Page 12 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Eleven

The Gatekeeper

Dirt, blood, and the sundry filth of the earth have become the bane of my existence. I scrape it from beneath my nails, shake it off my person, and brush it from my tangled hair.

Each night, I battle the rotting undead to no avail. The supply is endless. When the death mage runs out of people, he raises fields of stinking cattle, herds of rotting sheep, whatever dead remains his unholy talent can unearth from the half-frozen countryside of Lapland.

Each day, the fae sorceress hunts me. I wake and scent her trails. She’s scouting the lands high and low, trying to catch me during my vulnerable daytime state, but I rest too far below the surface for her spells to pierce my slumber.

I tire of this cat-and-mouse game.

The Vartija are no more. Brief words with the infernal fae sorceress confirmed as much the night I first crossed through. How long has it been? One week? Two? I lose count.

“What have you done with fae-vampire guardians?” I demanded while cutting through a wall of reanimated flesh.

“Done with them? Me?” She narrowed her gaze and scuttled farther away. “Nothing.”

“Then where are they?”

“You really don’t know?”

My scowl was answer enough. “Know what?”

She continued, “The gate hasn’t opened for them in centuries. They don’t believe in the portal anymore, so they abandoned it.”

“Nonsense.” I hacked through the naked torso of a dead old man. In the mud, his hand still clawed for me, his jaws still snapped at air.

The sorceress’s cackling laughter echoed in my mind, driving me half-mad. “They don’t believe in you anymore either, Gatekeeper. You’re dead to them. As you will be to the rest of the world soon enough.”

Killing her will be a pleasure. Perhaps I’ll do it slowly. More to relish if I take my time. But I must catch her first, and to that end, I must take out the cursed death mage.

My magic dwindles. I’ve been earthside for too long. The air is dead here. The land barren. With nothing to draw from, I weaken.

So I turn to my other strength. If my fae blood can’t help, the vampire’s blood lust certainly can.

It’s late, close to midnight, but the seediest tavern on the outskirts of Tornea is still rowdy with activity. The stench of stale beer wafts into the street where I lurk in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity.

The wait isn’t long. A young man stumbles out alone.

Hello, Opportunity.

Dressed in the brownish felted wool of the peasantry and with a cap flattening curly flaxen hair, he looks a bit like Gale from a distance.

As he rounds the corner, I catch up to him and clear my throat.

He darts his gaze my way and flinches. I must look a fright, but no matter. A bit of vampire lure is all I need to calm him down, sway him to my side.

“Good evening, young sir.”

“Evening.” He dips his head.

“Would you help me, please?” I creep closer. “A small favor, nothing more.”

Smart fellow. He’s still wary despite the pull I’m using to my advantage, but he can’t overcome it. No human ever has.

“I should be going,” he says. “Wife and baby at home.”

I tsk. “If you truly meant to be a boon to them, you’d have been home already, not out drinking at this frightful hour. Regardless, I only need a moment of your time.”

He’s tense, but not overly fearful. “Well, what can I do for ye, neighbor?”

“Not your neighbor.” I crook a finger and compel him forward. It’s easier for them if they come to me.

His cautious steps bring him within arm’s reach, brown eyes glazed over, under my spell.

I clasp a hand around his nape and draw him in. “Be silent. Be at ease.”

He goes lax in my grip, tilting his head and exposing his ruddy throat. He smells of ale and fish, but one mustn’t be picky. He’s a sturdy lad who can afford to spare what I need with no ill effects. A decent candidate.

I bite.

He shudders and grabs my waist. Not to pull me in, but neither does he push me away. I shut my eyes and draw swallow after swallow from his generous vein. My body tingles with life, strength pulsing to every crook and crevice.

He isn’t what I want.

He isn’t Gale.

But as his heartbeat pounds a vital pulse in my ears, I can pretend that he is. That he smells of lavender soap and crisp winter snows. That his hair falls soft against my cheek. That the huff ghosting over my earlobe is Gale’s sweet sigh and not the damp breath of the drunken stranger.

I finish and close the twin wounds with a flick of my tongue over his skin. The alcohol he’s imbibed courses through me, bringing with it a pleasant tipsy warmth that I know from experience will only last a moment, so I savor it.

With a thought, I cast a haze over his memory.

Nothing to worry about. Helped a friend. Time to head home.

“My thanks,” I say with a parting pat to his shoulder. “Don’t wake your family when you stumble in.”

He chuckles and totters off.

That accomplished, I roll my neck, cracking the bones, and wait for my body to process the alcohol.

Mind clear, I move on to the next thing on my short list: find the accursed death mage and put the man out of his misery so I can handle the fae sorceress without interference.

I steel myself to the task, call forth my wings, and fly north.

Gale

After stumbling my way through the pitch-black hall, I emerge in a dusty antechamber. Two oil lamps glow golden on a long table against the wall. Their light is only just enough to see by. A thick carpet cushions my steps and silences my movement.

