12. Angus

A few weeks later, I strapped the daggers to my arms, as I was getting ready. I wasn't sure why, except that it felt right. They made me feel beautiful, even though they were hidden behind my long sleeved jumper. River noticed.

"You are wearing them," he said when I saw him that morning.

"Yeah, they feel good."

"Of course they do." He smiled. It was small, but it was there.

"Anything you need me to do today?" I asked.

"I want you to stay away from the Natsu Court."

"Can I ask why?"

"The Queen is in a particularly bad mood lately. A few things… have not gone her way and she seems to be on a warpath. I would like you to stay low for the next few weeks. If you do not mind?"

"Not at all. I don't really fancy walking into a fey court anyway," I shrugged.

"Thank you. And the daggers are not such a bad idea at this time."

I nodded. "Can I go and get a few things from the supermarket?"

"Yes. Just keep out of any faery's way."

I smiled. "River, I already do."

I had only just shut the front door and walked past the dragons who guarded the entrance, when I felt a wind. It was icy cold, which was strange, considering it should've been going into summer. I thought about getting a coat, but decided against it. Mostly, I couldn't be bothered. I had only just begun walking down the path to the gates, when I saw a figure, maybe halfway up the drive. It was male, and he was huge. Tall, and muscular. I could see an animal following him. I was fairly sure it was a dog, but I couldn't really see what breed, except that it was also huge, as high as the man's waist.

I faltered for a second, but continued walking. I had my daggers.

When the man was a few metres away, he stopped. I followed suit, and realised he wasn't exactly a man. His hair was pitch black, and didn't stop at the nape of his neck. The hair continued down his back into the collar of his white shirt, where I could see it kept going into his black suit pants. His fame looked mildly human, except his eyes. They were yellow. Just yellow. A lot like River's marble-like blue, only this man's were yellow, and I could see into the back of his skull. His ears also weren't where they were supposed to be. They were up higher, still on the side of his head, just further up. And they were pointed, not like an elf, but more like a dog.

The dog – a hound, I noticed – stayed by the man's side, head still reaching his waist. In fact, the dog looking surprisingly like his master with the same yellow eyes and black fur.

"I seem to be crossing your path," the faery said. He smiled, showing a mouth that didn't seem to fit. His teeth were sharp and pointed, like a dog, and the saliva in his mouth was so thick I'd have thought he'd have trouble talking, but he was quite articulate. I mostly pushed it out of my head.

"Are you looking for River?" I asked, politely as I could.

"I don't wish to see him, no." His voice was rough. Like a growl. Or snarl.

"Is there something else I can help you with?"

"Perhaps." The faery looked me up and down. "You look like you want death," he stated.

I frowned. "I can get River," I offered.

"Have you ever heard that sometimes, someone can be told something, and they believe it so completely that it comes true? Like a… self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Aren't all prophecies supposed to be fulfilling?"

The faery smiled; smirked. "No. If that were true they'd be called futures. Prophecies are merely predictions." The faery seemed… almost pleased, as if he were self-gratified. "You're a smart one, aren't you? Pretty too."

I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to react in a way that could suggest something to the faery. I answered with, "I don't understand."

"Well, someone could be told they will die within two weeks, and even if they are perfectly healthy, if they believe it so completely, they look for a way for it to come true. And in the end it does."

"You mean they kill themselves?"

"No. They just die. A self-fulfilling prophecy. They died, not because they were sick, but because they believed it would happen."

"I suppose I can understand that," I said, mostly to get the conversation over with. "Can I get River for you?"

"I don't want River. It's you I want. I need to tell you something."

"Who are you?" I asked, wary of River's warning of the Natsu Queen.

The faery smirked, "You know little of the fey. I can see it in your eyes."

"Yes, and I can see the inside of your head through your eyes. Please, tell me who you are."

The faery grinned widened, and he took a step forward.

With one easy movement I flicked both the clasps on the inside of my palm. I felt the daggers sliding along my arms easily before I caught them simultaneously, the cool metal against my skin. The faery looked at me and eyed the daggers.

"A human with fey weapons," he said. "I'm intrigued. May I ask where you acquired those?"

"A friend," I answered casually. I spun the blades in my hands and caught them again, watching the light being reflected off the metal. The faery didn't seem worried, just surprised. As if he had doubted I knew how to use the weapons.

