The next morning, a half-breed angel, her faerie girlfriend, and the human magician they’d agreed to help left Bravehaven behind. Their mission? To save a little girl from Hell, where she lived with her demonic father.

  Maeve’s Place shrank in the distance as Dysella sighed, looking back.

  “Having regrets already?” Maeve asked, winking.

  The half-breed angel shook her head. And then she thought for a moment before opening her mouth.

  “It’s possible to miss something you’ve left behind without regretting the choices you’ve made,” she said.

  “Wow. No devilpiss for 30 seconds, and you’re already a philosopher. I should really stop ordering crates of that shit if it leaves you with functional brain cells,” Maeve said.

  Chloey snickered, and for a moment, Dysella didn’t know who to yell at first. Knowing any bitching she lobbed at Maeve would wind up bouncing off the fae, she turned on the magician.

  “You’ve got some nerve laughing at my expense,” the angel snapped.

  Chloey’s mouth closed immediately.

  “Yeah, that’s right! First, you come into my tavern—” Dysella started before being interrupted.

  “My tavern,” Maeve quickly corrected.

  “Her tavern,” Dysella said, adjusting her bitching on the fly. “Then, you lie to me. Get me bitten by a vampire. Inspire me to help you pull your daughter out of Hell. And now, you’re laughing over Maeve’s remarks at my expense? I don’t think so, magic lady.”

  Silence fell over the trio as they continued their march away from the tavern. Ahead of them, a raccoon skittered off into a thick patch of bushes.

  The trio continued hiking through the woods for an hour and eventually came to a faerie circle. A ring of white mushrooms about 20 feet wide lay out in the open.

  Location: Faerie Ring

  Description: A small, naturally occurring overlap between the faewilds and mortal reality. They grow overnight, often appearing and vanishing without explanation. Occasionally, faeries in the mortal reality grow them with their own magic and guard them. Fae can use the rings for two purposes. First, passing through into the faewilds from the mortal reality or vice versa. Second, they may draw upon the greater magic available to them from the faewilds while remaining in the mortal reality.

  Chloey paused and stared as Maeve approached the ring.

  The ex-godmother said, “This will do nicely.”

  Then, she reached into the backpack she carried and pulled out a giant head of what appeared to be broccoli. Stepping up to the mushroom circle, Maeve closed her eyes for a moment, calling forth faewild magic. Maeve’s hair started to hover around her. The fae’s aura glowed green, and her eyes transitioned to solid emerald, with no pupils or whites visible.

  “I am she who was born of the wild, servant of Queen Titania of the Sun Court, and I demand entrance into your circle,” she said with a booming voice that echoed through the trees.

  The faerie circle shook for a moment and then fell still. Everyone waited for something to happen. And finally, a raggedy voice called out from a nearby tree.

  “Arrhk! You may use my circle, servant of Queen Titania. I am ever a humble ally to the Sun Queen. Arrhk!”

  Everyone looked up to see a raven hopping to the end of a tree branch 20 feet above them. Its feathers were blue-black, but the bird had four eyes instead of the normal two. Its normal eyes were beady and black. But underneath them were what appeared to be two human eyes embedded in the bird’s skull. Each eye looked at a different member of the trio. Chloey shivered seeing the bird.

  Maeve nodded at the raven before lowering herself into a small bow.

  Chloey leaned in close to Dysella, which only caused the half-breed angel to flinch in confusion. And she whispered, “What is that thing?”

  Dysella raised an eyebrow.

  “You’ve never seen a quatcrow?” she said.

  With a sharp turn, Maeve flashed her girlfriend a dirty stare, one that reminded the half-breed angel four-eyed corvids from the faewilds weren’t called that. And she knew it. Dysella just grinned and blew Maeve a kiss.

  The fae rolled her eyes and then carefully stepped into the circle. Once inside, her features grew more untamed. Pointed teeth. She added another foot of height. Longer elven ears. Bigger eyes. Her hair grew longer, and it shone with small white sparkles of light, like diamonds, through her follicles.

  Both Dysella and Chloey were watching far more closely now. The angel licked her lips while Chloey felt her heart hammering in a way she could only describe as “feral.” She shivered again.

  Placing her large head of broccoli into the ground, Maeve buried the stalk a few inches into the soil. Then, she took one step back.

  Technique: Vegetative Construct [Horses]

  Description: Using her magic and connection to the faewilds, Maeve is able to grow full-sized horses from the expanding head of broccoli. The stalk and stems form the body and limbs, while the florets become the mane for each horse. The creatures look, move, and sound like real horses. But they are constructed from vegetative matter.

  Duration: 24 hours, unless dismissed earlier by the construct shaper.

