Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

28. Sweet Talking and Lies

Nicholas

Fearworn had Charmaine. Nicholas saw her through the bastard's eyes, consumed by the virus within her. The brown of her eyes had been replaced by a black void and violet tendrils shifted under her skin. Beneath her eyes and around her mouth, the skin peeled like chapped lips, and a leathery pattern appeared like the skin of a snake.

She stood motionless under Fearworn's scrutiny. His claws gripped her chin, pushing her head from side to side. Her fingers twitched, but she dared not raise her hand against him, even when he commanded her to lay on the table. Fearworn grabbed a scalpel and cut into her leg where the beast had bitten her. The virus sprouted from there, now thick, dark roots tangled in muscle and bone.

Fearworn muttered to himself and took notes, sounding pleased. He inspected her nearly formed claws, so thick they broke through skin. Blood stained her fingers and gums where her teeth had sharpened to points. Then he sewed Charmaine up and shoved her aside. She stood in the corner of the room, dull-eyed and motionless.

If William saw this, if he knew, he would be indisposed.

Nicholas blinked and returned to himself, seated cross legged on his bed. Laurent informed the Generals of where Charmaine had gone earlier that morning. Nicholas had been ordered to keep an eye on Fearworn while the army prepared to move.

With the recruits having arrived hours ago, the end grew ever closer. It'd be a two day march to Fearworn's hideout and they had to get there without arousing suspicion. If Fearworn slipped away, it didn't matter if the army decimated his hideout. He was the source, the heat that needed to be cut out.

"Nicholas?" Arden called. He munched on a tray of cheese and crackers while observing Nicholas, under Lareunt's orders. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine. I will take a walk and return momentarily," he replied.

Arden observed his departure. His duty was to ensure Nicholas didn't lose himself in the many hours he spent sharing Fearworn's eyes.

"Where will you be going?" Arden inquired.

"Wherever I please."

"To your mortal medic then?"

Eerie silence draped over them. He faced Arden's impish grin bathed in red from the wine in his goblet.

"What mortal medic do you speak of?" Power surged at the tip of his fingers, yearning to sear the smile off Arden's pale features.

"William, of course. I had expected you were toying with someone, seeing as you called no fae to your bed, but this was unexpected." Arden knocked back the last of his drink and smacked his lips. "Lord Darkmoon doesn't believe you, by the way, that William is merely a plaything."

"My father doesn't believe anything I say, so I often wonder why he bothers to ever ask."

"Then I will ask, is William merely a plaything?"

"That is none of your concern or business."

Arden knew evasiveness as well as him. His avoidance gave way to an answer that made Arden laugh.

"Should Eliana hear of this, she will have a lot of fun with him."

Nicholas caught Arden's neck, squeezing so tightly that saliva dribbled over his lips.

"Eliana will hear nothing of this," he warned, voice cold and dark. Fuchsia light illuminated the veins beneath his skin, brighter than the midday sun. His nails pierced the skin of Arden's neck. Warm blood tickled the tip of his fingers and he pushed and pushed until Arden's neck craned back at an odd angle and he gagged, fingers clawing at Nicholas' wrist.