Part 33 (1/2)
”She does not take mortal souls. Nor is he my man. Avenall! Look at me!”
The pin man merely glanced to the undulating yellow ma.s.s high above the others. ”You are too familiar with my name, wench.”
”As we have been familiar with one another?”
What power had the Red Lady over him that he did not recognize her? Or was it the mark of the banished, delivered by her father, that had erased his memory?
”The mortal is stalked by my mistress.”
”Ulrich will not be fooled by your mistress's wicked cry.” If Gossamyr could be there to keep watch over the man. Blight, she had so many to concern herself with.
”Oh, but it is a most delicious cry, fair lady. Irresistible and insatiable. The succubus can make any man want her, as well, hate her as he is kneeling before her pristine skirts.”
A glint of malice iced the man's words. Gossamyr guessed at his hatred. So he was not entirely at the succubus's mercy? Bone.
”You despise her, don't you? You merely bide your time until you can retrieve your essence and escape.”
”No.”
”Oh, yes. Let me pull it down for you and send you on your way. Leave the Red Lady to me. She'll not pursue you for I'll remove her black essence and pin it to the wall before the day is through.”
The pin man laughed and snorted and caught himself by clutching one of the wide marble bedposts. ”Foolish wench, my mistress has no essence. Why do you think she has such a collection?”
”But she does nothing with them. What is the purpose of keeping them pinned to look upon?”
”She feeds off the Enchantment. Which in turn keeps the Disenchantment at bay. Do you see that one down there?”
Gossamyr looked to the green essence on the bottom, shriveled and flickering intermittently.
”Needs to be replaced anon,” the pin man said. ”As will they all.”
”What of yours? How is it you survive without the essence?”
He lifted his chin defiantly. ”My mistress... keeps me strong.”
Gossamyr knew the answer. His time was limited. ”Is it because you both bear the mark of the banished? Is that what binds you to her?”
Striding in a prancing arc before her, Avenall spun a pin in hand, the huge round head rotating in his palm. A twist of his head upon his neck aimed a hard glare on her.
”Why do you reek of Faery, strange woman? Yet I know you are not fee.”
”Half-” Gossamyr started, but Avenall's wicked glee unsettled her. Could it be he did recall her, yet was unable to place that memory? It could merely be that the Disenchantment was so thorough. But no, he must be Enchanted for his wings. Did it matter? He had not recall of the two of them-she must help him to remember. With Avenall as her ally they could defeat the Red Lady and return to- Gossamyr felt a twinge of regret at her lost ties to Faery. Is that how all fee felt the loss? But a mere twitch inside their gut? Surely it must be greater? s.h.i.+nn should have prepared her...
”s.h.i.+nn?”
”What?” Gossamyr squinted at the man. Where had he gotten the name - ”Did you peer into my mind?”
”No need.” He straightened his shoulders and clacked two pins together within his grip. ”Your fear is tangible, daughter of s.h.i.+nn.”
”I do not fear- How do you know such?”
”So you are? Or rather-” he stretched his arms out and dashed a theatrical slide across the marble step ”-claim to be when it is all a lie.”
”Why speak you so, pin man? How can you guess such things? Do you lie about your memory of Faery?”
”Do you deny you are s.h.i.+nn's daughter?”
”No.”
She is queer-gotten-not of her parents' blood. Gossamyr shook her head, striking away Ulrich's tale of a daughter he claimed as his own though not a drop of his blood flowed through her veins. Strange to think it.
”But do you remember-”
”s.h.i.+nn has made you believe you are truly of his blood? He has gulled you most effectively.”
She stepped back, lowering her staff to her side. The arrets at her hip clicked. Essences danced on the wall. The melody of sadness wrapped about her shoulders. What lies did this leering thing speak to her? To trick her?
”They are not lies.” The man stepped forward, a tilt to one of the pins glinting violet. Like a shard of Faery sight. ”True blood wears the violet in their eyes,”he said, a wicked curl creva.s.sing the corner of his mouth. ”Your eyes, warrior b.i.t.c.h, appear quite not violet to me. Brown, are they?”
Thud of heartbeats trammeled up her throat. Balance wavered.
”Stop.” She would not listen to this foul attempt to weaken her.
To make her question. She swallowed back the rising panic. Of course they were brown; Veridienne's had been the same.
The need to help this pitiful excuse for a fee oozed from her intentions. The Red Lady was not here? She would go in quest of the succubus.
Spinning to leave, Gossamyr strode past the wall. Essences of the fee cried out in a purgatorial scream.
Brown, are they?
The pin man sang teasingly, ”I know of you, mortal changeling.”
TWENTY-ONE.
Changeling?
Gossamyr pressed the heel of her hand to the cold marble wall. What play did the pin man attempt? Yes, pin man. Avenall was long gone. Not a lover. She wanted nothing to do with one who would tease her so cruelly.
Unable to take another step, she closed her eyes, wis.h.i.+ng it were as easy to close her ears to the man's words. ”How can you claim to know I am s.h.i.+nn's daughter when you cannot recall our own connection?”
”We? Connected?” A flutter of his life-drained wings swept the foulness of bloodied heliotrope across their distance. ”If there was such, memory was stolen from me upon banishment.”
She let out a breath.
”I know only what I have been given.” Drawing himself straight, his arms lax at his sides, the pins were forgotten for the moment. ”After my arrival in Paris, my mistress told me much about s.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege. And his mortal daughter.”