that he’s lost in thought. His black hair is spikey, and for some strange reason I remember the words anime styled, like I’ve said them before. Like I’ve joked with him about it. He wears a tight black t-shirt, and jeans. Odd apparel for the beach.

  Why do I feel like I know this man? It can’t be.

  I look down at my front feet, at my paws, their claws digging into the sand. When I look back up, the man’s head is bent; he seems to be staring at his own feet. Something unspoken takes hold of him, for he hesitantly turns his body, meeting my curious and confused eyes.

  He says something, a name, maybe, but I can’t understand him.

  When he takes a step towards me, I grow afraid. With my tail between my legs, I run away, as fast as my legs would take me.

  “Look here. Did I not tell you I smelt blood?” A pause, and the sound of a rustling corpse enters my ears. “The eyes, must be Raegar. He was the only one who left who had eyes like that.”

  A second voice speaks, this one feminine, “And he is not alone.”

  They must draw closer to me, for their voices sound louder. “Red blood.”

  “It’s very small,” the woman remarks.

  I feel something poke me in the side, on an injury, and I painfully open my eyes. Two Fae stand over me, hunters. A man and a woman, wearing leather and green cloth. Bows on their backs, curved daggers on their hips. Both are a yellow blonde, their long hair braided back to reveal their ears. They have matching green eyes, matching bone structure. Related, probably.

  “The eyes,” the man says, glancing to the woman. “Child of Man.” He is amazed.

  “It is hurt,” she says, after examining my body. “I will take Raegar. You take this one.” She runs her hands through the fur on my head, adding softly, “Rest, Child of Man. You are safe with us.” With that, she moves to the dead wolf, hoisting his limp and bleeding body over her shoulders. When she turns, I can see a set of insect-like wings folded against her bare back.

  As the male Fae picks me up, I fight to keep my eyes open. I’ve learned my lesson about trusting Fae.

  Of course, that’s easier said than done, because I’m exhausted. This time, when I meet unconsciousness, it stays a black, dreamless time. I cannot even remember my last dream.

  I wake to a warm bed. It’s made of some kind of straw-like material, but it’s warm and comfortable. My wounds are covered in a clear goo, their pain lessened greatly. I move to stand on my paws, but I still can’t put too much weight on my injured one.

  Also, my neck is chained to the wall.

  I knew I couldn’t trust the Fae that found me. I knew it.

  Something primal takes over—fear—and I yelp, trying to detach myself from the wall, from the binding chain. I break open my neck wound as I do so, and I am slow to stop, knowing it’s useless.

  Stone walls sit around me, bars to my right. A jail cell, straight out of a Tolkien novel.

  As I think that, I immediately don’t know what that is. A reactionary thought about my current predicament? Is it a person, a time period, a…

  I regain my mind. Tolkien is an author, who wrote Lord of the Rings.

  That’s weird. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

  The sound of rushing footsteps echo the hall, and a woman appears—the same one who found me in the forest. She wears the same outfit, though a bit of it is smeared in silver blood. Raegar’s blood.

  A key in her hand, she unlatches the door and hurries in, bending to inspect my neck. She says something I don’t understand. “You opened the wound again.” She reaches into her side pouch, pulling out a bottle salve. “Do not move,” she instructs, dotting my injured neck with the clear stuff. It stings, and my body involuntarily tenses.

  At first the pain intensifies, but it soon subsides, as if it was never really there.

  “I do apologize about the chain, but some of the wolfen have lost all their manners. We had to be certain before we let you free.” When I give her a sad expression, she gently touches my snout. “You will be free, but you must heal first. Only when your wounds close can you be submerged in the Mere of Life.”

  How badly I wish I could be a smartass, because I have no frigging idea what that means.

  “Rest now, Child of Man, and know the wolfen cannot hurt you here. You are safe.”

  Seems a little odd to be chained up and locked in, but I’m not in the position or the right form to argue.

  I lay my head down, watching as she stands and leaves, locking the cell up before leaving me. Once more I’m alone. I am calmer than I was before, so I guess that’s something. Within the hour, I fall asleep.

  I creep, tiptoeing along the surf, my claws digging into the wet sand, getting stuck between my pads. Kind of irritating, but my focus remains on the white birds that are fifteen feet away. They’re ugly and stupid, and I want to catch them. Whether or not I’d eat them is an entirely different story.

  Can you blame me for wanting to have some fun?

  Baring my teeth, I decide to make a run for them. The blasted things fly into the air in the last second, taunting me, squawking. My jaws snap as I jump upwards, but they’re too far. I land in the sand as a wave rolls in, wetting my paws. With a snort, I glare at the birds as they fly away, my prey lost.