  Maeve led three broccoli horses from the faerie ring, returning to her previous form as she stepped out of the circle. The constructs remained as they were while crossing over fully to mortal reality.

  Turning back to the four-eyed corvid, Maeve nodded her head once more.

  “Arrhk! Relay to Queen Titania of my loyalty when next you see her. Arrhk!” the bird hacked before disappearing back into the tree’s foliage.

  Dysella approached one of the horses with the familiarity of one who had ridden on a broccoli steed before. And Maeve’s magic had rendered the temperament of these constructed creatures rather tame. They existed to carry riders from A to B. The looks and noises they produced were for aesthetics. Even the worst rider wouldn’t be bucked. And they did not grow tired so much as their bodies wore down faster the harder they were pushed.

  Climbing up onto their mounts, Dysella and Maeve turned back to Chloey. The mother’s steed hovered over her, waiting patiently to be ridden. It stood still as a statue, a leafy green statue, that is.

  “What are you waiting for?” Dysella asked.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  The magician cleared her throat and examined the steed, as if she were looking for a saddle or reins. She found neither.

  “I don’t suppose I can just walk beside you both?” Chloey asked sheepishly.

  The half-breed angel sighed.

  “No, lady. Look, you were the one who gave us a one-month timeline to rescue your daughter. In 30 days, we have to get my wings back, reacquire my armor and flaming sword, and find a way into Hell that doesn’t get us killed or stuck there for all eternity. We’re not walking from here to Ravistus. We’re riding. Now get on.”

  When Chloey still hadn’t moved 20 seconds later, Maeve held up a hand toward her girlfriend that said she’d take it from here. The retired godmother climbed down from her steed and walked over to Chloey.

  “I don’t know how to ride,” the magician whispered, staring down at the ground.

  Maeve grabbed the much smaller woman by the hips and easily hoisted her up onto the steed while Chloey yipped. Once she was seated, her hands fumbled around, panicking until they found purchase in the floret mane. She gripped it tightly, her eyes wide with fear.

  “There’s nothing to learn, Chloey. This isn’t a real horse. The construct does all the work for you. All you have to do is not fall off. It’ll follow my mount. And seeing as functioning cars don’t exist in Nameless anymore, this is the best we’ve got.”

  With a squeamish nod, Chloey accepted her fate. Maeve slapped her thigh and winked before returning to her steed.

  And with that, the broccoli horses took off at a good trot.

  They rode for most of the day before Chloey finally asked, “Where exactly are we going?”

  Dysella called back to her.

  “Ravistus removed my wings at a. . . let’s be generous and call it a clinic just outside of Pawtucket. He set up shop not long after the Duel, offering all kinds of supernatural surgeries for people who could pay. The guy before me, shorter dude with tall black hair and anger issues, walked in with two eyes and left with three.”

  Nodding, Chloey considered this. They could make good time on their mounts and arrive at Pawtucket the next day if the trio didn’t run into trouble.

  The magician found herself growing more curious as they rode. Dysella and Maeve talked a little bit about ways into Hell and mostly left Chloey to her own devices. When they stopped for a piss break, the magician cleared her throat just before they got back on their mounts.

  “So. . . can I ask why you got rid of your wings? The ability to instantly travel to wherever you’ve been seems like a pretty big thing to get rid of.”

  Maeve watched, her lips a straight line, waiting to see which path Dysella would take in this conversation.

  To the fae’s surprise, Dysella chose to be blunt and honest with Chloey.

  “It was a trade,” she said, stretching her arms up high into the sky. Then, she slowly curled backward and sighed.

  The magician looked to Maeve, but the ex-godmother offered her no clues. If Chloey wanted more answers, she’d have to risk probing further into Dysella’s past, knowing there were landmines buried everywhere.

  “I assume you got something pretty good for your wings,” Chloey said, snapping an optimistic smile onto her lips.

  Dysella returned the smile, though hers was far more sardonic.

  “I’d certainly say so, given that I traded my wings for a cunt.”

  The half-breed angel climbed back onto her steed. As she did so, Chloey choked on her saliva, eyes widening while she tried to parse the words Dysella had spoken.

  “I’m sorry. You traded your wings for what?!” she stammered.

  Maeve burst out laughing, but this didn’t startle the horses.

  “You heard me,” Dysella said. “Don’t be daft. I didn’t have the privilege of being born with a cunt, so I had a demonic scalpel jockey carve one into me in exchange for my wings. Not to worry, though, Maeve seems to enjoy the taste as much as organic farm-fresh cunt.”

  System message: If you cannot produce your own cunt, lab-grown is fine.

  The fae shrugged and said, “No arguments here.”

  They started at a trot, not pushing the broccoli steeds as hard after noticing some cracks in their legs from how hard they’d ridden through the morning and afternoon.

