The Demon Girl by Penelope Fletcher (each kindness read aloud TXT) 📕
The Lord Cleric punched her. Her head flew back and a spray of blood wet the dry mud and spattered over the leaves concealing me. Face wet with tears and whimpering, she tried to crawl toward the trees and dragged up clumps of earth with her fingernails.
"You must let me go." The words sounded muffled, like she had a mouthful of something foul.
The Lord Cleric executed a neat half turn and stamped on her thigh. There was a sharp snap, like I'd picked up a twig and yanked on the ends until the fibers split apart and cracked open. The fairy's leg buckled into an unnatural shape and she screamed. The sound was guttural, a direct translation of pain to sound. I slapped a hand over my mouth to smother my own shriek. Not because of the broken bone, I'd seen and heard tons of those, but because I'd caught the Lord Clerics profile and recognized the handsome face. The Lord Cleric dragged the fairy back into the centre of th
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Conall would be pissed too, not that he had a right. I was going to have words with that brother of mine and none of them were going to be nice. He had failed me. I could understand why he could not save Alex; his main concern was recuing Lochlann and Breandan so they could fight.
Tears I thought I had already cried out ran down my face as I thought of my friend. She had been so brave, in the end. She had not looked at me with hate and disgust, but told me she loved me. Gods, as much as I hated it, I could accept it because she did. I had tried to save her, to reanimate her body using the voodoo practices of her bloodline, but it hadn’t worked. I’d been stopped. There was nothing else to do but take her body back to Temple and back to Ro. He would hate me too, for he was smart and would figure it out. The easy thing would be to bury her out here so no one knew of her death, but I couldn’t do that. Her life deserved to be celebrated. All I could do was try to explain and hope Ro could forgive me, as she did.
I felt a stirring of anger. Lochlann, he was a problem. I thought he was going to be the good guy. He would continue to try and justify his actions by saying Tomas had killed a fairy. I would not let him take his life. Tomas had to make amends for the life he had taken - I was not sure how I would get him to do it, but I would - and I did not give a damn what power Lochlann thought he had to condemn my vampire-boy to death.
Breandan’s reluctance to go to the Grove made sense now, as did the fairies reaction to news that we were bonded. The fairy Priestess were usually the life-mates of the fairy-lords. Lochlann was trying to overthrow Devlin, who definitely needed overthrowing, and that would make him High Lord of all fairykind. The Priestess kept the spiritual balance and the High Lord kept physical order. Breandan had not wanted to see me, because he knew we would be stealing his brother’s future mate. Yet, he could not help but seek me out, knowing that the white witch had seen we were to be together.
Anger became rage as Devlin, skewering Alex, flashed across my memory again. He would die, and I sent a fervent wish it would be by my hand. I was going to become so powerful just hearing my name would stop his heart. I would find him and destroy him, laughing as I did so.
Guilt I would never be able to shake, crept over me and memories of Alex bombarded my vision. I sobbed. Again, I tormented myself with the depth of my failure. It hadn’t worked. I had tried to save her, and it had failed miserably.
I lay down beside my vampire-boy, the one I had been able to save, and cried for the one I had lost. Lying in the dark with death itself had me wallowing and sinking deeper into a place I did not need to be. I needed the sunlight. I needed Breandan.
Tomas was going nowhere, and this shroud was nice and tight. I called on the Source and asked the forest to bury him deeper. The ground rumbled and more roots emerged from the cool earthen floor to wrap around his lifeless body and cocoon him. Happy he would be safe from the sun; I dug a small opening for myself and crawled out. A hand gripped my forearm tightly and pulled. I emerged from the shroud and blinked rapidly at the bright sunshine.
I looked around tentatively, on guard for any attack, but the camp was empty. The fire was now a smoldering pile of ash, and the only evidence of the nightmare at dawn was the fresh trails in the undergrowth. My gaze settled on the stone slab, still awash with blood. I trembled.
“Where is she?”
Breandan rubbed my arms, soothing me. “Maeve is tending to her body. We are going to burn her, a queenly funeral.”
“No. I want to take her back to Temple.”
The soothing caress stopped. “You know how the humans will react.” His voice was calm, as if he knew that was what I had wanted all along.
“It’s the right thing to do. I won’t burn her like a dirty secret.”
“Alright.”
We were quiet for a while. He seemed serene and I could sense no anger bubbling under the surface.
“You don’t hate me?” I blurted, unable to contain myself.
“Never. Though, I wish you were simpler.”
I snorted and rubbed some mud out of my hair. I flexed and extended my wings and sighed in relief.
“Where did everybody go?”
“Back to the Grove. Lochlann cannot stay here until he is High Lord. This wyld is for the ruling family.”
“Where has Devlin is gone? Will we be able to track him and his followers?”
Yes. But he is still High Lord. There are rules, Rae. Devlin must be tried against the laws of our people and the lordship removed from him by popular vote. Only then can a new High Lord be chosen.”
I sighed, hearing between the lines. “For Lochlann to rule, Devlin must live.”
