The soft spring breeze sent wisps of the fresh scent of grass and apple blossoms brushing against Celeste's sun-warmed cheek as she strolled down the wooded path, tugging the "borrowed" brown gelding, whom Gandriel had affectionately dubbed Beau, behind her. She had only rolled her eyes as the male insisted that the horse would still be returned during their next visit to Rainfelle, but "needed a name in the meantime."
Celeste was almost certain they'd be keeping the horse.
They were on the road headed back to Marchedor, having finally returned to Portmouth a few days prior and attended to various errands. As they'd pulled into port Celeste had sheepishly realized she was now in possession of an easily recognized and quite obviously stolen ship.
After a brief moment of panic she'd slipped from the deck frantically looking for Fallon and half expecting to be whisked away in chains by the harbormaster. After finding said Captain she'd been greeted with amusement as she had nervously murmured her concerns.
The busty sea Captain had merely laughed ensuring that she "knew a man" and "not to worry her pretty little head" as she'd sauntered off across the docks, her hips swinging knowingly.
Much to Celeste's surprise Fallon's words held true and not a word had been said. And miraculously, late that same evening, the Loreley's paperwork mysterious materialized with Celeste listed as the new and rightful owner.
It now sat safely docked, manned by the sailors who had decided to stay under her command, awaiting her return.
The others freed had parted their own separate ways, all with pocketfuls of coin from Celeste and Fallon, to begin their lives anew in Portmouth and the surrounding communities. Marrien and James' farewell hugs had been tight and even Layla had whispered her thanks again before sweeping Celeste into an embrace she hadn't expected. Pennelope and her husband had decided to settle in in the port city and had told Celeste and Anelisse that they had best not become strangers.
Celeste adjusted the pack slung across her back and eyed the jingling saddlebags hanging heavily on Beau's sides. Before departing Portmouth they had thoroughly investigated their newly acquired ship, snooping about as they piled all of Rufus's useless and gaudy finery. They'd auctioned it all for a weighted bag of gold pieces.
After much thought, Celeste had decided to keep the oversized bedframe in her cabin, even as she'd immediately pawned the hideous golden silk sheets and throw pillows. She's refused to sell the trunk of old dresses, however, finding it better to burn them instead.
After their haggling and trading Fallon had cheerfully sent them on their way, promising to send a letter detailing meetings with her informants to begin laying out their counterattack against the slavers. Rufus's papers had contained a wealth of information, names and contacts the sea Captain had been eager to start hunting down.
In three weeks' time they were to head back to the coast to rendezvous with Fallon and begin their assault. The thought of facing Dermot sent a thrill through Celeste, an opportunity to repay the bastard for the blows he'd given her.
Though the only opportunity of assault she wanted in that moment was to hit Gandriel.
Celeste groaned as she tried and failed to block out the tune wafting from the male trotting behind her.
She barely registered the smarmy tavern lyrics about a buxom, blessed blonde with teal eyes and pointy toes said male was singing about in that rolling accent of his, picking absently at a lute he'd plucked from one of the many cabins on the Loreley.
He'd make himself quite cozy on her new ship, claiming his space and proudly strutting about with his new title of first mate. He was also giving her a Mother's damned headache.
And she'd just barely recovered from the last one. She tried not to dwell on the throbbing pain that had bedridden her for two days.
It had taken a week for the headache that Celeste had acquired after her little fainting spell to fade. She hadn't remembered much of her conversation with Anelisse and it left her feeling like she stood on unstable ground.
She'd recalled talking about Anidre and her identity then . . . nothing.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and squeezed her eyes shut, willing some recollection of those moments to return to her.
Nothing.
It was useless.
Perhaps fairy wine wasn't for her, perhaps it had been what had muddled her memory so terribly. It certainly hadn't been for Anelisse. She'd been puking non-stop and feverish for the week following Fallon's little party, going so far as to have been bedridden right alongside Celeste, hurling her guts up and cursing everything good and holy in the world.
Even now she heard the small gagging noise as Anelisse dry heaved behind her, perched lightly on Beau's back. Glancing over her shoulder she saw her sister press her palm against her mouth, her porcelain skin wan and pink lips thin.
Celeste couldn't say she felt particularly sorry for her.
Maybe she'd think twice about guzzling two bottles of unlabeled spirits next time.
"Hungry?" Celeste inquired, quirking her brows playfully as she shook the satchel full of apples strung across her back.