"Or a master?" the faery asked.

"Who are you?"

"Angus, of course." The faery looked down and put a hand on his dog's head. "And this is Gabriel."

"Am I supposed to know you?"

"Why, I'm the Natsu Queen's Death Faery, of course. You didn't know?"

"Death Faery?"

"Yes. I am the bearer of bad news. When I show up, someone will die. Not immediately. But soon."

"Who?"

"Oh, now, I can't tell you, can I? Then where would all the fun go?"

"Where, indeed," I muttered sarcastically. "Is it River? Does the Queen want something with River?"

"You could say that. There is a… debt to be repaid. Especially since his side of the bargain has been upheld."

"What are you talking about?"

"The curse. Surely your little friend has told you about the curse."

"What curse?"

"Oh, the poor little human is in the dark. So ironic. Well, would you mind giving your friend a message?"

I waited. "I thought you wanted to see me."

"Well, yes, it was your path I wanted to cross. I didn't want to see River."

"I don't understand."

"Tell River that one half of his curse had been fulfilled. He needs to finish off his side, and he will be free."

"Anything else?" I asked disdainfully.

"Actually, you can tell him that Lilith enjoys his choice. She thinks it's just like him."

"Angus," I heard River's voice come from behind me with a swoop. "I have not seen you for many years. Who are you killing this time?" River sounded angry, and hurt. He was standing so close behind me I could feel his body. One of his hands came around me, holding my stomach, as if protecting me.

"Please," Angus rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't kill another one of your beautiful girls. Jocelyn kept me sated for a long time."

"You should leave." River's voice was empty.

"See," Angus said in a snide voice, "I think you should leave. River Carlyter, prince of Reon, I'm telling you to go back to your little mansion and let me talk to your beautiful young human here."

River's fists clenched. Then I heard him whisper in my ear, "Use the daggers if you need to." To Angus, he said, "She gave you my full name. I should hardly be surprised. It's just like her – your Queen."

"And it's just like you to pick a fearless beauty," Angus shot back. "Now, go, little prince."

Prince? That triggered something in my brain.

"I have to leave," River whispered to me. "He has my full name. He has power over me. I'm sorry."

Then, another swooping sound, and he was gone, left alone with the dog faery.

And that was when, the dog faery, became mostly just dog. His human form twisted and cracked, bones popping and changing. I was dry retching as his body mutated and became a hound, large than I was. He barked once, at his other dog, Gabriel. Then, that dog began to split - the dog barked, and coughed out another dog – again, and again, until there were more than I could count.

Well, more than two, which happened to be the amount of daggers I had on me.

There wasn't panic, but there was fear. I thought about running, but how could I? These were dogs, tracking dogs. I hated River a little for leaving me. On the other hand, I felt like Angus had some sort of authority he couldn't control.

The dogs waited, snarling, waiting for their signal.

I held my stance, daggers in hand, ready, poised.

Angus walked forward, he pulled back on his hind legs, ready to pounce-

I was surprised when my dagger thudded into his chest.

There was a swooping sound, and River was back.

"You've lived in a court so much longer, Angus," River gloated. "I thought you of all people would be the one to lay more restraints. You told me to leave, but you did not say I could not return. And now, you can not speak."

Angus barked once, then growled, so loudly, I could have mistaken it for thunder. And the hounds descended. Angus stayed behind, wounded.

I saw the hounds advancing, but there was nothing I could really do. And I could see that.

I supposed I was going to be killed.

"You said you wouldn't kill another one," River shouted suddenly, then leapt in front of me, pushing my body behind him. "Run, Giselle."

I took those moments and did exactly as he said. I turned, and ran so fast towards the mansion the dirt I kicked up almost hurt the back of my legs.

From behind me I heard River shout, "Onyx, Orion!" I knew those names. I'd heard them before. When I'd first been with River. Near the doors. I was still running. Trying to place those names.

I wasn't sure if the snarls I could hear were close or far away, all I knew was that they were there. And that was when, in front of me, suddenly, the two stone dragons that guarded the house, came alive. They cracked and dust fell from them as they jumped away from their stone position. I remember when I'd first entered the house; I'd asked one of the stone sculptures what his name was. They'd spoken to me. Later. Onyx and Orion.

