8

Luc Zelsor and the Bargain that Never Was

Contrary to common Dark Corner belief, being naturally cruel did not make Luc hate things easily. However, there were exactly five things he loathed with a deep, burning passion. Five things that made even his magnificent gumiho powers shudder.

The first of his hatreds he kept sealed behind a steel heart and fake smiles, never to be uttered aloud: A mountain god-turned-war fairy with too much power, too many riches, and not nearly enough intelligence to realize his only son had fled him.

The second: His mother. Who never came back. And who did not fight hard enough to keep him.

The third: Sea snail soup. An old female had made it for him once while he was on a spying task in a western village, and once was enough. He'd been more ill than ever for days afterward, and he had vowed to never eat a snail again. Some things were not meant to be consumed.

The fourth: Arrogant fairies who didn't know their place. It was simple enough. He just couldn't stand to see beings less powerful than him strutting around with their noses in the air, their tone telling stories of self-importance. His greatest source of joy was humbling fools such as those.

And the fifth…

The fifth was a new one that had only presented itself after he'd come to the human realm and accidentally stumbled into a horrifying, wide-open stable the humans called a "dog park."

Luc stared at the creature just inside the door of his new apartment, attached to a leash in Dranian's hand, its tongue hanging out the side of its face, its panting loud enough to wake a sleeping fox.

"Oh…" Luc's frown deepened. His hand slid into his pocket where his fox bead was hidden away, the gem promising beautiful, undiluted wrath to fall upon this animal should he choose to use it. "…dear," he finished.

"It's an assistance dog," Dranian stated proudly, yet still almost too quiet for to Luc to catch. The fool was always muttering in hushed tones, and Luc wished that for once he'd just speak up. "For someone with a disability ."

Luc's gaze tore from the panting, hairy beast. He glanced at Dranian's scarred arm, then his face. He couldn't be certain, but it seemed a faint shadow of a smile was threatening the North Fairy's expression.

"Get rid of it," Luc demanded. He would not ask twice.

Dranian dropped to a knee and began to pet the animal like the two were old friends, and Luc's hand flashed up to plug his nose. The smell was more than he could bear.

"You can't make me get rid of it. Not when it's an assistance dog ," Dranian stated. His green gaze darted up to Luc.

There it was. The fool smiled .

Luc dropped his hand, and his nose was instantly attacked by the wet fur smell again. "I'll kill it, then." He spun to search the living space. Where had he left his fairsabers? He vaguely recalled stuffing them behind the seat cushions of the couch for safekeeping.

"If you do…"

Luc glanced back over his shoulder where Dranian was letting the animal lick his face. Luc stifled a deep gag.

"…you'll break the contract," Dranian finished. He stood tall again, his chin slick with dog spit.

Luc's cunning mind raced over the words he'd read the first day during his interview. It had been in the fine print—something he hadn't even considered to weigh. Something about " service dogs" for those with… disabilities.

Luc's hand came over his mouth. He was sure nothing had ever disturbed him more. Whether it was the shock of the news—that he could not kill the varmint before him—or that this simple-seeming, failed assassin had outsmarted him, it left his thoughts in shambles and his supremacy choking.

It was the first moment he wondered if this North Fairy might really win and drive him out after all.

Dranian pulled a small ball out of his pocket. The hairy beast went wild, barking and making Luc jump. The animal began breathing even louder —a thing Luc didn't know was possible.

"Here, Shayne," Dranian soothed, patting the top of the dog's head.

"You named him Shayne ?" Luc scoffed, recalling Dranian's apparent forever-friend having the same name. "That is utterly pathetic—"

"Fetch!" Dranian hurled the ball toward Luc, and Luc screamed.

The dog channelled across the living room as Luc dove over the back of the couch, landing on the cushions with a bounce. Sounds of the dog's tiny hooves over the floor filled Luc's ears. It was a sound worse than a thousand charging reindeer in war.

He peeked over the back of the couch in time to see the dog racing back to Dranian with the ball.

"Good boy," Dranian praised in his low, ever-monotone voice as he scratched the animal behind the ears.