Anelisse scowled, scrunching her nose up in revulsion.
"You're foul."
Celeste smirked. She heard Gandriel's merry little song stop briefly as he covered up a laugh, directing his attention to something very interesting in the wood.
Celeste gave a small shrug. "You're the only one to blame."
Anelisse threw her a rather impolite gesture, along with a wadded-up ball of paper she'd been sketching on. Celeste easy dodged the projectile and watched it roll harmlessly to a stop by Gandriel's feet.
She chuckled.
"You should eat," Gandriel piped up, strumming some ungodly, untuned melody on his lute before reaching down to pick up the discarded sketch. "You were skin and bone to begin and now, well . . ." He straightened and plucked at his lute again, a few high, screeching notes. "You're only bone? No, only skin?"
"She'd make a lovely rug."
Anelisse immediately gagged, wavering dangerously in her seat. Celeste and Gandriel both reached for her only to be waved off by frantic, annoyed hands.
"No talk of skin, or bones," she hissed, turning a particularly sickly shade of green, "or sweets or apples for that matter." She gave pointed look at Celeste. "Mother above, when will this hangover end?"
"When your mortal body decides it will," Celeste took pity on her and began rummaging through her bag looking for the little package of peppermint leaves Vaerek had slipped her upon their departure. "Do you want some tea? It's helped before."
Anelisse shook her head, blowing stray strands of silvery hair out of her face.
"I just want to get to Marchedor so I can have a bath and a real bed."
Celeste clicked her tongue playfully, casting her sister a chiding look. "From rags to riches in a week and you've already spoiled yourself on the luxuries of life. Do you require anything else, my lady?"
"Yes, a hat made from the finest mink furs, a well-sculpted male to comfort my weary, aching bones," Celeste could have sworn Anelisse flicked her attention briefly toward Gandriel, "and a tub full of the frilliest oils you can find." She clapped her hands, grinning at her sister. "Well, hop to it, I'm not getting any younger!"
"Of course," Celeste dipped her head in a mocking curtsey and even Beau snorted. "Right away, my lady."
"And you," Anelisse turned to Gandriel, straightening her spine, "I require a jester. I want a song telling all the land about how beautiful I am and how they should gift me with all sorts of finery."
Gandriel threw back his head and howled in amusement before dropping into an ornate bow, his arms poised just so. "Of course, my lady! I'll begin composing the ballad immediately. Shall I describe your eyes as clouds of murky mud water or your chest as flat as the central plains?"
"Describe the way your head's going to roll when I cut it from your body," Anelisse replied sweetly, fanning herself with a hand, "I'd threaten other parts but I fear there's not enough there to compose a ballad about."
Celeste coughed, trying to hide her laughter behind her hand and failing miserably. Gandriel looked wounded, pressing his hand to his chest as he dramatically staggered away from Anelisse before dropping into the dirt.
"You've injured me gravely, madam, and now I fear you shall have to replace your jester," he flopped a hand to his brow and rolled over, "for here is where I meet my end."
"Thank the Mother," Celeste muttered to the sky, stopping to pull an apple from her bag for herself, "I thought we'd never be free of you."
"You don't mean that," Gandriel replied, abruptly coming back to life and dusting the dirt from his pants. "You wouldn't have made me your first mate if that were the case."
Celeste shrugged again. "I need someone to use as bait." She bit into the flesh of the apple, savoring the crisp honey flavor. "I care about my sister. You, on the other hand, are disposable." Gandriel sent her a scowl before trotting ahead, his cream shirt dusty as he absently picked at his lute.
Fine, maybe she'd gained some type of attachment to the attention-seeking fool.
It didn't stop her from throwing her apple core at him once she'd finished the fruit though, the sound of outrage that escaped him echoing loudly through the wood.
For all that Celeste had faced she had never expected to feel quite so . . . whole again. Like the world was a place she'd like to be and that a purpose lay before her. Her own ship, her own crew . . . she shook her head. Best for one to not look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't help the smirk at she glanced over at Beau. Or a "borrowed" one, for that matter.
Gandriel plucked at the strings again, and Celeste finally snarled at him. "Would you stop? I never thought anything would give me more of a headache than your voice, but apparently I was wrong."
He sighed, looking rather sad. "It's not my fault it's nothing like a guitar."
