“Makes sense.” I sighed, feeling deflated for no obvious reason.
You were thinking of kissing him, weren’t you?
Before I could pummel my mouthy inner fire fae, I noticed movement above us. I looked up, squinting against the morning sun, and saw two dark figures watching us from the first level of the city, at the top of the carved stairs.
They wore dark gray outfits, with hoods, smoky goggles and masks. Blaze noticed me still and frown, and glanced up the mountain. I caught a glimpse of something blue on both their arms.
“I think they’re Correction Officers,” Blaze muttered, moving closer to me. “They’re not wearing uniforms but the blue insignia is a giveaway…”
“What do you think they want?” I wondered. “They must have followed us down here. They sure are determined, tracking us in the sun like this…”
“They’re probably just watching. They’ll report back to Lord Kifo and tell him where we’ve been.”
“Good for them,” I said, gritting my teeth, then continued scanning the grass around me. Blaze walked by my side, occasionally throwing them a sideways glance.
We headed up the stairs, picking a couple more flowers along the way, and further discussing the disappearances and our role in untangling this whole mess. By the time we reached the first level, the Correction Officers were gone. The awnings had been pulled out, and several Exiled Maras were out and about.
Part of me was still reeling from my flight on Blaze’s back. I’d ridden dragons before, but something about Blaze’s ride had left me with a permanent tingle in my limbs, and a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. With his majestic dragon form imprinted on my mind… I couldn’t help but feel extra safe around him.
No Mara in their right mind would dare to come close or even try something against us. That would be suicidal. Whoever those Correction Officers were and whatever they wanted, they were no match for Blaze. They weren’t even a match for me. As long as I had my lighters with me, or any source of fire in my hand, I could burn them to a crisp.
I couldn’t trust the Exiled Maras anymore, not after what had happened to Minah. But they were at a bigger disadvantage, because we’d brought a fire dragon and a fire fae to Azure Heights.
All they could do was watch and keep track of our movements.
Jax
I chose the northern side of the mountain to place Patrik’s satchel. I wasn’t at all comfortable not having Hansa where I could see her, especially after our incursion into the Valley of Screams, but I took some comfort in the fact that she wasn’t alone.
The alleys snaked down this part of the city, and I reached the last set of stairs leading to the ground level. The trees were taller, their crowns thicker on that side. I was fully covered by a hood, due to the lack of awnings above, but the bright morning sun was relatively tolerable given the predominance of natural shade offered by the trees.
I reached the bottom of the mountain wall, and stopped for a minute to take in the view. The beach was covered in rough pebbles, the ocean foaming as it washed over them in soft waves. It spread beautifully, dark and blue, to the right. It seemed to go on forever, while the green plains stretched to the left, herds of moon-bison scattered across and grazing by the streams pouring in from the gorges.
Hansa’s fine. Fiona’s with her.
Or was it the other way around?
I’d angered Hansa last night. I knew I was the reason she’d chosen to go with Fiona on this mission. We’d gotten close again, and I’d pushed her away.
Again.
Sure, it wouldn’t have been wise to leave Fiona on her own, given that she was still one of the younglings in a foreign world. But Fiona’s strength alone made me worry less about her. She was a ruthless vampire, despite her petite frame. She could break down walls with a single punch.
I mean, come on…
Hansa was even more awe-inspiring. She’d once led an army of rogue succubi to war. She’d ruled over the Red Tribe for centuries. Her sword skills were the stuff of legend. Hansa was a mighty warrior, forged in dozens of battles. Of course she’d be perfectly fine on her own. It was one of the key features that drew me to her in the first place.
Her strength.
Then came her beauty. Those curious emerald eyes with flakes of gold that twinkled whenever she looked at me. Her soft, pinkish lips begging to be kissed, even when she was angry and perfectly ready to snap my neck in two. That long black hair, pouring down her back in seemingly endless curls. Every line, every curve, every inch of delicate skin with silvery shine had been designed to seduce. I often found myself staring at her, holding my breath whenever she was sparring with her sister, unable to take my eyes off her. She was one of the best fighters I’d ever come across, and I’d seen my share of capable warriors.
I found the perfect spot on the wall and pulled the metal pick I’d borrowed from one of the city blacksmiths out of my backpack. I carved a hole and stuffed the satchel in there. I stilled for a moment, feeling the ground rumble beneath me. The mountain seemed to be reacting to Patrik’s spell preparations.
My mind was restless. I leaned my back against the wall, staring at the beach for a while. My stomach dropped as the memory of my first encounter with Hansa came back. The moment I met her I knew I was done for. I remembered feeling my heart pump faster, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Her deep, raspy voice had pulled strings inside me that I’d completely forgotten existed. The way she smirked when she drew her sword before charging Destroyers made my blood rush.
Hansa is no ordinary succubus, I’d thought to myself at the time. She’s a phenomenon. A hurricane of cataclysmic proportions, and I’m perfectly okay with standing in the eye of this storm.
