Читать книгу The Witch's Quest - Michele Hauf - Страница 9

Chapter 2

Kelyn stepped before Valor, protecting her from the demon who had appeared in the forest. It was one of the Wicked; Kelyn knew that because the creature had red eyes. The Wicked were faeries who possessed demon heritage. Demons were looked down upon in Faery, and so the Wicked were condemned and ridiculed. This one must have been ousted from Faery. Not an uncommon thing.

Seeming to blend with the shadows that angled between the thin moonbeams, the demon topped Kelyn by a head, yet its narrow shoulders, clothed in frayed black, were deceptive in that most demons were strong and quite capable of standing up to any opponent.

“We mean you no harm,” Kelyn said coolly, yet maintained a sharp edge. He set back his shoulders. He would not be defeated by a demon. “I’ve no prejudice against any of your kind. Move along.”

“Prejudices,” the demon said in a slippery tone. The dark-faced entity smirked, its black lips crimping. “You ascribe to prejudice simply by mentioning it. Unwanted one.”

Kelyn did not flinch at the moniker. He’d never been allowed access to Faery. His mother was a faery and his father a werewolf. Because he’d been born in the mortal realm, Faery was not open to him. Though he’d always pined to go there. To learn about his true heritage.

The demon tilted a look toward the ground, taking in Valor, pinned to the forest floor by the elder oak. “Looks like she’s in a pinch.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Kelyn said. “Right, Valor?”

“Uh, yep. We’re good!”

“A witch and a faery,” the demon said. “Pretty.” He narrowed his gaze at Kelyn’s neck, where he always wore two talismans on leather cords. “Interesting. You’ve been to Faery?”

“No,” Kelyn answered.

“But that talisman.” The demon tapped his own neck.

“A gift. Now, enough of this. Begone with you!”

“Very well. But you’ll never get her loose. She’s been pinned through to Faery.”

“How do you know? What does that mean?” Valor rushed out.

“It means you must be unpinned from Faery,” the demon explained.

Sensing the demon wasn’t so much being helpful as teasing at the dreadful future that awaited Valor, Kelyn did not relent in his stance before her and only wished he’d brought along his bow and arrows this evening. But he could take this dark creature. Easily.

The demon eyed Kelyn’s clenched fist. “You said you meant me no harm.”

“I’ll do what I must to defend her.”

“Touching. The dying witch has a faery champion.”

“Leave!” Kelyn said. “Take your smirk into the shadows and let us figure this out alone.”

“As you wish.” The demon stepped back and spread his elongated hands out before him. “But, unlike you, I have access to Faery. I can get into Faery and unpin her. If you wish it.”

Valor didn’t say anything, and Kelyn was thankful she hadn’t rushed to beg the demon for the help.

But really? If the Wicked could get Valor unpinned, he’d be willing to do anything. Even take a few spiteful punches, if necessary. Because Valor’s life was at stake. And she hadn’t much time remaining. Her hips were beginning to sink into the ground.

“You tell me true?” Kelyn asked.

The demon nodded. “I am not heartless. And...you have something I want.” Again the demon’s eyes glanced across Kelyn’s chest where the talismans hung.

Of course such assistance would not be provided without recompense. Which was fair enough, Kelyn thought. He felt Valor’s hopeful breaths taint the air. She needed rescue and he would not leave this forest without her in his arms. Alive.

“What might that be?” Kelyn asked the sly demon.

The demon smiled and walked before him, turning in a half circle before coming around to face them both and saying, “Your wings.”

“No!” Valor yelled from behind Kelyn.

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” the demon said.

“We don’t—”

“Valor,” Kelyn said to shush her. “Be still.”

“You can’t give him your wings. They are what make you...you! That’s a terrible thing to ask in trade for—”

“For a life?” the demon interjected. “Seems more than fair to me. But if you’re not keen on breathing, witch, then so be it.”

The demon’s eyes glimmered vivid pink. He was preparing to flash out of the forest as swiftly and quietly as he had appeared.

“Wait!” Kelyn reacted from his heart and soul, not his better senses. “You can have them.”

The demon smiled.

“Absolutely not!” Valor punched the ground with an ineffectual fist.

Kelyn turned to face her, and the spill of tears down her cheeks startled him. Wasn’t she the feisty tomboy of the group of witches who owned a local brewery? The one who hung around with Sunday and fixed cars and motorbikes, and never met a greasy engine she didn’t want to take apart?

