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Indigo
If this is Faerie, I didn’t expect it to feel so...forsaken. It’s the only word that fits this dark and lonely landscape. I’m aware of Faerie, of course, having listened to Mother babble on without stopping during her one and only visit when I was young. I’ve never been to see the place, but even knowing my roots are in the Winter Court, my mental image was one of vibrancy and icy beauty rather than the heavy trepidation that infuses me now.
Tarrien, is this where you’re from? Is this why your heart is encased in ice and you say you cannot love?
At the thought of my warrior, my pulse rate briefly speeds up. If we are in Faerie, surely, he’ll find me soon. Please find me. I could do with some of your protection, right about now.
The feel of that oily miasma hangs heavy in the air, making my breathing more labored than usual.
A man dressed in black ceremonial-style robes emerges from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. He strides toward me through the snow-covered landscape. It isn’t one of those who snatched me from the club, but his face is grim and I suspect from his demeanor he’s going to be as soulless as the others.
That’s when I realize there are several figures lurking around the edges of the clearing. I study them, trying to work out who they might be. Are they all necromancers? Oh. Dear heavens. Some of these creatures look like abominations.
Great. I’m likely somewhere in the depths of Faerie, away from everyone and everything I’ve ever known, and it seems as though I’ve been brought to a necromancer stronghold filled with the very creatures I’ve been trying to escape.
“Hiya,” I say, as the man draws to a halt in front of me.
He backhands me across the face. “The only thing I want to hear from you, banshee, is your name.”
Ouch! I touch my stinging cheek and do a quick mouth explore with my tongue, hoping none of my teeth have been knocked loose. Nope. Teeth are all intact.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Oh, my God. Stop being a smart arse. My head has the right attitude, but stress keeps making my mouth run off with itself. “Want my name? It’s Indigo.”
Another backhand.
“Your real name.”
I narrow my eyes at him and this time I manage to press my lips together, successfully holding back more stupid words. Is my cheek already beginning to bruise or swell? Feels like it. That second whack really hurt.
He stares at me, during which time the others draw closer until a ring of black-robed figures circles us. Some are human and some are not, but at least the abominations aren’t jumping in and ripping me to pieces. Yet.
Even as that thought touches my mind, one of the loups—a weirdly formed half-vampire, half-human hybrid—lurches forward and grabs me around the throat. I scrabble at its clawed hands, trying to loosen the hold, and shove my knee up into its groin area.
It just laughs, and squeezes tighter until no air can get through at all and pressure builds in my head. Then it leans in close to my face. The eyes gleam red with a hint of purple and its tongue darts out to caress its own incisors—up and down until I want to vomit at the sick innuendo.
Lucky my throat is closed off. The vomit can’t get out.
Blackness films my vision as I begin to lose consciousness. Regret fills me at the thought of never properly meeting my sisters. Or getting to know Tarrien better. Who else is going to chip away at the ice around your heart, Tarrien, and teach you how to love?
I’m clearly losing my mind at the lack of oxygen.
Just as I decide this is the end of everything, and wonder if I will experience the banshee call of my own death, a sharp voice calls out to stop. The pressure releases and I collapse onto the snow-covered ground, clutching at my neck and drawing long, labored breaths into my starved lungs.
It takes several minutes before I begin to recover, during which time they all talk among themselves in a language with which I’m not familiar. I imagine blasting them all with my banshee song and shattering their ugly black hearts into a million pieces. Only thing is, my banshee voice is unlikely to work as well as it should, now that my throat has been squeezed so much.
The man I assume to be in charge—the necromancer who first approached—finally hauls me to my feet.
“It’s time.” Disgust colors his tone. “Take her inside and prepare her for—”
“Not just yet.” Another voice cuts over the top of the wizard, rendering him silent.
It is a female voice, one that sends shivers of delight across my skin. Judging by the reaction of everyone else in the clearing—even the loups—they all feel the same sense of pleasure that I just experienced.
A stunningly beautiful fae woman with white-blonde hair, wearing a long silver dress, strolls into the center of the circle and everyone drops to their knees and bows their heads. Even the man who I thought was in charge does the same, though admittedly he is the last to bend the knee.
Who is she, this tall woman with the incredible voice who can command even loups to grovel in the snow at her feet?
She smiles down at me and again, pleasure washes through my system. “Are you not going to bow before your queen, Indigo?”
My queen? Even as my mind scrabbles to try and figure out what’s going on, I find myself dropping to my knees and bending my head, embarrassment swirling through me that I hadn’t thought to do that the moment I saw her. She deserves reverence, this beautiful queen of mine.
