#alerich ashimar

[aelowan]

Ink - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

“You doing okay?”

Alerich grimaced in the chair, the uncomfortable feeling of the needle penetrating his skin like the rough tongue of a cat scraping over a sunburn combined with thousands of tiny claws perforating his chest. The pain seemed to grow more intense the longer the artist worked on him, but Alerich was determined to see this through. “I’m fine.”

The tattoo artist grunted and bent his head back over the design, wiping away blood and excess ink with a practiced swipe.

Alerich watched him work, the outline of the blond raven done in white ink finished, and the artist filling in the delicate feathers. The raven’s blue eyes staring up at Alerich were disconcerting, accusing, and Alerich stared back, full of guilt. He hadn’t known Gaubert long, but Alerich believed that they could have grown to become friends. Gaubert had believed in the Coalition, believed that Seahaven could be changed, and the lives of the various therian groups made better. He had believed in Alerich, right up to the end.

Alerich looked away from the raven on his chest, the pale ink as ghostly as the memories that haunted him. He had failed Gaubert. Failed to see how dangerous politics in Seahaven really were. Failed to stop the attack that killed the raven and nearly his entire murder. Only the kids, Colette and Casmir, had survived, Gaubert hiding them at the last second, telling them to call Alerich. That Alerich would help them.

The kids were safe now, tucked in at the Theatre and far from the reach of the sharks and their guns. But neither Casmir nor Colette would take his calls. They were angry at him for being new to town, for misinterpreting Gaubert’s request for assistance, for his naivete and ignorance of how things functioned here, for his idealistic fantasy that everyone could be brought to the table and would be happy to forge a new community out of the fractious mess Seahaven had been for the last hundred and fifty years. They were angry at his failure, but not half as angry as Alerich was with himself. And so, he sat here, arms gripping the chair, trying not to move as his greatest failure was indelibly etched into his body where Alerich would always see it and remember that his mistakes cost lives.

The artist gave one last swipe and sat back, turning off the machine. “What do you think?”

Alerich looked down at the finished raven. The likeness was amazing, the bird looking like it could flap its wings and fly off Alerich’s chest at any moment. “It’s perfect.”

The man gave a brief nod of thanks, slathering the new tattoo and covering it as he explained how to clean and moisturize it over the next two weeks to have the best results. Alerich listened carefully, even though he knew Winter would have a salve that would cut the healing time drastically. Though part of him wondered if he shouldn’t forgo her salve, to heal slowly and painfully as further penance for his failure. Alerich didn’t think Gaubert would want him to suffer, but he wasn’t so sure about Casmir. The boy was so angry. And Alerich couldn’t blame him.

Alerich stood, paid the artist, and gingerly buttoned up his shirt. He felt the sting of the new tattoo and welcomed the ache. It matched the one in his heart.

He left the shop and headed back to his car. He had two more meetings scheduled today with groups that wanted to take part in this grand experiment. He reached a tentative hand up and touched the tattoo, promising that he would learn from this mistake and never underestimate the dangers of Seahaven again. He slid into the car, gripped the steering wheel, and made a vow to the ghost now emblazoned on his chest that he would do better, be smarter. That he would learn from this tragedy.

That he would be the leader that Gaubert had needed.

***

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[aelowan]

VHS - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Alerich swirled the tumbler in his hand as he surveyed the disaster that was his new office. It had been weeks since his father’s things had been sent from Ashimar House in Surrey. Granted, it had been a busy time between the mess with the raven murder, Bertrand’s visit, and of course, going to war, but still, he felt as if the piles should have gotten a little smaller. The truth was, he was procrastinating with this project, sorting through his father’s papers. He was sure that there were dozens of things in these boxes that he needed to tend to but just as certain that every box held something painful that he would have to handle, contemplate, and process. Processing had not been his strong suit since December, since the night his father died.

This is nonsense, Rick. They’re just boxes. Open one and get started. He tried to pysch himself into motion, even laying a tentative hand on the closest box to hand, but he just stood, staring at the hand, so much like his father’s, poking out from the suit he had worn to the meeting tonight. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stop being a ninny and open it.

He knocked back the amber scotch in the tumbler and set it on his desk, picking up the box knife that had seen too little use this month and opening the box. He pulled open the flaps and was greeted with file folders, all with neat, printed labels in their plastic tags. He thumbed through the top few—financial transactions pertaining to the House in Surrey going back more than twenty years. No ghosts here. He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and pulled out the folders, filing them in the currently empty filing cabinets behind him.

He fell into a rhythm, opening a box, sorting and filing the contents. He would go through them in more detail once he had a handle on which topics were the most pressing. The tension slowly left his shoulders as he worked, and he found breaking down each box as he emptied it was slightly cathartic—slowly reclaiming his office, box by empty box.

He stooped to grab a box from the floor, and it was a bit heavier than the rest. He hefted it and set it in the newly unearthed leather chair in front of his desk. He extended the box knife’s blade and cut carefully through the packing tape. Peeling back the box flaps revealed bubble wrap, and underneath, the hard edge of his father’s computer. Finally. He’d been looking for this from the beginning, though admittedly, not very determinedly.

