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Mourning
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The Troll Queen's Bride Heart of the Waterfall
He put me down gingerly before the guards. “She is my guest,” Samael said, arm around my shoulder. I shuffled in his grasp, made uncomfortable by the closeness. The guards bowed lowly.“We have arranged for a proper means of transport,” one said. “They await beyond the gates.”“Many thanks. Fianna, if I could escort you?” Samael proferred his arm in an old-fashioned manner. I rested my forearm on his, wary of the contact. He smiled. “The pleasure is all mine.”“You'll escort me straight off a cliff,” I muttered, gloomy. The last thing I wanted to do was enter a hell mouth to meet Samael's brothers. People might think angels were nothing but love, light, and hallelujahs, but I knew better. They were just as vicious as their fallen brethren, even more so when executing the will of God.I caught my breath as we entered, gazing out upon a scene of unearthly beauty. “Impossible,” I whispered. Ancient trees in fantastical shapes formed innumerable groves, their trunks thick as
The Troll Queen's Bride Gift
“Pallor?” I asked. “What kind of name for a horse is that?”“'And I saw a pale horse, and the name of him who sat upon it was Death, and Hades was following close behind him.' It's in Revelation, maggot.”I rolled my eyes, sitting stiffly in the leather-upholstered seat. We proceeded down a narrow, empty path, shadowed by the thick trees. I shuddered at the thought that they were suicides, hearing their gentle mourning played out across the breeze.“Refreshment?” Samael asked to distract me, producing glasses of blood-orange liquid from the back of the buggy. It smelled divine.“What is it?” I asked suspiciously.“Nectar of the fireflower. They grow on the banks of the Styx, the river that moats the castle, and are pollinated by the quetzalcoatls you see in the trees. Here, watch this,” he said, handing me a glass. Samael hissed then issued a series of whistles. A gold and purple plumed serpent glided over, the skin of its underbelly flat like the gliding snakes of Asia. It c
The Troll Queen's Bride Wedding Song
“Perhaps we don't.” His lips curled in secret amusement. “How am I to know if my actions were not always God's intending? That the suffering my rebellion brought was all in His plans? I make choices, never knowing if the Lord's dictations are behind them, as He pulls strings of fate eons away...” He helped me down from the hearse and led me to the small path. “Would it surprise you if I still considered myself God's servant?”“Yes.”He smiled sadly. “I was never given a choice in my servitude, you know. It is a role I cannot escape, like a brand pressed over one's heart. No matter what I do, I will never be rid of it.” He dismounted the buggy and docked Pallor at the base of the oak tree. “The path continues on foot from here,” he said, helping me down.“What? Where's the grand entrance to the mouth of Hell?”“We're taking a back route so as not to attract attention.” He scouted the path ahead. “And what a lovely day for a stroll it is. Not a bit of blood-rain in sight.”
The Troll Queen's Bride Lussi
“Don't try it,” Samael warned “You're palate will burn to a crisp.”Gabriel clutched at his chest. “You wound me, Samael. Now how in the heavens have you survived his presence this long?” he asked me.“Must be my guardian angel.”Samael snorted and Gabriel laughed boisterously. “Good one. I like her, Sam. She's got spunk.” He focused on me, grinned, and took a sip of wine. “So I hear you're an atheist, eh?”“Sort of.”“Good. I wouldn't believe in me either. My existence is ridiculous- I mean, look at me. Rainbow wings? Totally clashes with my hair. Don't know what Father was thinking, eh Sam?”“Not this rant again,” Samael groaned.“I'm just saying. I mean, colorblind much? How am I supposed to be taken seriously during the Annunciation when I look like a technicolor nightmare?” He ran his fingers through his golden curls, mussing his hair, and grinned devilishly. Ethereal tattoos flashed on his skin. “What do you think, Fianna?”“You look beautiful,” I stammered, the
The Troll Queen's Bride Eleleth's Heir
5,000 Years Later:Once upon a time, a dying father sold his child to the man of many names.Death is a judge, but he is also a lawyer, and he makes fit the scales of life to balance with his gall. Life for a life, blood for rain, and never a rose without a thorn. Stains of the earthly kind do not wash out, not when they are upon the soul, and the father’s girl was wine red. Born kicking and screaming with a birthmark in the shape of wings on her back. Her mother died in labor, for no one cheats the Reaper.The Devil always gets his due, and tithes to Hell named Janet end up betrothed to infernal Tam Lins. There is not much justice in fairytales, and Sam Hill takes all in time.Seven winters pass. She has the face of a starving angel. Her mother dies in labor in Bethlehem, one of the many Bethlehems that have sprung up since a mad messiah walked wild in the desert long ago with thorns and roses in his hair.The father does not remember his bargain.Each night, she has a visitor.“Daddy
The Troll Queen's Bride Hieros Gamos
Janet curses the corpse below her. Her back itches, where her blood tattoo is, like wings flexing. Like she is trying to flee the cage of her ribs. Were that she could shed her skin and let pinions poke through fierce and mighty, taking her aloft to the skies. There is nothing on the ground to tether Janet here anymore, not with her father gone.Janet’s mourning veil drifts in the stormy wind. The roses she carries wilt, white as the touch of death. Her breath mists like a ghost. She waits at the mausoleum’s steps.“I know you’re there,” she whispers.A crow caws in the dripping pine.She draws the china doll from her purse, her hands clad in calfskin gloves. The shadow takes it from her, his horror and agony brushing against her skin. His touch is like winter’s bone.“Such a fragile thing. How charming.” The thick shadows recede. They reveal the pale cold one. Sam Hill grins back at her. He holds the china doll, places it atop her father’s coffin. “We will bury her, but not yet. It is
The Troll Queen's Bride Alexandria
I suppose I have always known him.He is etched on my hands like indigo dye, the bright stained-glass blue of his iris embedded in my skin. I cannot look at my fingers without thinking of how his interlock with mine. It is a strange thing to know your flesh is haunted. When I look in the mirror, I see him, grinning arcanely back at me.I know that in the womb, he molded me to his will - I am as much his creation as God's, perhaps more so than the Lord lays claim to me. Like my old china doll, he crafted me, with pale skin and copper hair. He says I am delicate as a robin's egg, with eyes like silver coins to pay the ferryman across the Styx.My fate is inscribed on my palm in indecipherable lines. Only he can read them. What he utters ices the marrow of my bones: “I have written my memories into you.” He read stories from my hands in my youth, would tell me tales of a Paradise long lost. Whether that place is now dust or a graveyard, I do not know. Still, he longs to return to Gan Eden
The Troll Queen's Bride Malik
I rest my forearm atop his. Silent, we walk through cobblestone streets, jaywalking and dodging traffic. A bakery warms the wind with delicious scents. The crowds part, subconsciously making way for the Shadow Man and his betrothed. A gale follows Samael; black ice blooms in his wake. Nature curls up and dies at his touch, and my hand burns cold where it meets his, like freezer burn.My wing stains shift their birthmark shape, and I wonder what they will look like tonight. Canary, eagle, sparrow, hawk. Perhaps some kind of owl. I’m feeling vaguely vespertine. I have an Audubon Society book that I’ve used to decipher the port wine stain shadows. Like silhouettes of avians in flight against an iron sky. It is my favorite feature.Samael pauses as if eying a reliquary.“What?” I say.Frosted ivy husks twine over a trellis that stands at the entrance of a darkened alley between two brownstones. Samael grins like a shark, baring sharp teeth. “Perfect,” he hisses. His eyes gleam. Samael smoo
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