The smell of burning batter and a flurry of curses roused Celeste from her deep slumber. The putrid stench wafted through the apartment as her eyes fluttered open, her mind trying to orient itself to her location.
Right, she was in Marchedor, the trade capital on the main continent between the human and fae lands, asleep on some useless male's couch.
Said useless male was currently cursing up a storm in the kitchen, the sound of clattering dishes resounding throughout the living space.
How had she gotten into this situation again?
Celeste was half tempted to fall back off into slumber as she nestled down into the soft warmth of the thick blanket around her, the luscious cashmere lulling her into remaining.
A loud smash followed by what Celeste assumed was a particularly vicious curse in that language Gandriel spoke chased slumber from her mind completely and she groaned into her pillow.
So much for more sleep.
Celeste rolled onto her feet, freeing herself from the velvety-soft blanket and let out a long yawn, stretching her arms above her head. She cocked her head and squinted briefly at the few tendrils of gray smoke inching under the low-hanging archway that led into the kitchen before making her way there herself. Turning the corner, she came face to face with Gandriel and could do nothing more than gape for a moment at the apocalyptic scene before her.
"What in the Cauldron's name are you doing?" Celeste inquired, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the blond-haired male splayed across the granite countertop, a spoon in one hand and a half-full bowl of batter in the other, mere inches from the floor. The other half of the bowl's contents spilled down the sides of the counter and dripped sluggishly to the tile.
Smoke was billowing up from the stove, whatever he had been cooking burnt to a crisp.
"Cooking?" A blush flushed across Gandriel's cheeks as he straightened and hopped off the counter, narrowly avoiding the pooling puddle of what Celeste assumed was pancake batter.
"I'm not sure I'd qualify this as cooking." She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, quirking an eyebrow and nodding toward the hissing pan. Noticing his distressed bit of charcoaled batter, Gandriel slammed down the bowl before racing to the stove, using his spoon to scrape futilely at the deflated piece of dough clinging to the bottom of the pan.
Celeste had to blink.
He was using a spoon to flip pancakes.
She couldn't suppress the eyeroll.
Unfolding her arms from across her chest, she watched as Gandriel flipped the burned piece of bread onto a plate. He reached for the batter bowl, shoving the spoon into the base of it and rapidly stirring, sloshing batter over the edges and across his shirt.
Celeste noticed there was batter in his hair.
Shaking her head, she braved stepping fully into the kitchen and noticed a thin black object out of the corner of her eye. The useless artifact they had risked their lives for was laying on the counter, covered in pancake batter. She deadpanned, swiping the piece of metal up and running her hands down its dented surface, nothing more than scrap.
"I tried selling it this morning," Gandriel said, watching Celeste as he flipped yet another burnt attempt at a pancake out of the pan. "No one wanted it, at least not for more than 10 coppers. I figured I should try to get a bit more out of since we risked so much obtaining it."
With a sloshing motion the male dumped nearly half the remaining batter in the bowl into the newly emptied pan, nearly filling it to the brim, before resting the bowl back on the counter and poking at the batter with the wooden spoon.
Celeste set down the piece of scrap metal, her patience gone.
"For fuck's sake," she growled, ripping the spoon from Gandriel's hands in an attempt to save his most recent victim, its lumpy surface bubbling sluggishly from the heat.
"Hey!" he yelped as she shoved herself between him and the unsuspecting stove, evaluating the likelihood of saving the poor monstrous pancake cooking unevenly in the pan, "I was doing just fine."
"This," she pointed the spoon at the burned black shriveled bit on the plate, "isn't cooking, this is a crime. Go find somewhere and sit down." The current "pancake" was beginning to swell at the top and over the sides of the pan.
"My cooking is not a crime," Gandriel pouted, looking over Celeste's shoulder as she dumped the half-burned, half-doughy pancake onto the plate, declaring it a loss, "and that's not cooked all the way."
"There's no saving it," Celeste shot back, depositing the spoon back into his waiting hand and began rummaging through the drawers, looking for a spatula. "Didn't I tell you to go sit down?"
"Didn't I tell you to go sit down?" Gandriel mocked in a high-pitched voice, waving the spoon around as he walked towards the small table on the far side of the kitchen, "See if I cook for you again, bossy female."
