Bittersweet (32 page)

 

 

I woke up in total darkness. It was better this way; I didn't need a visual reminder of what had happened or where I was. I was trapped, thick fabric coiled around my ankles and wrists, holding me tethered to the wall. I tugged, halfheartedly at first. A knife of pain shot through my side. Memories flooded back. I'd been injured. Boy, I missed being able to speed-heal. I winced in anticipation of the pain and then tugged harder, trying to do the impossible and pull myself free. It was no use. I inhaled the cold frigid air and refused to shed another tear over the man I'd come so far to find. The father I'd never had and obviously, never would.

It was freezing.
I'm going to die here.
Panic raced through me and I tugged against the fabric. With a grunt of despair I stopped and rested my head against the cold floor. I was inside, or at least it felt that way. A dungeon maybe, or a cell? They had all manner of storage for holding a person against their will.

“Lorelei?”

I heard my name whispered against the darkness and immediately felt a wave of relief. “Zanthiel?” I wasn't alone. And he wasn't dead. All in all, this was already better than expected. “Where are you?”

“Across from you. Are you hurt?” he asked.

I inhaled a shaky breath. “No, I'm fine,” I lied. “You?”

“The same.”

“Where do you think we are?” I asked. He didn't answer, but a voice in my head whispered,
W
e're nowhere. Lost. Gone.

“Lorelei.” He interrupted my dismal thoughts. “We have to free ourselves from these bonds.”

No kidding. The question, of course, was how.

“Use magic,” he said, and I could feel his thoughts seeping into mine.
You can break through these ties. They are merely fabric.

I closed my eyes and pictured the outcome I wanted. I saw us free, and safe, but then the vision morphed into something else. I saw his mother pleading us for her life. My father with his head under a guillotine's blade. And Etienne's broken body scattered over the lands of Mythlandria. Horrified, my eyes sprang open. I blinked rapidly to wipe it from my mind. Did I really want them all dead? No. Of course not. It had to be this place. The Shadow Court was filled with darkness. It feeds on one's fears and delights in thoughts of violence.

“I don't know if I can do this here,” I said. “The darkness is too close. I can feel it tainting my powers.”

“Lorelei, you can do this. Close your eyes and focus,” he said firmly, and then he paused. “Or we say our good-byes now.”

And there it was, the final push needed to unleash the forces lost within me that I had no road map to retrieve. A surge of power swelled and with a swift pull, the enchanted fabric gave way, bursting into a shower of sparks that fell to the cold ground as ash.

“Did it work?” he asked, sounding more skeptical than hopeful.

“It worked. Keep talking so I can find you.” I repeated the spell to free my legs, then crawled around the room in the darkness, following the sound of his voice. “How big is this place?” I muttered, when my knees began to ache.

“Keep coming. You are close now, I can feel it.”

I could feel it too. We had that connection and it drew me to him as naturally as breathing. The ground was littered with jagged rocks and frozen dirt, which bit into my hands and feet. But it was safer to stay on the ground. With the dizziness still throwing me off kilter, I knew that standing would only lead to falling. Or throwing up. Neither would be helpful in getting us out of here. I crawled over something cold. And damp. It was a body. Or the remains of one. And then another. My stomach heaved at the thought of what might be beneath me.

“Lorelei? I can't hear you. Talk to me. Are you all right?” I could hear the concern in his voice, but I was afraid if I answered, I might lose it.

The stench of blood, my own and others', filled my nostrils. I leaned against my elbows and rested my head on my forearms. “I can't—” A wave of nausea swelled over me. Just as I was about to collapse, I stretched out my hand and met with his body. Firm. Cold. And very much alive.

Pulling myself upright, I clung to him, my hands running over the hard ripples of his chest.

“I knew you would find me.” His breath fanned against my hair as I felt around him to find the cloth binding him, incinerating it.

Freed from our bonds, a doorway materialized. It all felt like some sort of test. A sick game. The door was a passage to somewhere else, and neither of us knew where. But we had to get out before it was too late. My father would return, no doubt, and if not to kill us both, then to at least end Zanthiel's life.