Alerich gently pulled the machine from the box and set it on his desk. If the computer was really here, there should be a monitor somewhere to. He looked at the rest of the boxes with renewed hope. He had started to believe that his father’s staff—his staff now, he supposed—had been messing with him, holding the computer back and telling him it was here.

He lifted the empty box to break it down and it rattled. He looked through the bubble wrap and in the bottom of the box, lying unnoticed was another square wrapped in the plastic. Alerich pulled it out and unwrapped it revealing an old VHS tape. It wasn’t labeled, though it looked like a home tape, the little tab still in place for recording.

What is this, then? He turned the tape over in his hands, but the underside of the box gave no clues to its contents either. Alerich eyed the tape with some trepidation. Magnus Ashimar had been a man of many secrets and most of them involved blood and pain. The chances that this tape held one or more of his father’s multitude of crimes were high. But it was alone in the computer box. If his father had kept trophies, shouldn’t there be a cache of them. Why one tape.

Alerich poured himself another scotch. He hadn’t run across a will or any other document detailing what Magnus wanted to happen to his property on his demise. He supposed this could be a visual deposition. He took a deep drink from the tumbler and stood up, gripping the tape. Only one way to find out.

Alerich carried the tape into one of the parlor rooms on the first level of Mulcahy House. It was a cozy room with couches lining three sides of the room and a large television with a media cabinet nestled in between them. He and Winter had been spending several of the cold February nights in here cozied together watching movies. Alerich loved movies and Winter had admitted that she hadn’t seen many in years. They were making up for lost time together, and it was one of Alerich’s favorite parts of the day.

He looked down to the VHS in his hand and stilled. He thought about his twin, upstairs. This had belonged to their father. Maybe he should get her before watching it. But the truth was, Elspeth was having an even harder time coming to terms with their father’s passing than he was. She was finally starting to get a little of her old sparkle back, mostly due to Thomas’s influence, he was sure. He didn’t want to drive her back into the depths if he could avoid it. No, better to watch this alone and see what was on it. He could always share it with Elspeth later if it would bring her comfort.

Alerich turned on the TV and the old combination VHS/DVD player. He was amazed that the thing still worked and had big plans for a modern media room in the House soon, but for now, this would serve his purposes. He pulled the tape out of its sleeve and slipped it into the slot on the machine, picking up the remote and settling down on one of the couches.

The picture rolled for a moment, cutting in rather abruptly, a home movie then. Alerich took a steadying drink and hoped that he was right that this was not likely to be a trophy film. He heard his father’s voice as the picture zoomed through a room not lit properly for filming. “What have we here?”

The picture moved jerkily as though whoever was taking the video was walking around a corner, then settled onto a picture of a young woman sitting on the floor in the center of a whirlwind of mess, blocks and toys strewn everywhere and two toddlers laughing in the mayhem. The woman was smiling and laughing and tenderly smoothed the hair out of the eyes of one of the toddlers.

Alerich’s heart stuttered. The smiling woman was his mother, Carine, making the twin toddlers himself and Elspeth. And the cameraman was his father.

“What games are we playing today?” his father asked. His mother smiled at the camera and replied with her light French accent, “We’re building a bear house. Their old one was destroyed by a hobby horse stampede.”

The Magnus holding the camera laughed and focused on one of the toddlers in matching blue and white shorts and shirts. “Alerich, what do you have there?”

The toddler Alerich held up a well-loved teddy bear in chubby fingers. “The daddy bear.”

The camera zoomed close in on the toddler’s hands. “What a fine bear. Make sure you build him a good house.”

Toddler Alerich nodded solemnly. The other toddler, little Elspeth, wandered into the frame with a bear of her own. “This the mummy bear.”

Magnus focused the camera on her. “Right you are, my little love. She’s beautiful.”

Elspeth beamed. “Just like Mummy!”

The Magnus behind the camera laughed and focused the camera on his wife. “Just like Mummy, indeed.”

Carine laughed up into the camera, the sound echoing in Alerich’s heart. She looked so happy, here with her husband and twins. “Come play with us, love.”

And to Alerich’s amazement, his father set the camera on some hard surface and walked into the maelstrom of toys and toddlers and sat on the floor, little Elspeth immediately plunking herself into his lap. He bent down and kissed the toddler’s head and smiled at Carine before turning to little Alerich. “Here, son, let me help you build a fine house for your bears.”

The little Alerich on the tape beamed up at his father and began bringing him the blocks that were scattered around the room, watching his father place each brick into a wall.

Alerich pressed the pause button and felt hot tears running down his cheeks. So, they had been happy once. All of them. He had always wondered if they had been before his mother was murdered and his father became the cold, demanding monster in his nightmares.

He knocked back the rest of the drink and hit the rewind button. The tape whirred and he pressed play from the beginning. He wasn’t sure how the tape ended. He feared this happy memory would end like so many of his, but before he found out, he selfishly wanted to see them as a happy family and dream what ifs for just a few moments more.

***

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[aelowan]

A Midwinter Night’s Reading – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

A warm glow peeked out from under the Mulcahy Library doors and Cian smiled. Rick must be up late again. He had only been here at Mulcahy House a couple of weeks, but already it felt like he belonged in the Library. The House felt happier with him in there.

