Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

I stared at myself in the polished wall, surprised at the vision reflected back at me. The woman in the mirror was no longer a stranger. We smiled at each other, and she wasn’t Chalice anymore. We were Evangeline, and we looked fabulous in our Grecian dress. My hair was drying on its own, creating thick brown waves that framed my face and shoulders. Even without makeup, my cheeks blazed with color. My eyes were bright. A trick of the environment, no doubt, but still mesmerizing.

For the first time in two days, I truly felt alive. And hopeful.

A bell chimed, the tiniest tinkle. “Evangeline?” I turned toward the door and the familiar voice. My orange sprite stood in the doorway. “Amalie requests your company.”

Finally, some answers. The sprite stepped aside and led the way. The stone pathways were smooth beneath my bare feet as we ascended another flight of carved steps to the third level, then up to the fourth. Fair Ones of all species buzzed and flew and scampered. Many just watched. I felt scrutinized, but not unwelcome.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jaron,” the sprite said.

I blinked. This was Amalie’s bodyguard? The sprite that Wyatt had once described as a man big enough to intimidate a professional wrestler? Avatar ability or not, it was a disparity I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around.

Jaron led us all the way to the top level of the complex. I paused and looked down at the circular pathways below. Activity surrounded me. We were closer to the source of the waterfall, and the pool seemed so tiny, like an onyx eye peeking up from a distance.

“It’s the Anjean River,” Jaron said. “It flows above us.”

“Cool.”

She stopped in front of a circular doorway, its border decorated with an intricate pattern. It could have been a language, but I definitely couldn’t read it. Jaron pulled back the curtain.

I ducked to step through and felt the same encompassing buzz of magic inside. The room’s physical simplicity surprised me. The main piece of furniture on the smooth, tan floor was a long, polished stone table, covered with platters of fruit and vegetables and nuts and grains. Pitchers of liquid stood amongst the feast. Another sphere hung from the ceiling, casting the perfect amount of light.

Amalie lounged in a stone chair decorated with living flowers and vines, placed at the head of the table. Her bright smile made me giddy. She waved me forward.

“Please, help yourself,” she said.

I gaped at the table’s bounty, too timid to touch anything. But the smells were tantalizing, and my stomach grumbled. I inhaled deeply, identifying the heady, sweet scent of wine from one of the pitchers. The bottle of tepid water seemed so long ago.

A throat cleared. I pivoted, hair swirling in a loose flurry. Wyatt stood just inside of the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. My heart sped up at the sight. His keepers had cobbled together slacks in much the same manner as my dress. The thin, bronze fabric was belted at his waist, cut and tucked to create a makeshift crotch, and cinched with velvet ribbon at both ankles. The sides of the legs were completely open, flashing toned muscles and tanned skin.

His hair was tousled, finger-combed, and allowed to dry, and his face was freshly shaved. His bare chest glistened, showing off a roped torso and tight abs. The new scent of fruit—apples, maybe—hinted that he’d used the oils provided. More than his physical attractiveness, though, I stared at his flawless skin—stared until I realized what bothered me.

The array of parallel bruises I’d seen two days ago were gone. The knife wound from our previous fight with the goblin scouts was likewise gone. Not healed—there would have been some faint residual marks. They were just gone, as though they’d never existed.

“Evy,” he said. I looked up, met his smiling eyes. “You look like a goddess.”

My cheeks heated. “You, too,” was all I managed.

“Do I? Should I be in that dress?”

“You know what I mean, jackass. What happened?” I pointed at his chest.

“I’m not sure. One of the gnomes put something in my bathwater that smelled like peppermint. When I got out, they were gone.”

Note to self: gnomes have big heads and small bodies.

“They possess great knowledge of healing,” Amalie said. “Consider it a gift.”

“I feel like I owe you so much already,” I said.

She shook her head side to side, as elegant as it was forceful. “You have done much for us without knowing. I feel I cannot offer you enough recompense.”

Not particularly inspiring. Wyatt joined me at the table and eyed the goodies spread out in front of us. I picked up one of the largest strawberries I’d ever seen and inhaled its tantalizing aroma. Perfection in a piece of fruit.

“Why did you rescue us?” Wyatt asked.

“As I said, Wyatt Truman, you have been a service to us without your knowledge. I could not see allowing you to wither in those cells, apart from each other, until her time is up.”

“You brought me here to die?” I asked, the strawberry halfway to my lips. A small flare of fury lit deep in my belly.

“I cannot change what has been put into motion, Evangeline. I do not possess that sort of power.”

“So that’s it? Your compensation for a job well done—so well done I didn’t even know I was doing it—is to die down here with the faeries? To sit on my ass, drink wine, and let Tovin win?”

Amalie bristled when I said his name. Her skin darkened to the color of her eyes. Every crystal glittered and winked. “You proved Tovin a traitor. He sees nothing, except potential gain for himself. There will be no peace for the Fair Ones, or anyone else, should the goblins come into power. Even the vampires know the potential cost of this fight.”

“Isleen,” I said, thinking of her for the first time in hours. “Do you know what happened to her? She was captured along with me.”

“Then she is likely dead. Vampires do not suffer threats, nor do they bargain for their people. She will have no value to the half-Bloods who captured you.”

My shoulders sagged. I dropped the uneaten strawberry onto the delicate silver platter from which it came. Wyatt slipped his arm around my waist. I melted into the warmth of him and the apple-sweet scent of his body.

“This whole time,” I said, “I thought the Bloods didn’t give a damn, that they were our enemies, but they were trying to help. Isleen wanted to help, just like her sister, and now they’re both dead.”

“She did her part,” Amalie said. “As we all do ours. Each has a role to play in coming events—some more than others.”

“Then what makes you so sure my part is over? I’m not done fighting, dammit. I will not give up and just let Tovin take Wyatt’s free will for whatever godforsaken purpose he has in mind.”

“You cannot undo the bargain they have created, Evangeline. A freewill pact, signed in blood, can only be voided by the spilling of more blood.”

“What the hell does that mean? Do I have to sacrifice a goat?”

Her color tone lightened. “That is not what I meant. This is not within the scope of my powers, but I am told that there are three ways in which this pact can be voided in blood.”

My stomach quivered. Wyatt’s other arm came around my waist, and I clasped my hands over his. I needed to hear this, but was terrified to know.

“If Evangeline dies before the end of the seventy-two hours, it is voided,” Amalie said.

“We came up with that one on our own,” I said. “But the fact that I’ve healed after every little scratch and bruise means that Tovin put some extra effort into making sure that didn’t happen. If the hound attack didn’t kill me, few things weaker than a beheading likely will.”