Tapping into my anger once more, I forced myself to conjure more magic, enough to cause the door to grind open. There was a large vacant room on the other side. It was round and void of furniture, as well as bodies. The walls were painted a blinding yellow. Such a happy, hopeful color. Ironic, considering. We stepped inside. I squinted and shielded my eyes against the glare with my hand. Zanthiel glanced back over his shoulder at the pitch darkness behind us, before he followed me through. The door ground shut behind us and then promptly vanished.

“Great. Out of the frying pan…” I wheeled around as a smoky apparition began to take form in front of us.

“And into the fire…” he finished. His hand reached for his sword on instinct before he remembered he no longer had it.

The shape of a man formed from the shadowy smoke and before it had fully formed, I knew exactly who he was.

My father.

I glared at him. “Any more surprises in store for us in your fun house of mirrors?”

He glided around us as we stood rooted in place in the center of the round yellow room. “Some things are real, some are but a dream. I'm glad you have awoken. I knew in time you would.”

I nodded, hating this man more by the second. “You drugged us.” It wasn't a question, since I already knew the answer.

“A simple sleeping potion to diffuse the situation and pull forth the information I required. Sometimes it is necessary for a parent to take action against a child's will.”

My body stiffened. “Do not ever refer to yourself as my parent or me as your child.”

He regarded me with expressionless eyes the exact same color as mine. “Why would I not? It is the truth,” he said.

I wanted to lash out. To tell him he had no idea what it actually meant to be a parent. But they were words. Empty and meaningless because they'd fall on deaf ears.

“Should I assume you're going to let us go now? Since you're being so paternal now?” I was doing a poor job of keeping the acidic tone from my voice.

“I am not certain that would be best. You seem to possess a death wish of sorts, rushing headlong into danger and peril at all turns. Your presence here is confirmation of that.”

“I'm here to save the people I love. Not that you'd know anything about love.”

“There are other ways to get what you want without getting the people around you killed. You are a menace. And no one is safe around you. This task you are on has become an obsession, and I want to know why.”

“This
quest
has fallen in my lap. I'm only doing what has to be done.”

He shook his head and frowned. “You do not see it, do you, child? It must stop. You are falling too far.”

Guilt flooded back to me and I remembered all of the people who'd been hurt indirectly because of me. “I didn't mean for anything to happen to anyone,” I stammered. “I was trying to help them… you included. Huge mistake, I see that now.”

“Perhaps that is the problem. You are trying to save the world when you should be trying to save yourself. Instead, you have agreed to the madness, indulging in the dark magic and magical beings alike.” Glinting with contempt, my father's eyes shifted briefly to Zanthiel. “I will not relinquish my crown nor my throne again. Not to any being, least of all to him.” He pointed his sword at Zanthiel's head. “I will never support this pairing. Leave now. Return to your world. Or I shall be forced to end both your lives.”

My stomach clenched, but I pushed myself to take a step toward him. “You believe the rumors, right? That I'm filled with dark magic and will destroy the realms I'm prophesied to rule? Is that it?”

“You must have surmised that the gifts and magic your mother has been trying so futilely to suppress in herself flow through you as well. Her magic. Your grandmother's darkness. And mine as well. They were right to have forbidden your birth. I was wrong to have taken a bride from human, a witch no less. A momentary weakness that I cannot allow to bring down kingdoms.”

I pushed back a wave of pain. “I cannot believe you are saying this to me right now,” I whispered. There had to be some reason the man who'd given me life no longer had any concern for it. But try as I might, I couldn't find it.

“You are a fool to have assumed this could go any other way. You do not belong here, child. Go home.”

Anger welled up inside me. This was what I'd crossed realms to find? A father who'd never wanted me?

“I've met goblins less despicable than you,” I spat. “I can't believe my mother could love anyone like you.”

“She did once. She may still. You are mine. Whether we wish otherwise or not.”

“I hate you.”

