Page 8

Story: A Strange Hymn

Surely this guy knows his demands won’t be taken seriously?

Des stands, and you can hear a pin drop, the room is so quiet. He steps down the stairs, his heavy boots echoing throughout the hall.

Had I thought he seemed kingly a moment ago?

I was sorely mistaken.

With his white hair brushed back from his face, his black battle leathers curving around his defined muscles, and his talon-tipped wings neatly tucked at his back, he looks like some dark prince of hell.

His ominous footfalls only stop once he stands right in the middle of the carnage. He toes a bloody head.

For several seconds, as the room waits with bated breath, all we hear is the slick sound of dead flesh as the severed head rolls under the Bargainer’s boot.

“You pose a striking offer,” Des finally says, still staring down at the remains of his diplomats.

The messenger looks resolute, only now his tail has stopped flicking back and forth. I can’t imagine what is going on in his head.

“But I’m going to have to decline.”

Des’s voice is like a swallow of Johnnie Walker after a long day. So smooth, you barely feel the burn of it.

The Fauna fae squares his jaw. “Then expect—”

“No.” Power ripples out of Des. Instantly, it brings the messenger to his knees.

“You come here and lay the severed heads of my diplomats at my feet,” Des says. His hair ripples a little with the force of his words. “Thenyoudemand justice for a mad king who kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned soldiers—a man who kidnapped, tortured, and imprisonedmy mate.”

Suddenly, all eyes are on me. My skin burns at the attention.

“Finally”—Des continues staring down at the fairy—“you threaten to kill my people should I not meet your demands.”

The messenger tries to talk, but Des’s magic keeps his lips sealed.

The Bargainer begins to circle the Fauna fae. “Do you evenknowmy subjects? I rule over monsters from your wildest imaginings, creatures made of fairies’ deepest fears. And I have their respect.” Des pauses at the man’s back, bending down to whisper into his ear, “Do you know how I’ve gained their respect?”

The messenger glances over his shoulder at the Bargainer, his lips still sealed.

My heart begins to beat faster and faster. Something bad is about to happen.

“I let them feast on my enemies.”

The messenger looks rattled, but he’s not panicking.

Des straightens. “Bring in the bog.”

His order is met with fearful whispers. Fairies in the audience shift nervously.

A minute later a side door opens to the throne room.

At first, nothing happens. Then, from the doorway, a shadow slithers over the wall. The fairies nearest to it scream and scatter. It seems to expand, growing larger and larger, the shape of it hulking and horned.

Heaven help me, from the shape of it alone, it looks like Karnon’s mutant cousin.

I’m waiting to see the monster that accompanies it when I realize thisisit. It’s a shadow, nothing more. Only, the longer I stare at it, the more terrible it seems. It might not have any sort of physical presence, but on some deep, primordial level, it terrifies me.

It slides down the wall, losing its shape as it pools against the floor. The audience members nearest to it are practically trampling each other to get away, but it pays them no heed. Instead, it creeps toward the messenger.

The Fauna fae struggles, trying to rise to his feet as the bog comes closer, but whatever magical hold Desmond has over him, it pins him in place.