Chapter Twenty-Four – Falling

  Settie finished her Meatcake and then watched Gray eat. And she had another glass of wine. She was staring at him, and he felt the energy in the air, all around her. Throughout the meal, he felt the tingling in his fingers and toes, and he thought that was an excellent sigh. His meridians were waking up, slowly but surely. He might not need to go poaching mana for the brands. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  He finally had to slow down eating because the meal was just so rich, and the mana was making his core feel so swollen.

  “I’ll finish that, precious Gray,” the captain said.

  He slid the plate over to her, and she dug in. “Not as good as mine, but still, excellent.”

  As she ate, she saw that she was pulling in more mana into her core, which was already so swollen, as full as Gray’s belly. He switched from the wine to the bubble water, which had the enchanted stone at the bottom of the glass, which gave it the bubbles. There was even some ice in it, again, thanks to the magic.

  When she finished his dinner, she pushed the plate and drained the glass.

  She glanced at him. “We’re going to fly. Now, there are rules about you mounting me.” Even before the words were out of her mouth, she smiled. “But not like that.”

  “Not like that,” he agreed.

  They paid Gorgozonla, who was so thrilled that they’d returned to his counter. Gray couldn’t help but feel like he and Settie were the goblin’s favorite customers, though that was probably just part of running a successful restaurant. You made sure everyone felt like that.

  He walked away with Settie, stick in hand, wondering what the night held for them. “I can feel the tingling in my fingers and toes from the mana. Though I have to admit, I’m still a little drunk.”

  Settie laughed. “Good. But don’t puke on my back.”

  “You’re not really going to let me ride you, are you?” He asked.

  She turned to him. “Yes, but not like that. I need to burn off mana, and you do too. You can’t just do it normally, you have to channel it somewhere, and I have nowhere for you to channel it too. As a dragon, I’ll burn the mana, and you can refill my core. You have to relax, which is why I’m glad you’re drunk.”

  “Just a little drunk, captain. I’ve been far worse.”

  “As have I.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him close, walking through the market like they were friends if not more.

  Gray had the idea that it wasn’t just the fact that they knew Soulshred Week was going to be Chaotica, but it was the fact that her squad had bent the rules, if not broken them out right. It was as if she could relax because her squad was going to be as ruthless as she was.

  He hoped she would remember that when and if he ever came back branded by the Widow Stone after illegally poaching demon mana in Old Town.

  They reached a street, where shifted into her long, slender dragon form.

  Gray frowned. “You’re not going to be able to carry me. I’ve gained so much weight since you repaired me.”

  “I’ll be fine. But you won’t be.” She seemed deadly serious, but it was hard to read her face, since she had a long dragon face. But then, she half-smiled, showing fangs. Her reptilian eyes were bright from the wine.

  “Why won’t be?”

  Her smile grew bigger. “Because I’ve been flying for all my long life. You’ve never left the ground. You’ll be scared.”

  “But you’ll keep me safe,” he said. And meant it.

  “Why would you think? According to every wagging tongue in town, I killed my last two squads.”

  He pointed at her with his stick. “You can’t afford to lose me. Whatever you want out in life, you’ve spent too much time and effort on my wellbeing to let me fall. So, let’s fly.”

  “Give me your stick and climb on. To lift you, I’ll need to use mana, so keep me filled.”

  He tossed his stick and then did as he was told, clambering onto her soft scales. A second later, he felt the mana in the air, and they shot forward. He felt the ridges of her spine on her slender body, and the only place to hold on was her neck. But he didn’t want to hurt her. He felt himself sliding off, but she adjusted herself. Still, it all felt so precarious.

  He looked down, and his stomach shrank, he felt dizzy, and he could feel his mind slipping into insanity. They were up high, it was cold, the winds shrieking in his ears, he might’ve frozen if not for the dragon’s hot body. She radiated heat, which kept the front part of him warm. The back part was freezing even with his coat. He didn’t dare let go to cover his head with his hood.

  It took a second for him to realize they were circling Pit City. He recognized the pit itself, where candles burned on their little boats that floated on the water there. Lights winked from the various stalls and buildings of the market, and he found Softie’s place—Excellent Inventory Unlimited—before they went soaring to the south, which was mostly dark.