Celeste didn't deign to reply as she finally found and pulled a spatula free from the farthest drawer, frowning as she blew dust from its surface. Stepping back to the pan she carved off a small piece of butter from the clump sitting next to the stove and tossed it into the pan, its sizzling humming through the room.
She poured an appropriate amount of batter into the pan and sat the bowl back down, pushing her dark curtain of hair over a shoulder.
It had been years but at least she still remembered how to cook pancakes.
"That's my favorite shirt I hope you know," Gandriel quipped from the table, his feet up and sipping at what appeared to be a glass of juice, "You should take it as a favor I let you borrow it."
Celeste quirked a fine eyebrow at him.
"Ah well, my apologies. Here, let me return it." She grabbed the hem of the shirt to pull it over her head and smirked as he yelped in protest as he threw his hand over his eyes, worse than a bashful child. "Oh, is that a no?" She snorted and released her hold on the soft fabric, "Then kiss my ass."
Turning her attention back to the pan she watched the batter bubble, correctly this time, listening to Gandriel mutter in his other language beneath his breath.
He had it coming, that and a lot more.
What had her life come to? A week ago she'd been home in Vanica, three days ago aboard a slave trader ship, yesterday in a tomb of newly risen undead and today making pancakes in some idiot male's home, wearing his sleep shirt.
She released an exasperated sigh; hopefully today she'd be headed to get Anelisse.
She slipped the spatula under the dough and tried to flip it but realized it was stuck to the bottom of the pan. She tugged at it gently, willing it to come free.
Nothing.
She applied more force.
The pancake sprang loose with a slurp and flew straight out of the pan to stick with a thwap on the wall behind the stove. The spatula went lax in Celeste's hand as she looked at it forlornly as it slid slowly off the wall.
"Oh ho," Gandriel snorted from the table across the room, "and I can't cook. At least I didn't get the damned thing stuck to the wall."
Celeste didn't even feel sorry as she swiped up the hot skillet and sent it flying at his face.
Gandriel was sporting a lovely goose egg on the side of his head as he plucked a couple pancakes from the platter Celeste had just sat down on the table next to pile of bacon and eggs she had also fried. He poured a disgusting amount of honey over the entire plate before slicing off a piece and popping it in his mouth.
Celeste tried and failed to hide her grimace.
"Not bad," Gandriel acknowledged around his mouthful of food, his elbow propped on the circular wooden table beneath them, "though I'd have left them a bit longer, they're a bit . . ." He quirked his head, "Chewy."
"I'm certain you would have," Celeste replied, shaking her head as she scooped several small round cakes onto her own plate and poured a more reasonable amount of honey over them, something she hadn't had in nearly a decade and something she had nearly forgotten the taste of.
Cutting into the cake, she took a bite and savored the sweet taste of the honey and the savory butter-
She spit the pancake out with a disgusted cough as she gagged. "What in the Mother's name did you do to that batter?"
Gandriel chewed thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes narrowed in concentration before they widened in understanding, "Oh that wasn't sugar was it? That was salt."
Celeste closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Idiot, complete fucking idiot-
"Oh well," he shrugged, chewing loudly as Celeste's shoulders tightened in annoyance, "they're still edible. Here," Gandriel dumped his pile of bacon onto Celeste's plate and swiped up her uneaten pancake, "let's trade."
At least he was a somewhat considerate idiot.
"We're leaving to get my sister today," Celeste informed him as she ate her bacon and eggs, trying not to flinch as he shoveled the disgusting pancakes into his mouth. "We should go soon."
"You'll need new clothes." Gandriel swallowed, running a hand through his hair and pulling it away with a grimace when he found the batter that had been plastered there prior. "I already went down to the market and got some things for you. They're in my room," he pointed his fork at Celeste, "since your scrawny ass won't fill out anything I have."
Celeste swallowed her food and tilted her head, watching the male carefully.
"I don't have any money with me now." She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of the lack of anything she had, her utter poverty, ". . . I will have to pay you back when I get the chance."
Maybe that satchel of copper was still in the cottage.
