Angie

 

 

“Do something!” Angie screamed at Brokk.

He had been Arlen’s friend once. She’d told him the truth about everything and she couldn’t understand for the life of her why he was standing around not doing a damn thing to help Arlen.

Brokk looked conflicted as though he genuinely thought Lorik would drop him. Arlen let his eyes speak for him. He was saying goodbye. Angie doubled over in agony.

Her felt as though her heart was being torn from her chest and crushed before her very eyes and the effects of their mate bond was already beginning to take hold.

Arlen hung limply in the air while Lorik watched him intently. He was the devil incarnate as far as Angie was concerned. She struggled to her feet. She’d make him pay for everything he’d done. Her mate hadn’t been able to avenge his family, but she would see to it that his will was done.

Lorik released his hold on Arlen, who crumpled to the marble floor. The King approached him slowly. Arlen’s chest quivered slightly, as his body tried to save itself. Lorik knelt and scooped up the dagger Arlen had discarded in favor of a fair fight. He strode towards her mate with sure steps.

“No!” Angie wheezed, climbing to a mostly standing position.

She was fully prepared to throw herself in front of the blade. Lorik paid her no attention. He slid the dagger under Arlen’s shirt and dragged it down the fabric, baring Arlen’s chest. Lorik fanned his hand over Arlen’s left side.

With slow measured hands, he began to slice through skin. His intent was clear, he was going to cut Arlen’s heart out.

Angie took one step and then another, pushing herself through the intense torment. Her insides felt as though they’d gone for a ride in a food processor. Angie reached Lorik and latched his sleeve with a desperate strong grip. She tore him away from Arlen’s still unconscious form. His chest was no longer moving as much as it had been before. He was almost out of time.

Lorik flung Angela off him as if she weighed nothing. He had made it clear he had secrets. There was no telling just how many more he was hiding. The King adjusted his jacket, brushed himself off, and turned his sights on his new threat.

Angie scrambled backwards, trying to escape. He followed, hot on her heels. Lorik had that same cold, heartless sheen to his eyes as Drake had. There was no mistaking his desire to kill her.

Strong fingers curled into her hair and pulled her back towards him. She clawed at the smooth floor trying to pry herself away from the King. He tore strands out by the roots as he tugged on her. With a jerk, he flipped her onto her back. Tears streamed down her face. She was terrified and devastated all at once.

Light glinted off the shiny dagger’s blade as he raised it enough to get some force behind it. Angela heard a cough and spied Brokk standing over Arlen’s battered form. She saw the blade coming down towards her heart and jerked to the side. It wasn’t enough to miss entirely. The dagger buried deeply into her shoulder and protruded from her back to the stone floor.

The pain was excruciating and the burning seemed to grow with each beat of her heart. She felt faint when she saw the length of the blade sunken into her. Angie knew it would have to come out, but she tried not to think of it. Lorik had missed his target and she wouldn’t give him a second chance. He adjusted his grip on the handle of the dagger and braced his free hand against her chest. She couldn’t focus on much. Her body reacted for her. Angie writhed against him screaming in agony with each tiny movement. It felt like someone was inflating a balloon in her shoulder with the pressure growing. Each subtle movement of Lorik’s hand as he fought for control, made it worse. She felt the fabric of her shirt dampening and she was afraid of what would happen if she passed out.

With a rough lurch, he tore it from her like Arthur withdrawing Excalibur. Angie couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t do anything. The pain of everything overwhelmed her and she could do no more than exist. Breath in and exhale, very shakily, and wait to die, that’s all she was doing anymore. Lorik refocused his attention and set the blade against her neck.

“Please,” Angie whimpered, not ready for her end.

She was not above begging for her life.

“You should have chosen better company to keep, Seer.”

Before Lorik could pull it across her arteries, Brokk, stepped in.

With a quick flash of steel, Lorik’s head was removed from his body. He slumped forward and landed across her. Hot blood soaked her shirt as she struggled to get herself out from under him.

Her head was growing lighter with each heartbeat and she turned it weakly to the side to see Lorik’s severed head had rolled a few feet away. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see the haunting look.

Brokk had done all he could to help Arlen, who seemed to be coming back around. Although, he hadn’t noticed her yet. Her body was numb with shock. Her mind repeatedly kept telling her it was over. Angela tried to tell herself it wasn’t that bad, but the cold, tingling in her toes disagreed. She could feel the bone had been broken, she couldn’t force a twitch in the limb if her life depended on it.

