Page 21 of Between Soul and Vessel
The man-rabbit stopped, covered his face, and hissed, “It’s too bright! Too bright! My vision givers! My vision givers!”
I looked at Dameon, pressing my hand downwards.
He gave me anI-better-not-regret-thislook before he dissolved his sword.
“Speak your purpose, creature,” I said, my voice firm.
He lowered his hands and slowly began to approach me. “I only want to eat it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just a little nibble here. Just a little nibble there.”
“Eat what?” Zahra asked.
The creature pointed to the twitching hand.
“I’m going to be sick,” she said, covering her mouth.
The man-rabbit rattled out a laugh. “Silly goddess. Have you never tasted such a delicacy before? The maggots make the Puddle Dweller handsso juicy!” He threw his hands into the air, emphasizing the final word.
“That’ll do it,” Zahra gagged, and she turned away.
The creature held up his grimy little fingers, wiggling them in anticipation. When he went to dive on the hand, I brought my combat boot down on it.
“No, no, no,” the creature cried out as he tried to pry the hand from underneath my boot. “You’re squishing it! You’re squishing it!”
I bent forward, an empty grin twisting my lips. “How would you like to make a deal?”
Von
Aheavy mist rolled off the murky bog. It swirled around my ankles, tempting my shadows. I paid it little mind, my attention stuck on the eerily calm waters. Yes, this was the place. Although I hadn’t been to these lands in decades, if not centuries, I was the maker of them and I knew them well.
“I didn’t agree to this!” the man-rabbit screamed—his writhing body shadow-chained to a boulder.
“Technically, he didn’t,” Zahra said under her breath, her arms threaded over her chest. The white flames inked into her skin glowed in the darkness of this place—a sure sign her powers were at the ready, should they be needed.
“Semantics,” I replied, my gaze swinging from Zahra to Dameon. “I suppose it is a good thing you two came after all. Who wants to do the honors?”
“The honors of what?” the creature squeaked.
My attention flicked toward him, conjuring an apple which my shadows swiftly wedged in his mouth.
“Mm-mm, mmmph,” he complained in muffled grunts.
Dameon chuckled while Zahra, the bleeding heart said, “Is that necessary?”
“Probably not.” I shrugged. “But you gave me the idea with the whole spit-roast thing.” The corner of my mouth twisted upwards. “And I couldn’t help myself.”
“Of course not,” she sighed as she took a step toward the creature, a dagger forged from white flame emerging from her palm.
The creature’s eyes went wide. “Mmm-mm!”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she reassured him.
Dameon stepped to his mate’s side, his hand slipping around hers. “Let me do this,” he said as he gently slid the dagger from her hand. “Your ichor is too precious to spill.”
“Charmer,” she spoke softly.
He smirked, released her hand, then wrapped his around the blade. Fist clenched, he pulled the blade out, forging a deep cut in his skin. Before it could heal, he smeared his ichor over the creature’s chest.
“Mmmm-mmm!” the man-rabbit protested, his small body fighting against my unbreakable chains.
