Page 5 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

“I told you I was going to find you someone. Him? Wait, no, too skinny. You probably want to break his heart, not his body. Ooh, what about him? C’mere, tall, dark, and horny…” She pointed off to our side and rushed in that direction.

“Ho-? What? No!” Panic made me reach out to her, but she had already moved to the side of a man whose back was turned towards me. “Raewyn! Rae-wyn!”

Raewyn tapped the gentleman on the shoulder, and he turned, smiling down at her. “Yes? ”

Curses spewed out in a mutter as I stalked to Raewyn’s side, intent on dragging her away.

Raewyn giggled. “Hello, sir. M- woah!”

Gripping her by the arm to drag her away, I tried to produce a convincing laugh, but it came out unnatural and high-pitched. “Sorry! My sister is very drunk! Those Minuen priestesses, right? Never met a drink they didn’t like!”

Raewyn cried out, pointing at my torso. “Wait, Nat! You’ve got dirt on you!”

My grip released her to look down at myself, pressing my hands to my chest. “Wait. What? Where?”

She cackled. My head jerked up at the mocking sound to see her scramble back towards the gentleman again, who was watching as though we were the true entertainment here.

Before I could grab her a second time, Raewyn rambled off her monologue.

“My sister is badly in need of sexual company for the evening. Perhaps it’ll improve her mood. Would you be so kind as to provide it?”

My hands landed on her arm just as my body went numb. “Oh, gods…” I didn’t even get a good look at the man. My burning face fell into my right hand. “She… she’s drunk. So, so drunk,” I muttered, squeaking.

Raewyn’s coy smile was audible in her words. “Nat, if you need help getting started, I can show you how.”

My suspicions that I must have died at some point in my travels were instantly confirmed, and my soul was sent to the Dark Drop instead of Celestia. I was dead, and this was my punishment for some offense to the gods.

The man’s soft laughter pulled me from my morbid thoughts of damnation and eternal torment into the different, but equally painful hell. His anger or umbrage would have been easier to handle.

“I cannot say I would be able to provide that kind of company, but I can at least introduce myself. I am Ramiren, and you are?”

My head slowly lifted. I know that name. Where do I know that name?

Before my sister could reply, I blurted out, “You’re Ramiren. The Ramiren? I’ve heard of you. I just can’t remember how.”

Where? Where have I heard that name?

Ramiren’s red-irised eyes turned towards me, and he smiled more broadly. “You have? Good things, I hope.”

Searching his face in earnest as though the answer lay there, my gaze traveled over his firm jaw, covered in a neatly-trimmed black beard and mustache. His tanned skin was an even shade, and black hair curled and tickled at the nape of his neck.

Oval gold-framed glasses, with lenses the color of blood, sat on his straight nose and emphasized the rubies of his eyes.

Small twin black horns curled up from his temples.

He wore fine black clothing with red trim, giving himself a wholly duo-toned look, except for the spray of small wildflowers pinned on his lapel that was his ‘ticket,’ like the flower crowns my sister and I wore.

He appeared more scholar than anything, making me even more curious why and where I had heard the name.

I do not associate with many scholars. Or broodlings, for that matter.

My tutors briefly discussed broodlings in their many lessons regarding the heritages of the known world.

While celestials, like myself and Raewyn, were descended from angels, servants of the benevolent Tarindar pantheon, broodlings came from devils, servants of the malevolent Lorindar.

And like celestials, broodlings often took on physical characteristics associated with their heritage, which this Ramiren definitely did.

Despite the situation, the tension in my shoulders, normally present, slowly faded. The twisting sensation in my belly that started the moment Raewyn suggested going to this carnival eased considerably. I felt comfortable in his presence. Languid, even.

It was unnerving. Is that a broodling trait ?

After what must have been an awkward pause, I cleared my throat. “My apologies, Master Ramiren. I am Nathalia Swordhand. And this is my sister, Raewyn.”

He inclined his head to each of us in turn with a gentle smile. “Lovely to meet you both.” He squinted his eyes. “Hm, Swordhand? I believe I know your father, though it’s been a while since I’ve spoken with him. Maxlian Swordhand, yes? Of Camlynn?”

He’s one of my father’s associates? What a tiny, tangled web the world is.

“Yep,” Raewyn said, popping the P. My teeth ground together at the sound. “That’s Dad.”