Anelisse piped up from behind them. "What's a guitar?" Gandriel turned and gaped at her.
"You've never seen-?" He grinned. "Then I'll be sure to serenade you the moment we return home." Celeste groaned and strode quickly forward, eager to escape the banter that followed.
They traveled for several hours in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the slowly improving plunking of Gandriel's lute and his rich rolling tenor. Even Anelisse's nauseous moaning had silenced.
The sun was dipping to the horizon as they reached the far outskirts of Marchedor and a few sparse lampposts flickered to life in the blue twilight. Ahead, two roads crossed beneath a large oak, its thick branches rustling with a sudden breeze. Celeste crooked an eyebrow as the wind carried the lulling song of a woman softly toward them, the mournful tune echoing across the valley.
Strange, she pondered, they'd only met a handful of travelers on the road inland and none of them had appeared to be traveling bards, mostly merchants and pilgrims. She wondered briefly if they'd come across a band of gypsies making camp for the night, as Fallon had mentioned several that roamed these parts.
Maybe they could trade some supplies for a performance. She knew Anelisse had never had the opportunity to experience such a show and she was tired enough that she wouldn't have minded simply making camp early and finishing their journey the next morning. She also knew she'd enjoy listening to something other than Gandriel's bawdy tavern tunes.
Tugging Beau, she made her way down toward the crossroads when the woman suddenly materialized in the evening shadows beneath the tree, draped in gown of shadows, its skirt fluttering in the breeze like a wraith, her lovely voice singing in a language that tugged at the corners of Celeste's mind.
Beautiful, full of sorrow, and somehow . . . ancient.
Beau stopped suddenly, throwing up his head and tugging against Celeste as a whisper of cold danced up her spine. She heard Anelisse shift behind her, no doubt peering at the strange woman before them, if she was even a woman—
No, she was definitely corporeal Celeste noted, watching the woman's dark hand pull the veil closer over her face as she swayed, the winds seeming to stop as her voice rose to a keening, beautiful wail.
Actors, she thought sourly, always so keen on the dramatics.
Turning to the side, she saw that Gandriel had frozen mid-stride, his golden skin suddenly the color of spoilt milk and eyes as wide as saucers as he took the woman in.
Celeste opened her mouth to inquire when the song suddenly stopped, and the figure snapped her attention to Gandriel. The woman cocked her head before strolling leisurely toward them, nearly floating across the ground.
"Gandriel," the woman's voice was lovely and low, a seductive purr that hung in the air, "My dear Gandriel-"
Was this one of his lady friends? Celeste honestly wouldn't put it past him to date a woman with such a flair for the dramatic-
"We have to go now," Gandriel hissed, roughly grabbing Celeste's shoulder and Beau's rein, his hands shaking. "Right now."
"Wait a minute, aren't you going to explain—"
Everything went black as Gandriel stepped through space, shadows blurring shapes around them. Celeste felt the world reel back into place as she abruptly landed in Gandriel's living room, left exactly as it had been when she'd left to find Anelisse. Beau gave a bewildered snort, his ears flicking, as Celeste heard her sister moan and gag again behind her.
"Gandriel, are you serious?" Celeste griped, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to the panting male, his hand still on Beau's rein. Anelisse blinked in the shadows, trying to get her bearings as she still sat perched on the gelding's back, her head grazing the ceiling. "You winnowed the damn horse into the house. What the hell was that all about?"
"Yes, Gandriel," Celeste froze, the woman's voice seductive voice from earlier sounding close behind her. Beau gave a nervous whinny and backed up, causing Anelisse to nearly lose her balance. "An explanation would be greatly appreciated."
A candle suddenly flared to life before them, illuminating the dark evening shadows obscuring the room. Celeste gaped at the singing woman from earlier now lounged across Gandriel's couch, her black gown splayed around her and scarf pulled across her shoulders. Smooth honeyed olive skin peeked beneath her deep neckline and long black ringlets tumbling loosely over her ample chest, looking for all the world as though she had not been beneath a tree miles away moments before.
Unnaturally beautiful.
Utterly devastating.
And, Celeste noted as her hair shifted, revealing rounded ears, absolutely not fae.
A tentative sniff: human, but . . . altered.
Some lady friend.
The woman lifted a piece of paper in her hands, waving it to and fro with elegant fingers as she locked her night-black stare on Gandriel. "Care to explain this, pet?" She deftly flicked the paper forward onto the floor revealing a less-than-polite note accompanied by what appeared to be a crudely drawn phallus.