"It's not necessary," Gandriel replied, waving her off, "I owe it to you for your help with my little . . . 'predicament,' 'That self-righteous smirk reappeared, his golden eyes twinkling obnoxiously, "Besides, I've got plenty to go around so I'm sure I could spare a few coppers to help out the less fortunate."
The fork in Celeste's hands bent in half.
Gandriel flinched.
"Kidding!" he added with a forced laugh, holding his hands out in front of him, "Just kidding."
Guilt rushed through Celeste and she shoved the plate of food away from her, no longer hungry. Wordlessly, she set her fork down and strode out of the kitchen, intent on finding the clothes in Gandriel's room.
More charity she was forced to take.
No, she'd pay him back, even if the prick didn't really deserve it.
She just needed to get to Anelisse, she could figure out the rest later.
"Hey!" he called after her, "It was just a joke! Don't get your underthings in a knot, I mean . . . not that you're . . . wearing . . . any . . ." An awkward cough and a pause. ". . . Are you going to finish your breakfast?"
Underthings seemed to the be the theme of the hour, Celeste realized as she picked up the skimpy pink things Gandriel had purchased her, nothing more than bits of twine and lace. The brassiere was no better, its surface sheer and covered in flowers.
She suppressed an eyeroll before slipping into them, they'd have to do.
At least the leggings and lace up shirt he'd purchased her were practical and well made, she grudgingly acknowledged as she slipped her feet into new warm wool socks.
Her host had been kind enough to wash her boots, the ichor and blood now gone from them. She pulled them on before swiftly braiding her hair back.
A sliver of bronze caught her attention on Gandriel's nightstand. The necklace that she had yanked off the wight was sitting there, its tarnished surface shimmering in the light slipping through the curtained window.
He must have picked it up from where it had fallen out of her dress that night before in the bathing room.
Curiosity won as Celeste walked over and reached out a tentative hand to the amulet, its surface smooth and worn.
She picked it up and turned it over in her hand, its make was rough and primitive, as though some unskilled hand had pounded it into the rough oval shape that it took. Inscribed on its surface were an array of faded angular symbols, letters Celeste assumed, that she couldn't decipher. On the top of the amulet was a vertical line with three shorter lines slashed perpendicular through it, parallel to one another.
It was slightly warm to the touch, and the power that thrummed from it was soft but ancient-
"Celeste!" Gandriel called from the other room, his voice muffled by the wall.
She jumped and nearly dropped the amulet. Without thought, she shoved the worn piece of bronze into her pants pocket. Gandriel wouldn't be needing it.
"I'm coming!"
"Are you ready to go?" Celeste asked, stepping out of Gandriel's room where she had changed and shutting the door quietly behind her, the weight of the amulet a phantom in her hand.
"About that," he said with a shake of his head, scratching the back of his neck, "We can't go just yet."
"What do you mean," Celeste growled, watching Gandriel cautiously as he palmed a knife loose from his belt, turning the piece of metal over in his hand. "You swore to me."
Celeste took a step back, planting her feet in a defensive stance and gauging the distance to the door, calculating.
If he chose to attack-
"I know I did," he sighed once, long and full of uncertainty, not meeting her eyes, "and I know where they took your sister, but I can't help you until you finish helping me."
He stepped forward, sliding his finger down the blunt side of the knife, the scent of fear coating him, fear and uncertainty.
"Where they took her?" Her eyes narrowed as the male looked at the knife in his hands hesitantly, "Gandriel, where did they take her? She should be in Vanica-"
"I can't tell you, not yet," He pulled the knife up and swallowed hard, finally meeting her eyes, and Celeste braced herself for the attack she was certain would follow. "You'll have to bring me back first." He sighed heavily, as though bearing a great burden, and closed his eyes. "Mother above, I hope this works."
And with no warning Gandriel brandished than knife and, to the utter horror and surprise of Celeste, slashed the blade across his own throat, deep and swift, drawing blood in a pooling torrent.
His eyes widened as he made a choking noise and collapsed to the carpet, the knife bouncing away from him.
Celeste stood there dumbstruck for a moment, in disbelief that he hadn't intended to use the knife on her but instead had slit his own throat.
His words settled in on her, You'll have to bring me back first.