Wait, what? I don’t have a queen. Well, I do, but she’s human and lives in England. This is not my queen. Why am I grovelling before her, filled with shame that I didn’t drop the second I saw her?
I raise my head and stare up into her face, calling on everything within me to resist the urge to face-plant at her feet. Her facial features are perfectly formed, the expression warm and dancing with joy and her rosy lips tipped up in a welcoming smile. But there is something there in the depths of her icy blue eyes. I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is feels dark and watchful. Dangerous.
Is this... no. It couldn’t possibly be the Winter Queen. She was banished, many years ago from what I’ve heard, and if that were the case, she would not be allowed back into Faerie at all.
If she has returned, the consequences for her and those who help her, would be quite severe. I remember reading something about it, once. I think the article mentioned death by execution if the queen and her accomplices ever returned.
But what do I know? My mind skitters again. I’m a half-banshee who has lived all her life in the human realm. I don’t know anything about the fae and their ways. Not really. The articles I’ve read, and the TV shows I’ve watched, are just some human’s version that has no real basis in truth. Maybe this isn’t her at all, or if it is, maybe she was “unbanished” at some point, and I just didn’t hear about it.
Maybe I got it all wrong, and she’s not evil at all, but stepping in to try and rescue me from this group of necromancers and their abominable creations who clearly love to smack women around. I should be grateful to her for her wonderful presence...
I blink. What the hell? Is she manipulating my thoughts and emotions?
I stare deep into those beautiful eyes, and this time I see the lurking darkness for sure. Whatever it is slithers away the moment I connect with it.
I swallow back the flippant comment I was about to make, and instead, say carefully, “I am honored to be in your presence, Your Majesty.”
It is the correct response. That dark watchfulness recedes and her face lights up even more than it already is.
“Oh, you are much nicer than I was led to believe. Come, child. Rise, and walk with me a moment.” She gestures at the necromancer when he makes a sudden movement to stop me getting to my feet. “Enough, Norrix. You can follow behind. For now.”
Norrix? Hmm. No wonder the guy has attitude.
She takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of her arm, and together, whether I want to or not, we head toward the castle entrance.
***
Tarrien
DESPAIR BUILDS IN ME. I cannot sense her. I have cast my magic wide, over and over again, until a headache plagues my skull and all the muscles in my body are stretched so tight I feel like I might snap in half at any moment.
How is it possible that she has disappeared into a place I cannot reach? I have never failed in this, before.
I cast again, searching. Nothing.
I lean back on the settee in the apartment I use when in the human realm. It moves with me, depending on where I am at the time, and at present it is situated in Melbourne’s redeveloped Docklands area. I have a balcony, and I have been enjoying the river view and the boats, and the cosmopolitan buzz of the crowds. To me, this area encompasses all things good about being in the human realm.
I can’t concentrate on any of that tonight. I can’t concentrate on anything, but trying to locate Indie. I shrug my shoulders up and down a few times to ease the tension. When did I last eat? The thought of food makes my stomach turn.
If I can’t find her, I can’t save her. And if I can’t save her...
Where are you, Indie? If she is in the human realm, or even in Faerie, I should be able to feel her essence.
What if she dies, because I fail her? What if she’s already dead? That would explain why I cannot find even the tiniest spark of her existence.
My heart skips a beat at the thought and then speeds up until I have to take deep breaths to calm my system.
This is not how an ice warrior should behave. We should be emotionless and calm, and do our duty without falling in a heap when things go awry. Is that why I can’t sense Indie? Because I risked letting down my icy guard in making love with her, and now my magic is tainted and doesn’t work as well?
I release a low growl. I cannot think that way. Focus.
I do not want to consider failure as an option. I cannot explain why the thought of Indie passing from existence terrifies me so much. Of course, it would mean that I had failed at my task of protection, but the fear that travels right to the marrow of my bones is about far more than simply failing at a job. If I have lost her, when we have only just met and begun to connect...
I’ll just have to melt that ice around your heart, won’t I? The memory of her playfully delivered words washes over me, as does the remembered feeling of joy her presence evoked. I stand and begin to pace the room. She cannot be dead. That is not a possibility I am willing to consider.
I must find her. I will. Somehow.
I cast one last time, already knowing the action will be futile but I can’t seem to help myself. Tendrils of my power leach out, searching every corner of this world and my own. There are other realms, of course, but I cannot see why she would be taken anywhere other than here, or Faerie. Even the latter seems unlikely, given the clues regarding necromancer involvement and knowing their base is essentially here in the human realm.
After several minutes of futile seeking, I give up and stagger back to the couch, clutching my aching head in my hands.