  Silence overtook the group once more as Chloey tried to figure out just who had agreed to help her. Sure, she’d seen a literal angel in the Four Leaf yesterday, but the Dysella talking to her now was surprisingly crass. Much closer to the girl she’d lured out of the tavern.

  Eventually, Maeve hung back a little bit to ride side-by-side with the magician.

  “So, you’ve been asking my girlfriend a lot of questions. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to return the favor,” the fae said.

  Chloey motioned for her to continue.

  “How exactly does one wind up marrying a Hell Baron?”

  The magician started to rub her left wrist and stared down into the florets of her horse. When she didn’t find any easier answers in the mane, the magician sighed.

  “My story starts with a 19-year-old girl whose grandparents taught her magic and a family lineage that traces back to Erik Weisz,” she said.

  Maeve’s eyes widened.

  “Harry Houdini himself? I saw him perform twice. That was one talented mortal. Not one human in the audience knew they were witnessing true magic with each escape. That was his real trick.”

  This brought a small, golden smile to Chloey’s face.

  “I’ve seen recordings. And I’ve escaped from three different pairs of handcuffs left behind in the family vault. He was a great illusionist.”

  The fae nodded.

  “Nobody knows the real story, of course. My family has spent years collecting, archiving, and occasionally utilizing enchanted items. Some with minor spells crafted into them. Others with more horrifying power.”

  Dysella scoffed and pretended she wasn’t listening to Chloey’s story. She folded her arms behind her head and closed her eyes.

  “My father was the first in the family to leave the relic hunting and magical usage behind. ‘Superstitious junk,’ he called it. My mom agreed with him, and they tried to keep me away from all of it. But I’d already seen so much from my grandparents that their efforts were futile.”

  Chloey’s horse whinied softly as it stepped over a log.

  “When the Duel happened, my parents were caught flat-footed like most folks. Because they were estranged from the Weisz line, we were actually quite poor. And as everyone fled the continent, my parents discovered the limits of their meager wages. That’s when he appeared.”

  “Who?” Maeve asked.

  “Atticus Noblethorne,” Chloey said with a shiver. Her eyes grew dark as she uttered the Hell Baron’s name. And Dysella let loose a growl at the mention of him.

  Name: Atticus Noblethorne

  Species: Demon

  Rank: Hell Baron

  Description: One of a handful of remaining Hell Barons, Atticus is a powerful noble within the Underworld. While the Poisonwood Throne has sat empty since the Duel, and Hell is torn apart by infighting, the Barons each wield massive power and control select territories of the Underworld. The realm Atticus presides over is called Bloodmark.

  “He showed up as many demons did, sensing the desperation of those fleeing Nameless. And he offered my parents two seats on a boat bound for England. All he wanted in exchange was my hand in marriage,” Chloey said, frowning. “I had a ring on my finger before I even had a chance to realize what my mother and father had agreed to.”

  Sympathy wove itself across the fae’s entire expression. She rode close enough to place a hand on the magician’s arm briefly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

  Chloey sighed again.

  The trio continued riding past sundown. And they would have continued further if a pair of glowing red eyes hadn’t blocked their path. The man to whom they belonged stood with his arms crossed.

  Dysella brought her horse to a stop. She instantly snarled.

  The man before her had a head of trimmed black hair. And he wore a silk shirt and black leather pants. His nails had already turned into claws.

  “You know, friend, I cannot help but notice your smell. It’s a rather unique odor. I’m not sure if you’re aware. You smell like smoke and sunlight hitting concrete after a heavy downpour. It’s the same smell I found all over my brother’s pile of ashes yesterday.”

  The half-breed angel’s aura blistered upon hearing this. And Chloey gasped. Hearing her, the vampire turned to face Chloey.

  “Ah, yes, dear, I smelled you nearby, too. Though I don’t think you killed any of my nest.”

  Mollie flew out of her sheath and hovered in the air at the ready for Dysella to grab her hilt.

  “You’re not a very smart vampire if you saw what I did to your brother and decided to track me down. I killed every fucking vamp in that nest.”

  The vampire sneered.

  “Nest? My dear, that was our scouting party. The nest is all around you right now,” he said, throwing up his hands and motioning to the surrounding trees.

  Several more pairs of red eyes circled the horses, and Chloey’s breath hitched in her throat.

  Dysella started to cackle like a madwoman and hopped down from her horse. Her demeanor carried curdled fury. She licked her lips, eyes going a little feral.

  “Like I said. You aren’t very bright. I slaughtered your scouts with ease. And now you’ve brought your entire nest for me to kill,” Dysella said, taking Mollie into her left hand.

  The vampire raised his arms further into the air and let loose his own wicked grin.

  “Come try your luck then, angel.”