Page 36 of Tempting the Fae Lord
I try his words again.
Bloath de monkuhn
Opniz thik winsomeka
They fail to work.
Again.
Fine. I’ll just have to think of my own special words. What does one say to a possibly sentient gate when requesting a favor?
“Erm, hi, Gate. Open for me, please?”
Nothing. Frustration mounts. My palm burns, and blood drips down the bars.
“Come on, you open for him. You must like him at least a little. Don’t you want him back like I do? Open!”
Nothing.
I growl at the ancient portal and squeeze the bars in my fists. I may not have magic, but I have persistence in spades. If the test comes down to who is more stubborn, me or this gate, I intend to win.
Digging deep, I close my eyes and speak from my heart.
“You’re a magic portal between two worlds. And I am a creature of both worlds. As such, I require from you safe passage to the other side. Open for me so I can find him. Let me through!”
My breath sounds loud in the surrounding silence.
Just when I think I’ve failed, the hinges whine.
The bars move.
And the gate opens.
“Thank you,” I whisper in case it’s still listening.
I blink and stare. A rush of victory sweeps my veins, followed on its heels by trepidation. The orange scones I’m expecting flicker out as a gust of wind precedes me through the portal.
Only darkness beckons.
Steeling myself against the fear, I step through the gate.
Chapter Eleven
TheGatekeeper
Dirt,blood, and the sundry filth of the earth have become the bane of my existence. I scrape it from beneath my nails, shake it off my person, and brush it from my tangled hair.
Each night, I battle the rotting undead to no avail. The supply is endless. When the death mage runs out of people, he raises fields of stinking cattle, herds of rotting sheep, whatever dead remains his unholy talent can unearth from the half-frozen countryside of Lapland.
Each day, the fae sorceress hunts me. I wake and scent her trails. She’s scouting the lands high and low, trying to catch me during my vulnerable daytime state, but I rest too far below the surface for her spells to pierce my slumber.
I tire of this cat-and-mouse game.
The Vartija are no more. Brief words with the infernal fae sorceress confirmed as much the night I first crossed through. How long has it been? One week? Two? I lose count.
“What have you done with fae-vampire guardians?” I demanded while cutting through a wall of reanimated flesh.
“Done with them? Me?” She narrowed her gaze and scuttled farther away. “Nothing.”