A fresh rage swept through Luc's heart. At the dog, at the North Fairy, but mostly, at himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. But he would not hold back any longer. He would not sit by idly for the sake of warm water and a soft bed .

He rose from the couch slowly, a dark power rumbling through his bones and making the dog whine and hide behind his owner. A dog he couldn't even kill.

"I assure you, North Fairy," Luc began, his sharp eyes narrowing on the pair of mutts, "you've begun a war."

The day turned cold. Winter air threatened to arrive in an untimely manner. Luc shivered as he marched toward the ice cream shop downtown. He knew they wouldn't be open to receive him, but he wanted to check anyway. He craved pink strawberry flavour and the cool, whipped taste.

And he would have given his left arm to avoid going back to the apartment for a little longer.

But as he took step after step, killing time with his own two feet and refusing the call of the wind, he found himself in another place entirely.

He sighed to himself as he looked up at the tall building before him. "Oh dear. Why, Zelsor, why?"

The bell tower was in the same rough shape as the last time he'd seen it two months ago. All the ground-level windows Luc had smashed during his first visits had been boarded over. Nothing about the cathedral looked pleasant or inviting. He could ask himself all day why he had come. Why he would ever come back here.

But he knew the answer.

Because while his pride was his most precious possession, he didn't have anyone else.

"Trisencor," he greeted coldly. The disgraced Shadow Fairy had arrived nearly silently behind him.

Luc was grabbed.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself channeling upward. He didn't try to fight it.

He was dropped on the rooftop of a tall office building in a heap, the air around him turning solid, the cool breeze returning, the sounds of the city finding him once again.

Luc sighed through a pitiful laugh and rolled onto his back, looking up at a foe with skin a little darker than his, hair a little curlier than his, and an expression far more deadly.

"You must have been expecting me," Luc said. He slipped into the air just enough to stand. He appeared before Mor with his arms folded.

Mor's dark, luminous eyes were cutting.

It was to be expected. Luc had tried to kill him.

A few times.

Mor's arms were folded too, showcasing his life story in tattoos. He smelled of coffee, fresh paper, and wet ink. It seemed his little printing business with the humans was going well.

Luc cleared his throat. "Since we're bound to cross paths now—considering the circumstances—I figured I would speed up the process—"

"What are you talking about?" Mor's voice carried the same low, guarded tone it always had.

Luc stopped speaking for just a moment. He studied the tale in Mor's expression, in his stance.

Mor stared back at him. There wasn't a hint of understanding there.

Luc scratched his head, wondering.

No way… Oh dear.

Luc almost burst out laughing, but he managed to allow only a broad smile and a half-restrained chuckle. His faeborn soul had nearly drowned in a fit of panic when Dranian had sputtered all that nonsense about having told his brothers of Luc's presence, but…

But it seemed the North Fairy hadn't told Mor anything at all. Mor's face confirmed that he had no idea Luc was even alive until this very moment.

"Well, that's interesting," Luc mused to himself.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your life on this rooftop, Luc," Mor said, appearing far calmer than his rhythms revealed.

What a fool.

"Yes, one reason is enough," Luc agreed, and Mor waited. So, Luc smiled broadly. "You can't. You tried a dozen times to kill me, and you failed, Trisencor. Alabastian, the legendary war hero, killed me, not you." Luc strode in until he was close enough for Mor to stab. "You cannot defeat me. You're a failure and a disloyal, marked Shadow. Remember that on the days you think you're allowed to be happy."

Mor punched him.

Luc's face swung to the side, but he caught himself before he fell. He turned back slowly, his flesh burning where Mor's knuckles had dug in. He could already feel his jaw beginning to swell. But he didn't retaliate. Truthfully, he deserved worse.

"You always run your faeborn mouth too much," Mor growled.

Luc stretched his neck back and forth as he fought the urge to hit Mor back.

"It's my specialty to speak the painful truth, even if you don't want to hear it. Speaking of which…" Luc settled his dark eyes on Mor again. "I think you know I have a problem. You must have seen our Shadow Army division roaming the streets with the season change."

"My High Court made a bargain with them. The division is no longer a concern of mine," Mor stated, glancing back in the direction of his gloomy cathedral. Likely looking for his dear Violet, concerned with Luc so close by.

