I glance around. A few people are trudging up the steps, and some are entering the station. The streets aren’t busy anymore, but it’s hardly deserted. These girls seem pretty helpless, and they don’t look like muggers.
“Please?” begs Aer, the breeze blowing her golden locks from her face, revealing a kind and hopeful expression.
“Okay, sure,” I say, taking the makeshift bandage.
“Oh, thank you. Once you enter, she’s not far in. You’ll see her quite easily.” Salamander claps like I’ve done something amazing, and I wonder what her real name is. It’s probably Sally or Susan.
“Ether?” Aer yells. “Our new friend, Lara, is coming to see you. You’ll be very happy to meet her. You will. You will.”
Well, I don’t know if I have the power to make her happy, but I can definitely slap on a bandage and try to cheer her up a little.
“Ether?” I call. “What’s your actual name? Is it Esme or Elaine?”
I hear a whimper followed by a cough. That’s encouraging. At least it wasn’t a guy’s voice, the girls’ pimp hovering nearby preparing to attack me.
“Hold on, I’m bringing a bandage.”
Warm light pools around the cobblestones, illuminating my path. A bell tolls in the distance. That’s weird. Must be a local church ringing in the midnight mass.
Or something…
I keep walking, but there’s still no sight of the injured girl.
“Ether?” I try again.
Silence. Maybe I imagined the whimper before.
I stop and glance behind me.
“Hey, Aer?” I call toward the street. “I can’t see your sister. She’s not—”
“Go farther. Go father,” the girls cry in unison. “Help her. We can’t bear the blood.”
Carried on the rising breeze, their voices sound shrill and not so sweet anymore. Shivers roll over my skin as my boots fall softly on the ground.
Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.
Suddenly a girl appears out of the shadows. Dressed in silver, she raises elegant arms toward me. “Hello, Lara. It’s so very nice to meet you.”
Wow. Okay. She shines like a diamond in the sun, and it’s currently nighttime.
“Hi.” Standing two yards away, I ask, “Are you alright? You don’t look hurt, but your sisters insisted you need this bandage for a cut.”
A smile dances over her face. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Come hither. Bring me your medical aid, and I shall show you I am well.”
What?
Dread churning in my gut, I hobble forward. I don’t want to go any closer to this shining girl but can’t stop my legs moving. The sound of my heavy steps bounces off the brick walls, echoing around us.
Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
As I walk, my eyes skim her body, searching for a wound. I don’t find one, so I smile dumbly and keep moving forward.
Need to help her. Need to touch the shine. Feel if it’s—
What the hell is wrong with me?
Raising her arms toward the stars, she smirks, purses her lips, and blows out a long breath.
And then keeps blowing.
My hair takes sudden flight, strawberry-colored ribbons streaming behind me. My coat becomes a cape, billowing like a wet sail, nearly toppling me over.
In a panic, I turn back toward the sisters, blinking furiously to clear my vision. What I see just cannot be right… they look… changed. They’ve grown taller, elongated into willowy, stick-limbed creatures, half beauties, half horror show. I must be seeing things.
Okay. I really, really need to get out of here. Now.
But I don’t move. Instead, my feet sprout roots into the ground as I’m buffeted by the wind still blustering through silver-girl’s lips. Angry now, it spins like a mini cyclone around my limbs.
Winding faster and faster, it lifts my arms, spreading my feet, my legs—wider and wider—until I’m raised aloft, speeding through the air while stretched out like I’m relaxing on a comfortable bed, toward the glittery sky.
I am freaking flying.
Or dreaming.
Or crazy.
I should be terrified, screaming, howling, wailing. But, no, I simply open my eyes wider and wider to take in the glory of the stars as they rush to greet me.
Oh, they’re so pretty.
This is lovely.
Lovely.
So lovely.
The wind surges around me, but I’m not cold. I feel perfectly warm. Perfectly safe. Perfectly happy.
Perfect.
A voice like a bell rings in my ears. It says something that sounds like, “Say hello to forever for us, won’t you, Lara dear? Sing him a pretty song. Aer’s very jealous, you know. She wanted to be the one.”
What? How can I say hello to forever. What does that even mean?
“Who’s Forever?” I cry to the planets spinning by.
Someone laughs, the sound like violently shattering glass.
Then everything is black. My mind, my heart, my soul.
Black.
Black.
Black.
Chapter 2
EVER AFTER
Ever
“Balor!” I yell, watching my wolfhound disappear into the forest. No doubt drunk on some disgustingly fetid scent, he doesn't even bother to flick his shaggy gray tail in my direction.
For the past two days, I’ve been hunting draygonets in the Lowlands, my faithful hound at my horse’s side, obeying my every command. Until now.
When I catch the disloyal fur-brain, I just might squeeze the air from his disobedient lungs.
Sighing, I stroke my steed’s warm neck. “You wouldn’t dream of forsaking me for a dead rabbit, would you, Jinn?”
The horse nickers loudly.
I grin, my fingers tangling in his braided mane of silky sable. “You dare laugh at me?”
Silence.
“Fine. I’ll assume you have no interest in the contents of my saddle bags, then,” I say, urging him to walk a little faster. “Guess I’ll eat the carrots myself.”
That idea receives an indignant whinny as ebony ears press flat against his skull, and his back legs kick out, jolting me in the saddle.
“Relax. I’m merely teasing. You know my low opinion of orange vegetables. They’re far too… festive.”
He snorts.
In no rush to catch Balor, we ramble slowly toward Ithalah forest, the midday sun barely shining on my back as it fights its way through a veil of clouds. Because the air elements are linked to my moods, gray light casts a gloom over the land, drizzle falls, and an annoying storm brews overhead. Hence my damp hunting garb and the tangle of wet hair about my shoulders.
Damn the unchanging weather—wintry and dull—I like it not.
A sneer twists my lips as I glare first at the sky above and then forward at the copse of trees that recently swallowed my hound. Wishing I could head home for some long overdue sleep, I’m vexed I must waste time in fetching him back.
Heavy as lead, my shoulders sag.
I am tired, tired of everything—disobedient hounds, aching bones, the cursed blood corroding my veins as it slowly turns me into a creature I do not want to become. A ruler. A king.
Because of the poison polluting my mind, I crave violence—a gift of fear, a fight, a terrible struggle for survival, followed by the sweet relief of death. It matters not whose death transpires, only that it is gruesome.