AllFreeNovel
Share Us
EMBER
My breathing ragged, I sit in the corner of a dimly lit cavern beside a fae I don’t recognize. We’re both bound around the ankles and wrists, though I cannot understand why he hasn’t dematerialized, and I’m too afraid to draw attention to myself to ask.
Ahead, a handful of Pookas stoke a roaring fire. Staring at them now, I’m reminded of the one who ripped me from Rafferty after we’d first escaped.
At least, I’m less injured now. Thanks to the shorter distance through less brush, I only suffered lacerations on my arms and legs.
“Ember,” the man beside me whispers.
I look to him. A younger man with blonde hair and gold eyes. “Yes.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, though I cannot be sure why. “There is a blade at my back,” he whispers. “If you can get it, you can cut us out.”
“Why have you not dematerialized?”
“Iron,” he replies. “In the bindings.”
“Food does not speak!” a Pooka roars at us.
We both sit back, though the man slowly moves toward me. He carefully shifts his body so I can see the hilt of a dagger sticking out from where it’s sheathed at his lower back. He glances back at me and nods.
I spare a look at our captors, grateful that they seem to be occupied—for now. So, I reach down, and my hands close on the hilt.
“I said no speaking!” the Pooka grips him by the front of his shirt and rips him forward toward the fire. The blade comes free, so I quickly tuck it away beneath my skirts.
“We’re sorry,” I plead. “We won’t do it again.”
The goblin-looking creature tilts its head to the side and narrows beady eyes on my face. “You will not,” it orders.
“What do you want from us?” the fae questions.
“To free you from your pain,” it replies, its tone alluding to the fact that we should have already known that. Which, to be fair, I did, given my last interaction with the bastards.
Thanks to Rafferty, I also know they feed on flesh.
Which means we don’t have much time.
Three more creatures rush in, their movements a blur until they come to a stop beside the fire. The way they watch the fae—the feverish licking of their lips—it makes my stomach churn. Bile burns the back of my throat, but I’m too afraid to take my eyes off of them.
They turn him toward the fire, one of them gripping his hair and yanking his head back, exposing his throat.
“Please. Don’t—”
“Food does not speak!” one of the Pookas roars as they run a blade over his throat.
I scream.
I scramble back as far into the corner as I can as they hold him up. Blood drips down his throat and chest, falling into a pot I didn’t even see them retrieve.
One turns toward me and smiles, then rushes forward so fast it’s nothing but a blur. I close my eyes and bring the blade up. It stops—hitting something solid, so I crack open an eye. Blood oozes from a wound in the bottom of the creature’s jaw where the blade is buried to the hilt. It drips down onto my hand, my arm.
The other creatures roar. I rip the blade free and scramble to my feet, heart pumping. My body still weak, I have to lean back against the wall to remain standing. The cavern blurs as my vision wavers, but I hold my ground even as tears burn in my eyes.
“It thinks to toy with us,” one says.
“It thinks to kill us,” another adds.
The voices blend together. “It wants to have fun.”