Or so he’d heard. He’d made it a point to listen when Valor was spoken about. Because he had lusted after her. Had wanted to ask her out. And almost did. Until...Trouble.

But with the lingering taste of her kiss still on his lips, he couldn’t deny that those feelings had not grown any lesser.

“You are not going to sacrifice your wings for me,” Valor said on a desperate pleading tone. “Just go! Get out of here!”

“And allow you to die? I am a better man than that. It’s not my nature to walk away when I can help.”

“Help? No! Just no! I couldn’t live with myself if you gave up your wings to save me.”

“Well, you’re going to have to.”

He tugged his ankle away from her grasping, pleading hands and turned to the demon. With an inhale that shivered through his system and tweaked at his back between his shoulder blades where his wings could unfurl, he grasped decisiveness. “We have a deal. But you will promise you’ll go immediately to Faery and unpin Valor.”

“With your wings in hand, my entrance to Faery will be secured. The moment you hand them over to me, I will leave and unpin your tragic lover.”

Kelyn almost said “She’s not my lover,” but semantics were less important than getting this cruel task completed. Because to sacrifice his wings would be like handing over himself. He’d become lesser. Not even the faery he was now. He would lose...

Kelyn held out his hands. The violet sigils that circled his wrists were a match for those sigils on his chest. They were his magic. His strength. As were his wings.

But to walk away from a helpless woman when he had a means to save her?

“Do it,” Kelyn said firmly.

The demon thrust out his arm, and in his blackened hand materialized a gleaming sword of violet light. “Kneel, faery.”

Feeling the intense sidhe magic that emanated from the weapon shimmer in his veins, Kelyn dropped to his knees, his side facing the demon.

“No” gasped from Valor’s lips.

Lips he’d kissed, and on which he’d tasted a sweet promise. But he must never taste that promise again. He couldn’t bear it.

“Do it!” he yelled.

And his wings shivered as he unfurled them and stretched them out behind him into the fresh spring air. Moonlight glamorized the sheer violet appendages, glinting in the silver support structure that held a close resemblance to dragonfly wings.

The violet blade swept the night. Ice burned through Kelyn’s body as blade met wing, bone, skin and muscle, and severed each of the four wings cleanly from his back. Overwhelmed by a searing agony, Kelyn choked back the urge to scream and dropped forward onto his elbows. His fingers dug deep into the cool moss. He gritted his jaw, biting the edges of his tongue.

Behind him, Valor screamed.

He wasn’t aware as the demon gripped his severed wings and, in a shimmer of malevolence, flashed out of the Darkwood.

Bile curdled up Kelyn’s throat. His stomach clenched. His wingless back muscles pulsed in search of flight. Clear ichor, speckled with his innate faery dust, spilled over his shoulders and dribbled down his arms to the backs of his hands. The violet sigils about his wrists glowed and then...flashed away, leaving his skin faintly scarred where the magical markings had been since birth.

The witch muttered some sort of incantation that felt like a desperate blessing wrapped in black silk and tied too tightly for Kelyn to access.

He wanted to scream. To die. To curse the witch. To curse his own stupidity.

But what he instead did was nod and suck back the urge to vomit. The task had been done.

He would not look back.

Suddenly Valor’s body lunged forward, her hands landing on his bare feet. The tree roots had spat her up, purging her from the earth. She scrambled over them alongside him. The demon had kept his word, unpinning her from the Faery side.

Good, then. His sacrifice had been worth it.

“Oh, my goddess. Your wings.” Valor gasped. “I... Kelyn?”

“Go,” he said tightly.

“What?”

“Leave me, witch! Get out of this forest and never return. This is not a place for you. Be thankful for your life.”

“Yes, but—I’m thankful for what you’ve—”

“We will never speak of this again,” he said forcefully. Still, he crouched over the mossy ground, unwilling and unable to twist his head and face the witch. “Please, Valor,” he said softly. “Go.”

If she did not leave, he would never rise. He didn’t want her to see him wingless and broken. Hobbled by his necessity for kindness, to not abandon a condemned woman.

“You need someone to look after those wounds,” she said. “I might be able to find a proper healing spell if you’ll walk out of here with me.”

“I need you to leave,” he insisted sharply. “I will walk out of the Darkwood on my own. When I am able. Do you understand?”

He sensed she nodded. The witch’s footsteps backed away from him. She uttered a sound, as if she would again protest, and then the soft cush of her boots crushing moss moved her away from him.

And Kelyn let out his breath and collapsed onto the forest floor.