Wings and Shadowthief by May Sage

Into Darkness

It wasn’t the first time that Gwen hiked up the sinuous paths of Cosnoc, but she’d never ventured on the forbidden hill alone before.

Part of her wished she could ask Chloe, or any other friend, to accompany her. Another part knew alone was exactly what she needed to be right now.

Why Fin Varra had advised her to go to Eirikr, she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to ignore the ancient’s advice.

“Go on,” she whispered, egging herself on when her limbs refused to move.

There were strong spells woven along the way to deter intruders, but she’d fought through them before. The hexes targeted her fear receptors, making her feel like each step took her closer to her doom. Knowing it was just a trick should have worked, like it had in the past.

Today wasn’t as easy, because she’d already been afraid before taking one step on the hill.

Afraid for her friends, for her future, and above all, afraid of herself.

She was slow, but eventually, Eirikr’s cave appeared in the distance. Spotting her goal, Gwen willed herself to pick up the pace.

At the carved entryway, marked with archaic spells she couldn’t read, she paused. “Hello?”

The steps led down into the depth of darkness, seemingly endless in the tunnel. Of course, they ended eventually, but that knowledge did little to reassure her.

“I’m Gwen.” Like the ancient would know her by name. “One of Chloe’s friends.”

Hopefully, the association would be enough to keep her head on her shoulders.

“I’m going to come down now,” she announced, feeling foolish as no answer came.

Gwen advanced carefully. A few months ago, the stairway had been made of smooth, awkward steps, but Chloe, presumably, had the place refurbished almost entirely, and the staircase hadn’t been spared. Still, she took her time, concentrating on each step and pretending that her fear had everything to do with falling and nothing to do with her destination.

The truth was, since the moment she’d stepped inside, she’d been in a predator’s territory. If he wanted her dead, he could have killed her minutes ago. That had to be a good sign.

Unless Eirikr liked to play with his prey.

Reaching the cave, Gwen took it in with one glance, noting the latest improvement. It looked like a modern-day bachelor’s pad. A large, open layout including a clawed foot bathtub in the bathroom, and a large flat screen TV in front of a comfortable, yet stylish, sofa. The central piece was a circular bed with red velvet sheets.

Eirikr Primerius sat up at its center, a glass of wine in one hand.

She liked to think it was wine, and thankfully, her sense of smell wasn’t acute enough to tell her otherwise.

He wore white—a shirt and well-cut linen trousers that almost made him appear like someone, or something, civilized.

Almost.

“Hi.” She waved a hand, like an idiot.

The man stared at her, his bright eyes amused, though his expression was otherwise unreadable.

“Red wine and white? That’s daring.”

“It’s not wine.” Now, he cracked a smile.

Yep. She definitely hadn’t wanted to know. “I can come back if you’re occupied.”

“I’ve seldom been occupied these last centuries. Come, sit. Join me.” His hand reached out to her.

His challenge was clear. He could see her fear plain as day, but he wanted to see if she would fight it.

Knowing this, Gwen still couldn’t make herself take a step.

“Now, no need for that. I don’t bite the innocent.”

Was she innocent enough for him, though?

The bottom line was, she didn’t have a choice. Gwen forced each step, one after the other. Reaching the bed, she hesitantly sat at the edge, bristling at her proximity to the most dangerous thing in Oldcrest. One of the most dangerous things in the entire world, no doubt.

Gwen dragged her gaze to his, forcing herself to meet it head on.

“Now that’s better. You should never show your weakness, child. The world will pounce on it.”

She wasn’t here for platitudes. “Thanks. I was hoping you could help me. Fin Varra said—“

Eirikr chuckled. “Never believe a fae, for they cannot lie. Has he told you I’d help you, child?”

She bit her lip. “He said you knew about dark witches, and he implied that’s what I might be. I need answers. I changed today…into this.” She pointed to her own face, not knowing how to voice it.

To her surprise, however, her fingers were normal. Blinking in shock, she pulled at one of her curls. Crow black, as usual.

What the hell?

Her mouth fell open.

Eirikr grinned as she rose to her feet. “Never mind. I’m fine now.” She’d been cursed, as she’d thought. All would be well in the end.

“Mm. Until next time, certainly.”

She halted her retreat toward the staircase, as the first vampire stood up, deliberate and slow.

“You’re saying I’ll shift again?” She shook her head. “I’m a witch.”

“Among other things.”

She was nothing else.

Gwen didn’t voice her protest, but her posture must have been telling, because Eirikr pushed the issue. “Tell me, witch. Is your magic like that of your peers? Can you feel your affinity, its purpose?”

“Once.” Her voice sounded weak, even to herself. “I felt it once.”

“Yet teenagers can do so with ease. Why, do you think?”

If she had an answer, she wouldn’t be here. “I suppose you’re about to tell me.”

“Let’s talk of a lost legend you may not have heard.” Eirikr leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially.

He was disturbingly close, and his extended fangs shone in the dim lighting. “There are many names for these things. Promised. Brides. Offerings. I won’t bore you with the full list. They were created by witches long ago, to end a devastating war.”