“Perhaps you do now. And maybe you will for always. But that matters little. I made a deal. Your life must be spared at all costs. His, however, is expendable.” The black metal blade of his sword glowed red hot with heat.

“No,” I shouted. “You can't kill him. We're going to be married.”

Zanthiel's head lowered and a silence fell over the court.

“What did you say?” My father's voice sliced through the quiet, rattling the rafters.

I sucked back my tears and tried to steady my breath.
I can get us out of this. I have the power to get us out of this.

“You heard me,” I said, reigning in my emotions.

My father moved to my side, his full height towering over me. “No child of mine will ever love anyone from this realm. You will return to your home. Now.”

Two guards appeared from the ethers and grabbed my arms and tried to drag me from the room. A surge of panic swelled in me and I shook them off. They both went flying across the room, their bodies slamming into the wall.

Everyone froze. Stunned, my mouth gaped open, but I returned my attention to my father.

My hands trembled as I took a step toward Oberon. “Please. Don't make me use force. I can't leave here. Not before…”

“Before what?” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What is it you are intending, child?”

I squeezed mine shut.

“Speak!” he hollered.

“There's someone I have to help.”

He lowered his sword. “Who is this someone?”

Again I fell silent. If he was willing to kill Zanthiel for being with me, what would he do if he knew I was trying to save Adrius, the elven prince whose father was partly responsible for his banishment from Winter Court? I bit down on my lower lip.

“If you will not tell me, then I've no doubt your dark faerie betrothed will.”

Oberon grabbed my arm, yanking me to his chest, and pressed the edge of his sword to my throat.

“Tell me who she is planning to save. Or I will bleed her dry of magic and order the necromancers to revive her.”

I remained completely still as the cold of his blade spread down my neck.

For the first time ever, I saw Zanthiel flinch. Without pause, his steely gaze lifted to my father's. “It is the elf prince she intends to save. We believe he is with Venus, held by
Octãhvia
's binding curse.”

I glared at Zanthiel, shaking my head incredulously. “Why did you tell him, Zanthiel? He wouldn't have hurt me.”

“Yes, Lorelei,” he said, his voice coated in darkness. “He would have.”

My father lowered his sword slowly in a veiled attempt to control his rage. His face flamed red and the veins on his neck and forehead pulsed against his pale skin.

“Ilyandra. You are a fool. Quite clearly, you are your mother's daughter. Have you no concern for the consequences of your actions?”

I tensed.
Seriously
? “
My
actions? What about
yours
?”

Oberon's attention shifted to the feathered Shadow fey. “I will listen to no more of this. Leave them. And let in the demons. If they survive their escape, she will no doubt be ready to return to her home.”

He glanced back at us, shaking his head slowly. “However, should she refuse to take leave of this realm…” His eyes met mine briefly, cold and impassive.

“Kill them.”

 

 

Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed the sword from my father's hand. I aimed it at him, steeling my grip and my nerves.

His face folded in a dark grin. “You think you have what it takes to kill me, Ilyandra?”

“Don't call me that.” I steadied the blade, holding it in front of his chest.

“It matters not what name I call you. It matters only what you are or are not willing to do. Will you end my life? Will you take my heart in your hands and feed it to the hellhounds? We are kin. I do not believe that you will.”

My hand clenched tighter around the handle and I pressed it closer to his throat. It took all of my strength to keep it from shaking.

“I don't want to kill you.”

“No, of course you do not.”

“But I will if you try to hurt my—”

His laughter interrupted me. A terrifying sound, gurgled and half choked-off, yet dark and ominous at the same time. “Your
what
? Your betrothed? Your true love? Which of these inferior beings is it you intend to kill me to save? One of them? Both of them? Perhaps neither is worth ending the life of a father over.”

He waved a hand and his sword flew from my grasp. It landed on the far side of the room with an echoing clang.

I bit down on my lip, so hard I tasted blood. It made me slightly nauseous, but no more so than the situation in front of me. I raised my hands and held them in front of me. Immediately he began to choke as though his airways were being cut off. His hands gripped his throat, clawing at my invisible hold.

