Page 118 of Within the Veil

Except that little shake makes one of the babies kick...hard...and the trickle turns very warm, and runs down my legs. Fuck me.

"Did you just?" Jensi starts.

"Pee myself? Yup." I hear a growl as several eyes suddenly appear.

"Not it!" I faede out to the house, leaving them all to get eaten by the Keepers.

It was an honor to know them, truly.

But I chose immortality and pizza, over terrifyingly sharp teeth and mops.

Chapter20

Nici

"All great changes are preceded by chaos."-Deepak Chopra

Nici

I look down at my feet and sigh. Blood, both congealed and fresh, and another dead unfamiliar guard. At this point, I am starting to get a complex, here I go, generously imprisoning them and they still find little ways to revolt. I looked past him to the other bodies littering the floor. The aesthetic was pleasing, I suppose--still, a waste of resources. I felt my eyes flash and I closed them briefly, grateful I was turned away from my court as they stood around the opulent ballroom. Control, I seek it, I wield it, and I will not be made for a fool.

Keeping my face serene I turned towards the room, a smile fixed on my face, my sharp teeth gleaming, "tisk tisk. You would think that after all these years you would be learning instead of regressing. As a general rule, the Fae can be stuck in our ways, but regression?" My voice rising over the hush of the room, I continue, "But maybe, maybe...hmmm. Maybe this is more of a relapse in judgment? Terrible choices? Maybe you are all hearing a few rumors about a certain someone? Getting braver?" I scoff, my body beginning to vibrate with tension at the mere thought of that thorn in my side. Carefully laid plans unraveling before my eyes. No. No. Not unraveling, merely waylaid. Yes. That's better.

I look at the impassive faces before me, trying to mask the fear that I've come to love. Well, that just won't do.

"Let me remind you of the extent of my power," my voice darkens as I raise my arms. Not necessary, but sometimes a little dramatic flair feeds the fire I need to sustain myself. A blast of hot wind shutters throughout the room, the smell of blood more pungent as the air warms.

Surely, you mean MY power, a chillingly honeyed timbre fills my head and I bite back the scowl that itches to a fix to my face. I may have grown used to Uranus's constant intrusions but that doesn't make me any less irritated. Because the intrusions always came with a reminder that my source of power is not my source at all--it's his. An annoying tidbit I learned in my time within the caves.

* * *

Centuries Past

I flex my fingers, still marveling at the new skin and the fact that I wasn't a giant pile of blood and skin. Uranus, who I soon found out is the God who has taken up residence within Tíranna na Dorchadas Liabránach, keeps watching me--when he is here anyway, which he hasn't been in several days-- as though he suspects I might break. Or hoping I would. I can't truly tell the difference. Other than his tirades about revenge against his ex-wife, Gaia herself, his face is eerily blank, eyes dead even while swirling with power.

The inability to read him is bothersome, however, strangely enough, I find myself no longer tethered to my usual compulsion to dissect people's intentions, to understand every nuance of their being--something that's practically a survival instinct among the Fae, with all our intricate mind games. Instead, the hours bleed into a void of nothingness as I sit on the smooth stone, and wait to find out how I can be of use to him. Or to find out anything at all, really.

To say that Uranus has not been forthcoming is an understatement. And something about it the silence puts me on edge. Normally, the lack of information would grate on the very fiber of my being, I understand the need for revenge, especially considering Gaia shattered my mind, but fortunately, or unfortunately, whichever way one were to look at it, he is vocal about everything else. And by vocal I mean that when he is physically here, he won't cease his muttering. In truth, if it weren't for the times he stood and stared, I would think he wasn't aware of my presence. Well, that and when he isn't here, I still feel the oppressive weight of being watched.

At least from his ranting, I can infer that he is remarkably unstable. I've been able to piece together that he was banished to Tartarus for eternity, no longer had a penis, and is weirdly obsessed with the number 333. For a being that wondered how I could have made the decision to seek more power for myself, and willfully cause an imbalance that belies my nature, he is quite...chaotic. Still other than his obsession with 'revenge,'--which any male would seek after losing their cock-- I know nothing of use. Asking leads me nowhere, and as much as I would love to rip him apart like I would have done to anyone else who dared defy me, I couldn't... for obvious reasons. Number one is that he is a God, and number two, the few times I did try to leave the cave, I ended up right back here, and finally, I couldn't access my magic. No matter how often I try, as of this morning--at least I assume it's morning, there is no way to tell time here-- I still can't. It is as if it has disappeared.

I have to assume my inability to connect is because of a block he has put up. Any other possibility is unfathomable. But even so, I should be able to feel an inkling of it. Instead, when I delve into my mind, all I see is my broken self in a cage, bloodied and mad. I feel her too, well, me. As if the cage is temporary and I will lose my grip on whatever reprieve this is.

I tentatively try to reach within myself, avoiding the cage and the implications of it, when I'm interrupted by a familiar mirthless, mocking laugh.

"Are you still trying to access your magic?" Uranus's form is suddenly before me, and I swallow thickly, beating down the panic that starts to course through me, and look up from my seated position. I don't respond, rather, I take in the imposing sight of his large, muscular frame and broad shoulders casting a shadow that somehow seems to deepen the dark atmosphere of the cavern. His eyes, a swirling tempest, as usual look almost dead, void of any compassion or warmth; Although, I am slightly smug that I can hold his gaze for more than half a second now. The sheer physicality of him is terrifying, like a predator sizing up its prey. And I once again find myself wondering how anyone can copulate with a God and survive.

The initial spike of fear, which seems to come naturally in his presence, floats away as irritation takes its place. His tone grates on me, laden with a heaviness, as if he's holding onto and savoring a secret he won't share. And the way he stands there, eyebrow slightly arched with a quirk of his lips, waiting expectantly, for me to give into my curiosity, infuriates me. I'm not used to asking for anything, and the fact that he's putting me in a position where I feel like I have to fuels my anger further. I find myself wishing, futilely, that I could access my magic--useless as it would be against a god.

Still...

I cast my eyes furtively around the cave, my gaze landing on a jagged rock. A fleeting fantasy of smashing that smug mask off his face crosses my mind. My hand twitches involuntarily toward it, but I hold back, clenching my fists at my sides instead.

His lips raise a slight fraction, eyes sharpening as if he's just read my thoughts. The infuriating expression on his face dares me to do it--knowing he could smite me, turn me into dust, break whatever is left of my mind, or whatever gods do when they're offended. The power dynamics couldn't be more skewed, and yet, he looks like he would relish the attempt, almost as if he wants me to challenge him. If only to entertain himself.

It's maddening. Even more so, because I know that anything I do will be a one-way ticket to annihilation. Yet, for a split second, the temptation is almost overwhelming. I can almost feel the weight and texture of the rock in my hand, envision the shock that would replace his smug grin. But I force myself to exhale, releasing the tension in a long, measured breath. I can't afford such thoughts--not when the god before me could make them my last.

I feign disinterest, "If I must sit here, I'd rather do something of use and try to access my power. But you seem to have a block in place."

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