Fated, She Flies by Brea Viragh

Author:Brea Viragh [Viragh, Brea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brea Viragh
Published: 2020-01-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

He bleated like a sheep, he was sorry to say. Although when the story was told later, much later, he conveniently left that part out.

Calen refused to turn around for fear of what he might see. From the periphery of his vision, he got the sense of black hair, clicking fangs, and soulless eyes. His blood stilled inside of him. A woman’s figure, perhaps, if a mad scientist had crossed a woman with a spider and a demon.

“What would two fine wolves want with me?” was all the Nightwalker said, and there was no innocence in the question.

No, they played a dangerous game.

Calen took one step forward before he found his body quite unwilling to cooperate and go further.

“It’s been a time since anyone has come to visit me. Has dared to climb the mountain.” Nightwalker inhaled a breath. “The Roberts pup. Returned since your last trip? I have to admire your tenacity.” The smile flashing in the darkness was a mockery to the gesture.

Van kept his focus ahead of him, reaching into the pack he carried and bringing out a bauble. A brooch of stunning silver with a ruby large enough to have been an egg colored for Easter. “Here. For you.”

He tossed the brooch to the Nightwalker, who caught it in one swift motion of shadowy talons. A second inhale sounded. “Ah, you remembered. Good, Van, very good. Sentimental and cherished. Valuable beyond price. You held on to this keepsake from your mother despite your pack losing resources. Very good. And you?”

Calen had the impression of eyes streaking along his body. Devouring him with a single swoop.

“I’ve not seen you before.”

“Hello, Nightwalker,” he stated.

“Yes, Calen Siegfried. You don’t smell like the rest of them. Never will, if I had to guess. You’re different. Tell me, Calen Siegfried. Are you scared?”

He didn’t dare lie to her. “Yes. I am.”

The creature stood to her full height, dark hair brushing the ceiling but keeping a few feet of distance between them. The same sensation of eyes skittered down Calen’s spine, but he kept it straight. Kept his shoulders taut.

“Good, Calen. Very good.” Nightwalker cocked her head and the torchlight reflected off those dark strands. Like inky tendrils of night captured down from the sky. “And what do you have to give me?”

He hadn’t the wealth for such a bauble like Van had brought. His instructions, however, had been clear. To give up a piece of himself. In whatever form he decided. The brooch must have been something of value to Van for him to offer it to Nightwalker now.

Calen fumbled for his own sack, and the container he’d brought within. “It’s a lemon tart.”

“Something so simple.” The Nightwalker accepted the container, her entire upper body bending low to inspect the treat, head tilted and nostrils widening. “Yes, simple and delightful. This truly carries a piece of you. A tiny yet integral piece of yourself that you put into everything you bake. The only thing you believe you are good for. You made this with every ounce of hope you possess.

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