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“He has proved useful. He has the freedom to meet with Sventer, my Blue Demon in the human world.” He scoffed, “Another fool who thinks he is my right hand man! But he too has proven useful. I had hoped he would be in Queen Mab’s inner circle, but I should have known such as he would not have her ear.” He clucked his tongue and added, “Well, you are a bit of an inconvenience and obviously must be contained. However, I don’t think I shall put you to death quite yet.”
“As though you could,” Frankie sneered at him.
“As I said, I shan’t kill you yet. You could prove useful and that buys you a guest room, of sorts in my castle.”
“I will never be of any use to ye. So then, do ye want me dead? Go for it, Dark Prince, just go for it, but I give ye fair warning, I so am that little girl who got in yer way six years ago, aye, that I am, but now… well, I am full grown.” Frankie bluffed as she looked for a way out of the mess she was in. Jazz’s voice in her head said, you are being an arrogant little ass.
He sneered, “Yes, you did get in my way.” His voice dropped and she heard the hate in every word as he said, “Do you think I would forget the child—now full grown, who took on my Unseelie army?”
“I didn’t just take them on, Dark One, I took them down,” she said with contempt.
Before she realized what he was doing he had shifted in behind her and suddenly she felt the weight of the heavy bronze metallic netting over her head as it fell to the earth around her feet, she knew, damn, she knew. She had talked herself right smack dab into a deeper hole.
She was frozen in place, not by the net, but by the magic and the poison the net contained. It was not just the Gold Wiele the Trackers use to halt a Fae in place. This was different; it was beginning to send rocketing pain through her body.
Pestale stood back to view his handiwork, flicked his wrist and she was lying on the grass. He didn’t touch the net. She noticed he was careful not to touch it, as he sealed the ends with her feet tucked in. She was completely enclosed by it.
“You see, I did remember what you could do. I remembered the little girl with the fire power. I lulled you into bragging about it, kept you here, got into position, and captured you.” He sneered at her, “What say you now, Faeling, what say you now?”
“We should have killed you!” She answered and restrained a whelp of pain that formed in her throat. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t listen to him. She had to concentrate on finding a way to reduce the pain shooting through her veins.
This net, unlike the Trackers’ Gold Wiele, seemed to be a patchwork of needles, all of them shooting poison into her veins and it hurt like hell!
She pulled at the metallic netting, gritting her teeth through the agony that swept through her. What was happening? She was a powerful Daoine—this couldn’t be happening!
As the poison ripped through her body, her blood seemed to be exploding in little bubbles in her veins. She went into her mind. She had to find a way to overcome it. Her da had taught her so many things that she had filed away. One of those things had to help her now?
Think, she told herself.
Whatever this netting was coated with, whatever was blasting into her system could be overcome. It had to be overcome. She could not allow Pestale to win.
“Arrggghhh…” she cried out against her will as she struggled.
Think! Right Frankie, she tried calming herself, ye know, don’t ye, that the Gold Wiele the Trackers use to capture wayward Fae and Otherworldies, never tortures them like this, so ye have a bit of black magic on the job here, don’t ye?
Ye know a thing or two about black magic, she was now totally in her mind, attempting to rest her body which was still writhing in excruci
ating pain, she was already depleted from healing so many at the bomb site.
Every place this netting touched her felt like a zillion prickly needles piecing her flesh. She wanted to scream because of the agony and burning sensation it had created throughout her system, seeping into her organs, playing havoc with her brain.
She tried to hide in her head, but the hurting kept pulling her out. Was it really filled with poison—or was it all an illusion? Black Magic was based on the premise that illusion was all it needed to set the stage. No, this was not illusion. This was real. She knew it.
She could smell the herb. It was an ancient recipe which used an herb toxic to Fae, for it came from Danu and had altered itself in earth’s atmosphere. Her father had taught her all about dangerous herbs and this one was Dragon’s Breath. It wasn’t deadly to a Fae, but it caused great pain and hallucinations to Fae and humans alike.
Solution? Right then, Frankie-girl, she bolstered herself, ye must find a solution.
She was definitely in a serious predicament.
She should have listened to Jazz who had always told her not to get too cocky. She should have shifted away and hid to fight when she was stronger, thinking more clearly, but no, she had to be an arrogant ass. Now what?
She thought of Graely.
Would he come for her? Would he know where she was? Would anyone know?
But now, now she had to get past the pain…but how?
She heard Pestale laughing and for a moment, that helped her to focus away from the agony—the agony caused by her blood feeling as though a million exploding burning bubbles were passing through her veins.
