Page 11 of Last Ride of the Umbra Fae

Vessa and I had both been caught in a hail of storms the day the Eternal stone had been discovered by the humans. It had marked the beginning of an annihilation. That was when the oldme still existed, the one who might have cared about the turn of events. Now, I was a mirage of a human disguising something far more powerful. I was, in my very own way, someone who could mix and blend with both worlds, moving around them in plain sight. No magic or power decorated my skin like some of the other fae. No tipped ears to depict if I lived or died.

I killed for a living, and my biggest payoff was riding on that mare. The silhouette of Vessa’s feathered familiar flew above me, casting a shadow on my thoughts as my horse kept a steady gait. He dove down and flew beside me for a moment, analyzing me with a beady, black eye before croaking the equivalent of a “fuck you.” He flew ahead, coasting on a gust of wind between End’s Wrath and Vessa.

Clicking my tongue against my cheek, my dark stallion galloped alongside her. She eyed the neck of my guitar sticking out of my bag. I waited for her to ask about it, but she didn’t. Silence hung in the air. It wasn’t my job to tell her where we were going; I left that up to the old man, but the damn bastard barely spoke. So far, all she knew was that we were going north to The City of Donia in search of the one who knew how to make a plethora of her tonic. Those who knew the process had become a scarcity, and only I could get them in.

“We have a lot of terrain to cover. I suggest we ride until sundown.”

Thank fuck, he finally spoke.

End’s Wrath knew the bargain we had made. For a morsel of the tonic, a hefty payment every other night. I had just enough vials for the trip. I enjoyed the thrill of nara coins flowing into my pockets.

Taking them all at once took out the fun. He mutually agreed; it was a small comfort for him that I couldn’t take off with his entire payment before my side of the deal was complete.

We rode uphill,the final trek that would be the beginning to their end.

Standing on the cliff, we took in the sight of an unforgiving desert that would soon be ours for the taking.

“There’s no turning back now,” End’s Wrath said, his gloved hands tightening on the reins again.

Dusk began to break apart the horizon, swallowing the sun as the remnants of its light flared its desperate dance, drowning between the clouds. I turned to look at Vessa, a beauty so rough yet soft at the same time. As hues of orange light brushed across her face, something in me snagged. The look on her face told me she found beauty in this bleak moment. Most people feared this view, knowing the stories that had come out of this desert, as if it were the final nail in their coffin, but she seemed to grab it; held on as if it were the last time she would ever lay her pretty eyes on such a sight. There was something more than what met the eye with her. Eager for the danger she sought looking out into the horizon. She willed it; called upon her shadows as darkness filtered in faint stars across the sky.

She removed her cowboy hat, unveiling herself before me like the brightest of stars had somehow fallen and landed in this hellhole. The wind picked up, a perfect gale flowing through her hair. She took in a calming breath, a release I felt so intensely that, if I were standing, I might have fallen to my knees. The luminosity of her freckles peppered across her face. Onyx- and magic-tipped ears shimmered as night fell over us. She tossed her hat and gloves to her father, wide-eyed and smiling. My gaze fell to her hands painted by the goddesses themselves. My breathing hitched. A tilt of his hat, and she tightened the grip onthe reins. One simple glance my way was all it took for me to be undone. She winked, horse rearing up before she took off riding into the inky swells of darkness—a light storming into the mouth of the devil, with her shadow flying above her.

I could see why End’s Wrath kept her hidden.

A light in the dark.

A fallen star.

We were to embark on a journey through the wild Desert of Miera—open game to those who sought the same path. Which meant open kill. Most counted their blessings if they made it through the day here and still breathed. The shadows acknowledged the Umbras’ presence, kneeling, but it was the other monsters we’d need to be leery of. For it was likely I wasn’t the only bounty hunter on their trail. If they only knew how valuable shetrulywas.

Tonight had solidified it. Damned be the ones who stood in my way. She was mine for the taking.

7

Ryder

We rode for another hour under the luminescence of the moon. Vessa had a never-ending glow to her, as if there was some sort of power she harnessed from the moon. Beneath the night sky, it illuminated her existence to the world; an essence I found hauntingly beautiful, ethereal perhaps. As End’s Wrath’s little spark of joy rode off into the dark, I realized why he was willing to doanythingfor her.

I didn’t know much about the Umbra Fae other than that these two were living legends in my neck of the woods; the last vestiges. To see them in the flesh was like a mirage one couldn’t help but curiously wander toward.

Long ago, they had dwelled somewhere in the west on an island called Black Water Woods, a land only accessible to their people, surrounded by bright, cerulean shores and obsidian sands and covered with a haze that had swayed the fearful humans from ever crossing it.

When we finally found a place to rest for the night, I watched Vessa dismount. The curiosity and the allure remained tempting.

When she caught me in her line of sight, the threat of my imminent demise was written in her gaze.

I tipped my hat her way, but all I got in return was a scowl. Her bird stretched his wings wide, and they exchanged a look I couldn’t translate. It made me think they must communicate through the bond. At least the prick was far more tolerable in this form, but his obligatory presence was getting in the way.

Her hat was already back on, hands gloved, her glow now dimmed and hidden beneath her dark brown coat. She removed her boots and massaged her feet and ankles before slipping them back on.

“A beauty like that will only burn you, boy. It’s best you keep your distance,” End’s Wrath said, arching a salt-and-pepper brow my way before he went back to unstrapping two thick, wool blankets. I was far from a boy—although I appeared to be in my early thirties in human years, I was over one hundred years old—so I had an idea of what I wanted, but that was beside the point.

“Ain’t she old enough to decide that for herself, End’s Wrath?”

He paused briefly, then laughed darkly as he turned my way with a grin a little too wicked, even for him. “Fine,” he drawled, tossing me what I assumed was her blanket. “It’s your funeral.”

8

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