Gossamyr (45 page)

For a moment the entire room stilled. Gossamyr gripped her chest,
anticipating the inexplicable pull, the
erie
to melt over her
with the recital of her name. The vile red creature had Named her.

Gossamyr de Wintershinn of—

Wait.

No urge to prostrate herself before the woman befell. Not a single
muscle flinched. Breath held, Gossamyr sucked in deeper. Was that a
prinkle racing up her spine? No.

Named, yet—
Her Faery name.

You are mortal complete!

Not her true
mortal
birth name.

The smile of adventure, of dangers yet mastered, crooked Gossamyr
's mouth. "Think you?"

The Red Lady's jaw dropped. Clearly she had expected Gossamyr 's
submission. "Gossamyr de Wintershinn," she repeated thrice
quickly.

"Not the right name, bitch!"

Fire blazed in the red pupils fixed in the Red Lady's alabaster
mask. Lifting the alicorn high, she incited its power with a few
words. "Faery forged with glamour bright and magic bold. Tell me
your mortal name!"

Gossamyr dodged the stream of power that shot from the alicorn's
tip and rolled beneath Ulrich's dangling figure to the far wall.
There, she gripped her staff and jumped to defense just as another
wicked bolt of forbidden magic crossed the room.

She spun the half staff up to protect her face and caught the
mixture of glamour and magic within the ribbons of carved apple-wood.
Gossamyr could feel the wood bend and change, briefly, and then the
strange mix shot out from the carved ribbons at each end. To master
the alicorn—so much power the succubus drained from the
essences!

"You do not want me dead," Gossamyr called. Moving
deftly, she sidestepped another blast. "I am your only
connection to Shinn!"

The room silenced. Gossamyr had played the one weapon she could
guess would harm the woman. Love.

Drawing back her stolen weapon, the Red Lady gained in height and
volume almost as if puffing herself up with air. An illusion,
Gossamyr knew, but still impressive. Her pale flesh shone. And now,
peeking through the decorative cuts of white fabric, the blazon that
girdled her waist glittered brightly. The air tickled with sharp
bites—Enchantment bound by a darker force. What wicked magic
comes this day?

"Shinn is in Paris," the succubus announced. "I
don't need you, silly mortal."

Could he yet linger in Paris? Gossamyr prayed not, for her father
risked far too much. He had aged; a stay in the Otherside would
weaken and further age him.

"I know as much because I control him at this moment,"
the Red Lady announced. "Turiau de Wintershinn of Glamoursiege—"

"No!"

Too late, her father's name had been invoked, mayhap many a time
previous to this moment.

Please stay away, Shinn. Fight the allure.

Easing to the left, Gossamyr worked slowly toward Ulrich. A keen
eye to the alicorn ensured it hung at her enemy's side, for the
moment forgotten. She could feel the subtle wind of Ulrich's feet
swaying overhead.

The urge to strike stirred in Gossamyr's breast. If she rushed
forth right now, she could pin the woman to the floor and be done
with her. But the unknown held her at bay.

If the Red Lady died would her glamour then die? All those pinned
essences...would they be obliterated? And Ulrich, he may perish, as
well. What of Shinn? He would be released from the succubus's
erie.
But—possibly Disenchanted—could he then return to
Faery?

And where was Avenall? The pin man must lurk close by. Had her
confession to their past stirred his memory?

"Call Shinn to you," the Red Lady commanded in her cool
growl, "and I will release the mortal man."

"Promise?" Gossamyr knew it would not be so easy. Nor
would—or could—she summon Shinn into this dangerous nest
of tainted Enchantment.

"You have my word." The succubus bowed her head and
looked up through dark-shadowed eyes. "The Faery lord for your
mortal lover."

"Your word?" Gossamyr laughed. "Nay, that I should
trust thee! You be the one who doomed me to Faery through your
spurned heart."

"Doomed? You did not favor your home?"

"Well..."

"Should not I bear the right to exact punishment against
my
heart? Come, child—" the succubus tilted her head,
eyeing her with curious malevolence "—you know the sharp
pulse of a wounded heart." She drew a blood-red nail along the
curve of her pale breast.