Cian backtracked through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the kitchen and heated milk for cocoa. Rick had a sweet tooth, Cian had discovered, and would surely welcome a warm, sugary drink on this chilly January night.

Though it wasn’t nearly as cold as last January had been in Kentucky. Winter said the sea air gave Seahaven (and much of coastal Washington) a warmer, more temperate climate. Cian was only just delving into science as he studied for a test that said he knew what you are supposed to learn in high school. He thought it was strange to use a test to teach him what was on the test, but Winter promised that this way was best and would allow him to go on to college. He loved to learn new things and to help people. Winter assured him that going to college to become a doctor would give him plenty of opportunity to do both. But first, he had to learn everything for this test, like how science worked.

He scooped a generous measure of the peppermint cocoa Winter kept in a tin near the stove and whisked it into the warm milk until the frothing foam melted away, and the sweet scent of peppermint and chocolate filled the kitchen. He turned off the heat and poured the cocoa into two mugs, setting the cocoa pot into the sink. The House would wash it and put it away as soon as he left the room.

He carried both mugs into the long hall and stepped with purpose toward the Library doors and their giant, interlocking tree bearing books as fruit. The doors opened for him, and Cian murmured his thanks to the House. Winter said that the doors had stopped doing that, but since he and Etienne had moved in after October, the faerie house seemed to be reawakening.

Alerich Ashimar sat in one of two dark leather armchairs in one of the several seating areas in the Library. The Library had given him an office, but he seemed to like to read late into the night in this spot. A fire was going in the fireplace and added to the pleasant warm glow that seemed to permeate the Library whenever Rick was in it. The English wizard looked up when the doors opened and smiled at Cian. “Good evening. Are one of those for me?”

Cian returned the smile and held out a mug for Alerich. “I don’t want to bother you while you’re reading, but I thought you might like some cocoa.”

Alerich pulled a ribbon up from the binding of his book and tucked it carefully between the pages, shutting the thick volume and putting it on the side table with a loving pat. He reached out and took one of the mugs. “Thank you. This is very kind of you, and not a bother at all. Please,” he indicated the other armchair. “Join me.” Rick sipped his cocoa as Cian settled into his chair and his smile broadened. “This is delicious, thank you. Couldn’t sleep?”

Cian leaned back into the fire-warmed leather and sipped his own cocoa, enjoying the heat of the drink and the fire both. “Noel woke up for his feeding. By the time he was done and back to sleep, I was wide awake. I was going to study, but I saw your light. What are you reading?”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Oh! I know that one! Shakespeare, right?”

“Indeed. Do you know much Shakespeare?”

“No,” Cian admitted and took another sip. “But Jessie had me watch this movie when I started studying for the language and literature part of my test. She said it was to ‘get me pumped,’ but I’m pretty sure that means ‘excited’ here.”

The corners of Rick’s mouth turned upward, and he nodded. “It does. Did you watch the play?”

“Not exactly. It was about a boys’ school and a teacher who got really excited about poetry. He stood on his desk and got his students excited too. One of them was in the play.”

“Ah, I know that one. It’s a good movie.”

Cian nodded over his mug. “I liked it a lot. I hope that I have teachers who get that excited about what they teach. Is that how you learned about Shakespeare?”

Alerich looked a little confused. “From the movie?”

Cian shook his head. “No, from a teacher?”

“Oh!” Alerich took a long sip and sat his cocoa next to his book. “I suppose it was. One of my professors at Bremerton, the wizard school for boys in London.”

“Did they stand on a desk?”

Alerich seemed amused at the thought and the corners of his mouth crinkled again. “No. But he read with such passion and love for the material that there were days I wanted to. He read poetry like he was rapping it. It had rhythm and passion. I think he single-handedly made us all closet poets.”

Alerich picked up his mug and was quiet for a moment. Cian drank his own cocoa and let the wizard keeps his thoughts to himself for a little while, though they didn’t look like happy ones.

Finally, Alerich came back from wherever he had gone and smiled, significantly less brightly than before, at Cian. “Sorry. Got a little lost there for a minute.”

Cian smiled sympathetically. “It’s all right. Winter says you’re still processing. She says sometimes you’ll need a little space. I’m happy just sitting here with you.” It had only been a couple of weeks since Rick’s father had died. Their relationship had been… complicated. And given the circumstances of the man’s death, Cian and Winter agreed that Rick would be processing for a very long time.

Alerich reached over and touched Cian’s knee. “You really are very kind, Cian. Thank you.”

Cian blushed a little both at the praise and at the touch from the handsome wizard. “You’re welcome. But I don’t want to interrupt your reading if you’re enjoying it.” He started to get up to give the man some space.

Rick waved him back into his chair. “Please stay. I could use the company.”

“What about your play?”

Alerich looked down at the volume like looking at a very close friend. “I could read to you?”

Cian beamed. “I would love that. I read to Noel, but they’re baby books. I would love to hear you read Shakespeare.”

“How well do you know Midsummer?”

“Really only what was in the movie.”

“It’s been a while, but I think that it mostly dealt with the end of the play and the boy’s suicide.”

