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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: DEEP IN THE BEAST’S DEN
Pix rushed through the door, her wand at the ready in her hand, only to have her jaw drop when she saw the pretty, frilly bedroom. And the couple embracing in the middle of it. Still standing in a battle-ready position, she stared at the petite girl in the long, thin red nightgown standing in the arms of a brawny, bearded man in flannel, both their eyes filled with shock. Pix turned to look at Den, who stared in pain on her knees at the couple, her betrayed yips piercing the night.
The woodsman stepped in front of the girl protectively, shielding her from the others. “What is going on?”
That was what Pix wanted to know.
The girl—who Pix assumed was Scarlet—peeked out from behind her protector, her perfect, blond ringlets flouncing as she clung to the woodsman’s arm. “Den? What are you doing here?”
Pix shot a glare at the whimpering wolf. Den? How did the Redd Company heiress know Den’s name? What in the frogging bog was going on?
“I came here for you,” Den whined as she got to her feet. “I came to take you away from here. Away from your family. Away from my pack.” She stepped closer, reaching out an imploring hand to Scarlet. “So we could be together.”
The man backed up, forcing Scarlet along with him. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Den growled as she sized up the woodsman. “And who in the gob are you?”
Flexing to make himself appear larger, more intimidating, the man kept backing up. “The man who’s going to wear your pelt as a cloak.”
Den flashed her teeth, making Scarlet gasp. Scarlet gripped the man’s thick bicep. “Chase, please. Surely, there’s no need for that.”
Chase grunted. “No need? These two stole into your bed in the middle of the night!”
“Den,” Pix hissed, getting a better picture of the situation and not liking it, “let’s get out of here.” She grabbed Den’s arm only to be shaken off.
Without looking away from Chase, Den advanced slowly. “And what exactly are you doing here?” Den’s fists clenched.
Chase raised his chin arrogantly. “I was bidding my betrothed good night.”
“Betrothed!”
Pix winced as another howl cut through the room. This was not good. She gripped her wand. “Den, we need to go before the rest of the guards come back.”
Chase grinned in challenge. “Yeah, run to the woods with your tail between your legs, little pup. I’ll just track you down later.”
Den turned to look at Scarlet accusingly. “So this is who you left me for?” She balked. “Some lumbering woodsman with sawdust for brains?”
Scarlet looked ready to cry, her big, blue eyes tearing up so prettily even Pix felt it tug at her sympathies, as she gazed apologetically at Den, while still holding tight to Chase. “Den, I—” She shook her head, her curls tossing dramatically. “I just—”
Pix’s heart lurched when she saw Chase suddenly reach into the dark. “Den, watch out!”
But it was too late. Chase, grabbing a sharp knife from the bedside table, lunged at Den, taking her down onto the hardwood floor. “Wrong, wolf,” he said as he struck her across the face with the hilt of the large, curved knife. “She didn’t leave you for a woodsman.” He leaned in and let out a defiant chuckle. “She left you for a hunter.”
Pix thrust out her wand, ready to forcibly break the two up, when Lethe burst in through the window. “Pix! Those axemen are chopping down the tree and I’m pretty sure it’ll take the prince down with it.”
Great! Just what she needed. The would-be rescue woodsmen were going to end up killing their dignitary in distress and absolutely ruining her plans for revenge. She shook her head as she watched Den and their own weapon-wielding brute tussle on the floor. Pix wanted to scream. This was supposed to be easy. A simple smash-and-grab rescue job, not some bungled, love-triangle kidnapping attempt. Why did nothing in her life turn out how it should? She should never have trusted Den! Her aunt was right; when should she learn? Trusting anyone only led to disaster.
Frustrated, she shook her head. First things first, she pointed her wand upward, gritting her teeth as she sent a strong stream of power that burst out, illuminating the room in blinding white light. She felt her breath catch and her body wilt as her power—her essence—shot out of her to fill the night. Trying to stay upright, her body wobbled and crumbled beneath her, leaving her gasping on the floor. Her fingers fumbled to keep hold of her wand, but it tumbled out of her hand and under the frilled bed. She grunted in frustration. She didn’t have time to chase after it. The draining spell had a bit of a delay before it kicked in, but not enough. And she still needed to get to Den before it did.
“What did you just do?”