His guards stepped forward, but he waved them back.

“Just give me your word that if I let you go, you won't hurt them. Either of them,” I added. The edges of my vision were tinted red, but I continued my hold.

He gave a half-smile that faded almost as quickly as it came. He was struggling not to lose his temper. “Then you shall have it. I give of you my word they shall not come to harm by my hand.”

I was used to faerie tricks and their play on words. “Not good enough. I want you to promise you will not order anyone else to hurt them either. And you will offer your protection.” I threw that in to guarantee he kept his word.

Oberon nodded. “You have my word.”

I released him and he pulled in a breath of air.

“You are stronger than one might imagine from your appearance. The prahna has grown quite powerful indeed.” He sounded pleased.

I turned away from him. I couldn't face him right now. Not with every sight, smell and taste threatening to make me throw up all over the ground. Hardly an act befitting the dangerous magical being I was supposed to be.

I should have known his word meant nothing.

The Shadow King turned with a cold gust of wind and stormed through the doors, bolting them shut behind him.

Silvery vines snaked across the ground, heading for Zanthiel. He lashed at them with his sword, slicing through the living things which screamed in pain with each slice. But there were too many. They coiled around him, piercing him with their thorny spikes.

Zanthiel let out a low groan as another thorn drove into his side. “They're coated in iron.”

Perfect. The one thing faeries can't endure.

Blackened creatures crept toward us; their skin charred and cracked oozed red hot lava from every fissure.

“I will admit, Oberon was right in one thing. You do have a certain way of attracting death.” Zanthiel grunted as he struggled to break free.

I repositioned myself closer to Zanthiel, where the iron vines held him in place, eating deeper into the flesh of his arms. I tugged at them futilely as the shadow creatures inched closer, dragging their malformed bodies.

So this was the man I'd fought desperately to save. The man who'd given me life and captured my mother's heart. I tugged again with as much force as I could, but stopped when Zanthiel moaned. This was who I'd risked it all to meet. Disappointed didn't come close to what I felt. I wanted to throw up and scream and burst into tears. But there wasn't time for any of that because the demon creatures my father had let loose on us were coming, and they were going to kill Zanthiel unless I found a way to stop them.

I scanned the room. There was nothing I could use as a weapon. Nothing to even transmute into a weapon. All I had was me. And whatever magic lingered inside of me that hadn't been warped beyond recognition by the dark energy of this place.

Once again I felt Gran's energy surround me, protecting me from myself. I closed my eyes, and chanted a spell from her grimoire. Then I traced a symbol over my hand. First my left and then the right. The symbols glowed green like electric neon sign.

One demon reached Zanthiel and he slammed his boot into the creature's head, sending it reeling back with a screeching howl. But more came, one after the other.

I raised both of my hands at the creature. The air stirred, winds picked up, whipping my hair across my face, blowing the dust into mini tornadoes. Aiming my hands at the creature I spoke in a faerie tongue. “
Ily elvi se, onerium. Certa tenebrarum com luce.
” With that, a blast of energy shot from my palms and slammed into the creatures. The air filled with the sounds of sizzling and cracking as the creatures slowed, inch by inch immobilized until moments later, they were nothing more than stony statues, encased in ice. Terrifying statues, but immovable all the same. And then another surge came and I flung my hands out in front of me, fueled with rage. The force blew through the creatures like a nuclear blast. They shattered into pieces, reduced to fiery sparks and blackened dust which blew away through the opened windows. The blast slammed into Zanthiel. He dropped to the floor, then rose slowly, his face as shocked as mine.

“Come on,” I said without pause. “Let's go.”

He stopped to gather two of the fallen swords, then we raced for freedom.

****

We'd traveled for miles before Zanthiel found a trod, a porthole passage off the Faerie Islands and back to the Wyldes of Nevermore. They were few and far between and could only be sensed once we were within its vicinity. My magical gifts so far didn't include porthole detection, so I was once again grateful to have Zanthiel by my side.

Hours later, he discovered another leading directly to Noctria. It wasn't until we were steps from it, that he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, forcing me to stop. “Lorelei. You should rest before we venture any further.”