He knew she could raise the dead.
He wanted her to revive him.
He was an entirely new level of insane.
Celeste stood there for an abnormally long amount of time watching Gandriel's blood seep into the already stained carpet, the life rapidly fleeing from his eyes and scent of his fading immortality assaulting her nose.
She could find Anelisse on her own, could let the bastard get what was coming to him and avoid playing into whatever games he intended to play.
That familiar tug pulled at her in warning, that thread weaving its way between her and the dying male on the floor.
He definitely had it coming, dragging her into a wight-infested tomb like that, nearly getting her killed. They couldn't have gotten that far with Anelisse-
The tug hit her again, harder this time, demanding.
"Fine," she growled, tossing down the small bag of supplies Gandriel had left for her and striding over to the prone male, "I hope this works."
She'd known he'd had ulterior motives but this? This was truly the pinnacle of stupidity.
He was a fool for banking on her saving him.
She'd never mastered the power, had never learned to control it or manifest it. It came and went as it pleased.
Celeste knelt and grunted as she rolled Gandriel over onto his back. Placing a hand on his chest, she felt the corded muscle beneath and the utter stillness from where his heart had spluttered to a stop.
She closed her eyes, willing the power to come.
Nothing.
She growled, digging her hand into the male's now blood-soaked shirt and willed it, willed the warmth to fill her and flow from her.
Still nothing.
Something like panic flitted through her and she cracked open her eyes and flattened her palm harder over Gandriel's chest, blood now soaking her boots once again.
"Please," she muttered, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread creep over her as the minutes began to tick by and nothing happened.
If he died because she couldn't save him-
She drew her hand back and slapped him, hard.
"Wake up you prick!" She snarled, shoving both of her hands onto his bloody chest, her heart racing as fear begin to take root in her. She shook him, violently. His head lolled back and forth as the blood finally faded to a barely discernable trickle.
She dropped his body back to the floor and sat back, her breathing becoming somewhat ragged.
"If you don't help me," she said to no one in particular as she closed her eyes, something like remorse flaring to the surface. If he survived this she'd kill him herself. "I can't save him."
The warmth suddenly pooled in the base of her stomach, rising and racing through her body, the familiar feminine presence smiling as the energy dripped through her fingertips into Gandriel's still cooling body.
It was a few moments before a gasp tore out of him and his blond lashes fluttered, his pupils constricting and flaring wide as his body reoriented itself to life.
Celeste let out a breath she didn't realized she'd been holding as she released her grip on Gandriel and curled in on herself, resting her elbows against her knees and her face in her hands.
Close, that had been too close.
"Celeste," he breathed roughly as his voice and consciousness returned, looking at her as though he were staring up at some holy being, "you actually saved me." He shoved his fingers into his hair. "I didn't think you'd actually do it." He laid there for a moment staring up at the ceiling.
"You can actually bring back the dead," he repeated, sounding a bit more focused. He looked up at Celeste again, who now knelt next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, her face no longer buried in her palms. Gandriel placed a palm over his own chest, as though checking for the pulse beneath, "I didn't think it was possible-"
She loosed a snarl at him.
He stopped and locked eyes with her for a moment before shooting upright past her, knocking her over onto her backside as he stood and immediately began unbuttoning his pants.
"GANDRIEL!" Celeste cried out as she watched the male fling open the bedroom door and immediately drop his trousers and underthings to the floor, oblivious to the show he was giving her. Had he lost what bit of his sanity he'd possessed upon being revived? "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"
Gandriel twisted in front of the full-length mirror she had briefly noticed on his bedroom wall, looking over his shoulder. He let out a howl of delight before turning and directing his uncovered rear triumphantly at Celeste.
"Do you see?!" He cried in delight, nearly shaking with excitement, "Do you see it?"
"See your bare naked ass?" She scowled as she turned her face and covered it with her hand, the utter whiteness of it appalling and nearly offensive, "Yes, unfortunately I do."
"It's bare!" he cackled, throwing his hands up in the air and laughing towards the high ceiling as he practically skipped back into the living room. "That bitch's mark is gone and my bargain is broken!"
