Flesh and fangs, p.1
Flesh & Fangs, page 1
part #1 of Divine Articles Series
Published by Flick-It-Books 2023
Copyright © Year by 2023 by Em Livett
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Emarie Livett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First addition
ISBN: 978-1-959881-11-7 (ebook), 978-1-959881-10-0 (Paperback), 978-1-959881-09-4 (Hardback)
Cover art by MiblArt
Interior art by Nicole Nance
Editing by Misti Flick
Trigger Warnings:
Some of the themes are darker in nature. If you are uncomfortable with prostitution, sexual assault, or foul language please do not read this book.
Dedication
To those who have supported me from the beginning, I love you. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. All of my dreams came true because you believed in me. Love truly is magick.
Prologue
Eerie silence echoed through the treetops and surrounded the seer, perched at the edge of the water, singing her lullaby. Her toes dipped into the ache of the chilly pool before she noted the birds’ sudden quiet. The young female glanced around the lush greenery as an icy wind brushed against her skin. Gooseflesh rose as a whisper of panic licked up her spine. Her knees wobbled as she stood, preparing to run.
Too late.
A dagger plunged into her belly, and she screamed like a banshee. The wind carried her voice for miles, alerting every living creature in the vicinity. Blood dripped from her blue lips as she peered up at her attacker. Her mouth trembled as she met those vermilion irises of the Dreich.
Fear danced through her veins like lightning. Iron coated her tongue, and her mouth opened in a silent plea. The creature smiled callously over her victim, tossing coils of scarlet hair behind her shoulder.
“Hello, sweet oracle.” She cooed, head tilted slightly. Light bathed through the canopy, casting shadow over the Driech’s smooth beige skin as she ran a cold knuckle against her victim’s cheek.
The seer coughed, spouting thick ichor onto the forest floor. She gasped, agony stretching from the wound in her stomach to her chest through each raspy breath.
“What-,” she choked, looking into the radiant feline eyes of her murderer, “-do you want from me?”
Laughing cruelly, the ginger haired monster twisted the hilt of the blade. The seer drew a sharp breath, crying out, before crumpling to the ground in a thwack. The creature bent over her body and wrenched the weapon from her stomach. Light dimmed from behind the seer’s doe eyes, and her body shuddered. Blood glinted from the dagger as the creature brought it to her lips and ran her sharp tongue over the metallic liquid.
“Tell your sisters,” she said, fangs gleaming red with her blood, “I am coming. Let them know they can either bow before the Dreich or face a fate similar to yours.”
Draped in shadow and fog, the creature disappeared as quickly as it had come. The forest sang its song once more, a melancholic melody for the fallen seer. She blinked back salty tears as each of her sisters appeared from the woods and kneeled beside her body. One of her sisters pressed a hand to the gaping wound, willing it shut.
“It’s not healing,” she muttered. “Why isn’t it healing?”
The eldest breathed deeply, staring down at the injured creature fighting for breath, and shook her head. “It poisoned the blade with anti-magick.”
“What do we do?” asked another, tears falling from her eyes as she kissed her sister’s lids closed.
Another stood, hand curled into a fist over her chest, and inhaled sharply. “The Dreich is alive and has just declared war. It’s time to put things in motion.”
“You side with the fey?” asked the eldest.
She shook her head. “No, sister. I side with the victor.”
Wind encircled the group, whispering a sorrowful goodbye to its friend. Golden sunlight leaked through the canopy, shining warmth onto the seer’s paling navy skin.
“But the future is fuzzy. We cannot sssee—”
The eldest gathered the lifeless body in her arms, hugging her tightly to her bosom. Tears burned down her cheeks as she set her in the flowing river. They all watched carefully as the current carried the figure away before she sunk to be returned to Gaia, the mother of all Fey.
“Then we manipulate it in our favor. Go, do what you must, so our sister’s death is not in vain. War is not coming. It is already here.”
RHEN
The hard floor pressed against my back over and over again, as the old man rhythmically drove into me. He pinned my hands down over my head, reveling in the sense of power it gave him. Sweat dripped off his nose into my face, and I squinched my eyes closed. Even a million baths in the creek couldn’t wash the stench of yeast and fire from his brow.
He thrusted again, and I made a noise under my breath. Chuckling lightly, he nipped at my ear. I panted heavily as he slammed against me harder, faster. A groan escaped his lips as he spasmed inside me. He collapsed on top of me for a moment, releasing my hands. I laid back with my knees practically folded to my breasts as he rose to his feet. Old man Hanes nodded swiftly in my direction.
“Always a pleasure, Rhen,” he muttered as he turned to leave. “I’ll save you a few loaves tomorrow. You’re turning positively scrawny.”
Blinking toward him, I nodded as I watched his quick departure. I swallowed deeply before sitting up, dirt from the floor crusting the palms of my hands.