Speared expertly through her bruised heart, Gossamyr flinched. The
succubus knew of her and Avenall's relationship. She knew of her
birth and origin. The enemy grew more powerful with every bit of
history she claimed from Gossamyr's soul. Yet, she did not wield her
mortal name, and that promised hope.

"Are you not willing to do
anything
to make your
mortal heart whole?"

"It is..." Gossamyr shivered at the quake moving through
her body. It is whole!

Have you no feelings? Your truth...you are lost to Faery.

"My heart..."She stepped twice to the side, swayed, but
righted herself. "No," she gasped to herself.

A beautiful song, rich in volume and melody, filled the room.
Come
to me,
it uttered in lyrical tones.

Gossamyr blinked and yawned. Falling, she. So pretty, the
surrender.

Her muscles stretched and loosened. The staff stabbed her foot.

The blurry figure of another, a man, bounced in behind the Red
Lady. Wings spreading, he fluttered them, his position gifting the
succubus with false wings. Flash of silver glinted in Gossamyr's
peripheral vision.

"Surrender your heart, pitiful one," the pin man hissed
in glee. Tapping a pin aside his jaw, his wings, lucid and tattered,
flapped once. "She wants you."

Pulled into the song, Gossamyr again swayed. "No, Avenall..."
she managed to say. "Av...enall..."

"Surrender," danced the delicious tones tickling into
her ear.

Yes, to the Dance. Merry be and merry will, dance away your life
you shall!

No! Gossamyr gathered a breath and shouted, "Avenall Eloi
Papilion of Rougethorn!" She fell to her knees as the whinny of
a horse startled her.

Awaken.

Gossamyr shook her head. It felt as though she were shaking away a
hard shell of opaque glass, seeing again, coming back into her soul.
Your mortal soul.

In the doorway appeared Dominique, and behind him Tor raced past,
his glossy white hooves clacking against the marble. Had the—yes—the
unicorn had spoken beyond the
erie
and wakened her from it.

The Red Lady spun and pointed her Enchanted scepter. "The
unicorn!" she announced, and then scurried from the room in a
flight of flowing white skirts.

At the touch of the alicorn, Dominique flew into the air.
Connecting to the wall with a sickening crunch, he slid down to land
in a tangle of legs and wings.

Gossamyr ran to the doorway. The duo—pin man and Red
Lady—were on to the room filled with essences.

Scampering back to the center of the room, she retrieved her staff
and glanced to Ulrich.

"Leave me," he whispered.

"And when did you become such a pitiful excuse?"
Planting the staff before her, she leaped, using the short bit of
applewood to lengthen her distance. Arms stretched, she straightened
her legs upward and kicked Ulrich in the gut. The blow released him
from the
erie.
He landed the floor less gracefully than
Gossamyr's crouch.

A yelp and a moan clued her the man would survive. She had been
rather rough with him of late, poor thing. He deserved only kindness.

"Dragon piss!" Ulrich whined. "When will you see to
leaving this poor old man in peace?"

"When you are poor and old and worthy of ignorance. Are you
all there?" She pressed a hand to his bare chest.
"Soul...intact?"

"I think so."

"Did she kiss you?"

"A bit."

"A bit?"

"Once or twice."

"Hmm." She touched his cheek, tilting it to a side. His
eyes fluttered, but beneath the nervous lids vivid blue flashed. "Yet
you are still whole."

"Yet." Probing over his body with his fingers, Ulrich
finally nodded and let out a sigh. "I may be beaten, Faery Not,
but I am far from broken."

"That is the Ulrich I like to hear."

Flinging her arms about him, Gossamyr hugged him, drawing him
upright to clasp to her chest.

"Faery Not?"

"Yes?"

"You are...hugging me."

"I know." And she gasped out a happy sound. "I
would kiss you, as well, but we've more urgent needs."

"Must we? I could manage a kiss."

Gossamyr forced their separation, but Ulrich touched her face.

"What of you? I thought you were off to find your father."
His head lolled, but he snapped it level. Remnants of the
erie.
"Did you speak to Shinn?"

"I did." Softly, she touched the green bruise on his
cheek. That a woman could hurt this man! A charming smile managed to
stir up a smile on her face. "You have taught me much, Ulrich. I
do believe that a man can love a child, even if she is not of his
blood. Shinn thinks love is elusive, but it was love that kept him
silent about my mortality. He has always had the mortal passion, as
have I."