What to do? Will Lady Renna be able to assist? Her position as a favored member of the Winter Court gives her power, and power infuses our magics, reinforcing and enhancing whatever is innate within us. Renna’s magic is likely equally as strong as mine, if not stronger. Banshee fae are rare, particularly full-bloods, and there are whispers that hint at banshee power that has never been fully tapped.
Perhaps we could combine our efforts and find Indie that way. Surely, Renna would have an advantage, given Indie is her own flesh and blood.
Blood over... over what? What connection do I possibly have with Indie? Lust? It cannot be love. My mind skitters from that word as fast as it pops into my head. It is lust I feel for Indie, not love, and a blood bond between mother and child, no matter how long it has been since they saw each other, is surely stronger than any lustful connection I might have with the one I seek.
I touch the ring on my thumb, calling for Renna. The last thing I want to do is see that damn woman again, but I am unable to think of any other alternative.
I have to find Indie.
Renna, I scream silently through the ring. Your daughter is in trouble. Get here, now.
Lady Renna appears in my apartment, scowling as she hurriedly fastens buttons on her bodice top and straightens her diaphanous skirt. I avert my gaze, focusing on a point just beyond her shoulder. The banshee is not wearing undergarments.
“This had better be good, warrior,” she says through gritted teeth. “I was about to mount my latest human conquest, and he has a cock bigger than many of his kind. I am most displeased at being summoned in such a way.”
I release a growl and clench my fists, trying to control the instant dislike this woman ignites in me.
“Indie has been kidnapped, and I need your assistance to find her.” The words are difficult to get out. I do not want to admit my failing to Renna, and I do not want to have to call on her for help.
Her eyebrows rise and her features slacken. “Can’t you use your seeking magic to locate her?”
I jump to my feet and pace back and forth in front of her.
“Do you think I haven’t tried?” I yell, before taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. “I have tried. Over and over. I cannot sense any aspect of her in either the human realm, or Faerie. I believe it was a group of necromancers who grabbed her. Is there anywhere else they may have taken her, Renna? I need to find her, and quickly.”
She flutters a hand at her throat and for the first time since I’ve known her, Renna appears genuinely concerned for someone other than herself. “Her blood is very valuable to—”
“Yes, yes,” I cut her off. “To vamps, I know. Hybrid blood sends them into paroxysms of pleasure. I saw that, with Aleah and her lover. What has that got to do with—”
“No, you don’t understand. Banshee-human blood is one of the rarest of combinations. There is great power in her blood—in the blood of all my hybrid children, in fact. Not just for vampires, but for others, too. If they can ascertain her true name, they can access that blood power and use it...drain it... Oh, this is bad. This is very bad, indeed.”
She takes a seat on my couch and begins to rock back and forth. I can’t tell if she’s upset in general terms, because the banshee power is at risk, or if her concern is more specific to Indie and her current wellbeing, or lack thereof.
I squat in front of her and snap my fingers to bring her attention back to me.
“Listen, Renna. You are very powerful, I know. I thought, perhaps, together, we could link our magics and search for her. We might have a better chance of seeking her out before...” I trail off, biting back the rest. Before they kill your daughter. Unless they already have.
Her gaze meets mine. “Yes, it is worth trying. But our magic is strongest at home. Not here.” She glances around the room then and wrinkles her nose, as if noticing the sparse furnishings for the first time. “We need to return to Faerie. I can use a tracing spell from there, which will reach further than the human and fae realms, especially if I can boost it with your winter warrior’s power. Wherever she is, I am sure we will be able to locate her.”
I search her face, looking for any subterfuge, but see none. I don’t trust Renna or her motives at all, but in this, she seems genuine about wanting to help Indie.
“All right. Return to Faerie, we locate Indie, and then I’ll get her back.”
Renna’s gaze narrows. “You’d better.” She pokes me in the chest. “If you do not find and rescue my daughter, I will ensure King Tryppton executes your mother and sister.”
I jerk back in shock. “You would not.”
“Try me. Banshee blood cannot be allowed into the wrong hands. Now, let’s go.” She reaches out and clasps my hand for the transition between realms. I am tempted to pull away, until I remember the futility of my own search for Indie.
I grit my teeth and nod, full of rage as I enter the space between realms. How dare she threaten my family? How dare she! Even though I know the Winter King would be unlikely to execute two innocent people, Renna’s stupid announcement adds an extra layer of stress to the situation. As if I needed any more incentive to rescue the woman I... lust after.
Lust? Who am I kidding? It’s a damn sight more than that. My mind sheers away from whatever it is we might have begun to develop and I try to concentrate on the here and now. All I know is, I have to get Indie back. I can’t bear the thought of those monsters harming a single hair on her beautiful, stubborn head.
Hold on, Indie. I’m coming for you. I only hope I can get there in time.