  The Pink Palace was mostly dark as well—lights glimmered from Crewel’s office and down below, the library lights were on. They floated across First Field’s campus and Gray was struck by the beauty. The starlight glittered off the river that run north to south—the Ashblood River—that vanished underneath the wall that separated Pit City from Pride City. Rows of lights marked the bathhouse and the barracks and then they took off north. Gray could see the Hellbinder Barrier to the west, but the eastern wall, which might’ve once been grand, was now just a crumbling ruin. It was clear that the Orcish leadership wasn’t worried about any raiders coming in from that direction. And it was probably the dragons in Pride City that kept that wall up.

  It wasn’t long before they were above the Pleasure Market.

  That was when he heard her, reciting something. Her voice was low, and he only caught some of the words, but it was enough to know what she was saying.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The flames of hell upon the land did roar

  Ash and blood forevermore

  Towers turned torches and the streets turned to blood

  The Palaces of Caelvarum reduced to mud

  A flood of fire, mud, and blood, so much blood

  A flood of fire, mud, and blood

  It was about the Fall of Alastria, the burning of Caelvarum, when the demon Malchutt revealed himself as the trickster who had murdered the royal family, breaking Princess Cassandra’s heart forever.

  That was when Settie lost her dragon form.

  It felt like his stomach would burst out of his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, and the cold hit him like a punch. His whole world became falling.

  But then, Settie shifted, and she was falling with him.

  He looked into her face, and her eyes were mild. She wasn’t afraid at all. No, she seemed rather sad.

  He reached out and found Settie’s core, which was shockingly low on mana. He then gave her all he could. She shifted back into her dragon form, and he felt her grab him in her long arms. He felt her sharp claws on his skin, but they didn’t draw blood. He kept her filled until they safely reached the ground.

  She was back to human, in her hat, no mask, holding both her cane and his stick. She tossed it to him. “Fill it with mana. Don’t think. Just do it.”

  His heart was hammering, his fingers were numb, and he wasn’t sure what was going.

  He gripped the stick, and tried, but she might as well have asked him to fly.

  She grabbed his hand, her long fingernails biting into him. “Do it now.”

  The pain hit him, flooded into him, and he winced, but then, yes, he felt his mana burst from his core, up through his torso, and down his arm into the stick, which glowed for a second before fading.

  Gray’s blood dripped onto the wood.

  “Gods fuck it!” Settie snarled. “This is impossible. Your very life is in danger, and you have no trouble giving me mana. But the only thing that seems to help your meridians is torture, cruel torture. This will not do!”

  Gray lifted his mangled hand. “You think you have problems. I’m the one who’s bleeding.”

  Settie laughed, took his hand, and fixed his flesh. It hurt for a second, the pain of healing worse than the pain of the wound, and then the itch started, not only on his hand, but also on the back of his neck.

  She then put her mask on, hooked her arm into his, and they walked like that into the Pleasure Market where red lights burned in doorways, and form the windows, they heard the cries of ecstasy, giggling, laughter.

  They made their way to the park, which was empty, and Gray found himself on the same bench where he’d been before, surrounded by trees, their leaves glimmering in the rain.

  Settie sat next to him. “I know you and I have been here before. I know of the history. But now, things are different. You are bonded, but more than that, you can feel the lust mana around this place. Breathe it in. Imagine what all the people are doing around us.”

  There was lust in the air, but there was also sadness. It was hard to separate the two now that he understood the strange magical world better. Some of the women and men in those rooms were fae who broke their core oaths and were empty inside. Others were those that lost their bonded and wouldn’t be able to connect their cores to anyone ever again…people like the Widow Stone. Yes, some of the people around him were there by choice, probably those with lust resonances, drinking in the mana in all sorts of ways. He knew when it came to sex, there were a myriad of tastes, and quite a few had nothing to do with the sex act itself.

  Still, sitting next to Settie, inhaling her scent, remembering their kiss –which they were never to speak of—had his core humming. He felt the lust and started to breathe harder.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Now, give me that new mana.”

  He took her hand, and gave it to her, and he felt the energy flow between them. Her hand was sweaty, and she was breathing harder. H could feel her lust, which added to his own.