Two blinks offered a silent agreement. Still woozy from the Red
Lady's
erie,
surely. A film of glimmer purled a trail from the
corner of his right eve.

"What be wrong with your eye?"

"Nothing that hurts overmuch. Don't touch it! It
seeps...glamour, I think."

"Glamour?"

"I spoke to Shinn, too."

"My father— When?"

"Mayhap right after you did."

So Shinn had sought Ulrich. There was no reason—

"He took your sight?"

"Just the one eye. Blessings, but I cannot see faeries now.
Though, I did see the red bitch, or at least, part of her. There is
another whom I cannot see."

"Avenall."

"Ah." He held up a swaying finger. "Your forgetful
lover. Do you count him as your enemy?"

"No." At the moment she needed any would ally themselves
to her. Sure, he stood at the Red Lady's side; but for now—
"Ready for some danger?"

"Does that bitch yet hold the alicorn?"

"She does."

"Then I'm right behind you."

"Let's be to it!" Gossamyr dashed out into the hallway
and slid to a stop. She glanced back; the soul shepherd rolled to his
knees.

"Right behind you!" he called.

The white marble halls twisted into dark curves and long stretches
of cold blackness. When Gossamyr felt sure they had passed the same
horned gargoyle torch, candle held in claw, she turned to find the
scent of myrrh drew her forward down the hallway, dark on the end she
and Ulrich stood, and bright a short dash onward.

The clomp of hooves alerted them both. Sliding to a halt, Gossamyr
pressed back a hand to still Ulrich at her side.

"The unicorn. Slowly, Ulrich. We don't want to frighten it."

The beast paused at the T at the end of the hall, shook its head
and stamped the floor. Tor's brilliant luster illuminated all.

"That be a unicorn?"

"Shh."

"It's...why, it is but a white horse!"

"Sacrilege! Oh!"

And the beast was off, snorting its displeasure.

"You've chased it off with your unthinking words."

"But it looks like any other—sorry." Ulrich pushed
the staff from his bare chest. Offering compliance with splayed hands
near his shoulders, he said, "Whatever you bid, I shall do. Lead
on, champion."

Tempted so suddenly, Gossamyr kissed him. Quick. A reaction to her
heart. A mortal passion she had no desire to avoid.

"Remember your eye, Ulrich. You can no longer see the
Enchanted. Mayhap that is why you see but a horse."

"You've got a point— Gossamyr?"

She turned another corner and strode ahead, her focus, finding the
Red Lady.

Left standing beside the hot flicker of gargoyle flame, the
fleeting warmth of a woman's kiss quickly receding, Ulrich surveyed
his surroundings.

Empty hall...that led to another empty hall.

To the right, one Faery Not—not skipping down that way. (She
needn't his interference.)

To the left—one white horse?

"Here, pretty, pretty..."

Gossamyr ran into the pin man outside the door protected by the
seven gargoyles. She remembered this place. The room filled with
essences was just through the huge marble door. "Avenall?"

A beastly yowl startled her thoroughly. One of the gargoyles
tossed its candle at her. Flame burned her elbow. Sulfurous sparkles
tainted the air. Spatters of fire licked up her back, tracing the
length of her braid.

A force hit Gossamyr's chest. Avenall flung her to the ground.
Their bodies crushed together, Gossamyr yelped as the hard surface
battered her bones. The roll snuffed out the flame. Tickles of red
hair swept her face.

"Avenall!"

He stood and, fisting his fingers in the air, roared and kicked
the stone beast.

The gargoyle opened its stone jaw and silently yowled back.

With another warning hiss to the stoic torch, the fée
minion knelt at Gossamyr's side. One of his wings bent and brushed
her cheek. So dry, the once supple wing. Violet eyes, more red now,
blinked as he surveyed her body. "You are fine and well?"

"As best possible." Snapping her right shoulder forward
tugged what felt like a dislocated bone back into place. Sitting up,
Gossamyr touched the lifeless wing skimming her side; it was cold,
not at all warm or iridescent. "You...remember me?"

"I did not remember for so long. Now I do." A quick
smile was destroyed by a confused wrinkle of brow. "She took it
all from me. Gossamyr?" Red tears streamed across his pale
cheeks.

"You remember."