Chaos: Contemporary Biker Romance (33 page)

She tried to imagine Zamir's wife, their love-making, heated and passionate, when he was a great general, long before his mighty fall. She could see herself as his wife, as much as Satan's children could marry their lovers, lying down next to him in bed, both of them naked, as he crawled onto her body, their flesh pressed together as one. She imagined the hair on his legs tickling her body, and the smoothness of his back and chest. The idea electrified her body, even though she knew it was wrong to think about such things. Even so, Zamir's story broke her heart, for someone so strong and yet so noble to be dragged into an eternity of destructive habits.

Their journey continued on, through the sparse trees and bare stones, as they passed various vegetation and animals Elsa had never seen. Up ahead, in the multi-colored light, she could see what appeared to be a fish floating through the air, yellow and green in color. But it was a bird, bloated from the sides, with tiny wings like a fly, that then took one look at her, through human-looking eyes, and then buzzed back into other parts of the forest. Elsa didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Eventually, the dirt under their feet became more and more damp, then wet, then soggy. Elsa thought the ground was slippery, but looked down at giant earthworms slipping between her toes.

“Oh God!” she said, when Zamir grabbed her arm and put his index finger to his lips. He pointed ahead at a quiet mound of land one hundred yards away from the them, surrounded by an oily, thick moat.

“The Cottage,” she whispered, worried that there might be someone waiting from them in the place. Elsa could see, at the center of a lake, a single wind mill shuttering back and forth in the oppressive darkness.

“It's hard to breathe,” Niklas said, and Zamir ushered him to lower his voice.

“I can't either,” Humburt said, putting his hand to his throat. Something sat heavy on all their chests, and the rest of the group understood what Humburt and Niklas meant. Zamir ripped off a piece of his pants, tearing the cloth into five different pieces. He motioned to them to put the cloth near their mouths, to filter the air better. Elsa wondered why Zamir could not just talk to them this with his mind. He must be under stress, she thought. Zamir grabbed Elsa's hand, leading her to a boat at the edge of the lake. Looking out upon the water, the Cottage stood at the center, watching them, and Elsa, along with the others, received from that Cottage an insufferable gloom which pervaded their spirits. Insufferable it was, the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible, in order to find relief. The stone walls of the place were overgrown with a slimy green moss, mixed with brown decay, and rotten logs. Elsa looked upon the scene before her: the vacant eye-like windows, the rank sedges, and the pale trunks of decayed wood, with an utter depression of soul which was comparable to no earthly sensation more properly than to the moment directly before a dreamer wakes from her nightmare. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart, an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into something more sublime or beautiful. Death, the Cottage told her. Darkness, Chaos, Evil.

As Elsa and Zamir stepped into the boat, casting concerned goodbyes to the other four men, she wondered what exactly she would find in the Cottage that might help her leave the forest, and what, if anything, she could do about her continuing transformation into Freja's physical self.

Zamir tapped Elsa on the shoulder to get her attention, as she had been focused on the Cottage in the distance, mesmerized and terrified at their impending journey into the heart of true evil. She looked back, and he whispered, “Take the oar,” then handed a rotten oar to her. She began rowing along through the water, but then realized the water was actually black tar, and upon breaking the surface of the substance, a foul stench like no other emanated from the hole. Elsa wretched over the side of the boat, but Zamir urged her forward.

As the creaky boat continued through the tar, moving at a glacial pace, Elsa noticed a change overcome Zamir, his green eyes flashing possessed anger in quick succession, strobe-like and haunting. Something was wrong, but he made her hurry. She rowed faster and faster, and the closer they got to the Cottage, the boat began to shake. She looked back at Zamir, who held his hands over his temples, trembling with the struggle. There was something fighting to get out of Zamir, and Elsa quickly realized it was his shifter self. Remembering the sheer terror of wolf form, Elsa slid over the side of the boat, jumping into the vile tar, knee-deep, and made her way to the edge of the lake before it was too late.

“Just hang on,” she whispered to him, afraid of what would happen should she speak out loud. Zamir vocalized a low-frequency, painful groan, just as Elsa reached the door to the Cottage. Fear lay on both sides of the moment for Elsa. Should she stay, Zamir would almost certainly destroy her. But looking at the Cottage which awaited her, she almost certainly ran to her doom as well. Choosing mere potential destruction over almost certain death, she jumped out of the boat and ran to the front door of the Cottage. It was the strangest thing, Elsa thought, that despite the immediate danger she was in, that she would think to ring the doorbell, and if that didn't work, to throw a stone through the window of the place. Looking at the boarded up window, she was overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu. It sort of reminded her of Freja's cottage.

Elsa grabbed the doorknob just as Zamir transformed into his shifter self, black hair bristling, teeth bared, two thousand pounds barreling in her direction. She slammed the door behind her with a loud thud. Scraping and scratching at the walls on the outside vibrated throughout the house. Elsa took a breath, looked around the cottage to see an empty place, furniture overturned, and dust swirling around in the shaft of moonlight shining down through the window. Her heart hummed along as she started her search through the cottage for something, anything, that would give her a clue to get out of the damn Forest.

“Tell me, dammit,” she said out loud, to anyone or anything that would listen, “What do you want? What do you want me to do? Just make it clear.”

There was a moment of silence, the calm before the storm, then an explosive bang shook the entire cottage on its frame. Zamir was throwing his entire body against the wall, attempting to get through the door no matter what, to eat Elsa. Images of her own demise raced through Elsa's mind, of Zamir tearing her innards from her slain stomach, blood everywhere, with his teeth. She saw him lick his lips at the taste of her flesh, looking down at her with that curious, cold stare that had at this point become familiar.