  “So much mana,” he whispered. “So much power. It could be that after a lifetime of starving, your meridians are simply too small to handle that must energy. Let’s try something.”

  She pulled a curved dagger out of her robes and held it in her fist. He could see the golden glow of her core flare up. That same glow traveled up her body to her arm and down to her hand, and then, the curved dagger gleamed with a magical light. She’d taken the lust mana he’d given her and had channeled it into the dagger.

  “Let’s try this,” she whispered. “Let’s see if you can absorb the mana from the dagger.”

  “Can you enchant items?” he asked in wonder.

  She chuckled. “No. Crafting has never been something I cared too much about. I could find people to do that for me. I know enough, however, to be able to channel the mana into items. It is a skill all hunters must have.”

  She offered him the knife, grip first.

  He took it, and he felt the mana, and he concentrated. There was mana there, but he couldn’t access it.

  He shook his head.

  “Grasp the blade,” she commanded.

  He took a deep breath. “This magic shit is a pain my ass.”

  “Let’s hope not. If I have to deal with your ass, neither one of us would enjoy such a thing.”

  He took hold of the knife’s blade, felt the curve cut into his finger, and he winced. “Fuck.” But he felt the mana flow into him, through his meridians, and into his core.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can feel it.”

  “Now, put it in your stick,” she commanded.

  With the knife in his left hand, he tried to move it into the stick in his right hand. Again, he failed. Over and over, he was failing, but it wasn’t like he was going to give up. Never.

  “Nothing,” he admitted.

  Settie took out a needle, reached over him, and jabbed the needle into his hand holding onto the stick.

  The lust mana flowed through him and into the stick, which sizzled with power, glowing brightly, before dimming as the mana dissipated. But he could see how he could take the mana from the stick and put it back into knife…as long as he was in pain.

  Settie was leaning over him, her breasts pushed against his arm, and her natural perfume in his nose. He felt the urge to kiss the back of her head—her hair looked so soft and smelled so good. He fought the urge, and then, she removed the needle for his hand. She also took the dagger and secreted it away.

  She put her hand on his and healed his wounded fingers.

  Again, he felt the transfer, but he felt something else. Her sweaty skin on his bloody hand had him thinking all sorts of thoughts. He knew in his heart of hearts, if he ever kissed Settie again, just the one kiss would never be enough.

  She sat back. “Your meridians are not too small. That they are linked to pain is a mystery. It must be a faulty relationship between your core and your meridians. For that, we can ask my contacts in the fae world.”

  “So we go to Lust City,” he said, flexing his newly healed hand. His fingers were itching that much, but the back of his neck was.

  Settie nodded. “We go there for all kinds of reasons. For you to see another city that isn’t falling apart. For us to see an actual game of Chaotica. To fix this issue without the meddling of the Widow Stone, or your delusions of the Trayah Jalana solving all of our problems.”

  He saw it clearly. In her mind, the brand and the Widow Stone were linked, and she was too proud to admit that she couldn’t find a solution for him. Such pride was a problem. Could he confront her?

  No. If he attacked the problem head-on, she would just become harder to deal with. He had to be smart about it. Or not tell her at all. If he came to her, his meridians fixed, she wouldn’t care how he’d done it. He was sure of that.

  Instead, he changed the subject. “You recited a poem while we were flying. What was it?”

  “It was from A Song of Scale and Ash,” she said. “Yes, the same mysterious book that should be in the pink palace’s archive but isn’t. There’s a poem in it about the burning of Caelvarum.”

  “Like the mural on your ceiling,” Gray said.

  Settie looked him full in the face. “You want to know if I was there, a thousand years ago, when the Alastrian royal family was slain by the Troublemaker and his evil plans were laid bare. You want to know if I saw Princess Cassandra’s heartbroken as her beautiful city burned.”

  Gray smiled. “I’m curious, but you hate questions, and you claim that the past doesn’t matter.”

  Some kind of strong emotion traveled across her face. Her stare intensified. “Yes. I was there. I’m old, Grayson Fade. All that age gives you is more regrets, more failure, and more heartbreak. I would be done with this entire cursed life, except….not yet. There are some things I’m going to set right.”

  “And will you ever tell me what those things are?” he asked.

  She smiled, and it was both sad and strangely shy. “Win the Testing and I will have to.”