The dragons were still a stone grey, their wings membranous, and scales glittering with crystals. They leapt up into the air as their wings caught the wind. They each did a circle over my head, looking at me carefully, as if inspecting me. Their eyes were so real it scared me; one had the eyes of deep emerald, the other of ruby. Then they flew away, to the fight I assumed.

When I reached the door, panting heavily, I turned, and saw a sight that almost crippled me.

River was fighting off as many of the hounds as he could, but he was still being mauled. The dragons were attacking some of the dogs from the air, but they were no match for the number. River had risked his life for me, and I was just running. "River," I breathed.

Then I saw Angus. He was sitting, licking his wound, back from the crowd. That's what I could do. I readied myself, taking in everything for the prefect throw.

And… the dagger hit him between the eyes.

He didn't die, but I hardly expected him to. If a dagger in the chest didn't do anything except hurt him, I doubted one in the head would kill him.

But it did essentially what I wanted it to. Angus cried out, and his hounds replied. In fact, they went to their wounded master, and picked him up, carrying him as a team.

It was one of the most bizarre sight's I'd ever seen.

The last of the dogs scampered away, leaving River, bleeding into the wind. I watched for a moment, before running to him. Onyx and Orion, which had been circling above, landed, waddling awkwardly towards River and I. He looked mangled, and was bleeding from wounds – teeth marks – all over his body. But the weirdest thing, his blood was burning through his clothes. It was acid. Oh, and it was blue. A deep azure blue. I went to his side, careful to not touch his blood.

"Do not worry. My blood can not burn you," he croaked. "Your blood is similar."

"How?" I asked.

"Magic begins with blood, remember. Our blood, it is not natural anymore. It has been tainted. Becomes acidic."

One thought came to me, above all else. I was more similar to River than I was to my own human family.

"Then let's get you inside," I said, trying to ignore the possibility that my blood might turn blue.

"Thank you," River said, licking his lips. "Onyx, Orion, you can return," he said to his dragons. They both gave a nod, and flew back to the stone stairs of the mansion, sitting, a thin film of glamour reappearing over them. River closed his eyes and I crouched, putting an arm underneath his shoulder blades and slinging a bloody arm around my neck. I stood slowly, letting River get to his feet. He leant his weight on me as I struggled to stay upright.

Slowly we made our way to the house, River's blood singeing my clothes. When we got inside I made straight for the infirmary. I laid River's limp body down on the bed, and shifted him so he was lying straight.

"I'm fine now," he mumbled. "You can leave me."

"I'm just going to get the blood off you," I told him softly. I took some warm water from the tap and found a small towel. Moving to the side of his bed I set the water down and slowly removed River's shirt, which was practically hanging off him anyway. First I washed his face, making my way down his neck and chest, finishing with his arms and hands. His body was so perfectly rippled with muscles I kept biting the inside of my lip like a nervous habit. River's eyes stayed closed.

I cleaned up, throwing away the towel that was now little more than singed scraps. I thought River had fallen asleep. But as I turned to leave the room, River whispered, "Do not go." He must have heard the order in his voice because he corrected himself and said, "Please. I feel better when I am in your presence."

So I stayed. I pulled up a chair and sat beside River's bed. I took some bandages and wrapped up a few really bloody areas, just hoping his blood wouldn't destroy them within seconds. They held for long enough.

River's eyes stayed closed. "Can you talk to me?" he asked.

"About what?"

"Your childhood. Tell me how you grew up. What made you become Giselle?"

I laughed softly. "Many things." I tried to think of a specific memory. "Well, there was this one time – I would have been seven or eight, Adam a little older – and Dad enrolled me in basketball. Mum wanted me to dance – ballet – but I'd hated it, so finally she relented and let Dad take me to a basketball game. Anyway, I'd been to a few training sessions and learnt how to throw, catch and dribble. That wasn't so hard. But I couldn't shoot. Not to save my life. I was terrible. We had a basketball ring in our driveway because Adam also played, and I was there practicing. Still, I just couldn't get it in. I couldn't get that ball through that ring. And I didn't understand why not. It was Adam who came out, saw me almost in tears and coached me. He told me how you had to aim for the little square of the backboard and how I needed to bend my knees and jump. He taught me where to put my hands on the ball, throw from one hand, rather than two, and how I had to follow my arm through and finish off the throw. The most important thing he said I must do, was always look at the ring. See where I wanted the ball to go and imagine the flight path. Then I had to make sure it did what I imagined. I got it in, in one shot. Adam was so proud." I paused. "Then he realised he liked girls and didn't have time to coach me anymore. Not that I need it now. I can beat him in one on one. And he's a foot taller."