Cian nodded, wondering if this topic was too tough for Rick right now.

Alerich was quiet for another moment, then went on, “But there is much more to the play. It is a comedy about forbidden love, obsession, and love gone bad. Here, let me start us off right. The play opens in Athens, where the Duke, Theseus, and his fiancé, Hippolyta, are very close to their wedding day. Shall I read it?”

Cian settled back in his chair, mug in hand. “Please.”

Alerich picked up the book and opened it to where the ribbon was, then went back a number of pages. He cleared his throat and read with the same kind of dramatic voice that Etienne used when he told stories around the fire.

“‘Now fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes!’”

Cian listened with rapt attention and understood what Winter saw in Rick. It was very easy to fall in love with this man.

If you liked this story, check out our other free flash fiction and all things Seahaven at aelowan.com.

[aelowan]

Epiphany - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Fire and chaos sluiced from Winter’s thin body down the shower drain, the remains of the vineyard that they had left burning in their wake. The humans could not be allowed to find evidence of the demons who had hunted them through the winter-dry vines, no evidence of the murders that had been committed in the night.

No evidence that magic was real and would eat them in the dark.

As soon as she shut off the water to the shower, Winter heard Etienne’s voice coming from her bedroom across the hall. She twisted the excess water from her white, hip-length hair, a strange mousey-gray when wet, and wondered what the faerie knight was doing in her room?

Correction: her and Alerich’s room. The half-sentient Mulcahy House had done some decorating while they had all been away and seemingly had decided that Rick was not only staying, he would be staying with her.

Which led her thoughts in an alarming direction. What if Etienne was fighting with Alerich in there?

Winter went scrambling for a towel and left the bathroom without even wrapping up her wet hair.  By the time Winter rushed through the bedroom door, Etienne sounded like he was winding up a phone call. On her phone. He stood in the middle of the room wearing only worn jeans slung low over his lean hips, feet bare, his long auburn hair slipping along his shoulder blades as he turned his head. Even his customary gun rig was absent indicating he was at home. Somewhat relaxed.

Alerich was nowhere to be seen. Winter let out a soft breath of relief.

Etienne had his back to her, one strong arm half-raised with the phone to his ear. He shifted from one foot to the other in a tense movement, and the muscles across his broad blacksmith’s back and shoulders rippled beneath his work-tanned skin, the spell scars long gone. She was taller than he was by a few inches, but those broad shoulders, those calloused hands, made her feel delicate.

Much like Alerich, Etienne moved with the ready grace of a predator, though the faerie knight was quicker to bloodshed. At least as far as she knew. She had only known Alerich a few days, but she was already familiar with the faint traceries of scars across his knuckles, across his back, evidence of a history of violence. “Yeah, I think some more rest would be good. Your Miles could use it, too. Last night was rough.” His gray eyes spotted Winter in the mirror and even at that distance she could watch them dilate and travel for an instant over her wet, towel-wrapped body. “We appreciate it. Are you sure you and the rest of the rabbits can handle Curiosity’s for the day?” His normally gruff tone was mild, polite, but tension sang across his bare shoulders and one large hand was balled into a tight fist. “The Lion Queen’s doctor already agreed to take the extra patients for the day, but that store is a zoo with the holidays here. Is there nowhere else for the preternatural to do their shopping?”

Winter heard Rachel’s rich laugh. Rabbits were pretty people, and Rachel, the rabbit Matron, was a real head turner. “What can I say? We support local businesses. And yes, I’ve got one of my Matron’s Assistants supervising them, now. They’ll be fine.” Winter hoped so. Miles was having a terribly hard time since the murder of his twin just a few days ago, and that left Kismet, who could be as aggressive as a breeding jack, and Hyacinth, the even-headed balance between the other two Assistants. If Winter were a betting woman, she would have laid down money that Hyacinth would be the one to take Rachel’s place as Matron when the time came.

Etienne thanked Rachel for her assistance and ended the call. He turned to Winter, expression caught halfway between taciturn and warm. Then his eyes again caught the new tall mirror in its swiveling frame and his mouth twisted into a frown. “What the hell happened in here last night?” He swung his arm to take in the room in general, phone still in hand. The pleasant nature of Etienne’s phone voice vanished, to be replaced with something angry. Ugly. More normally Etienne.

Winter crossed her arms over her small breasts, the towel wet and rumpled, and ignored the small trickle of water rolling down her bare leg. She was not about to just take whatever Etienne was going to dish out. “First, put my phone down before you break it. Rather a lot happened last night, and you were there for most of it. What are you asking about?”

Etienne tossed the phone down on the bed and pointed at the elegant mahogany acanthus leaves that now graced the four tall bed posts, at the red silk wallpaper that brought out the richness of the new furniture. “This shit wasn’t in here yesterday. Your room was white and blue and sweet. It was… you. This… this is something else.”

Winter raised her chin just a little bit. “Alerich will be staying with us for a while.” The decoration of the room reflected their shared tastes. She liked it.

“In your room? The House put him in your room?”

Winter nodded. She could feel her pale cheeks begin to burn with anger. “And that’s between Rick and me. You don’t just get to tell me what to do and who to do it with. I know you’re fine with me kissing Cian, but Alerich seems to be another story. Why is that?”