I had already been having trouble concentrating with her around when Jovi’s poisoned arrow hit her. Azazel’s control spell had pushed Aida’s brother into nearly killing Hansa, and I’d lost it. As that battle unfolded, all I wanted to do was find a way to save her. Every moment had been torture for me, until Viola showed up and removed the arrow and the toxins from her body, letting me breathe again. I’d developed feelings for Hansa, and I had no control over them whatsoever. It had dawned on me then, when she’d stood up and jumped back into the fight, beheading Goren and avenging her tribe. I was falling for her, so hard and so fast, that it was bound to end in a disaster.
I got scared. I’d almost lost her that day, and I flaked.
It wasn’t in my nature, but I had a rich and dark history as far as relationships were concerned. The one time I fell in love with a Mara, I wound up being the one to execute her for draining Bajangs of their blood. Our laws were strict, and I had an entire city to lead. Kateri didn’t even feel sorry for what she’d done. She smirked as she kneeled before the people of White City. She said she’d do it all over again. It broke my heart. I cried as I brought my sword down.
It took me years to forget her. Decades to look around me again, to wonder if I’d find someone. Not long after that, I met Dayana, the daughter of a respected Bajang tribe chief on the southeastern shore of Antara. I’d been exploring the region at the time, training my wards in the field. Azazel had yet to emerge, and those parts of Calliope were riddled with wild and vicious creatures. Dayana had been, by all definitions, love at first sight.
She was fierce and inquisitive, daring and stubborn. She was the first creature I ever did Pyrope with, my first taste of non-animal blood. It became a part of our love-making ritual, and I lived to make her purr in my arms every night. Her father had even agreed to let us join our lives as soulmates. Azazel’s Destroyers raided that part of the shore less than a month before our marriage ceremony. They caught us by surprise. It was then that I met creatures who were more resilient to my mind-bending abilities. I tried to steer the beasts away on my own, but I wasn’t strong enough. By the time my wards emerged from the woods, back from their training expedition, the Destroyers had already leveled the Bajang tribe. They found me facedown in the water, my back riddled with
arrows, and Dayana dead on the shore, a poisoned spear lodged in her chest. It took a lot of blood to heal my physical wounds, but nothing could fix what Dayana’s loss had broken in me.
Another century went by. By then, Azazel had grown stronger, but we’d managed to hold out in White City, taking advantage of the surrounding woods of the northwestern shore and our large numbers to launch collective mind-bending attacks against intruders. It worked for a while. We even helped save a couple of rogues running from Destroyers—including Augusta, a young Lamia who’d managed to slither out of a prisoner convoy just ten miles away from us.
Augusta was the last time I ever allowed myself to feel something, to even hope for love. Two months after I brought her back to White City, she got word that her sister had been captured and dragged back to Luceria. Azazel had a thing for Lamias—one of them, after all, had run off pregnant with his offspring. Tamara and Eva were safe by the River Styx at the time, but Augusta’s sister wasn’t. I begged her not to go after her. I knew I’d never see her again. Azazel was at his most vicious at the time, killing left and right like it was no big deal. It would take him another century to relax and underestimate Draven’s existence, then experience defeat and death.
I’d fallen in love with Augusta. I’d even decided to go with her. But she snuck out early one morning, leaving behind a note telling me how sorry she was, and that she couldn’t put my life at risk, too. I never saw her again. I later heard she’d been captured, but by the time I made it to Luceria, a hundred years later, she was already gone—probably dead and buried.
I had a terrible relationship history. Anyone I’d ever loved had ended up dead on my watch. It felt like a curse, and it ate away at me. Whenever I opened my heart to someone, I wound up mourning their death. It killed me on the inside the first time, and although I hadn’t thought it possible, the second was even worse—it made me curse the entire universe. The third, on the other hand, left me completely numb. I shed my last tears, and I closed myself off.
Never again, I swore.
Then I met Hansa and the entire world collapsed around me. She scared and excited me at the same time, and, for a brief moment, I thought she might be another chance for me—the universe’s way of saying “Sorry, Jax! Here, try again!”. I was wary. I kept it all to myself. I tried my best not to let any emotions show. I gave her the coldest shoulder I could muster, but still, she had found her way into my soul, and I was dumbfounded, unable to get her out.
And she wasn’t even trying.
I chuckled lightly, remembering all the banter and death threats. The harder she was on me, the softer I got on the inside. But Jovi’s poisoned arrow changed everything. It broke me out of my reverie and dragged me back to my horrific reality. As Hansa was slowly dying from the poison, the pattern reemerged, and I couldn’t cope with another blow.
Sure, Hansa came out alive in the end, but my instincts had already kicked in. I was neither ready nor willing to let myself fall again. I couldn’t lose Hansa.
Not her.
I went back up the alley, picking various flowers and fragranced herbs along the way for Avril, stuffing them in a linen bag.
It’s better this way.
As long as I didn’t get close to Hansa, she’d stay alive. It sounded like a stupid superstition, but I’d already lost three lovers this way. It tore me apart to think of Hansa’s life ending like theirs. It hurt more to keep my distance from her, but I couldn’t see any other way.
Once in a while, we gravitated toward each other. It was natural. The magnetism between us was strong. My feelings for her were getting out of hand, too.
I’m weak.