Arlen crawled over to her lamely. His eyes were full of fear and worry as he took in the extent of her damage. She couldn’t focus on much more than the searing agony radiating out from her wound.

The guard who had come through for them in the end, stood nearby with his head bowed respectfully. Arlen placed his hand on her shoulder, directly above her wound.

“Everything is going to be okay, a’maelamin.”

Her love’s whispered voice put her mind at ease. She was safe.

Angie’s shoulder burned under Arlen’s touch. Her nerve endings firing with spasms at the increasing pressure he used on it. The burning grew until she was sure her skin was actually charred and she didn’t think she could take anymore. Screams tore from her throat in guttural cries. The throbbing in her shoulder slowly faded to a dull ache.

“What are you doing? Why is the pain going away? Is this it? Am I dying?” She panicked. Everything had seemed like it was conspiring to kill her. The pain had been so intense and suddenly unbelievably tolerable. It wasn’t natural. She’d hear dying people had moments of peace and tranquility just before.

“No, a’maelamin. You’re healing. You’ll scar, but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage to the joint or arm.” His projected thoughts were methodical. There was so much she still didn’t know about the man who had become her soul mate and she’d never been so excited to be able to find out.

He helped her up to a sitting position. His hands were careful, avoiding quick, jarring movements. Several more guards filed into the throne room and took in the scene before them. Lorik was dead. Arlen, the Fugitive Prince who’d killed his father had finally returned home. He hadn’t killed his brother in the end, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable for the knights and councilmen to assume such a thing.

Angie checked her shoulder, pulling the blood crusted shirt away from her skin. The wound was almost entirely closed, knitted together by something she didn’t yet fully understand.

Brokk strode forward until he stood before Arlen and dipped into a kneel with his head bowed low. His arm was crossed over his chest so his hand rested above his heart, showing honor to his Prince. It seemed his stance on Arlen had changed drastically. Brokk rose from his bowed position and stood tall before them. Arlen got to his feet as well, to meet the head of the guards.

“Prince Arlen, rightful heir to the throne, I beg your forgiveness for my ignorance of the truth and beg you’ll grant me a mercy I do not deserve,” Brokk pleaded earnestly to Arlen.

Angie watched with interest while her love weighed his options. She hadn’t really given much thought to what her visions had meant for Arlen. He was the Prince, and logically, it made sense, but she’d never seen him any differently than a mere man. There was nothing ordinary about him and that was okay because she’d already accepted him and anything that came with him. Status meant nothing to her, not when she’d spent so long trying to find someone who could see past the fake parts and the ugly parts to actually see her.

“Brokk, I gave up that title a long time ago. I don’t deserve your loyalty or any of theirs,” he said, motioning to the other men in the room who were watching seriously.

Brokk had done the right thing in the end, seeing her view through the distortion of lies Lorik had spread. Lorik had been a disease infecting the kingdom since his unlawful coronation.

“None of us ever knew what was going on with your father. Not at the end. He’d sent us all out into the kingdom on fool’s errands. The Queen kept him steady as best as she could, but he was too far gone to be helped. You did what was necessary. We see that now,” Brokk declared.

Men stepped up behind their commander, ready to pledge their fealty to a man who’d earned their respect. A man who’d run from the very institution which had brought his family destruction. Those men were asking him to be their King. She could see it in Arlen’s eyes that their acceptance of him meant more than he could express. He’d been ridden down with the guilt of what his family had suffered.

Arlen sought out her gaze, needing to find her support. She could see his dilemma. He wanted to accept, but not if it meant it’d be at the cost of losing her. She couldn’t guarantee him forever, but she’d give him the opportunity for something great while she could. Angie gave him a little nod. She’d stand by him and be whatever he needed her to be.

Arlen gave his men a slight dip of his chin. He was their King. Stepping forward, Arlen placed his hand on Brokk’s shoulder, ready to pass his judgment over the knight’s crimes. The head of the guard lowered his gaze and knelt before his king.

“I, Arlen Darragh, King of the Fae, pardon Brokk Avon of all crimes against myself. From henceforth, he shall be known as Brokk Avon, Head of the King’s Guard and Second to the King.”

Brokk puffed out his chest a tiny bit and held out his arm to his new King. Arlen accepted and the pair grasped each other around the thickest part of their forearms in a sort of handshake. Arlen pulled Brokk in and clapped him on the back in one of those manly hugs.