Etienne paced away toward the sitting area, running his fingers through his hair, and then back again. He laid his calloused hand on her thin, bare shoulder. “You’ve known Alerich all of a few days and he’s already tried to kill you.”

“He also saved me. More than once. He saved us all. He’s working so hard to prove himself, Etienne. To redeem himself. I wish you would give him a chance.”

Etienne made a rude noise but did not release her shoulder. “I don’t need to. He broke my nose while he was trying to strangle you. While I fought to stop him. That’s all the chance he gets from me.”

Winter pulled away from his hand. “I’m sorry you’re jealous—”

“I am not jealous.”

“—but that’s for you to work out. We’re forming a family, if you haven’t noticed, the whole lot of us and these children, and I need you to be part of it.”

Etienne pulled back his empty hand, something lost in his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that.”

On impulse she reached out and laid her long-fingered hand on his collarbone. “Please, I’m not pushing you away.” His skin was warm under her fingertips and she realized she was getting cold. It would feel good to be wrapped in those strong, warm arms.

Etienne reached up and covered the back of her hand. “Then what are you doing?”

Winter hesitated, watching his lips move as he spoke. “I don’t know.” Her voice was barely audible. “I just know that I want.” But what did she want?

And it struck her. These men. She wanted all three of these men, Alerich, Etienne, and Cian, at her side. Raising these children and protecting this city with her.

Etienne let out a soft breath, his eyes vulnerable for a heartbeat. “So do I,” he whispered. Then he stepped forward, brushed past her hands, caught her by the back of the neck, and pulled her down into a dizzying kiss.

Winter’s brows shot up, but as his arm slipped around her towel-wrapped waist, she let out a soft moan and opened her mouth to his forceful tongue. She had never kissed Etienne before, but it was everything she had expected of the faerie knight. She gave and he took, and in return he danced with her until she was faint with need as his fingers buried into her drying white hair. His thumb stroked her neck in tight circles, and his other hand kneaded the small of her back through the wet towel, keeping her flush to his hard body. His skin was warm against hers and she relaxed against him, relaxed into his warmth. Into his demanding hands. Finally, he released her, his smooth cheeks flush with desire, and she could feel her pulse in her lips.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then glanced around at the décor, his gray eyes hardening a little again, before turning on his bare heel to leave the room.

Winter followed him, straightening the towel while his back was turned. “Etienne, wait. Please wait.”

The faerie knight stopped at the doorway, paused a moment to gather himself, and turned to face her with his usual gruff expression. “What?”

Some days Winter just wanted to pop him on the head, but she knew that his attitude was because he was hurting. “I have something for you.” She moved to her dressing table and opened the lowest right-hand drawer. “I was going to give you this last night, but that’s not how things worked out.” She emerged with a square black velvet box nearly the size of her spread hand. “It’s for Christmas, but after last night I want to give it to you early.” And privately. Etienne could be a profoundly private person and this gift was a bit personal.

Etienne’s brow rose just a little. “You’re giving me jewelry?” He accepted the box and gave it the requisite small shake. Something within rattled. “I can make jewelry. Blacksmith, remember?”

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll like this jewelry. And no, you can’t make presents for yourself just before the holidays. It’s not allowed.”

He chuckled softly and opened the box. “What—” His breath staggered. “How? It was lost.”

Winter reached into the box and pulled out a forty-five-caliber bullet engraved with dwarven runes and geometric designs. A chain had been incorporated into the bullet’s casing. “You discarded the ruined gun rig when you came down from Midir’s tower in October, but one of Ceallach’s people spotted it and got it back to me. The last of Agmundr’s enchanted bullets was still in it.” She stepped in close and slipped the chain around the knight’s neck, watching his eyes. “It may not be useful as a bullet any longer without the named revolver to propel it, may not strike terror into every sidhe you cross paths with, but it stands as a powerful symbol of protection.” And with the amount of magic she had poured into it over the past few weeks, it had better be protective. She pulled her hands away, letting the bullet hang just at the meeting of Etienne’s collarbones. “I want you protected in any way I can find. Seahaven is—”

Etienne leaned in and kissed her again, this time tender and vulnerable. A soft smile played about his lips when he pulled away and he touched the bullet hanging around his neck. “I feel safer already.” He stroked his hand over her hair, fine, curling strands catching on his callouses as he met her gaze. His eyes flickered back and forth, and that vulnerability stayed in their depths. “Thank you.”

Winter wanted to close her eyes under his touch like a kitten, but instead let her smile widen. “I bet people are getting hungry. I need some clothes, and then let’s go figure out food, now that we’ve had sleep.”

Etienne watched her for another minute as if memorizing her face, and then nodded. “Food sounds good. I should finish getting dressed, myself. I’ll see you in the kitchen, my lady.” Good humor shown in his eyes as he turned and strode out.

Winter watched him leave, enjoying the view, goosebumps tickling her skin, and then set about putting herself together for the day.