It had taken years to grow accustomed to the numbness that came afterward. I’d had to adapt quickly, learn to shift out of my body during the violation and after. My first experience had been terrible and caused me to cry for an hour because it felt like someone had ripped apart my insides. Doctor Kaas had been kind, though. He’d done exactly as promised and wiped the medical bill off the record. My next client had not been so kind. Barely batted an eye as he tossed the coins next to my naked, quivering body.
I stood slowly, feeling the slickness drip down my thighs, and made for the toilet. I wiped furiously at my skin; washing each place the baker had touched until I scrubbed my legs raw from the old cloth. I peeled my threadbare dress from the floor and shrugged it over my head. It was one of Mama’s that she’d generously gifted me when I’d outgrown my own two years ago. Peering into the broken mirror hanging over the sink, I noted my hollow cheekbones. Maybe old man Hanes had a point. I made a mental note to swing by the trading center of Zephyria tomorrow for that bread.
I tiptoed out of the bathing room to the counter, where Hanes had left fourteen coins. Enough for a week’s supply of medicine for Mama. Maybe two if I could pay the doctor a favor. I shook my head, then peeked through the bedroom door where Mama slept fitfully on our bed. She’d taken her last dose of medicine last night, and it seemed to abate. I was lucky that she’d not woken during the commotion. My forehead crinkled at the thought. Typically, I met my clients at their home, but Hanes was the exception. His wife never left the house, so I allowed him to come to me. I always made sure Mama was good and doped on meds when he paid me a visit.
I kissed her lightly on the temple, drenched in sweat and hot with fever. She groaned and turned to face the wall, her black hair falling in her face. Reaching over her motionless body, I caressed her cheek and tucked her hair gently behind her ear. I leaned in and gave her another kiss. She hummed sweetly as the edges of her lips tugged into a smile.
“I’ll be back Mama.” I whispered in her ear. She didn’t move to reply, so I snuck out of the room, tossing on the lightweight fleece jacket and shrugging on my boots.
The late summer wind whistled through my hair as I trekked into the nearby woods. A chill crept in through my jacket, reminding me of the impending autumn that was just around the corner. Some leaves were already turning orange and falling to the forest floor, creating a blanket. They crunched beneath my feet as I edged further toward the creek where a patch of mugwort grew.
Water battered against rocks before steadying near the shallow pool where I peeled off my boots and waded. Despite the heat of the beating sun on my back, the water was frigid. I shivered slightly as I kicked the rippling current. Dipping my hands in, I splashed my face with the icy cold liquid.
Panic swooped in and carried me out of the spring as the droplets descended. I couldn’t shake the feeling of danger at my back as I bent over the dark green leaves and turned them over in
I shrugged my boots back on my still damp feet and strode only ten feet further into the woods. Not daring to inch any further near feyrie territory, where no doubt, any number of beasts waited to maul me. The scent of magick was strong, like citrus and wild, unrelenting fire.
Once I’d picked enough for a pot of tea, I scurried along the path that curved with the creek back to my cottage as quickly as I could. Within the last few years, more and more otherworldly creatures had broken through the invisible border that separated our realms. In the past year alone, our village lost seven children to kaanhounds, nasty demon dogs with sharp incisors that ripped flesh and peeled it back as if it were as delicate as an apple. I shivered at the thought of being brought down by one of those things. What would happen to Mama if I died? She likely wouldn’t survive two weeks without me in her condition.
Only when I entered the threshold of my home did I take a sigh of relief. Immediately, I went to work, rinsing the leaves with the bucket of water on the floor.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself while filling the iron kettle. Had I paid more attention, I would have noticed how low the pail was before and taken it with me to the creek to refill. A heavy sigh broke through my stiff chest. Tomorrow I’d have to fetch more.
Setting the kettle on the crackling fire, I wrapped the leaves in cloth before tossing them into it. I slunk to the floor, pressing my back against the cabinet. Some days, I truly wished we had more modern accommodations, like the folks in Zephyria, but electricity and running water were a luxury we couldn’t afford.
The pot whistled, steam spitting from its mouth. Mama rustled in the bedroom, moaning something incoherent. I pulled the kettle off the fire and drenched the cloth full of herbs, letting it steep for a few minutes. Pulling a mug from the cupboard, I set it on the counter, and running my hands through my hair, I slunk to the floor; finally allowing the cloud I’d drenched myself in to pull back. Raw emotion exploded from me as I sobbed on the floor. These rare moments were to feel the full weight of my heart tugging, aching, dying.
I wasn’t yet a teenager when Mama had fallen ill. It started with headaches, then fevers and confusion. She’d thrashed on the kitchen floor asking for Dad when I’d ran the three miles to the village for help. Dad had walked out when I was young. He’d kissed my forehead with a promise to bring back a new puppet for me. Mama was nothing but a shell for months when he didn’t return, but she did everything she could to make sure I didn’t suffer for it. I suspected from her sorrowful expression that he wasn’t coming home. Confirmed it when she took on a second job at the smokehouse after grueling hours working in the field.
