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The man had enough courage to look indignant, but then nodded his head in understanding.
“Good – now that’s settled, allow me to get you acquainted with your new lodgings.”
Ciaran released the man and could see him eyeing some of the tools Ciaran used during his “explorations”; wheels turning as he was planning to make his escape. Ciaran enjoyed this part nearly more than the pain he would cause shortly. There was nothing quite like crushing hope just after it bloomed for the first time in one of his “guests.”
“Go ahead human, make your attempt. I see your wheels turning. Do not disappoint me with…”
The man lunged towards the wall of larger weapons. Ciaran sat back and watched as the man attempted to pull one of the battle axes off the wall; he quickly realized he did not have the strength for such a weapon.
Ciaran casually strolled up to the wall, and with one hand he pulled the ax down and passed it to the man. Smirking, he goaded the man. “Here I will help you. I am sure you are used to being one of the strongest of your kind, but you forget human, no one here is of your kind and we are all far stronger than you could ever hope to be.”
The man attempted to take the ax Ciaran handed to him, but the second Ciaran let go of the weapon, the ax head thunked to the floor. Ciaran roared with laughter, and the man’s anger flared as he turned bright red and tried once more to pick up the ax. Cutting his losses, he rushed to the other side of the room where small sharp blades were laid out.
“Yes, I do believe these blades are likely more anatomically correct for you.” Ciaran mused and the hidden meaning was not lost upon the man for his red face began to turn a delightful shade of purple.
“Well get on with it! Let’s see your grand plan unfurl.” The man charged Ciaran who continued to lounge against the wall the ax had been hanging on, his arms crossed and wings casually tucked behind his back. The toothy grin Ciaran had been wearing grew into one of nightmares, the corners of his mouth stretched nearly to his pointed ears showing off a mouth of far too many teeth.
Ciaran lazily grabbed the man’s wrist of the hand holding the dagger, and in a blink turned the man so his back was to Ciaran’s front and the dagger was a hair’s breadth from the man’s eye. If he blinked, he would slice his own eyelid.
“Do you understand now, puny human? You are no match for my kind, and definitely no match for the Prince of Darkness. Your strength may have gotten you everything you wanted in the past, but your brute force is nothing but a gentle breeze to me.” Ciaran watched as the man struggled to keep his eye open. Sighing, he released the man. “Now hop up on the table and lay down like a good boy.”
Oh, how the man burned inside with such rage, which made Ciaran exceedingly happy. It was plainly visible how much he hated Ciaran. If only the man knew how much more he would hate him in a few moments.
The man took his time complying, but he did comply. As soon as he was flat on the table, Ciaran had the restraints snap into place; perhaps tighter than was required. The man began to splutter again as he realized he was not afforded any movement beyond that of his eyes, fingers, and toes.
“I am righteous. The Shepherd told me…he…he said I would earn my place in the land of the Light of God!” The man was half hysterical now.
“Your Shepherd lied to you. There is no such singular God. There are many gods and goddesses. I myself am a descendant of the goddess Morigan, and I know many personally. Let us hope, for your sake, they do not decide to smite you for your blasphemy.” Ciaran laughed maniacally. “Now, where to begin? Did you know you broke my tiny witch’s nose?”
Lightning fast, Ciaran launched his fist into the human’s nose, smashing it flat. The wails were music to his ears, but then the man began to choke on his own blood. “Well, we cannot have you drown to death after one hit. Where’s the fun in that?” Ciaran healed just enough of the man’s nose to keep the blood from drowning him; he did nothing for the disfigured shape.
“Perhaps you would like to tell me what is so grand about this ‘Land of Light’ that you would be willing to harm my witch?” Ciaran asked the man while he decided what injury to inflict next.
The man’s voice had taken on a distinctly nasally tone as he said, “The Land of Light is always awash with the pure light of God. There are beings of gold who are perfect in appearance, as well as pureness, and have wings of soft downy feathers. I thought perhaps the creature who’d been hanging next to me was one of them, though it seems she is as evil as Eta...” The man tried to take back saying her name, but it was too late.
“What did I tell you, human, about using her name? You kicked her ribs in, I think that will be the next place we ‘explore.’” Ciaran took flight to the sounds of the man attempting to take back her name, gave a swift kick to each side of the man’s ribs, and basked in his screams. He went ahead and snapped his arm for the fun of it.
He contemplated his next move and what the man had said about the Land of Light and its inhabitants. It sounded a lot like the Day Court, and he would not put it past them to meddle in the human world. Ciaran had a feeling they were the ones behind the “People of the Light”; he could not figure out just yet what the end game was.
“What does this Shepard look like, human?”
The man was becoming incoherent, and Ciaran wanted his questions answered, so he healed him just enough to take the edge of pain away. Ciaran snapped his clawed hands in front of the man’s face and asked him again, “Answer me human! What does this Shephard look like? And do not make me ask again!”
The man’s whimpers began to lessen, and he rasped out, “I do not know. I have never seen his face. He wears a dark cloak with a hood always pulled up, hiding his face. I have only ever seen his hands – they are golden and almost glow in the sunlight.” He said this last part with no small amount of reverence.
Ciaran was sure this Shepherd was of the Day Court now. They all have an annoying sunny glow about them, while the beings of the Night Court seemed to carry shadows everywhere they went. He was about to begin to interrogate the man to see if he could figure out the Day Court’s schemes, when the spell he placed on his room alerted him to movement. His witch was awake.
“Well it seems our ‘explorations’ have come to an end – I have to go for now.MyEtain beckons.” Ciaran took great joy knowing the man would be alone, strapped to this table where no one could hear him screaming.
The man began to struggle against his impossibly tight bonds while Ciaran gave him one last menacing grin and ported to his bedchambers.
Fifteen
ThistimewhenEtainawoke, she remembered where she was and gently sat up. She had the feeling of not being asleep for long. She scanned the room for any sign of Ciaran, it looked as though he was still out. She released a breath feeling relieved she could have some much needed alone time. It was hard to go from being mostly alone to never alone and overwhelmed by such massive personalities. Etain sighed and stretched as she moved out of the bed.
Etain had the urge to snoop around through Ciaran’s bedroom. She told herself it was because she wanted to know more about him, but if she were honest, she was simply nosy. She began looking in all the drawers and cabinets to see what they held. It was mostly an excessive amount of weapons, all black clothing, and a ridiculous amount of jumbled papers and books shoved in the most unreasonable of places. It seems her prince’s spell did not account for quality control. This was the most unorganized cacophony of a mess she had ever seen. Something told her the brownies of the palace would be highly offended.
Etain had always been a tidy person. She believed everything had its proper place. She sighed and remembered Ciaran’s desk, how it had looked like he had been working then rushed off suddenly and left everything as it was. She was beginning to think his desk always looked that way.
