Page 36 of Fallen Angels

“Go,” I bark.

She looks back in the direction of Variant’s castle before turning to face Pyre. “Your spirits told us the Midnight Queen isheld prisoner at Variant’s palace. Will you help us rescue her?” she asks with a tone of insecurity.

I swallow hard. Eilish doesn’t know where I stand with regard to Morrigan. No one does. Regardless, I will not be involved in the Midnight Queen’s rescue. I’ve already stuck my neck out too far and I’ve compromised myself in ways that still bewilder me. I’ve had enough of compromising myself.

I feel Pyre’s blind stare and I turn to face him. In this moment, I despise the mask on Pyre’s face, because I can’t read his expression. Instead, I watch as he faces Eilish and nods. Apparently, his response is good enough for her, because she approaches the portal, with Dragan behind her and the two cross over.

Pyre then faces me, and the necromancer extends his hands in my direction. I feel my body lifting and he then rotates me so I’m floating on my back. He moves his hands in the direction of the portal and I feel myself beckoned forward as if carried by invisible hands. Icy tendrils caress me as I enter the portal, all that energy prickling my skin. Once on the other side, I frown in confusion as I face the same forest we’ve just come from.

But it appears different now. There are no leaves on the trees and a light dusting of snow blankets everything in white. I look up at the sky where snowflakes fall gently from an endless stretch of ebony. A hundred galaxies hang above us in a spattering of stars and vibrant swirls of color, casting an amethyst glow on the ghostly forest below.

“Come,” Pyre says as he leads us down a winding path towards a cottage with black smoke meandering from the chimney. I feel myself change direction—floating upwards—I’m suddenly vertical with my feet below me. I simply hover above the path below as I’m moved forward. Clearly, Pyre understands that I’m too weak to move myself.

I’ve become a fucking invalid and I’m not pleased about it.

The splintered, wooden front door cracks open and a tiny creature peeks her head through the opening. She’s so small, the top of her head doesn’t even reach the doorknob. She sees us and her eyes grow larger with anxiety or surprise. She pulls her head back in and slams the door shut.

“Don’t mind Noni,” Pyre informs us as the beginning of a smile haunts his lips. Clearly, he’s fond of the small creature. “She’s my house brownie.” Then he faces his front door again. “Noni, open the door for our friends.”

She does as instructed and pushes the door fully open, standing there and waiting for us to enter. She isn’t much smaller than Flumph, but her head is larger than her body and her eyes are two huge sapphire orbs. A tiny pink mouth tilts up into a shy smile when we approach her. Pointed ears stick out of a mop of auburn curls that frame her freckled face.

“You bring Noni friends, Master?” the brownie asks in a high-pitched voice as she then hides her face behind her plethora of curls.

“Yes,” Pyre answers.

We follow the little brownie into the cottage. With its thatched roof, mud walls and ancient wooden floors, it’s undeniably modest. But it’s also shelter. The brownie closes the door behind us. She then scampers from the main room into an adjoining one, opening and closing cupboard doors as evident by the sound. When she returns, she bears arms full of bread, cheeses, and fruit which she empties on top of a long and rustic wooden table. On either side of the table is a long and unstable bench.

Flumph stares at Noni in obvious annoyance. “Why you serve him?” the sprite asks as he motions to Pyre and crosses his arms against his chest.

Noni crawls clumsily onto the table to light a candle, not hearing the annoyance in Flumph’s tone.

“Noni’s master take good care of her, so Noni take good care of him,” she responds with a large and genuine smile.

Flumph’s eyebrows meet in the middle of his creased forehead and his scowl deepens. “That’s what the giants want you to think!”

“No. Not Master. Noni love her master.” The brownie looks genuinely upset by Flumph’s insinuation and Pyre growls a low warning at the fool sprite. Flumph hides in Eilish’s hair as Noni climbs into the necromancer’s pocket, seeking his comfort.

“Noni was nearly dead when I found her,” Pyre informs us. “She was trampled by Variant’s soldiers when they raided a faerie village,” he continues to explain. “I took her in, healed her, and she chose to remain here as my companion.” Then he turns his sightless gaze to Flumph, who swallows hard. “She’s no slave, so I’d advise you to watch your tongue.”

Flumph deflates a bit. I feel myself floating towards the table and release a heavy sigh as the tension in my bones seems to worsen. Pyre catches my wince. “The pain will leave you soon.”

“I don’t know what type of poison caused this,” I respond.

Pyre shakes his head. “Your discomfort is not caused by poison.”

I frown because the pain is quite obviously caused by the tip of the poisoned blade. There’s nothing else to which I can attribute it.

“The sigil causes your distress,” Pyre finishes.

“The sigil?” I repeat as I glance down and behold the glowing red lines of the mark Pyre left on my forearm.

“Yes,” he answers. “The sigil contains powerful necromantic energy. Energy that requires a price in return for the benefits it offers.”

“Benefits?” I scoff. “I’ve yet to witness any benefits that equal the tax it’s placed on my body.”

“Then I daresay you haven’t noticed that you can walk in daylight?” Pyre asks with a knowing grin.

“I thought that fact was simply owing to the ether of the atmosphere surrounding Variant’s palace,” I respond. “The clouds impart different abilities on those with shadow magic.”

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