"Her mark?" Celeste inquired, her nerves still frazzled from impromptu and unexpected suicide she'd just had to save him from, "Whose mark? You'd better start explaining things now, and truthfully."
Gandriel was near quaking with happiness.
"I made a bargain with a...woman" he said breathlessly, trotting back and forth through his own blood, his carpet even more ruined than it had been the night before, "I traded my body to her in exchange for favors."
"Your body?" Celeste asked incredulously, watching the male pace back and forth, his pants still about his ankles, "You sold yourself as a sex slave? Are you serious?"
"Yes!" Gandriel exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air, "It was a blood pact, one that could only be broken by death." He stopped and looked at her, grinning at her more widely and honestly than she had seen since their meeting. "And you just fixed that. That's what I needed from you, don't you see?"
He laughed again and made to move towards her as though to hug her.
"Pull up your fucking pants!" Celeste hissed, trying to ignore the surprisingly . . . impressive part of him. "I don't need to see your junk."
Gandriel looked down, having apparently forgotten his pants were at his feet.
"Shit!" He immediately bent down and pulled the article up, covering his manhood. "I'm sorry, I just had to know, had to see if her mark was gone."
"She marked you on the ass?" Celeste blinked, trying not to dwell on Gandriel's surprisingly white rear that didn't match his otherwise golden skin.
"It was her way of deterring other females from touching me," he explained, pulling his blood-soaked pants up around his hipbones and buttoning them shut. "I've been enslaved to her for months and have been trying to get out. I stumbled upon an old scrying glass amongst her things, she's ancient and bit of a hoarder, and it showed me a flash of you. So I stole the map and followed it to you."
He loosed a sigh. "But the fact that it worked . . ." he rubbed his hands across his face, "You raising the wights in the tomb should have assured me of that but seeing it, feeling it-" He looked at Celeste, tawny eyes full of honest gratitude, "Thank you."
"I didn't raise those wrights," Celeste muttered, her eyes locked with the carpet as she finally rose to her feet, "You were an idiot for thinking that was my handiwork. Was that the entire point of the tomb?" she hissed, glaring at him.
"I don't know," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, a faint white line now prominent across his golden throat, "but the map showed it so I trusted it and followed." Gandriel flopped onto the couch. "What do you mean you didn't raise those wights?" he added as an afterthought, his brows furrowing as he took in her words.
"That wasn't me." She walked over and picked up the bag of supplies, adjusting the weight across her back. She didn't need this idiot's help. "Whatever that was, it wasn't me." His face blanched as the reality of the risk he took hit him.
A fool's risk that had barely paid off.
She was done with the games.
"Where's my sister, Gandriel?" Celeste questioned, watching the radiant male. His face sank a little as he looked at her.
"Likely still in Vanica," he stared at his blood-soaked carpet, his lip puckering in revulsion. "Unless that foul human male decided to take her already - he spoke of leaving with her after the wedding and heading to a large human city on the continent when he spoke to the crew on the docks. Rainfelle if I'm not mistaken." His face went even more white as he took in the deathly silence radiating off Celeste.
"I need to go now," she turned towards the door, marking her path out of the apartment.
"I need to change," he muttered, realizing he was dripping his own blood. "Just a minute, give me just a minute." Gandriel sprinted past her and into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Celeste wasted no time as she moved towards the door, intent on leaving.
Gandriel had already provided with all the things she needed.
The anger she felt was now icy, a sharp desire to end the human man who had taken her sister against her will.
And she also wasn't sure she wouldn't slit Gandriel's throat herself the next chance she got for all of the nonsense he'd put her through.
So she'd return to Vanica on her own and find her.
And if Anelisse wasn't there . . . well, she had other means of tracking her down.
Having a city name was a start.
At least she had supplies now and a weapon, she noted with some grim satisfaction as she swiped up Gandriel's discarded knife and sprinted out the door into the streets of Marchedor, the hot sun beating down overhead.
She gently patted her back pocket, checking for the folded scrap of paper she'd found stuffed in her host's drawer while she'd snooped earlier. The map he'd mentioned was now tucked safely on her person, and she began trotting down the long road, vanishing easily into the crowded streets.
Gandriel would be fine on his own and Celeste would be lucky if she never saw the useless male ever again.