Things from there went very quick. Over the next several days, she’d met more people than she ever did during her college career. He was officially crowned and the word had spread of what had happened. Lorik was declared an enemy of the people and he wasn’t granted a proper burial befitting his previous status.

There’d been many deep seeded ideas of what Arlen was like and those would have to be faced eventually. Right then though, Arlen and her were enjoying each other’s company. They hadn’t notified the public of their bond yet, but it was coming. The people would have to know she was only human.

She wasn’t entirely happy though. The visions hadn’t stopped, and truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted them to anymore. Maya needed her. The vision she’d seen of her best friend’s death still loomed heavily over her. She’d never be able to live with herself if she didn’t try to change the course of the events she’d seen.

Angie had a choice to make. The man who’d captured her heart had just taken back his kingdom. He would be busy getting his affairs in order and ruling a race of people, too busy to bother with a threat to Maya.

Arlen had gone to a council meeting to learn what state his treasury and the rest of the kingdom’s resources were in. She wasn’t viewed as a Queen or even anyone important yet and she wasn’t permitted into the meetings with her mate. It was her job to find something to occupy her time and ever since things had calmed down, her time was spent worrying about her friend and how she could stop the vision from coming to fruition. So far, she’d coming up with squat.

How could the contract between Maya and the Baron Samedi be voided? How did they stand a chance in going up against a god? If they knew when the battle would take place, then maybe they could make sure Maya wouldn’t be there. She couldn’t die if she wasn’t there to begin with.

Angela sought solace within the walled gardens in the Queen’s private sanctuary. She’d lose herself there as she traversed the labyrinth of flowering shrubs, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Everything was different in the land of the Fae. Where humans had hair the colors of black, brown, blonde, and red, the Fae were white, violet, black, even greens. The plants were exceedingly different; they were far brighter and lush than anything she’d seen back home.

She hadn’t been walking in the garden more than twenty minutes when Arlen found her. Angie still hadn’t quite figured out how their bond worked. Sometimes, she could project her mental voice loud enough for him to hear her and other times she got nothing. He’d explained everything they were capable of as a couple. She’d be his equal. There was no answer for her mortality yet, though. He’d outlive her by centuries, unless what they’d said about the chosen pair dying at the same time was true. They’d decided they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

It had taken her a couple days, but she’d finally come to a decision. Her and Arlen would get their chance at happiness, but they’d have to fight for it first. Angie’s battle would be helping Maya and Rhys however she could. She’d been working up to telling him she needed to go home. He wouldn’t take it well.

Arlen seemed tired and worn, exhausted by his new responsibilities. They would take some getting used to, but he was born to do it and Angie had all the faith in him.

“I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time out here. Do you like it?” he asked hopefully.

She knew he wanted her to like the place as much as he did. He’d been gone for so long, but he loved his homeland even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

“I have. It’s very beautiful,” she answered, finding a bench along the walkway and sitting down.

She patted the bench next to her. He was wary but still complied with her request.

“I need to talk to you about something and I would ask for you to keep an open mind.”

His eyebrows dipped in confusion. “Why do I feel like I’m about to get the it’s not you, it’s me speech?”

She giggled at his response. “It’s nothing like that, well, not entirely anyway.”

His mouth dipped into a frown. “You’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. He’d seen it in her head.

She nodded. “I have to.”

His expression grew grim, if it were even possible. “You don’t have to, you’ve chosen to.” His tone was accusatory.

“I need you to understand, Ar. Maya and Rhys need me. They need to know what’s coming and I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her. Maya gave up everything so I could get away from Drake and its time I returned the favor.”

He didn’t say anything and neither did she. She let Arlen have his time to come to terms with what she’d said.

After several painfully awkward moments, Arlen stood and walked as straight as a stick to the corner of the path where he stopped. He turned back around to face her.

“I take it you’d like an escort back home? I’ll have one ready for you at first light. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting any longer than necessary.”

He pivoted on his heel and strode away and out of view. Just like that, he was gone and so was what felt like her whole world. The sun was beginning to set and the darkness was coming. It fit her mood perfectly. He hadn’t been nearly as supportive and understanding as she’d thought he’d be. Was it being back home that changed him? Or was it something else altogether?

Angie didn’t stay in the gardens long after that. She retired to her room and prepared to go home the following morning. She’d thought they’d have one last night together before she left, however that plan had gone right out the window, along with their fledgling relationship.

