The Elven King

Chapter 3: Underhill

Chapter 3: Underhill

Sade still was holding out hope that this was an insane lucid dream. Lucid nightmare. At least, that would be more believable than the idea that a drop-dead gorgeous figment of her childhood imagination had somehow walked out of a hole in the air and shot her crazy ex with an arrow.

Maybe that was what had prompted Sade to help him with the body.  Dreams had their own logic, after all. You just had to roll with it.

Still, she really preferred the fun sex dream she’d had the night before to this madness.

Well, she’d have to wake up eventually. Either that or the shock would wear off, and she’d totally fall apart.

But first things first…

 Right now, Sade was standing in a thick, glowing forest holding onto Michael’s ankles. Her rescuer had lowered the upper half of Michael’s body to the ground, so Sade did the same.

In the phosphorescent light, looking at Michael’s slack face, the bloody hole in his throat where his life-blood had spilled out, Sade wasn’t sure what to feel. She had loved him once. But that had been long ago. Long before he’d put a knife to her stomach, and told her he’d spill her guts if she screamed.

If this man -- the figment of her childhood memory, or whatever he was -- hadn’t been there, what would Michael have done?

Sade thought she was going to be ill. She took a step back from the body.

The man said something.

Sade shook her head. She had to pull herself together -- be polite; it was the least she could do – but it was unnerving not to understand him.

Sade took a breath, and lifted her head to meet the man’s gaze. At least he had the grace to look uncomfortable, too.

Sade pointed to her chest. “Sade,” she said. “I’m Sade."

The man repeated her name. His voice was liquid silk caressing her ears.

He had certainly filled out since she was a child. Still thin, yes, but now his thinness had substance, all whipcord muscle over bone. Now the sharpness of his features seemed dangerous instead of odd. And, like the fool Sade was, the danger drew her in, made her want him to touch her with power and control, as the moonlight in her dream. Had that been his magic? He had to be magic of some kind, looking the way he did, like a dream straight off the screen of an epic fantasy movie.

He even had pointed ears. What would it be like to touch them?

The thought of it warmed her face.

She glanced down at Michael’s corpse, and felt ashamed. This was hardly the time.

The man pointed to himself. “Aranion,” he said clearly.

“Aranion.” Sade smiled. “Thank you, Aranion. For your help.”

Aranion cocked his head. Wisps of hair escaped the tie he’d pulled it back with, to fall in moonlight strands about his face.

He sighed, muttered something, and then said “Sade,” and pointed behind her.

Sade turned. Behind her…

Behind her, it was as if she were staring through a soapy pool into her backyard. Blue and red lights flashed from the street, and two police officers were walking over her lawn.

Sade was shocked. She could only have been here a few minutes, after all!

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she said.