I’m tempted to call out, but not knowing whether friend or foe inhabits this strange place, I think better of opening my mouth so soon.

Musty air tickles my nose. I hold back a sneeze for fear of the noise.

My palm stings from the blade’s slice. It needs tending, so I gather my wits and search for something I can use.

Huh, there are no drapes from which to tear a strip of cloth because there are no windows to be found. Am I subterranean? The thought creeps me out.

A decorative red and gold brocade cloth lines a side table against the far wall.

That will have to do. I shake off a year’s worth of dust and set about tearing a good-sized strip to wrap around my hand.

The bleeding has stopped, but it smarts with every movement.

And to think, Ezra must deal with this every time he crosses through the gate. Ouch.

That done, I move past the empty antechamber and look for a way up. I need to get my bearings. Seeing the sky will help. Are the stars here the same as the stars in the fae realm? I long to find out.

On silent feet, I turn down another dark hall. The next time I set about exploring an unknown realm, I should bring candles and a torch with me.

And hopefully a guide.

One rather grumpy Gatekeeper would be perfect for the position.

Finally, I make it outside, but there’s no sky to be seen through the thick branches of pine towering overhead. Still, it feels much better out here than it did in there. Open and fresh, with a cool breeze on my cheeks and snow crunching beneath my boots.

A bit like home.

As a continue, I note landmarks so I’ll be able to find my way back. A bent tree here, an oval-shaped gray boulder there, a set of crossed logs fallen near a dry creek bed.

Another whiff of home hits me, a scent in the air, a certain tingle that reminds me of fae magic, something I wouldn’t have expected this side of the gate. My skin bristles under its presence.

I scan the area but find nothing out of sorts, so hackles raised, I press on.

“Who are you?” a voice calls from the branches up ahead.

Startled, I jump sky high and clutch my chest. I search for the speaker. A small woman flies toward me, her blue wings fluttering as quickly as a hummingbird’s.

“I’m Gale.” I struggle to catch my breath. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” She tilts her head and stops good distance away, which calms my fear a bit. “You set off my perimeter enchantments. Where did you come from, Gale?”

Not knowing which will get me into more trouble, the truth or a lie, I stick with the truth. For now. “A building back there.” I gesture through the forest. “You’re fae.”

“And you’re human. But from the other side, mayhap?”

“Yes.”

“You cross through the gate?” She doesn’t seem hostile, only curious.

“I did. Did you?”

“No.”

We stare at each other, I transfixed from my spot on the ground, she looking much the same from her spot in the air. A human from the fae side and a fae from the human side. What are the odds?

“May I come closer?” she asks. “I mean you no harm.”

I nod, and she flies forward and lands at a polite distance. I offer a bow to which she responds with a curtsy and a giggle.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Sonja. I need to know how you managed to pass through the gate. I have tried and failed more times than I can count. Baffling thing.”

She’s pretty. This close, I see the striking blue coloring not only decorates her wings, but it also streaks through her silver hair, shines brightly in jewel-like eyes, and gleams from gems on her ringed fingers.

She wears a tunic of white fur and brown leather boots on small feet.

She looks around my age, but with fae, age is impossible to decipher by appearance alone. She could be a hundred for all I know.

“I can tell you how I did it, but not why it worked. The gate baffles me too.”

Her upturned nose twitches. Her gaze narrows. Her lips part, and she takes a slow step backward, almost as if she’s afraid of me. “You’re protected.”

“What?”

“You’re his thrall.”

“Whose thrall?”

“The Gatekeeper’s. You reek of him.”

“I do?” I can’t exactly smell myself, but I know Ezra’s scent well. I find it comforting. If only I could smell it now.

“That surprises you?”

“Yes, though I am looking for him.”

She squints. “Why?”

A warning trickle of trepidation rolls down my spine. Perhaps less truth and more evasion until I’m sure she’s safe. She seems nice enough, but that could be a farce. “He’s been on this side longer than usual. Have you seen him? And what do you mean by ‘his thrall’?”

“You’ve imbibed on his blood.” Distaste flares in her expression.

I tense. Yes, I’ve licked it off the sticky iron bars and slurped up the red snow. What have I done? How does she know? Does that mean Ezra will know? And more importantly, how mad will he be?

My cheeks are hot. I don’t want to discuss this with her. “Is he here?”

Sonja studies me. Blinks. And smiles. “I don’t know where he is at present, but I’ve seen him. I’ll tell you about it if you tell me how you got through the gate.”

I’m wary, but I need to know what she knows. “All right.”

“All right.” She sticks out a dainty hand.

I shake it gently.

“Come with me. I’ll make tea. You look like you could use a place to rest.”

Rest is the farthest thing from my mind. I’m finally on the other side of the gate, but it’s not how I imagined. Ezra is nowhere to be found, I can’t see a single star, and the first being I meet here is fae.

She turns and strides confidently into the trees, trusting I’ll follow, which I do, because unfortunately, she’s the only lead I have.

Hopefully, it’s not a terrible decision to jog along after her.