The next morning, she came down for a quick breakfast already dressed and ready to go. Arlen was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t hide her disappointment any longer while she ate her meal alone. Even the other Fae didn’t speak to her.

Brokk entered the dining room just as she was finishing up her meal. His expression said she was the woman he’d been looking for. She set her glass of water aside and laid her napkin on the table beside her plate, rising to meet her guest.

“Are you going to be my escort?” she asked, noting his plain clothes which stood in stark contrast to his uniform of the King’s Guard. She’d never seen him in anything else.

He nodded. Just as he opened his mouth to say more, the great doors leading into the dining room opened abruptly.

Arlen strode through the doors, dressed in his plain clothes and not the more formal garb he’d worn since Lorik’s fall.

“Thank you, Brokk. I’ve got it handled from here,” he announced.

Angela grew confused. Even the King’s guard wasn’t entirely sure about what was going on. Brokk just nodded and headed towards the exit. Was he sending her away on her own? She’d never find her way back to Maya without a guide to show her how to cross over.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“As my mate, you’re my responsibility. It’s my job to make sure you stay safe and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” His tone was playful and commanding and it rubbed Angie the wrong way.

She was no one’s responsibility and she didn’t need to be looked after or coddled.

“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

He was acting like she was an obligation and not an equal. That was something she couldn’t live with. She’d try to go it alone before she’d surrender to his pity.

He squinted at her with a frown; it seemed to be his constant expression lately. He appeared as though he was trying to solve her like a jigsaw puzzle.

“You’re angry with me,” he stated. Then, his features softened. “You misunderstand me. I’m not doing this because I pity you. I’m doing this because you are mine, just as I am yours. A crown would never be worth losing you for. We’ll do this together.”

Angie practically melted into a mess on the floor as he claimed her once and for all. He was putting his life on the line once again for hers. She didn’t know what to say, so she let her body do the talking for her.

She stepped forward and pushed herself up onto her toes. As she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. She showed him everything she was feeling. She even projected the future she saw for them. Together for always. She pulled back just enough to look him square in the face.

“You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “And a whole lot more. Most importantly though, Rhys is the closest thing I have to a friend. He needs my help and I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Do you know where to start? Where was the last place you knew Rhys was?” she asked, trying to plan the next ten steps.

“Yeah, they were out in the swamp getting ready to go after your friend.”

Angie’s head grew light and her vision began to fade. Not again!

Soon, she was lost to another vision.

***

Angie stood across from the old Ursuline Convent. Bacalou poured out of the unsealed windows by the hundreds.

Something had happened. Something had changed.

They had more body to them, solidity even, than she remembered them having. They attacked anyone within their reach. The demons turned ordinary citizens into mindless zombies, unable to overcome the will of the creature within them. The Bacalou actually hurt people this time. Their talons tore at flesh and people died by the hundreds. Blood coated the streets of New Orleans like a coat of fresh paint.

Something was telling Angie it wasn’t the future she was seeing, but something that was occurring presently. She followed the streets down, heading towards the center of the most activity. There, in the center of the fray, stood two men. Both had skin the color of rich chocolate and each were dressed in elegant clothing fit for a party. Their faces were like something out of a horror movie. They looked like painted skulls and the pair were directing the terror going on around them. It seemed the war in which Arlen had spoken of had arrived. That was the beginning and the whole of New Orleans was about to pay a very steep price.

Vampires and many other creatures poured into the streets with the shrieking demons, reaping havoc on all. Hell had broken loose.

Among the smoke and ash, emerged her friend, Maya. Her face was fierce and she could’ve been the war goddess herself. The woman was ready to confront the mad men.

Her vision slowly began to fade from view.

***

She was back, wrapped safely in Arlen’s arms.

“What did you see, a’maelamin?”

“We have to go to New Orleans. The first act of war has begun and the city is burning.”

He nodded and jumped into action. They were leaving, that was for sure. Maya and Rhys seemed to have made it back from the Land of the Dead safely, but they were walking into something they couldn’t win on their own. Arlen called for a unit of men willing to go with them to face the Bacalou and the Loa.

Some people say all was fair in love and war, but she and Arlen had found love in a time of war. She was ready to rain Hell down on those who threatened to destroy the people she loved.

“Call Rhys and tell him we’re on our way and to be ready. The war has begun and we’ll need all the help we can get.”