I finished the story and River was silent.

Until, "Do you hate me?"

A pause.

"Yes."

River opened his eyes.

"But you also…" His unasked question hung in the air.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I know."

"Did Angus say anything to you?"

"Yes. He told me to give you a message."

River frowned, and tried to sit up. I pushed him back. My hands stayed on his chest for a moment, River looked down at them, we paused, and then I pulled away. "What was the message?"

"Something about half of the curse being fulfilled, and you having to finish of the rest to be free. I didn't really know what he was talking about."

River's face became flat. He stared at the ceiling. "Go."

"Are you okay?" I asked. I put a hand on his face.

"Go!" he shouted, pushing me away.

I stumbled back, suddenly angry. "Fine. Fine. Be a sour lonely man. I'm used to it."

Tonight the dream was even stranger. Not strange – I guess it was always headed the way it did – just different.

This time my prince doesn't disappear after the kiss; he takes my hand and leads me, stumbling away, to his room. We don't speak anymore than we had in any other dream, except this time there is a sense of anticipation. We reach my prince's room and he takes me in his arms, tracing the line of my lips with his soft fingers. Then he kisses me again, my knees feeling weak. He steers me towards the bed and lays me gently down, placing his toned body over mine. But something is wrong. This isn't how it happens. I am sure of it. Then a thought strikes me. And it hits me with such a force my breath is knocked out of me.

What about River?

River. The hideous monster. Why am I even thinking about him at this time? What compels me to picture his face in my mind? Why can't I even enjoy a dream such as this without thinking about him?

"What is it, my love?" My prince asks me. My love? We had danced but there was nothing more. What love?

"No," I say suddenly. I want to get out of here.

"Shh," my prince soothes.

"No," I say. "Let me up." When did this dream so quickly become a nightmare?

"As you wish," my prince says, sadness in his eyes. I stand quickly, but don't leave.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I am River Carlyter, prince of Reon," he says, looking at me strangely, as if I should know this information.

"And I?" I ask.

"You are my beauty," he says lovingly.

"What prince?" I ask. "I don't understand."

"I take the throne when I come of age. You know this, my dear Jocelyn. You are one of the most beautiful women. And so, you deserve the most beautiful man." He is obviously talking about himself. It is so strange that this River was so… conceited. The River I know has always been terribly honest. And who is Jocelyn? Did this have something to do with the memorial stone in the garden? But this doesn't make sense. This is a dream. How come I have thoughts and feelings? I can influence this dream. I am not being led in this dream. I am leading it. I decide to try a new tactic.

"And what made you ugly?" I ask. My prince's face twists at those words.

"I do not have a temper," he says, a little louder than before. "I am not vain or conceited." His voice keeps getting louder. I am not sure who or what he was shouting at, but I have a feeling it isn't me. "I do not have a temper! I am not impatient." The dream changes so quickly it scares me. My prince's face twists and morphs. It morphs into something undisguisable. Into the pale, deathly monster I am used to. And beside him stands a young woman, with looks to destroy the devil himself.

She has skin like porcelain and golden brown hair that is braided all the way down her back. Each strand looks like fine ribbon, glinting off the candlelight. She has a flash in her eyes – they are black – that looks like a child's sadistic game. She wears very little. Nothing more than pieces of floaty blue silk.

She eyes River carefully and says, in a voice that is sickly sweet floral, "You were once beautiful, but no more. You will no longer use your looks to destroy the hearts of women and heads of men. You will wait, for all eternity, for your temper to subside, your impatience to leave you and your selfishness to disappear. You will remain cursed until you are able to find a woman to fall in love with you – your inner self – even though you are hideously ugly. When that happens, and she declares her love for you, you must kill her, freeing yourself from your curse."

I woke, mostly confused, trying to piece together information that was in pieces. The curse. The queen. Angus and death. Me. Jocelyn. It was connected, and somewhere in my brain it was there. But at the moment, it wasn't working.

There was something, and it was real. More than a dream. Magic.