So this is how it ends, is my last thought, when my body is hurled against a metal grate. A flash of light is the last thing I see when my head hits the bars hard.
Celeste – The Anchor
I wake up to something warm and moist gently scraping my nose. Is there a giant dog licking me? When I open my eyes, I meet the concerned sapphire gaze of Diaphonus, removing the dirt from my face with a hot, wet towel. I’m wrapped in cozy blankets like a giant stinking burrito.
Some soothing vibration shakes me, a calming noise in the surrounding that tempts me to go back to sleep.
“Where am I?” I choke on a wave of vomit after I sense the terrible taste in my mouth. Visions of the horror in the sewers flood my mind.
“We’re on our way to Cuba. We’re taking you somewhere safe,” Tarcyll explains briefly, peeking behind Diaphonus´ broad back.
I blink a few times and look around. White leather seats, polished surfaces, clean lines, and bright sunshine behind the round windows. I’m in a private jet. Terror squeezes my throat.
“You can’t take me to Cuba! My apartment… my job… my cat!”
“Jasmin is taking care of all that,” Tarcyll croons soothingly, the rolled-up sleeves of the white shirt revealing his tattooed forearms. “Diaphonus called her. She fetched your purse from the nightclub and will care for the cat. For the rest: your boss knows you need some time off due to a family situation…”
The blond artist wipes my face, and I try to jerk away, only to realize the tight seatbelt holds me into place.
“Am I your captive? What is happening?” I demand, trying to figure out if I want to back away or lean into the warmth of his palm. Why is this man so devilishly handsome?
“You are not a captive, Celeste.” Diaphonus´ attention is now on my neck, and he is scrubbing the dirt above my collarbone while I try to calm my breath, “but you must understand that you need our protection.”
“I guess that tunnel dweller has probably told you already who we are and why you’re so important to all Faëheim.” Tarcyll’s voice fades when he lifts the curtain at the bottom of the cabin and disappears into the galley. “You are the most powerful Anchor since the beginning of the Siphons´ invasion.” He reappears with two glasses and hands me one. Whiskey. Perfect. I down it in one go and wave to him to pour me more.
“Anchor?” I mumble, my throat still burning from the drink.
“A human gifted with magic. A chosen among millions. You are the key to the salvation of our people, Celeste.” I feel Diaphonus’ fingers on my collarbone and below, tauntingly close to my breasts. Goosebumps appear beneath his electrifying touch, and I pray he doesn’t notice. “Me and Tarcyll agreed to… cooperate, to keep you safe, because you drew the attention of another, far more dangerous and ruthless Hunter.”
I open my mouth to inquire how they have reached an agreement about my destiny without involving me in the process when the dark-haired man returns with another drink.
“You react to our magic in a compelling way, Celeste. Your response to the weakest spell is like a signal flare into the void, and that lured the Prince of the Underworld himself, the one we call the Dreadful One.” I immediately think of the demonic figure that landed on top of my car and the creepy black mist in the parking lot. And the phantom in the sewers? Probably also him.
“I react to your magic?” I ask, still unable to understand. Diaphonus blushes and looks away at this question while his friend grins smugly.
“Or more like his magic.” He points accusingly at the blond man, who looks back at me like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“My friend glamoured you, Celeste.” Tarcyll smiles smugly and hands me the drink. I sip the amber liquid, savoring the smoky taste.
“Glamoured me?” I blink. I think I’m a little slow today. Not a surprise after the recap of the day: a demon is after me, a white-haired weirdo with a Transformers dog kidnapped me, and the ghost of a dead mother tried to drown me.
“He put a spell on you that made him appear irresistibly attractive to you, attempting to put you in his power,” Tarcyll finishes with a note of evil triumph.
I pant, outrage choking me. “You mean like the creeps spiking girls´ drinks in the bars?”
Diaphonus looks at me warily. His broad shoulders hang helplessly. I want to scream at him, yet simultaneously, I wonder why a man like him would use such a trick. He is gorgeous and I was ready to… never mind.
“I am sorry, Celeste, I should not have done that, yet it was the only way to interrupt them—”
“He was just jealous that your eyes were on me that night, Celeste,” Tarcyll casually adds and sits next to me.
“Her eyes were not on you, you mutt, but on her friend, who was being defiled—” Diaphonus´ knuckles turn white. Here they go again.
“I’m sorry if what you saw was disturbing for your celibate High Priest eyes, yet I assure you it was consensual and that women enjoy my attentions—”
“Enough!” I shout, startling them. They immediately cease their bickering and look back at me.
“If you knew what the Dreadful One is capable of, Celeste, you would beg to stay with us,” the blond man says soothingly. Wait, did Tarcyll call him a High Priest?