If you liked this story, check out our other free original fiction at https://www.aelowan.com

[aelowan]

The Parting Glass – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

The wizard, Alerich Ashimar, ran a loving hand down the neck of the old guitar, chord after gently played chord resounding in softness, the mellow sound filling the dark music room. It wasn’t his rosewood-fretted Hummingbird beauty, hidden away in his rooms at Ashimar House in England, but the old Martin Dreadnought he had found still fit his hands well and was a joy to play.

“Of all the money that e’re I’ve had, I spent it in good company. And all the harm that e’re I’ve done Alas it was to none but me.”

“Alas it was to none but me.”

But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? His hands stilled on the strings and his thoughts pulled his gaze out the window to watch the snow fall in the bright moonlight.

He was a killer. A murderer from a painfully young age. He had helped his father, Magnus, to make sacrifices to the Demon Lord Arariel for years and it didn’t matter that he had been an unwilling accomplice, forced by beatings and blood to comply. He had still done it.

“And all I’ve done, for want of wit, To mem’ry now I can’t recall.”

Except he could. He remembered all of them. All of their faces, contorted in agony.

He remembered his father’s face as he fell backwards through the Demon Gate, pulling Arariel through with him. One, final, sacrifice for the sake of his family. Alerich folded himself over the body of the guitar, fighting a sudden surge of tears. Tears for his father. For himself.

Tears for his newly found freedom, forged by his father’s death. Freedom to be himself, to marry who he chose. To play this guitar without fear of mockery or beating because the piano was a more refined instrument. The guitar was for the low-brow.

Tears for his daughters.

Winter, his beloved Winter, was asleep upstairs, their newly conceived daughters warm in her still-flat belly. She¬—

A soft noise sounded from his left and he looked up, startled. Winter was standing in the doorway.

Alerich grimaced and stood as she entered, instinctively tucking the guitar against his leg and out of direct line of sight. “I apologize. I hope I didn’t wake you.” The powers that be knew she needed sleep, between the pregnancy and her responsibilities to the community as a physician and politician. Responsibilities he was only just beginning to comprehend.

Winter approached, wearing her warm white robe over his red pajama top. She saw no reason for the tops to go unused, as Alerich never wore them. Alerich thought it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. She reached up and dried his cheek with her soft sleeve. “The sheets were cold. How long have you been down here?” She carried his robe over one arm and slipped it about his bare shoulders.

Alerich felt the warmth seep into his skin. “Long enough to not realize I was cold. Thank you.” He bent and gave her a light kiss.

Winter smiled into his kiss and then glanced down at the guitar. “I heard you playing. It was beautiful. I’ve seen you play piano, but I had no idea you also sang and played guitar.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Alerich moved to put the instrument away. “Just something I pluck at every now and then.”

Winter watched him closely and he could feel the whisper against his senses that told him she was using her soul reading. Sometimes she was not aware that she was doing it, it was simply another sense for her, but Alerich was fairly sure this was not one of those times.

He turned and held her blue-eyed gaze, so unlike his own. Angel eyes. “Really, it’s nothing.”

Winter closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms about his waist beneath his robe, her hands warm against his cold skin. “If it hurts you, it’s something. To me, if no one else. But you don’t have to talk about it unless you’re ready.”

Alerich bent his cheek to her soft white hair, silent for several long moments. When he spoke it was barely a whisper. “What sort of father will I be? Given the way I was raised,” the beatings, the control, the rapes, “I’m afraid that I’ll be a monster.”

Winter held him tighter and then met his gaze. “I only knew your father for a brief time, and you’re right, he was monstrous. He did terrible things and felt only resentment about them. Resignation. Until the end, when he saw a chance to break you and your sister and these little girls free of the demon’s influence. I think your father was a complicated man, and I think you are, too. But I also think, like your father, that you are not a man to let your past shape your future. If you want to be a good father, you will be. I have faith in you.”

Alerich’s eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. “I miss him. Even after everything, I miss him.”

Winter nodded. “I miss my father, too. And I’m also still angry with him, and it’s something I struggle with. I don’t know if he loved me, and I may never know. But I do know your father loved you. Loved you enough to give you a chance at a better life the moment it came into his grasp. Have faith in that and know that you have that kind of love in you, too.” She smiled. “I can see it.”

Alerich’s tears ran down his cheeks and he buried his face in her long hair, trusting her. Trying to trust himself.

“So, fill to me the parting glass. Goodnight, and joy be with you all.”

Joy. Was it possible? Even for a man like him? He breathed in the floral scent of the woman in his arms. The woman welcoming him to this new and complicated life, and he hoped. Hope had been an elusive thing until now, but here, standing with this woman, the mother of his children, it flared small and fragile inside his chest. She believed that he could be the father he wanted to be. He carefully stoked that flickering flame of hope and allowed himself, at least tonight, to believe.

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[aelowan]

Lead Me Not Into Temptation - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

“It would be so easy.”

Elspeth blinked, confused. She did not remember coming outside. Could not remember anything past laying down for a nap. But here she was, in the cold quiet shade of the clifftop gazebo, staring at Winter’s back with Arariel’s voice in her head.

Again.

Nothing she did would shut him up. No matter how violent, how painful, she could not chase the demon away.

“Just a push. No one is looking. And you’ll have Alerich all to yourself again.”