“I'm not tired,” I said pulling back.

He refused to let go.

“Zanthiel. I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to talk about it.”

“Yes,” he said. “I can sense that you do. You need to or the pain and anger will continue to feed on the dark magic inside of you, making it impossible to heal.”

“Whatever. Let it feed. Let it stuff its friggin' face full of my anger.” I was shouting now. “Who cares? I'm so over it.”

“You know why your father did the things he did, don't you?”

“Because he's cruel, vicious, mean, hateful, evil…” I ran out of adjectives as the words gave way to the bitter disappointment.

“He wants your magic to be stronger to better protect yourself from what may come. It's activated by your emotions.”

“You think he cares about my protection?” I scoffed. “He's a jerk and I don't want to talk about him.”

Zanthiel gazed up into the sky and squinted into the sunlight. “He was a good man. Once. Noble and just. His life has made him what he is. It's been cold and unfeeling. Cruel and hateful. I know the effects of that all too well,” he said quietly. He handed me a flask, which I took and then swallowed a mouthful of water.

“Yeah, I agree he's a direct byproduct of his life, because cruel and hateful is all he's got.”

Still annoyed, I brushed aside an overgrown fern in my path. Feeling sympathy for him was one thing I refused to do. I couldn't. It still hurt too much. I shoved the flask into my pouch and snapped it shut. “You know, though? It's fine. I found him and it's good that I did. Now I know that I really wasn't missing anything all those years. My mom and I were so much better off.” I clenched my fingers in my hair. “Look. I said I didn't want to talk about this. So just drop it. Okay?”

Zanthiel stared at me for a moment, not daring to point out he'd dropped the subject a while ago. I could see the concern in his furrowed brows. Not sure why. Anger and rage were exactly what was needed here to defeat Venus' level of evil. This was no longer a rescue mission. It had become a war, and she was the target. It wouldn't be over until she'd been destroyed.

“That man was not my father. And if he thinks he can scare me away with a few demons, clearly he knows nothing about me at all.”

“You are letting your hurt feelings cloud your better judgment.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I know what you are planning. I can read you, remember? This was supposed to be about repairing your healing magic. Not killing Venus.”

“Well, clearly Oberon has no intentions of helping with that or anything else.” I railed. “I get that you loved Venus once. But she's poison, Zanthiel. And like my father, everything she touches turns to ruin. She has to be stopped.”

His metallic glare reflected the sunlight. “You think you are the one who needs to stop her. Why? She has amassed a long line of enemies willing to bring her down. Myself included.”

“If not me, then who else? This isn't your battle. It's between her and me.” Exasperated, I whirled to face him. “What do you think will happen after I release him from her tentacles? You think she's going to let this go without a fight? Just accept her defeat? Not a chance. And I have no intention of letting her ruin another second of my life.”

I turned to face the invisible porthole between the Wyldewoods of the Nevermore and Mythlandria. “I have to end her. For all of our sakes.”

“What about your father's crown?”

“We'll figure that out later. For now, all that matters is that they believe he has given it, along with his blessings.” I sighed.

Zanthiel started to say something, but then stopped.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You're not going to tell me what a great guy he is again, are you? Because I may have to throw up on your boots.”

“I was not. Besides, you already know, because...”

“I already know
because
...” I urged him to finish.

“Because you're a lot alike. Don't throw anything at me,” he added, raising his hands.

Lucky for him, I didn't have anything to throw. “Sort of a big leap, considering the only thing we share are a few genes. Hardly think that makes us clones.”

“You don't see it, because you are too close, and you're upset. But I do. It is clear to me.”

“Have you any idea how close you are to the end of your life right now? Let's just move on and stop talking about the man who, from here on out, shall not be named. Agreed?”

“Interesting you should be so angry over someone you will soon come to forgive.”

“Forgive?” I scoffed. “Why would I? Because he's got brown eyes and brown hair and calls me by the wrong name?”

“Because aside from all of those things, he is your father.”