Pix weakly looked up to see Chase, Den, Scarlet, Slyth, and Lethe all looking at her in horror. She shook her head, feeling like she was about to pass out. It probably wasn’t the wisest course to do that spell, seeing as it left her all but defenseless afterward, but she’d had little choice.
“What did she just do?” Chase repeated his question, punctuating it with his fist. Pix tried to push herself up to her feet when she heard Den groan in pain before Chase tossed the wolf across the floor. Pix tried to scramble back at the sound of heavy footsteps heading her way. “What did you just do, witch?”
Hating that she already felt unacceptably weak, Pix refused to show fear in front of this overgrown, muscle-bound woodcutter. She lifted her chin. “Just a little light show to lighten the moo—” But before she could even finish, Chase backhanded her, knocking her face-down on the floor.
“Do not lie to me, wicked one. I know you did something and you will tell me what.” He kicked her, sending her sliding toward Den.
Even though it caused a sharp pain to shoot through her middle, Pix wanted to thank him. That was exactly what she wanted. Just as her body collided with the prone wolf, Pix gripped Den’s shoulder. She reached out her hand. “Lethe, Slyth!” Thankfully recognizing the transportation spell, her familiars quickly clung to her, before all of them vanished from the cottage a split moment before Chase could descend on them again.
* * *
Fallon tried to scream at the woodsmen, who did not seem like the sharpest axes in the shed, that their attempts to rescue him from the tree by chopping down the tree were more likely to trap him under the troll-forsaken, toppled tree than actually free him. Which was not helping! But, when she’d hung him up here like some dangling decoration, that pesky, punitive fairy had gagged him again. At least, she’d done it this time with the same invisible bonds that were on his hands and feet, rather than the humiliating bow. But it would have been really helpful, if he could actually speak to the haplessly heroic horde before they accidentally killed him. He gasped when he heard the split trunk crack loudly and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the tree begin to fall.
But, as images of sharp branches impaling his helplessly bound body filled his mind, Fallon felt his struggling body suddenly break free. Relying on his training and years of adventuring, he instinctively tucked in his body and rolled out of the way of the worst of the branches, covering his head and chest as he hit the ground. Quickly, he sprung to his feet and moved out of the way of the teetering tree. What had happened? How had he gotten free? Surely, it wasn’t due to those orc-ing, chop-happy flunkies. But then what?
He looked down, when his foot tripped on something groaning on the ground. He blinked down at the mangled mess of fur, blood, and wings. Was that Den and— “Pix?” He bent down and rolled the tinier figure over, careful of her wings as he freed her from the wolf’s larger body. “Pix, are you okay?” He brushed her hair off her face, seeing the start of a bruise swell her cheek. “Pix, what happened?” He bent low to her face and held a tense breath. Letting out a relieved sigh, he felt her breathe, soft and shallow, against his cheek.
He turned when he heard another low groan. The wolf stood up with a pained wince, favoring its left side. Not turning toward him, it growled, “We need to leave.”
The crow fluttered around Pix’s still unconscious head. “You’ll need to carry her.”
The wolf huffed and shook its head, still holding its side. “I can’t.”
From Pix’s wrist, the snake looked the wolf up and down. “We know that.” It turned to Fallon. “You’ll need to. If they find her…”
They’d hurt her. Or worse. Fallon touched her bruised cheek. Yeah, he knew that. As Granny Redd’s guards, that was their duty. Fallon grunted. Pix felt so small, so fragile, in his arms. Unconscious, she just looked like an ordinary girl. Who’d been struck and brought down by, if those lumbering axe-wielders were anything to go by, someone more than twice her size. Fallon’s jaw squared as he glared toward the cottage, wondering who had dared. Who had taken this fearless, powerful fairy and stolen her strength? Maybe he shouldn’t—she was bad, she’d hurt people—but Fallon hated that Pix had been laid low. It didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem fair. She was a big, bad, terrifying witch; she should never look like a broken doll. Like some damsel in distress.
“Fallon!” Lethe chirped at the sound of the guards searching for them. “We must go.”
With a nod, he scooped Pix’s frail form close and lifted her up. “Where are we going?”
“This way, princeling,” the wolf said as it moved into the shadows.
Fallon frowned, not liking that word on the wolf’s tongue. But they had more important things to deal with at the moment. Biting back a cutting response, Fallon cradled Pix gently but firmly and followed the wolf deeper into the woods.
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