“Oh yes. That is the way it must be. At least, until the power has been transferred.”
“I will kill him,” I said bluntly.
“And I’m going to stop you.”
Again, we were at opposite ends of the spectrum. The truth was, I didn’t care what he wanted, or what Lochlann wanted. I wanted Alex to be avenged. Nothing was going to get in my way.
“He murdered Alex, and for what? She was an innocent.”
“I know you are grieving.” Breandan stroked my face temple to jaw. “I will help you to heal.”
I went into his arms then and let him hold me. The hurt in me was an ocean I thought would never run dry. All I could do was protect what I had, and avenge what I had lost. There I stood, in the arms of my fairy-boy, standing over the resting place of my vampire-boy, and worried about what I was to do.
Conall stepped from the trees, cradling a girl shaped bundle wrapped head to toe in leaves and flowers.
The body twitched.
Letting Breandan go, I set my two feet apart and spread my wings until the golden tips were in my line of sight. They shone a brilliant gold, and felt glorious in the sunlight.
I readied myself for the day to come.
*
Author Bio
I, Penelope Fletcher, love to read and want to write something worth remembering. Simple as that.
Curious about A DEMON DAY, sequel to THE DEMON GIRL? Want to rave about Rae Wilder’s antics, or have a chat about writing in general, come on over to www.fictionfierce.blogspot.com and say “hai”. Or tweet at me www.twitter.com/Miss_Fletcher.
A DEMON DAY will be out SUMMER 2011.
Read on for a sample of the first chapter.
I ran. There was the forest, the gasp of my breath, and the pound of my mate’s heartbeat as he raced beside me. Nothing more. The forest, teeming with life hushed reverently as we blazed past, in awe of us, in fear.
Devlin was less than a day ahead, and his trail was erratic. Appearing suddenly then becoming deceptively faint, or weaving in odd directions. It was clear he was trying to throw us of course, using magics and distractions to slow us down so he could escape. Each time I was sure he had changed course or had gone another way, Conall had disagreed and pointed out the way. At times we had to stop so he could read the trails, listen to the wind and press his ear to the earth.
I hummed with passion. Hate. I wanted Devlin’s head on a pike. I wanted to dance manically around his corpse, and give in to the dark whispers in the corners of my heart.
We begun the hunt as the dew from the dawn soaked into the understory. I had left my vampire-boy, Tomas, slumbering in the earthen tomb I had made to keep him safe. He was dead, and would not rise until the sunset. I was pleased, because it meant I could focus on the task at hand. Catching Devlin, getting the grimoire and ripping his heart out before Breandan, my life-mate, could stop me.
Irritated and grumpy I waited, hand on hip for Conall to tell us which direction to take. I plucked a few leaves from the mess of inky-black that was my hair, and felt Breandan come up behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders then slid down my bared back to pass over my wings. They twitched and fluttered at his touch. He continued, lazily wandering to my waist then lower, gripping my hips.
“Focus,” I said, and thumped him lightly on the back of his thigh with my tail.
“I’m trying to relax you. You’re too wound up and ready to break.”
“I want this over with. I want him dead.”
He sighed and muttered, “This is not going to end well.”
I twisted round to look him in the face, unsure of what he meant. He looked at Conall and his lips pressed into a thin line. Breandan was skilled at schooling his expression, and I had to watch him closely to see if he was mad, pissed or upset. I was going for mad.
“What?” I asked, because it became apparent he’d realized something before I had. I stepped out of his arms and he let me. “What are you both not saying?”
I looked to Conall, the mighty warrior who was strong enough to massacre a small army of his kind. He glowed, brighter than any other I had seen, except when Breandan and I were suffering the effects of our bond. Conall was beautiful, a face of hard angles and smooth planes. His eyes were gold, a family trait it seemed, since mine were the same, only lighter. His muscled chest heaved with a sigh.
“The trail has gone cold.”
I stared at him.
“You’re lying.” Even as I said the words I flushed, but kept my stare defiant. Conall could not lie. Fairies could not lie, except for me. They were bound to speak nothing but the truth by magic. A fairies word once given was law.
Conall ignored the comment, flicked his hand through the air as if brushing his hurt aside. “It is beyond me. Devlin has worked a spell. There are three different trails, each are cold and each carry his and Wasp’s scent. Less than an hour ago we were half a day away and gaining. Now, it seems we are days behind and losing more time. It is a trick, a spell and I cannot see past it.”
“Then we follow each trail. One each.”
“No,” Breandan said.
“Apart from the fact it would be most unwise to leave you alone, Rae,” Conall said patiently, “what happens when one of us does find them? Or maybe we will find more false trails that we cannot navigate alone.”
“Then we follow each one,” I said through my teeth. “We pick the most likely, follow for a while, and if we’re wrong we’ll backtrack and start again until we get it right.”
“And what of the time we lose whilst doing this? What if we come across more false trails? We could spend days going in the wrong direction.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was ready to spend my lifetime hunting Devlin. Then I saw the stupidity in such words and my shoulders slumped.
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