  “Lexa,” a deep voice says.

  I turn, startled at the man’s closeness. My ears perk up and my head tilts.

  The man stands not even twenty feet before me, his bare feet in the surf. There’s something familiar about the blueness of his eyes, but I can’t say what it is. Lexa? What’s
a Lexa?

  “Where are you?” he says, slowly getting to his knees, eye-level with me.

  I hesitate, stepping backwards once.

  “Lexa,” he says it again. “Please tell me where you are.”

  I don’t understand whatever he’s trying to say. It’s like he’s speaking another language. When he tries to move closer to me, I bolt.

  I spend the next few days in my cell, healing. The Fae woman visits me often, brings me food—of which I refuse to eat. My injuries close up, and are not starting to scab over. When she sees how thin I’m getting, she brings the Fae man who carried me here. He was probably the one who locked me up, too.

  “It has not eaten,” the woman says, worry lining her oddly-shaped face.

  “Can you blame it?” he says, glancing to me. “Accepting food from the wolfen is how the Child of Man became one of them, logically.”

  With a sigh, she says, “Use your glamor.”

  With each word spoken, I understand less and less.

  “If it is not nourished, the Mere will devour it, and the Queen will never know why it came, or how it got here. And with winter coming—”

  The man must agree, for he nods. “Of course. You’re right.” He bends to his knees, meeting my eyes. Something takes root inside of me as he whispers, “Eat your fill, Child of Man.”

  Despite the feeling that I shouldn’t, my head moves to the bowl in front of me, and I sniff the meat. Hunger gnaws at me, and before I know it, I’m devouring every scrap. My stomach, for the first time in a while, is full.

  The two Fae stand. The woman looks at the man. “Is Raegar prepared for the Mere?”

  The man nods. “Yes. I will alert the Court. At dawn, we will know the truth.” He looks at me. “Sleep well.” As they leave and lock the cell, I watch with interest.

  What in the world were they talking about?

  My snout dives into the water, and I hold my breath as I snap, catching the slippery, slimy thing. The fish flops as I bring it out of the water, biting down hard with my fangs, and I head up the beach, onto the white sand. I plop down, drop the fish, and put both front paws on it. I carefully start picking at it with my front teeth.

  My tail sways back and forth. I am content.

  That is, until a shadow blocks the sun. I freeze, eyes flicking to the man in front of me. My hackles raise, and I bare my teeth. He is far too near. I don’t like it.

  When I snarl, he looks hurt, though my teeth have yet to touch him. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have run.” He kneels, and my lips raise further to reveal all of my teeth. I start to growl steadily. “Wherever you are, you are not protected by my Mark. You are not safe. Clearly, something’s already happened. If you can understand me, Lexa, stay put. I will come for you.”

  Are his words supposed to mean something to me? They don’t.

  They don’t mean a single thing.

  The Fae woman holds my leash tight, just in case I decide to attack anyone. The male who looks similar to her walks behind us with his bow drawn, ready to kill me should I make any sudden moves. We move through the dungeon, through flowery and vine-filled canopies, past the strange architecture.

  I take in my surroundings, my senses keen. I no longer walk with a limp, and should the Fae holding me loosen her grip on the chain around my neck, I’ll try to run.

  We emerge onto a stone platform, the canopy breaking apart around it, allowing the sun to shine down on us. Fae of all kinds stand around the circular pool, dressed in slimming armor, their elongated frames ever watchful. The pool only goes up to my chest, but they force me to dunk. The water takes hold of me, my heart beats faster. Tingles course through me, my skin changing. I thrash when it gets difficult to breathe, and when I stand out of the water, I hear gasps from the witnesses.

  The water has turned pink. Either I was colorblind and didn’t notice it, or it changed because of me.

  I blink, tentatively reaching to my neck, where the chain lays, a lot looser than it used to be. As I touch it, I withdraw my hand. Fingers wiggle at me, free of fur and claws. I am no longer a wolf.

  Murmurings about my appearance—my eyes, my face, my ears, and especially my curves—cause me to realize that I’m standing in front of a group of Fae stark naked. I attempt to cover myself when I see the grand woman at the foot of the pool. She most certainly was not there before. I would have noticed.

  Taller than the rest, her skin a golden, sparkly hue. She wears a translucent, glowing gown, a fur-lined cloak around her thin shoulders. Her red hair is long and braided, swept to her left shoulder, a band of sparkling stones on her forehead, one in the shape of teardrop resting in the center. She wears no shoes, as most of them don’t. Behind her, the rising sun nearly blinds me.