Gandriel immediately dove behind Celeste, attempting to hide his bulk behind her smaller stature, using her as a barrier between him and the woman.
"What are you doing—" Gandriel hissed and directed Celeste's attention back toward the woman, both of his hands planted firmly on her shoulders as he ducked low behind her. She heard Anelisse let out a sound of disbelief as she still sat perched in the saddle.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Warmth began to pool in Celeste's pocket. She placed a surreptitious hand over the heat, confused.
"Oh, oh no, our deal's over." The male peered over Celeste's shoulder, sending an accusing stare at the woman. He swallowed loudly by Celeste's ear. "The contract is fulfilled, our blood bond is broken. You don't own me anymore."
"That's the woman you bargained with?" Celeste hissed, stomping down on Gandriel's foot.
The woman paused, examining them. Celeste felt her skin prickle beneath that gaze. The woman's full, blood-red lips peeled back in a horrifically perfect smile, teeth as white as pearls.
"Oh yes, I noticed the absence of that little tether a few weeks ago," She twisted her wrist, examining a smooth patch of skin where a mark must have once sat. "I came looking for release and found your little pen empty." She waved her hand toward the dark splotch that still remained on the floor where Gandriel's blood had soaked through the carpet. "And saw that'd you'd been gutted like a swine, yet somehow, here you stand."
"Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" Gandriel snarled from behind Celeste. There was a whisper of fabric as Anelisse slid from Beau's back, coming to join him on Celeste other side, peeking curiously over her right shoulder.
They were both entirely useless.
She watched as the woman crossed her hands regally in her lap. The warmth in her pocket grew.
"I am curious as to how you are still breathing, toy. So do me a favor and explain, I grow weary of your insolence."
Celeste felt a sudden tendril of power, depthless and icy, roll over her, assessing-her magic bit back, violently driving the waves away.
The woman laughed. "Interesting."
She rose, her tall, lean frame elegant. Gandriel flinched behind Celeste and ducked lower, his broad hand holding tightly to her shoulder—like he expected her to protect him. She sighed and squared her feet, her hand slipping subtly into her pocket as a soft voice whispered, humming to her.
"So that's how," the woman stalked a step closer peering curiously, her black eyes seeming to devour the candlelight rather than reflecting it. "A resurrectionist. It's been a millennia since I've seen such power, and never in such a pretty little package."
Celeste's eyebrows narrowed.
"What did you even bargain for?" Anelisse muttered, nudging Gandriel in the ribs beside her. "The size of your manhood? It certainly wasn't for more brain cells . . ." Gandriel, for once, gave no answer.
The woman replied instead.
"His mother's life." She looked at her perfectly manicured nails, colored the same deep blood red as her lips. "Dying of a rare wasting disease, nearly beyond all hope. He summoned me beneath the oak and bargained away what he cherished most to save her." A small, simpering smile. "His freedom."
She pointed a long, elegant finger at him.
"Lifelong servitude to me, in the bedroom and otherwise," an amused smile, "in exchange for his mother's prompt and fortuitous recovery."
Steel settled inside Celeste as she suddenly recalled Gandriel's stories about his mother, the way his eyes gleamed with warmth when he spoke of her. Suddenly his bargain didn't seem so heinous, even if he'd practically sold himself as a sex slave.
"And I don't regret it for a second," Gandriel snarled from behind Celeste, "but I fulfilled the terms of the bargain. 'Until death,' you said. So since the contract is complete, you can kindly crawl back into whatever hell you came from, Ithaca."
A lover's laugh.
"I did not know you detested our joinings so, you certainly didn't complain when I ensured your completion as well."
Celeste didn't need to turn around to see the heat that raced over his features, no doubt staining his cheeks a vibrant red.
Her sister snorted. "Oh, I definitely didn't need to picture that. Was he any good, at least?"
"Anelisse!" Gandriel was nearly squeaking.
"Well, I am curious."
"Enough," Celeste cut in, watching the woman who stood before her, "As he said, his bond to you is broken. Now, what do you want?"
Ithaca's face became nearly serpentine, that icy power beginning to bubble again and slink toward Gandriel like she'd snatch him away. Celeste broadened her stance.
"I don't like losing my belongings and I certainly don't like to share them," she stepped closer and Celeste took a tentative step forward, keeping her eyes on the woman. "So I came to claim what is mine."
