A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer #2)

by Laura Thalassa

“I hate training.” The skin of my neck brushes the edge of Des’s sword as I speak. “If it were fun, more people would do it,” he responds. I raise my eyebrows. “Celibacy isn’t all that fun either, but perhaps it would do you some good,” I say tartly. His expression brightens with excitement. Only this crazy fairy would find the threat thrilling. “Is that—?”

Des doesn’t bend to other people’s wills. He’s the force that contorts and crushes them.

Cruel Des. Dark Des. My Des.

I tilt my head to the side. “You’re really freaking old, aren’t you?” A sly smile creeps along Des’s face. “I can answer that, but it will cost you.” I don’t need to buy a favor to know the dude must be ancient. I begin backing away from him, heading towards the bathroom. “Raincheck … grandpa.” I only have time to see his grin widen, and then he’s scooping me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “Naughty thing,” he says, smacking my butt. I shriek, then begin to laugh. “No wonder your hair is so white. How many centuries ago did it lose its color?”

“Seven years apart,” he continues, “and the woman you became was a world away from the girl I met.” He tilts my head so that he can look me in the eye. “That only made me want you more. You were both old and new, familiar and exotic, within reach and forbidden. And I wanted you so badly for so long I was sure it would kill me.

“He doesn’t even know I’m here.” Way to go, Callie. Tell your would-be stalker that no one knows where you are. He tilts his head. “But doesn’t he?” Fairies have this weird doublespeak I’m starting to get the hang of. This one is pretty clear. Translation: Better check your facts, bitch, because he totally does know where you are.

“Callie,” he says, sounding disappointed, “I’m wounded. I would never lead you astray.” Says the man who taught me to drink and gamble. I think he needs to tighten up his definition of astray.

The Land of Dreams. It’s some strange lovechild of the Otherworld and what I imagined Wonderland might look like.

“The Lovers,” Des replies. “Two of our ancient gods.” He points to the man. “He’s Fierion, God of Light, and she’s Nyxos, Goddess of Darkness.” Nyxos … why does that name sound familiar? “In the myths,” Des continues, “Fierion was married to Gaya, Goddess of Nature, but his true love was Nyxos, the woman he was forbidden from ever being with. Their love for each other is what causes day to chase night and night to chase day. “Here in the Land of Dreams they’re finally allowed to be with each other.” I stare at the sculpture a long time, finishing off my churro. Even though it’s just a myth, the tragedy of it still gets to me. I hate doomed love stories. Life’s filled with enough heartache as it is.

Apparently, human or fairy, male egos are still very much the same.

Spread out on it is what looks and smells suspiciously like Indian food, my favorite.

Ngl, she just won brownie points from me.

Temper crosses her heels over the armrest of the wingback chair she’s in, her back resting against the other armrest. “So let me get this straight: you two—” she points to me and Des, “are soulmates, but you couldn’t get together for a stupidly long time because this one—” now she points to me, “made some mad-ass wish. And right after you both finally got together, she—” me again, “was thrown into a fae prison, and some psycho king decided to give her wings,”—and scales and claws—“and then you—” she points to Des, “offed that motherfucker, but now you—” me again, “are stranded here.”

Jfc she just described the whole ass book 1 in a paragraph. I bow to thou, Temper.

One by one, he moves through the remaining books, taking on various accents as he does so—sometimes it’s an Irish or Russian accent, other times it’s German or French, and once (to my utter delight) he impersonates a Valley girl.

I bet I am waaay more delighted than you Callie.

There is nothing that defangs a woman quite like being called beautiful, my rational mind whispers.

“I’ll say this for the Bargainer,” Temper says, “he throws a mean right hook. That pretty-boy king went down like a boner in church.”

Oh boy, oh 😂

“Life and death are such intimate lovers.”

Maybe, if you boil away all my suffering, all my petty insecurities, all my frustration and toil, you’ll hit an indestructible core. Something that cannot be broken by greed or lust or violence. Something that isn’t quite magic but is still power nonetheless.

“I cannot change my past, and I cannot change yours. I cannot even stop you from getting hurt … but I can make others atone for your pain.” He says this last part so silently, so malevolently that a shiver escapes me.

We all love a man like this one😌

Solstice expectations: everyone shall set aside their quarrels for this week, hold hands, and sing kumbaya. Solstice reality: everyone shall come within an inch of death at least once.

And ain't that the bitter yet entertaining truth.

Wrongs can be forgiven. It’s death that one cannot return from.

And then, as one, a thousand upon a thousand eyes snap open. The time has come.