“Please don’t pop your consonants, Raewyn.”

Her lazy gaze settled on me. “Hm? Oh, too unladylike for you?”

Among other things. “That, and it’s irritating to anyone who hears it.”

Raewyn rolled her eyes. Ramiren watched us, his amusement returning. “Shall we look around together, then? I aim to meet some clients here to discuss finishing terms, so I may have to step away for a time.”

“Clients? What exactly do you do?” Raewyn cut in.

His smile widened. “Pacts, mostly. I broker them for individuals. I facilitate connections, and I am rewarded for my efforts.”

We began to walk through the crowded areas of the carnival, looking around at the variety of exotically-dressed people.

Fey, humans, and elves alike chatted with each other.

Children of all races played together with their small kites and toys.

It was harmonious and wonderful to watch.

Only there was a dark cloud in the back of my mind about this place.

Remembering my childhood, and the night my greatest gift was stolen from me.

My awareness prickled, making me notice Ramiren was looking at me, as though he had just said something and expected a reply. “My apologies, I was far away, what did you say?”

Ramiren replied, “I asked if you and your sister come to this every year?” He looked around. “I’ve never been myself, but I hear of it often. Truth be told, I’ve never had the opportunity until today.”

Raewyn and I glanced at each other. She frowned while I gave the answer, “We’ve been once, when we were children. It was not a good time.”

Ramiren tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why is that? I would have thought a carnival would be a grand time for children."

Should I say anything?

It was something personal and private when I had only just met him. But the comfort I felt lingered, making me finally relent. "Mischief hags."

“Ah.” He sighed. “Yes. I’ve heard of them. They tend to ignore the typical fey rules of fairness and steal what is not theirs. You have encountered one, then? Here?”

My tongue slid along my upper teeth. “We have.” My sister touched her porcelain mask. “And she did indeed steal things from us. She cornered us in the Hall of Mirrors, said some incantation, and we were… made lesser.”

“I am sorry that happened to you both.” Ramiren’s gaze bounced between us. “Especially as children just wishing to join in on the fun.”

Raewyn, walking on Ramiren’s other side, touched his arm to get his attention. “Why do they do that, though? Allow the mischief hag into this?”

Ramiren hummed. “I’m not sure allow is accurate. They can disguise themselves, though they are always unable to hide their sickly green eyes. It’s also unknown how many there are. Whether there are one or dozens of them is unclear. Some think the mere concept is a myth.”

Gods above. Dozens?

“I remember her eyes the most,” I said.

It was a white lie. My memory recalled something else even more.

My chest tightened at the memory of the hag. My first failure where placing myself between her and my little sister was not enough. The mischief hag’s magic had gone through me to her with no power to stop it.

Ramiren shook his head in disgust. “The mischief hag is a type of fey. In my dealings, I tend to avoid fey. And devils, too. Their words are often double-sided, and you must be quite careful, which I learned in my youth. Even other broodlings, I must be cautious. It’s never known how far the apple fell from the tree, as it were.

I keep to a more humanoid clientele now.

Humans, celestials…” he said, his hand indicating to us, “...elves, dwarves, and occasionally gnomes, when I can pry their attention from gears and gadgetry.”

We walked on. Ramiren eventually excused himself to go to his meeting. Raewyn and I played a few more games, winning at nothing. After eating our supper from a vendor, Ramiren somehow found us again just as I’d finished reading through the events program.

“Did you do your deal already? That was fast,” Raewyn said, brushing deep-fried cake crumbs from her lap.

“Yes, I did. This one was not particularly complicated, but it did require a meeting in a public place.”

“Oh, yeah? What happened?” Raewyn continued.

That’s none of our business, sister.

Ramiren seemed to hear my thoughts as he replied, “Apologies, but I cannot disclose. Secrecy was part of the pact.”

We cleaned our area and stood as he told the tale of a tricky deal he had to make with an ancient elven sorcerer who wanted to be able to complete his book of self-created spells. It appeared to me that Ramiren did good work in at least securing the elf’s goal. I said as much.

“Yes, thank you, but sadly he summoned a devil to help build an appendix to the book. The devil tricked him, to no one’s surprise. Immortal beings, though not against the claws of a fiend. I’m told they cannot even be resurrected by the unfathomable effects of fey magic.”

The elf reached above his means. Anyone that deals with a devil gets exactly what is coming to them.