I’d vowed to keep my distance, and yet I ended up holding her in my arms. Her sister’s wedding hadn’t made it easier, either. Seeing her cry that night had broken me down. All I wanted was to see her glowing with happiness, but all I could manage was to piss her off. I couldn’t stand seeing other males looking at her. Especially Maras. It had taken so much willpower to keep myself from kicking Emilian away from her last night. Every time I saw her getting close to someone, I instinctively moved in and pulled her back to me.
Only to push her away again. I’m a damn coward…
I deserved her anger. I deserved being left on my own, on the north side of Azure Heights. I didn’t deserve her.
I reached the first level, where dozens of Imen were out—most of them hanging laundry on strings and taking empty baskets to the orchard patches below, for the spring harvest. I passed by two Exiled Maras, fully covered in dark blue and brown clothes. I recognized their blue insignia patches, sewn on their right arms, and my muscles immediately tensed. They were Correction Officers. I noticed their reflection in a nearby window as I checked the flowerboxes and collected more specimens for Avril. I could tell they were watching me, despite their smoky goggles, based on how their heads turned, following my movements across the terrace.
I then headed up the stairs, going to the second level. A quick glance over my shoulder made me aware that they were following me.
But they’re only watching.
They’d probably been instructed to follow and not interact. What was House Kifo hoping to accomplish by tailing us?
I decided to test them and darted up another set of stairs leading to the third level. The crowd was buzzing there, as it seemed to be an open market day, with dozens of improvised stalls spread across the town square. I moved swiftly between the Imen perusing fresh produce, trinkets, and rolls of fabric, then took a sharp turn and walked down one of the alleys. I took the first exit to the left and found myself in a small residential area.
I rushed down the street, reaching another set of stairs. I made it to the fourth level and hid behind a shop. There were plenty of Imen and Exiled Maras around, but I was able to see the Correction Officers reach the platform. They looked around, but couldn’t find me anywhere. I had a good vantage point on that side of the shop. They’d lost me.
They glanced at each other, then nodded and went farther up the mountain, most likely assuming I’d gone up another level. I casually made my way back down, collecting more flower specimens from various pots and boxes along the way, filling the linen bag for Avril.
It was shortly after noon, and a good time to go back to the infirmary and check on Patrik and Scarlett. My mind wandered back to Hansa again, and I cursed under my breath.
Even when we were apart, she was still central to my reasoning.
Avril
(Daughter of Lucas & Marion)
Heron and I headed to the west side of the mountain, facing the great wide open plains, bordered in the distance by the Valley of Screams. We took the main road out of the city to reach the base of the mountain, then left the cobblestones and trekked down one of the beaten paths until we reached the perfect spot on the western wall.
I glanced up and noticed the plethora of wildflowers growing from the velvety green grass dressing the ridge, my nostrils flaring as I tried to catch as many scents as possible.
Heron, like me, was fully covered to protect himself from the sun. He took out an iron pick and the satchel from his backpack, and started carving a hole into the stone wall. He noticed me squinting and sniffing through my goggles and mask, and chuckled.
“You sure live up to your nickname,” he said, stuffing the satchel into the hole.
The mountain trembled briefly, and we both stilled, staring at each other for a minute.
“Yeah? And what nickname is that?” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Say ‘Hound Dog’ and I will punch you in the ribs.”
I could see the contours of his grin beneath his black tinted mask, and his jade eyes through his dark glass goggles.
“Go on, say it,” I challenged him, my hands balled into fists, ready to help me keep my word.
“I didn’t give you that nickname,” he replied. “Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, or the nickname. I just need an excuse to punch you.”
“My, my, a
ren’t we feisty today!” He snickered, then took a step forward, a little too close for my comfort.
I moved back, and my foot slipped. His arm came around my waist so fast, I didn’t even get to react. I gasped, then stiffened in his hold, my hands quietly resting on his chest. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the deep canal that had been dug beneath the ridge. It was a narrow, fifty-foot drop at least, stretching for about a hundred feet along the mountain base. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose other than to break unsuspecting necks, given the amount of grass covering it almost completely.
I then gaped at Heron, surprised by his powers of observation.
How did I not see it?
His eyes were smiling, and my mind went blank.
Yeah, that’s why…
“Don’t get yourself mangled, Avril,” he said softly. “You still have some sniffing to do, and, frankly, I find you quite entertaining. I would hate to spend the next couple of days feeding you blood through a straw while you heal from a broken spine.”
“Oh, wow, that was creepily visual,” I replied, my eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. Leave it to Heron to cook up worst-case scenarios worthy of horror movies. “But at least it’s nice to know you don’t want to see me lying helpless in bed.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, his hold tightening around my waist as his gaze clouded and his lips stretched slowly beneath the thin mask.
“There’s about a million things I’d like to see you do in bed, but lying helpless isn’t one of them,” he whispered.
My skin tingled and my breath got jammed in my throat.
Snap out of it. Mountain. Flowers. Murder!
I had a hard time thinking of a good, cooling comeback, though. And Heron enjoyed my astonishment a little too much. Fortunately, noises to our left made us split up. I inhaled deeply, pleased to get my lungs back in operation.