“Created?” Gwen echoed, at a loss, sadly not for the first time today.

“If it weren’t for the moral implications, how hard would it be for witches to produce a living thing?” Eirikr asked.

Gwen took a moment to think it through. Not as hard as it sounded, actually. She couldn’t even imagine delving into such magic, but what were humans, if not for sacks of flesh held by muscles and commanded by a brain?

The brain was the tricky bit.

She must have said it out loud, because Eirikr answered. “Is it? What’s a brain but an organ? If you can build a heart, or a liver, or a set of lungs, why not a brain?”

Why not indeed?

“These things were built from the bones, if you will. Of course, the witches used blood magic and dark magic—the kind since forbidden—to achieve it. But the result was astounding. Three women, beautiful as the dawn and strong as steel. Made from magic, they could bend it to their will. Do you know what these three had in common, that may have differentiated them from any other creature in this world?”

Gwen guessed, “They couldn’t define their magic?”

There had to be a point to this story.

Eirikr waved his hand dismissively. “Who cares about magic? They were made by humans, not the gods. What could have been missing, do you think?”

She stared on. Her fear had vanished, replaced by frustration and impatience.

The vampire sighed, before taking a gulp of his not-wine.

She was sticking to pretending it was wine, dammit.

“You lack imagination. No matter. A soul, gorgeous, sweet, powerful Gwen. They were each missing a soul.”

Gwen wasn’t overly religious, but that notion terrified her. If souls were a real thing, imagining someone—something—without it was a chilling concept. “So, they were bad?”

“Why?” Eirikr shrugged.

“I don’t know, doesn’t a soul make people…nice, or something?”

He snorted. “Tell that to the millions of murderers and rapists throughout human history.”

She grimaced. “So, what did that make them?”

“Available,” Eirikr shot back, surprising her again.

He returned to his bed, his saunter fairly distracting.

“I don’t get what you’re saying. Again.”

“I’ll attribute it to your lack of education on the matter rather than a mental deficiency.” His tone suggested she should consider that a favor.

“Thanks?”

“Every person on this planet was born with a soul mate. The Enlightened have one, and when they designed humanity, they ensured that we’d be given the same courtesy. The witches wanted those three girls, raised as sisters, to marry into three warring clans. And they certainly didn’t want them to separate after a couple of years. So, they had to be free to form a true bond to their partners—though they weren’t the mates fate dictated for them.”

Her head was going to explode. “You’re saying…although they weren’t true mates, those girls could have a true mate’s bond?”

“They were given one thing none of us possess. The ability to choose. And once they did, their powers emerged, a mirror to their partner’s. Cold to their heat, fire to their water, darkness to their light. The promised bond increased the power of those witches, and of their partner exponentially. You’re no dark witch, though I see why Varra would take you for one. You’re a Bride. Feel free to inform him he was mistaken.” Eirikr seemed entertained by the notion.

Gwen ran everything in her mind, and decided his conclusion made exactly no sense. “I wasn’t made by crazy witches. Trust me, I look exactly like my mother.” To her great sorrow. “I was born the old fashioned way.”

“You don’t have to be. One Bride dies, another is born. It has been the way since their creation. There are only ever three, and they like to keep it under wraps.”

“If that’s true, surely people would know about it.” Right? He must be spinning some tale for his entertainment. Otherwise, she would have heard before.

A small voice whispered that it was easy enough to check his words. She could research it at the library, or ask professor Varra. There was no reason for him to lie.

She told that voice to shut the hell up.

Eirikr winced. “There might have been a Bride-hunting tradition in the Middle Ages. You know, gaining power and a gorgeous wife? Many an alpha or vampire have been tempted.”

Gwen could still feel herself frowning. “Then, why did they stop?” There were holes in his story.

The vampire shrugged. “The immortals had a habit of killing mated Brides, in order to get a chance at hunting down an available one. So I hunted down and killed anyone tempted. In time, no one bothered anymore.”

Damn him, he had an answer for everything.

“You weren’t? Tempted.” Gwen regretted the question as soon as it crossed her lips. That was a little offensive, accusatory, and probably a good way to get herself drained by Eirikr.

He shrugged. “I have a mate.”

He did?

She considered asking, but thought better of it.

“Wise,” Eirikr replied to her inner thought directly.

She was certain she hadn’t spoken this time. “You’re a psychic.”

“I’m many a thing. Just like you.”

Gwen nodded, somehow starting to consider this outlandish, insane, weird theory. “But then, if I’m starting to change like this, and you’re right, it suggests I got hitched.” She snorted. “I would have remembered that.”

“Would you?” Eirikr smirked.

His expression was unfairly gorgeous and far too knowing for her liking. She didn’t appreciate it one bit.

“You can choose a mate, child. If you made such a choice, even subconsciously, you would have bonded.”

“That sounds like a terrible way to seal a bond. Shouldn’t there be an exchange of words? Blood? Paperwork?”

“Feelings suffice.”

She groaned. “So, who am I bonded to?”

Gwen decided she hated him when he smirked. “Isn’t that just the question?”