She’d taken care of me to the best of her ability when he’d left. Had even suffered for an insurmountable time before collapsing to the illness. Even with it, she continued to work until the Doctor Kaas had revealed the severity of her condition. I convinced her I would find work and care for her the way she’d done for me for so many years on her own. She fought back, of course, but when her body became too frail to stand on her own, she caved.
That was five years ago. I’d spent the first months searching for a job in Zephyria only to be told repeatedly that I didn’t have the skills, or I was too young. When the medical bill came and threatened our existence, Doctor Kaan had offered me an out. With his promise to help us free of charge, I allowed him to defile me. Then I knew what job I’d never be turned away from.
I never told Mama what I did for money, and she never asked. Not that I would have confessed. I knew what I was doing was morally wrong, but it felt like the only job I was worthy of doing. It meant I didn’t have to become emotionally involved with anyone. No one could hurt me that way. And if I got an extra coin or two to fill our bellies, there was no harm in trying to survive. At least, that’s what I told myself every night before shutting my eyes.
Wiping at the stinging tears, I inhaled sharply, rising to my feet. The weight threatened to crush me, but I shook my head. Refusing to let it wear me down to nothing. I may be a whore, the town harlot, but I was no weakling despite what town folk said.
Trash. Beggar. Whore.
But not weak. Never Weak.
I refused to let any of them know the depths of my heart, how deep the sorrow ran, because if anyone managed to glimpse through the barricade, they’d discover how utterly breakable I was. Then they’d have the power to shatter the walls I’d worked so hard to build.
Carefully, I poured the piping tea into the mug before adding a spoonful of sugar. It was a rare commodity, just one of the perks of being so intimate with the local baker.
I blew on the swirls of steam that rose from the tea while perching on the edge of the bed. With one hand, I rocked Mama’s sleeping body.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I said.
She groaned but blinked, smiling dimly through sleep-crusted amber eyes. “Hi, baby.” Despite her illness, her voice was smooth as silk.
I nudged the mug toward her. “I made you some special tea. I need you to sit up for me.”
The smile faded from her delicate lips as she peered at me through long, sweeping lashes. With my help, she sat up, back pressed against the wall for support.
“Thank you,” she muttered as she brought the earthy tea to her lips. Her nose wriggled in displeasure at the taste. Not even a spoonful of sugar could improve the bitter, dirt-like flavor, but she drank it gratefully with large gulps, tiny droplets seeping down from the corners of her mouth.
I leaned my head into her lap as she guzzled the final contents of the tea. Her frail fingers curled into my hair, sweeping it from my face in swift, comforting motions.
“Rhen,” she whispered. I glanced up and set the empty cup down on the wobbly side table and slid under the blanket next to her, wrapping my arms around her too-warm body. “You should stop fussing over me. You’re my daughter, not my nurse.”
“There’s nothing else I’d rather do than take care of you. I love you.”
Tears spilled down her cheek as she lay back down in the bed. “I know, baby. I know. And I love you, too. I just want more for you.”
I curled in beside her, wiping away the wetness, shushing, and rocking her as I did. She held in her warm arms, still sobbing for a long time until her breathing became slow and steady again, and she was once again in sleep’s grasp.
She always looked so peaceful, beautiful, while asleep. You’d never even know she was dying by looking at her in that state. Her raven hair curled around her like a blanket, framing her in all the right angles. Mine was the same, black as soot. Mama said my hair reminded her of a beautiful raven taking flight. I disagreed. I may have inherited my mother’s coloring, but I had strong features which pulled toward my cowardice sire. Anytime I caught a glimpse of my reflection, I saw my father. He was handsome enough, I supposed, but it eluded me how he was able to capture a woman as stunning as my mother and to get her to ever agree to a marriage.
Father had come directly from the mainland to purchase cheaper land in Etherean when he was a young man. Mama never told me the specifics of how they met, only that she’d been captivated by his wild hair and kind eyes. She’d always spoken so lovingly of the man I hated. Used flowery words like handsome, kind, strong. But in the end, he was just a coward that ran out on his family when life became hard.
I blinked. I’d fallen asleep next to her on the bed. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but the sun had started its slow descent behind the clouds, so I knew it had been at least an hour or more. Hunger ran her icy fingers through my abdomen and shouted at me to feed her. Of course, I’d gotten fairly good at shoving her down with a cup of water when meals were scarce. Tonight, though, with Mama out for a while, I would treat myself to a feast.
A week ago, I’d been pawning off the extra catfish I’d caught before they spoiled when a man who’s presence tasted of sea breeze and citrus meandered up to me in the trading center, cloaked in a dark robe. He didn’t bother pulling his hood down as leaned in, whispered in my ear that he had a proposition for me.
He’d narrowed silver eyes at me as he’d said, “My master will be visiting in three moons. From what the townsfolk say, you’re the one to gift him with the sort of company he wishes to keep while in town.”