  “It has been a long time since someone freely rid themselves of the beast,” she says, her voice like honey. I could listen to it all day. “Not since Ashyr and Tailyn.” The two Fae who brought me give a short bow. The woman unlatched her cloak, moving towards me with regality. She glides over the floor as her wings stretch out behind her. The closest thing I could compare them to would be the wings of a butterfly—beautifully designed, strong enough for their purpose, yet weak to anything with a point. Not the best wings you could have, but just so unnaturally gorgeous.

  The cloak is wrapped around me, hiding my nakedness, what’s left of the chain, and the oddity of my body. I know I’m not fat when it comes to Human standards, but compared to these Fae, I feel short and stubby, with thick legs and a huge chest. Don’t even get me started on the hip situation.

  “Child of Man,” she says, gently touching my face. I’m dry instantly. “How did you get here? Occasionally my kind can slip through to your world, but never in my time as Queen has a Human been able to cross over.”

  “Spell gone wrong,” I say, fighting to remember. “We were looking for our friend, a Vampire. We did a spell to locate him and somehow I wound up here.”

  “Children of Night are not permitted in the Summer Court. Even if your friend was here, we would not welcome him.” The Queen pauses when a group of Fae carry in a motionless wolf. “Ah, Raegar.” Her tone changed. “Put him in the Mere.”

  The Fae carrying him on a gurney stop before the water, which is still pink from me. As they lift the one side of the gurney, rolling the carcass into the Mere, I can’t help but wonder what they think is going to happen.

  “But I…” My voice stops as I glance to the Queen.

  “You think you killed him?” She smiles. “Such a human construction. Fae are unlike your kind. Flesh wounds rarely kill us. So long as the spirit remains intact, any Fae can be born again in the Mere.”

  I pull the cloak closer to me, recalling the feeling of his teeth on my neck.

  The moment his body splashes in the water, it turns a dark, deep blue. So dark it’s nearly black. The body thrashes, much like I did, only worse. Tossing and writhing until the entire pool shakes his body. The Fae around the pool watch, though I can tell they’re also watching me.

  The pool settles, and in it, Raegar stands with his back to us. When he turns to us, he is slow to walk out of the pool. With both hands flat on the stone ground, he bends the knee, practically crawling before her. “My Queen,” he says, his voice low and still very reminiscent of his wolf. When he stands, I can see that while the pool brought him back, it did not heal his scars. The whole part of his neck is scarred white, thanks to my attacks. His wings are tight against his back.

  “Raegar,” the Queen purrs. She draws a thin hand down the side of his face, and I see him stiffen. “Good to have you back, finally. Wait for me in my chambers.”

  Raegar nods once and walks away from the Mere, away from us, escorted by three Fae.

  She waits until he leaves before saying, “He has been gone from Court for too long. I thought we lost him to the Beast.” Her gold-flecked gaze is heavy on me as she adds, “I should thank you for bringing him back to us.”

  I know what she means; I know that I didn�
�t so much bring him back to Court, rather than bring him back to her.

  From the way he tensed up, I’m not so sure I did him any favors, but then again, he was a bit of a prick, so I don’t feel too sad about it.

  “Ashyr, Tailyn, please get our guest ready for dinner,” the Queen says, motioning to the two Fae who’ve aided me. “I wish to speak with her more after I become reacquainted with Raegar.” With a swirl of her gown, her wings fold against her bare back, and she leaves, heading after the orange-eyed Fae.

  The rest of the bystanders wander off; apparently the show is over.

  “I am Tailyn,” the woman says with a smile, a key in her hand to undo the chain around my neck.

  “And I am Ashyr,” the man says with an equally happy smile.

  “Uh,” I blank for a moment, “Lexa.” I offer them my hand, seeing as how they do nothing but stare and smile at me.

  They both stare at my outstretched hand, glance to each other, and then do the same thing towards me. For a moment, all three of us stand there with our arms out, none of us touching.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, withdrawing my arm. Evidently they’ve never heard of a handshake. I hold the cloak tighter when they study me like I’m an animal on display in a museum.

  They also have never been told it’s rude to stare.

  Ashyr and Tailyn primp my appearance—much like I imagine Fae to act, hopping from one thing to the next before finishing the first. Half of my hair is combed and half of my makeup done. I look silly. I try to fight them, for I feel like I should be doing something more important, but my arguing is half-assed. A part of me is fine with it all. A part of me doesn’t even want to think about leaving.

  Tailyn has to quickly let out one of her dresses, and hem its lengths. As she works in the background, Ashyr studies me. It’s like he can see through the Queen’s cloak. “Would you say you’re representative of your species?”