Page 143 of Huntress

Something resonated through her soul, and Elsie gasped. From one step to the next, a veil lifted to reveal another world. The lens slid into place, and this time it couldn’t be blinked away. If she focused on anything for more than a brief glance, it magnified; her eyes zoomed in to focus on a near-microscopic level.

She heard everything all at once, from the soft whirring of her own breath to a caterpillar munching on a bite of leaf. Elsie slowed, blinking and rubbing her eyes, but it didn't fade or slide away. Her father’s blood had finally awakened.

The breeze came again, tickling along her skin and sending shivers down her spine. Elsie closed her eyes, reveling in how hypersensitive her skin had become, and in how fucking good that breeze felt, like a lover’s caress.

Her mind focused on Saint, who was still running around out there, blocking her presence for the sake of the game and unaware that Elsie’s every thought of him made her need him more. The heat intensified, and the friction of fabric that came with every movement had her melting.

A pout came to her lips as she cast about the area, hurt that he hadn’t already come to relieve her of this agony. She’d have to go to him.

Elsie turned to begin the chase anew, but the brightest flash of red caught her eye, dousing her need with a new pique of curiosity. Immediately distracted, she crouched over it. A tiny flower, no bigger than the tip of her pinky, its delicate petals sparkling in the sunlight. Its name was an itch at the back of her mind, just barely out of reach. She’d known it once, but could no longer recall.

Transfixed by the flower, she barely noticed the flutter of wings above her head. When the bird warbled a series of notes, she looked up, finding the musician himself. She’d spotted these birds hundreds of times. Usually drab brown with a grayish-white underbelly, she now saw a flash of brilliant color she’d never seen before in the bird’s tail as he flicked back and forth among the branches.

It sang to her again, then flew off. Elsie climbed the tree, a deep sense of loss etching into her soul. How was she supposed to describe his vibrancy to someone who’d never witnessed it for themselves? She didn’t have a name for the color, and lacked the language to explain that it was somewhere between green and blue, but nothing at all like teal or turquoise.

She sat on a branch, reveling in the breeze while her mind wandered. Time ceased to have meaning as she lost herself to the intoxicating sounds of every little creature around her. She filtered through the cacophony, focusing on one source at a time, but something new interrupted, demanding her attention so completely that she could hear nothing else. The tinkling of water on stone called to her, and she followed, dropping from the tree to wander the woods until she found it.

The water dropped two feet in a noisy rush, but a smaller trickle split from the main stream, producing the captivating noise she’d come to find. The stone underneath was a shiny black obsidian, polished over time. Each splash was musical, like glass being struck.

Elsie stepped into the stream; the cold water and smooth stones felt delicious on her bare feet. Her nerves came alive with the current, and she ran her hands over the surface, catching the vibrations from the obsidian against her outstretched fingers. Her hands slid under the surface, and she let out a giggle. All her life she’d never known that sound tickled.

Soft footsteps came to a halt nearby.

“Mistress?” Saint asked, his head tilted curiously to one side. “What are you doing?”

“Can you hear the music? The water is like silk.” She looked over to spot him standing on the shore.

Slowly standing up, Elsie’s lips parted, her jaw dropping slightly. Limned in one of the streams of light filtering through the canopy, he took her breath away. Like a moon stuck in his gravity, she couldn’t escape his pull, and she walked to him in a trance.

He reached out his hand as she approached, helping her out of the water. His curiosity slipped down their bond.

Elsie stopped blinking. Her entire focus was on the man before her. She gently pressed her fingers to his lips, biting her own. Moving on to his face, she traced his cheekbones, then his eyebrows.

She stared into his eyes as though seeing straight through them and into his soul. Twisting his curls around her fingers, she tested their bounce, reveling in how smooth they were before running her hands down his arms. She stepped forward, fitting her body against his. Elsie took his hand and kissed each of his fingers, then held it to her cheek as though she could absorb his warmth and adoration through touch.

“Your fae has awakened. Are you in control right now?” he asked gently. Dark moon magic hung heavy around her, but the light moon enveloped it, balancing its weight.

“I am. It’s like I’m connected to the whole world.” She spun in a circle, arms out wide, a broad smile on her face. “Is this what it’s like to be a demon?”

“It’s similar, but without the euphoria. You’re making me think the only downside of being born with sharper senses is not getting to experience the discovery of it.”

“I wish it had happened sooner, it’s so peaceful.”

She lifted her hand, and the two magics swirled around, a smoky ball in her palm, twisting around her fingers like a snake. Adding the electric blue of her ethereal magic would be perfect. She reached for it. The runes at her throat matched the glow in her eyes, and for a second, she was certain it would come.

“Stop that before you hurt yourself,” Saint scolded.

The seal burned, searing through her skin and sinking into her bones. A breath hissed between her teeth. “Too late.”

She rubbed her chest and throat, easing the contracting muscles as the burning and light faded. Saint watched with a wrinkle in his brow and worry leaking through the bond.

“I’ve asked you before to stop doing that.”

“I thought they would look pretty together.” She shook her hand, and the magic dissipated. “Will you come and touch the water with me? It feels nice, and you can hear the rocks singing.”

“Sometimes rocks do that. Wait until the first time a water spirit sings for you. It’s so beautiful that people cry the first time they listen.”

“Do you think there are any in the area? Would they sing if I asked them to?”