"How convenient that the Army allowed you to live. Unfortunately, they will not offer the same grace to me," Luc stated.

"So then kill them, Luc. You're good at that," Mor articulated. "And stay far away from my humans and my cathedral. If I sniff you in this city again, I'll lead the Shadow division to you myself."

"Do you really believe you'll be left alone once news reaches the Shadow Palace about you? They don't care about the division's measly bargain—you know that," Luc reasoned .

Mor grunted and walked past Luc like he meant to leap from the building. It seemed the conversation was over.

Luc's eyes fell closed as he swallowed his pride. "Wait."

Mor's footsteps slowed behind him. There was no pop of him vanishing, but it was clear he meant to leave at any moment if Luc didn't give him an astoundingly good reason to stay.

Luc could not believe his own thoughts. His own absence of dignity.

"I can't go back there." He didn't have to specify the Dark Corner, or the Shadow Army. "I need help."

How he hated those words. He hated himself.

He hated that joining forces with Mor was the only idea he'd come up with. "You and I could take out the army together," he tried. "Your High Court wouldn't even have to know you were fighting alongside me. Then you'll never hear from me again."

A huff of disbelief came from Mor. "I offered you my help once. And you did the unthinkable. What makes you think I'll ever forgive you for what you did to Violet?"

Fire filled Luc's veins. He whirled around, unable to stop his tongue. "What makes you think I want your forgiveness? What makes you think that while I was doing those dreadful things to her, I was hoping you'd forgive me afterward? Does that make sense to you, you fool?" he spat. "I'm not here for your forgiveness, Trisencor!"

Mor pointed in Luc's face so fast, Luc hopped back a step. "And that is exactly why you keep ending up alone!" he shouted. Luc waited for Mor to strike him, to stab him, to do any number of terrible things in the heated moment that even Luc knew were justified. But Mor's chest rose and fell thrice before his shoulders relaxed, and he took a step back. "Stay away from me and my High Court," he finished.

Well. That was impossible. Luc looked off at the sky so Mor might not see it on his face.

"I won't tell them I saw you, so they won't get ideas about hunting you down. But I'll only give you grace once, and it's not because I've forgotten about what you did. It's because I'm busy with other things," Mor said. "Get out of here, Luc."

With that, Mor vanished. He appeared on the sidewalk far below, and Luc didn't follow. He watched Mor cross the road to the cathedral. The enchanted doors swung open for him and slammed shut again once he was inside.

Luc rubbed his temples.

It wasn't impossible to avoid the Army division and stay hidden. It would just be a challenge.

A challenge he would have to endure every time the seasons changed and the Shadows returned for a report from him they would never get. They would send a new liaison to replace him eventually. Luc would have to avoid that fool as well. Or kill him off. Only to have the Dark Queene send another one.

It would be an endless process, constantly disrupting Luc's life. He could have fled to a faraway land like he'd originally intended, but …

He turned and glanced back down at the cathedral as a weight formed in his stomach. As much as the Shadows bargained, they couldn't be trusted to keep their word. And if the Dark Queene ever found out that a black-marked peasant-turned-army-deserter was still alive, she would force the Shadows to find a way around the bargain and brutally kill Mor. He wouldn't even see it coming.

Luc growled at himself and spun away to march across the roof.

Yes, he hated himself. More than normal today.

There were few things he cared about in this faeborn life anymore. Why did Mor Trisencor have to be one of them?

He stepped into the air, gliding past colours and potent city smells, heading back toward his apartment after all. As he slipped, he considered that the Shadow Army division must have known Luc was enemies of the Coffee Bean's High Court. Therefore, if the High Court of the Coffee Bean really had made a bargain with the division, then the last place the division would think to look for Luc was right at Dranian Evelry's side.

And that led him to recall the most baffling part of his conversation with Mor. Not only did Dranian not tell Mor that Luc was alive, Mor still had no idea Dranian was living with him. And Mor had just promised not to tell his allies of Luc's existence as well.

Despite the dire situation, Luc laughed. Because what was possibly the funniest part about all of this was that the High Court of the Coffee Bean—the supposed band of loyal brothers—were all keeping secrets from each other.