Blog Story #15

Sorry there was a problem with the posts so I’m redoing.

Finn rolled out of from beneath his covers and hit the floor. Instinct had him sliding under the bed. Heart pounding, adrenaline spiking, and Finn trying to figure out what happened. His wings fluttered against the dusty floor as he tried to piece together his disjointed awakening.

What the hell had happened?

Before he could move from his hiding spot a pair of boots came into sight. Leather with intricate embroidery of some sort of bird flying up the sides.

“Come out, come out little pigeon, it’s time to pluck your feathers,” A cold man’s voice called to him.

As a cop Finn had experienced some hair-raising situations. This one made his facing crack addicts and possible murderers a walk in the park. Something in this person’s voice instilled a bone-deep fear. The kind of terror children feel for the monster under the bed except this time he was in the monster’s place and the creature he feared walked free around the bedroom. He didn’t dare breath too loudly or try to move his crushed wings. If he could he would’ve retracted them but he lacked the calm needed to push them back beneath his skin.

“I promise you a swift death, my dear, it won’t hurt much.” Smug satisfaction oozed from the being. He didn’t sound human, he sounded other. The kind of other people only whispered about in rooms with bright beaming lights and no shadows.

How did he get in here? He could spy his closed bedroom door from his spot beneath the bed. Inside he screamed for help, wishing for one of his supposed guards to rescue him. Maybe he should’ve let them put a guard inside the room with him. He had foolishly believed nothing could get past the trio on the other side of that door.

Before he could decide what to do, his bedroom door slammed open. Magic rolled across the room, smelling of lightening and cold ice.

“What are you doing here Ballor?” Amon asked.

“Visiting the new royal. After all you can never have too many allies .”

“Somehow I don’t think dropping by in the middle of the night will endear you to anyone. Leave now or I’ll inform the king of your trespass,” Criss growled.

“Silly mutt, do you think the king will cry over one less royal. He might be feathered but he means nothing to either court,” the intruder claimed.

“If he were of such inconsequence you wouldn’t be here,” Criss said. His voice had a flat tone as if he was fighting to keep from raising his voice.

“Ah, you caught me brother. I just wanted to meet your little protégée,” the stranger taunted.

“Leave,” Amon demanded.

“So touchy. Fine I’ll just be on my way.”

Before he could let out the breath he was holding the beautiful boots stopped right in front of the bed. A pair of gold eyes peered at him from an inhumanely beautiful face. His skin was almost as golden as his eyes. A smile spread across his face exposing a set of unnaturally sharp teeth. “I’ll see you later, little pigeon.”

Finn swallowed, not daring to speak until the face vanished and the boots walked away. Only when the door safely closed did he venture out.

Criss rushed to help him to his feet and brush away the dust gathered on his wings.

“Wh-who was that?” he asked through the fear building in his chest.

“That is the Lord of Shadows, King Eohric’s favorite assassin,” Criss answered, his expression grave.

“I thought you said the king didn’t want me dead.” Finn winced when his voice came out a bit whinier than he liked.

Criss sighed and laced his hands together. “Just because he doesn’t want you dead now doesn’t mean he won’t send his people to assess you. I doubt he sent the Shadow Lord to kill you. He probably just wanted to see what you would do when threatened.”

“Well if I’m asleep, I hide.”

“It’s a good instinct,” Amon said in a soothing voice. “If he had a knife you’d be in a more protected position.”

“Or trapped between a wall and a man with a knife,” Criss countered. “We’ll have to teach him self-defense.”

“I know self-defense,” Finn snapped. It had only been a day and he already was tired of being underestimated.

“With wings?” Amon asked.

Finn slumped. “No.”

“We will start training after breakfast,” Criss said. “I’ll send a message to the king to see if he sent his assassin or if he’s doing freelance work.”

“Great.” Already he could tell this wasn’t going to be a good day.

11 thoughts on “Blog Story #15

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