Page 8 of Claimed By Night

The news must be big considering the sprite came here, to the Gorge, to the land of Shadow filled with Shadow Magic. Creatures such as this one are not found in this realm of darkness—nor are they welcome.

“Spit it out,” I say, leaning back into my throne and observing the silly creature with disinterest. “I’m a busy man.”

The sprite looks around, appearing anxious when its gaze rests on the centurions posted along either wall. Gargoyles. Their complexions are as stony as the rock from which they’re made. They appear as lifeless statues, perched along the perimeter of the room. Some are larger than others, some hunched over and others standing up straight. Some maintain their mortal forms, appearing carved from stone, while others reveal their gargoyle form—underslung jaws with pronounced canines, beady narrowed eyes, and round, misshapen heads.

To the untrained eye, they pose no risk, similar to empty armor lining the walls of a corridor. But, in this case, the untrained eye becomes the dead eye.

Yes, they’re stone, but such stone is capable of animation, such stone rescinds into the warmth of flesh and blood. Such stone isn’t stone at all. And such stone is deadly.

“They won’t harm you,” I assure the sprite as it returns its attention to me. “Without my order.”

The creature clears its throat nervously. “Lord o’ the Shadow Lands,” it starts, clearing its throat at least another three times in quick succession.

“Call me Dragan.”

It nods and takes a deep breath before proceeding to blast me with so many words spoken at once and at such extreme speeds that I can’t make out what the bloody idiot is trying to tell me. “Again,” I say, shaking my head and doing my best to dampen the swelling tide of anger that’s beginning to crest inside me. “I couldn’t understand a fucking word.”

The sprite immediately closes its mouth and nods, then takes another deep breath. “I came here from freakin’ Precinct Five ‘cause I couldn’t think o’ no one else to come to.” Apparently realizing I could choose to be offended by its comment, the sprite pauses for a moment before opening its mouth to speak again. “Wait. That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is that I couldn’t think o’ no one to give this information to who would be powerful enough to actually do somethin’ with it. But you’re the only person I’m aware o’ who possesses Arcane Magic. Soze I’m here.”

Precinct Five. Interesting. “Does Anona know you’ve come to see me?”

“Fuck no!” the sprite nearly shouts, and its wings begin to beat double-time. “I snuck out quick as I could. Word get back to Anona an’ she’ll have my balls served on a platter.”

“An unimpressive meal, to say the least.”

“Right,” the sprite continues, clearly unoffended by my low opinion of his testicles. But, truly, given the creature’s size, histesticles would be little to make note of. “Anyways, Anona probly hasn’t even noticed I’m gone yet. But it only be a matter o’ time ‘fore she do, soze we gotta make this little visit real quick, Demon Lord.”

“I’m not a demon.”

“Whatever. Shadow Lord.”

“Call me Dragan… for the second time.”

“Yeah, that’s easier to ‘member.” It takes another deep breath and faces me with eyes too large for its small face. “Anona got herself a real angel, Lord Dragan.” Its voice is haunted.

“That’s what you’ve come to tell me?” I shake my head with a mixture of surprise and irritation while I stand up, letting my wings fan out behind me and arch up to ten feet in either direction. The sprite’s eyes go even wider. “You’ve risked your bloody life—albeit a useless one, but your life all the same—to tell me Anona’s keeping a fucking angel as her newest pet?”

The sprite nods, then shakes its head and its wings beat even more madly, presumably over my display of bad temper. “No, Dragan Shadow, you don’t understand…”

“I understand you’re a fool, sprite,” I announce as my wings begin to beat back and forth and the immense current throws the creature back two or so feet in the air.

His own wings beat furiously as he attempts to remain airborne. “I ain’t no fool.”

I shake my head. “Even down here, I know about Variant’s edict that all angels are to be returned to him, but I don’t give a fuck, sprite. So, if you’ve come here thinking I’ll reward you for backstabbing your mistress, you’re sorely mistaken. She can keep her fucking angel and deal with the consequences when Variant finds out.”

“This ain’t got nothin’ ta do with Anona!” the little creature rails at me, apparently forgetting its place. “An’ the girl’s notjistan angel,” it yells against the current I’m creating. Losinginterest and not wanting the thing to drop dead from exertion, I stop beating my wings and watch as the sprite inhales a much-needed breath.

“Does she bear the markings?” I ask, irritated to be further wasting my time. I’ve half a mind to feed the bloody sprite to the demons, imps, ghouls, and goblins that roam the dark mists beyond the walls of this fortress.

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then youarewasting my time.” I inhale deeply as I motion to the two centurions closest to me to escort our winged guest out. “Allow him to exit through the Pyre of Shadows and see to it that he leaves unscathed,” I add. The Pyre of Shadows is the portal in and out of the Gorge, my realm. Although maybe I should call it exactly what it is—the realm to which I’ve been banished for over a century now.

The sprite’s annoying and has wasted my time, yes, but I don’t care to have the creature’s blood on my hands. Especially if he belongs to Anona. Our truce is an unstable one, and anything untoward is likely to set her off. I don’t have the interest nor the wherewithal to fight that battle.

“No!” the sprite yells as the two guards shed their stone exterior to become animate. “Listen, Lord Darkness! She ain’t jist a marked angel! As Satan’s your keeper…”

“Satan isn’t my keeper.”

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