Elspeth’s breath caught. She didn’t want that—did she? To be honest, she did not like the other wizard woman. She was too sweet, too loving, too fucking perfect. Too much to stand. And she held all of her twin brother’s attention. Her and the baby girls she carried.

But Elspeth didn’t want Winter to die. Suffer a bit, sure. Be taken down a notch or two. But death seemed a bit extreme.

“Do you really think so?”

Elspeth gave her head a violent shake, making herself dizzy. It had become clear early on that the demon was privy to her private thoughts and delighted in tormenting her with them. Once, it had been Alerich that Arariel had taunted so, but being banished from the Mortal Realm seemed to have cut that tie. At least, Alerich never talked to her about it, anymore. But then, his attention was riveted elsewhere.

Maybe she did want Winter to die.

Arariel’s chuckle rolled through her mind. “That’s my girl. Now, whatever will you do about it?”

Just a push? Would that really be all it took?

“There you are. Cian has lunch ready.” Alerich’s voice carried up the garden path and Elspeth shrank back out of sight against the winter withered wisteria vines, guilty.

Winter turned, a gentle smile on her face, and Elspeth wanted to rip it off. “I’m watching the dolphins, but lunch sounds wonderful. I’m starving.”

Alerich kissed her and laid a hand over her still-flat belly. “I imagine you have help with that.”

Winter’s smile widened. “Not quite yet, but soon.”

Alerich turned and looked around. “I could have sworn I saw El come up this way, earlier. Is she not with you?”

“I’m all alone. Maybe she found the path down to the beach? I can send the pixies to look so her lunch won’t get cold.”

“Excellent idea.” Alerich took Winter by her hand and led the way toward the House. “I saw a cloud of them by the back porch. We can ask when we get there.”

Elspeth held back a growl of frustration and waited until her brother and his woman were out of sight before heading down in the direction of the beach. Fine, whatever. She didn’t want Winter dead, anyway.

Diabolical laughter echoed through her mind.

“Shut up,” she muttered and kept walking, waiting to be found by the garden pixies.

If you liked this flash, you can find more original short fiction and all things Seahaven at www.aelowan.com.

[aelowan]

Midnight Feeding – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

A plaintive cry pierced the night and woke Etienne from a light sleep. His son, Noel, was hungry and it was his night to tend him. Etienne swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, running a hand through his hair, then catching it up in his hand, and securing it with a hair tie from his nightstand. He stood and stretched to his full height, his back popping, and pulled on the pair of jeans he had thrown over the back of the chair when he had gone to bed. As he reached for the door knob he realized that Noel’s cries had stopped. Maybe the little one had fallen back asleep, but that would have been unusual, and Etienne was not a fan of unusual. He opened the door and slipped down the hall to the nursery.

The soft light from the reading lamp next to the rocking chair reached the nursery doorway and Etienne’s pace slowed. Cian must have forgotten that it was Etienne’s night and gotten up before him. He leaned against the door to say hello and froze. It wasn’t Cian holding his son in the rocking chair. It was the wizard, Alerich. Etienne could feel his heart racing. Winter may have lost her mind and allowed the wizard to stay, but Etienne had not forgotten that the man had betrayed her trust and tried to kill her, even if Winter seemed to have. He couldn’t see the baby from the doorway and suddenly Noel’s silence felt ominous. He rushed through the door but as he cleared the back of the rocking chair he could see that Noel was cradled in the wizard’s arms, contentedly drinking one of the bottles of therian rabbit milk. He stopped and stared at the man. “What are you doing?”

Alerich looked up from the baby, the smile slipping from his face. “Feeding the baby. He was crying.” His smile returned as he looked back down at little Noel.

Etienne face was full of skepticism. “What would you know about babies?”

Alerich sighed. “I’ve been around babies before, Etienne. They’re not that complicated.”

Etienne snorted. “Who let you near their child?”

A look of hurt flickered over the wizard’s face before he schooled it away. “Thomas’s parents. He has a little sister, Amelia.”

Etienne watched him for a moment, trying to reconcile this picture of domesticity with the crazed would-be-murderer of a few days before. He shook his head. “Give me my son.”

Alerich sighed. “He’s almost finished, Etienne.”

“Give me my son.” Etienne’s tone held warning and warming anger.

Alerich rolled his eyes and stood cradling the tiny boy. “Fine, but I would never hurt him.” He carefully handed the baby to the sidhe.

Etienne tucked the baby against him in one arm. “Why should I believe you? I don’t know what hold you have over Winter and you even have Cian, Brian, and Jessie fooled, but I have a longer memory than they seem to. You tried to kill her. That’s not something I am going to forget, or forgive, any time soon.”

Noel finished the bottle and Etienne moved him to his shoulder to burp him. Alerich held out the burping cloth he had been wearing and Etienne moved away from his outstretched hand. “I don’t need your help with my son.” Noel chose that moment to spit up down Etienne’s back. The faerie knight closed his eyes and counted to three. “Merde.”

Alerich’s eyes danced with amusement but his voice came out even. “Would you like my help, now?”

Etienne glared at him.

Alerich sighed and shook his head. “I swear on the grave of my mother, I will never hurt this child.”