As Zamir continued growing stronger and fiercer, she looked around the cottage for some clue as to what the Prophecy of Asif meant for her, so she could get out of the woods before the transformation into Freja was complete. She worried whether Theo would remember her at all. Perhaps they would already be married, with kids, grandkids even. So she continued looking, visions of their goings-on flash before her mind intermittently, destroying her capacity to think clearly. The cottage stifled her, like she was drowning in open air.

Elsa rushed over to the kitchen area, digging through the gray ash in the open oven for a letter, a sign, anything. She looked in the cupboards. She dug through the closets.

Another loud bang, this once twice as strong, reverberated through the cottage.

Elsa raced through the den, tearing open cushions, rummaging through papers.

Yet another bang, this time with cracking wood.

She ran to the bedroom area, the last area left to search, threw open the door to reveal a small twin bed, with a chest sitting at the end and a single night table on the side. There was a box atop the night stand, a red light glowing from within. Elsa shut the door to the bedroom, just as she heard the front door break open, and the sound of wolf's paws rushing down the front hallway. She placed the largest wooden block between the frame she could find, knowing it would buy her a little time. She rushed over to the box, opened it, revealing a cracked and scraggly crystal, pulsating red. The crystal looked very much the same as the one Dorien presented to her that night in his cavern. The crystal glowed with life, and the moment Elsa touched the thing, a voice hissed from the air:

“Into the wicked woods, all can see

Comes a fair maiden to set thee free

True as night, lit by fiery beauty

End her struggle, show her black cruelty.”

“What does that mean?” Elsa said into the air, tears welling in her eyes, knowing that any minute Zamir would break down the door to the bedroom, and her demise would be complete. She had tried everything she knew to figure out just what the Forbidden Forest wanted from her, coming no closer to understanding how to use the crystal to get out of the forest. She figured the crystal must be reunited with its other half, for whatever reason, and putting her hands in her pockets, she realized something, just as Zamir broke down the door to the room. “That's it!”

Behind her a vicious growl warned her to make no sudden moves. Zamir's control was gone now and all that was left was the violent monster before her, approaching her slowly and deliberately.

“Zamir, please stop. Find the Zamir I know. The man who used to be good. The man who used to be noble. Stop now and we can leave this place forever. I know how to save you. How to save us,” she said, putting her hands above her face, to shield herself from his deathly bites. The crystal, gripped in her hand, grew warm at first then hot, and she opened her eyes to see Zamir standing before her on his hind legs, somehow overpowered by the thing in her hand. She opened her palm to examine the pulsating crystal, then pulled out the spell Freja had given her, still in her pocket. She knew this would work, she was sure! The crystal was responding, taking hold of Zamir and keeping her safe, so she must be onto something, Elsa thought. The spell Freja gave her, as long as she had the crystal in her hand, she could use it to make the spell work. The crystal would make her pure, she thought, pure enough for the spell to work. This all seemed a little complicated, but Elsa was really out of ideas. Elsa looked down at the crumbled paper in her hand, her face scrunched in thought, trying to figure how to make her plan work. She sat on a line between good and evil, that much she knew. On the good side, she wanted to rescue Theo from Freja, regain her love for him, and start a new life, forgetting about this mishap in the Forest forever. On the evil side, which was growing stronger by the second, she wanted to make love to Zamir on the floor of that cottage right then and there. She couldn't help it, and the more she tried to deny her growing feelings for him, the stronger they got. She looked up from the crystal, the red haze now casting a soft and romantic glow throughout the entire room. Zamir stood before her, in human form, completely naked now. Elsa's body betrayed her and she grabbed him by the neck, planting a deep kiss on his lips. She dropped the red crystal, along with the rest of her clothes, on the night stand next to the bed and lay down on her back. The crystal grew luminous to the point of blinding both of them.

The release was exquisite, as she lay down on the bed, straddling her legs around Zamir's giant body, and he kissed her neck and upper chest area. The whole experience seemed like some dream, long-forgotten and never consciously chosen. He made his way down her body, running his hungry tongue all over her stomach area, reaching her lady bits.

The crystal glowed brighter.

There he massaged her with an ecstasy she never had never experienced before in her life, running his tongue through her soft, velvet folds like the famished wolf he was.

The crystal nearly exploded with fire, burning a black hole in the wooden night stand.

She lost her virginity to Zamir that night, when he crawled up on his knees and rubbed his member in soft, rhythmic motions over her lady parts. Every stroke became increasingly more intense, and this technique brought her to the edge of climax, and when it became nearly unbearable, she pushed him back, telling him to slow down. But his hunger was too ravenous and the wildness of both their natures overcame them finally, as he put her legs atop both his shoulders, bracing his torso up with his powerful pillar-like arms, and then began pumping away. Every thrust brought him closer to her, filling her not with utter joy or even pleasure, but pure and unadulterated truth. When he finally came, she was his, in a way no one else would or could ever be.

The crystal's light dimmed suddenly.

Elsa lay there afterwards in beautiful heartbreak for the finite length of their relationship, which was built not on trust, not on fidelity, but on uncontrolled abandon and beautiful tragedy. She was not happy or fulfilled in those moments, but simply alive, in the moment, happy to have gotten close to Zamir and subsequently his nature, wild, and sad at the same time, because it all made her acutely aware of her own mortality. It was a joyous, exciting feeling, laced with powerful grief. They didn't speak for hours after, but Elsa knew they were thinking the same thing: nothing lasts. She turned her head to the crystal which lay on the table near her, as its brightness died down, but still hummed along.

They made love several more times, urgent, fitful in their passion, before deciding it was time for her to return to the towns. As they put on their clothes, a fireball exploded outside near the edge of the moat.