"Gandriel's debt to you is paid and void. It's not my fault you left a loophole in your contract." Celeste took another step as she carefully slid the warmth out of her pocket, surprise flickering through her as she realized what it was. "So it would be in your best interest to leave now."
"Will you protect him, lovely? I am not surprised, a female will always protect her male no matter how unworthy. You will find they aren't worth your time."
"He's not my male, and he certainly is useless, I'll give you that." That strange tether inside of her gave a small tug as she wrapped her hand tightly around the smooth metal in her hand, an idea forming in her mind. "But he's not chattel to be sold to the highest bidder, even if he is less than prized breeding stud."
No sense in stroking the male's ego even if she was defending him.
"He is a pretty trinket that belongs on my shelf. Would you care to join him? Perhaps we could make a deal, you in exchange for him." Her black pupils seemed to swell, to beckon Celeste forward. "I'm certain there's something you desire . . ." The smell of icy wind suddenly swirled around her, a memory, half forgotten, of the elation of flight, of true freedom-
"Celeste, don't!"
She tuned out Gandriel's pleas as she circled around the woman, trying to pry her attention away from the male and her sister, even as the woman's energy drove her closer, causing her skin to prickle in ways that weren't unpleasant.
"You smell of starlight and shadow," Celeste kept her features cool even as saw Anelisse stiffen in the corner of her eye, taking one small step at a time towards Ithaca. The woman's features began to shift, her jaw becoming strong and angled, shoulders broadening, voice dipping to a gentle, low tenor. "What blood runs in those veins? You can warm my bed and I'll finally have a taste of the stars."
The metal charm in her hand was near scorching as she came within a few steps of the woman.
"I don't think that'll be necessary."
She opened her palm.
The charm that Celeste had yanked from the wight's neck in the tomb flew clean out of her hand and immediately snapped around the woman's neck. She reeled back, giving an unholy snarl as her features abruptly returned to normal.
She knew she'd taken it back from Gandriel from a reason.
"What have you done?" Ithaca hissed, clawing unsuccessfully at the small pendant with the crossed lines carved crudely into surface that now hung around her neck. "Where did you get this? Impossible, I'll kill you—"
Ithaca sent a tendril of darkness towards Celeste that had Anelisse and Gandriel both crying out before it bounced harmlessly away. The black pupils of Ithaca's eyes swelled before she lashed out again and again with her power and to no avail.
"I don't think so," Celeste replied coolly, even as her palms sweated with her nerves. She couldn't believe the luck Gandriel somehow survived on. "You can't touch me."
Another snarl. Definitely not human.
"And I don't think you'll touch him or my sister either."
A tie had begun to form in her chest when she'd touched the warmed necklace, like a chain that tied a beast to its master. She felt her essence bind to the woman before her. She tugged on it, willing the woman to kneel.
Ithaca hissed as her knees wobbled, her angled onyx eyes narrowing in anger. Celeste pulled hard on the chain, willing the woman to sit. A battle of wills.
With a snarl, Ithaca dropped to the floor, panting.
"Where in the Mother's name did you get that?"
Gandriel sounded out of breath as he approached Celeste, keeping a wary eye on the grounded Ithaca.
"From that little adventure you took me on before we came here." She sent him a pointed look. He failed to notice it.
"So the map did work," he whispered, "There was a purpose to that infested hellhole." He gave a small chuckle, casting an amazed look at the woman on the floor, before he threw head back laughing. "Oh, this is fabulous. Do you see this, Ithaca? You can't touch me anymore!" He gave a belly laugh. "What can you make her do, Celeste? Can you make her dance-?"
"No, Gandriel." Exasperation filled her tone. All she had wanted was to come back to the apartment and get clean, perhaps have a cup of tea before bed. She turned her attention back to Ithaca, yanking on that chain. "And you will stand down and harm none of us. Whatever else you do I frankly don't care."
She released her hold on the chain, allowing Ithaca to rise, even as the woman glared daggers at her.
"You will release me this instant, girl, or you will suffer."
"I really doubt it," Celeste sidestepped the woman, trying to show Gandriel that he was indeed safe before making her way to the kitchen, "Now kindly show yourself out so I can eat dinner in peace. And Gandriel," she looked at the male behind her, giving him a sweet smile, "Step out of line and I'll give you right back to her."