Etienne watched him for a moment, then held out the baby. “I will hold you to that oath, Alerich Ashimar. If you hurt one hair on this child’s head, you’ll join your mother.”

Alerich took the baby and bounced him lightly, handing Etienne the burping cloth to wipe up with. As he finished, both men’s noses wrinkled and Alerich looked down at the little boy in his arms. “Someone needs his nappy changed.”

Etienne smirked. “Don’t look at me, you wanted the baby. Go right ahead.”

Alerich smiled down at Noel, his voice pitched high and happy as he talked to him. “Don’t worry, tiny one. We’ll get you set to rights in no time.”

Etienne watched as Alerich carried Noel to the changing table and made quick work of cleaning and changing him, even dropping a cloth on him to avert Noel’s famous fountains. Etienne was rather looking forward to watching his son douse the wizard, but he had to admit, Alerich knew his way around babies. And Noel seemed content with the wizard. In just a couple of minutes he was changed and redressed and curled up in the crook of Alerich’s arm.

Etienne watched the man, searching his face for any sign of the murderous wizard he had seen last week. Not finding it, he sighed. Everyone else in his house seemed to trust that Alerich was safe to them all. He wasn’t ready to completely sign on, but he didn’t think Alerich would hurt Noel. “It takes him a while to go back to sleep after feeding.”

Alerich nodded slowly. “All right. We’ll just sit here and read until he dozes off, then.” He sat back in the rocking chair and picked up the book that Cian was reading to Noel. He flipped it open to the bookmark and smiled. “Treasure Island. Are you the adventurous sort, Noel?”

Etienne watched him read and rock from the doorway for a few minutes, then headed back down the hall to his room. He shut the door and shucked his jeans, throwing them back onto the chair. He pulled the hair tie out of his hair and slid under the covers, letting out a long sigh. First Winter and now Noel. Alerich Ashimar seemed to fit into life here. Etienne rolled onto his side and pulled a pillow up over his arm. It was becoming clear that getting rid of the man was going to be a challenge. “Merde.”

If you liked this flash, you can find more original short fiction and all things Seahaven at www.aelowan.com.

[aelowan]

Musketeers - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

“Work in groups of three and be ready to present your project to the class at the next session. I’ll give you the rest of our time to find your groups and get started.”

Alerich looked to the desk on his right at Thomas, his roommate and newest friend. Thomas was kind and funny and put up with Alerich’s melancholy and exuberance, both. They had been thick as thieves since the first day of term. “You and me then, mate?”

“Yeah, but we’ll need a third, won’t we?”

Alerich looked from the chestnut-skinned boy to the other lads in the room. They were slowly forming into groups of three, all of them new to the school like Thomas and him and unsure yet where friendship may lie. He watched a tall, gangly boy hover at the edge of several groups, his shoulders stiffening a little with each group that turned away from him. Alerich thought the boy’s name was Edward Fitzmartin, but all he really knew about him were three other things: he was a wizard, like all the lads here; he was smart as all get out; and he was deaf. Alerich doubted that it was the first two that had the other boys giving Fitzmartin the cold shoulder. He looked at Thomas to find him watching the boy be rejected by group after group with a look of sympathy on his face. Alerich nudged him, “How ‘bout it, then?”

Thomas nodded. “Absolutely.”

Alerich got out of his seat and tapped Fitzmartin on the shoulder to get his attention. The boy tensed and shied away from the touch in a way that felt very familiar to Alerich. He would bet that Fitzmartin’s father beat him the way Alerich’s own father did. He smiled at the boy’s wary expression. “Want to join up with Thomas and me? We seem to be a lad short.”

The boy looked from Alerich to Thomas as though judging their potential and their threat, then nodded. “Alright, then.” His diction was excellent, but his voice was too loud for the small classroom and several of the boys laughed.

Alerich gave them unfriendly glares. “I’m Alerich Ashimar, but my friends just call me Rick. That is Thomas Griffin. You’re Edward Fitzmartin, right?”

The boy watched Alerich’s lips closely but frowned at his own name. “Just call me Fitz. I hate Edward. Edward Martin is my father. He doesn’t like me having anything else of his. I don’t know why he insists on me having his name.”

Alerich nodded. “Alright, Fitz then.”

Fitz watched him closely then sighed. “Why do you want me?”

Alerich blinked a little. “Pardon?”

“For your group? Surely you can see that I’m social kryptonite. If it’s pity, you can shove it.”

Alerich grinned, both at the comic book reference and the general foul-tempered tone. “Are you always such a testy bastard, Fitz? I’m not sure if two of us in a group might not be too much attitude for poor Thomas.”

Fitz grinned at Alerich. “Too right, mate.”

“It’s not pity, Fitz. It’s greed. Why wouldn’t we want the smartest lad in our year?”

Fitz looked at Alerich as though searching for something in his face. Whether he found it or not, he shrugged. “I suppose I’ll be your third musketeer, then.”

Alerich grinned and turned to lead the way back to where Thomas was getting paper and a pen ready. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a tentative smile on Fitz’s lips and his own broadened. He was pretty sure he and Thomas had just found an Athos to his Aramis and Thomas’s good-natured Porthos.