Bonds of Cupidity (Heart Hassle Book 2)

Turning our attention back to Plik and Plak, we see them busy in the kitchen, pulling out random objects and setting everything on the table.

The way they move their joined bodies is fascinating. Not once do they get twisted up, even with four arms and four legs. Plus, you know, the swinging penises. Can’t forget those.

The butt-conjoined twins take turns speaking every other word while they carry on a constant stream of chatter. It’s disorienting but totally entertaining.

“Get the—white one, yes. And then—oh, will be perfect. But what if—yes, yes, we must account for that. I’m certain we can find—oh that will be suitable.”

Looking back and forth between their dislocated speech is making me dizzy.

The guys share a look. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Ronak asks.

Plik and Plak stop moving and turn their necks at exactly the same time to look at him. “Of course—we know. Why do—you think—we’re preparing? The great magic—that you require—comes from the combination—of our good magic. Raw magic—that can touch—the Veil. This is not—simple magic. This is not even—fae magic. This is magic strong enough—to reach past this realm. Through it. We do not often—help outsiders—but when the Horned Hook asks—one must listen. Too many secrets—floating around—in his horned head—to ignore him. Now be—quiet—and let us work—so we can—try and get your—female out of the Veil—and get back to our—peaceful lives.”

They mix a bunch of the stuff they pulled out and make a gross looking cocktail. They surprise me when they each take a cup and drain the contents. One of the twins drinks something black and smoking, while the other drinks a cup filled with what looks like white light.

“What are they doing?” Sylred asks.

Plik—or Plak, I’m not really sure which is which—answers. “I am drinking death.”

I gape at him and his smoking cup. “I’m pretty sure no one should drink freaking death!”

Just as I say the word, Plik (or Plak) slumps over. Not breathing, the upper half of his body comes to rest against the top of the table. We all stare at him bent over at his conjoined butt, but he doesn’t move.

“What just happened?” Evert asks.

Plak (or Plik? Gods this is confusing,) continues drinking his drink cheerfully. “Plik just died, of course.”

“What?”

Plak drains the last drop of white light from the cup and sighs. He has a soft glow about him now. He looks over at his dead twin and scratches his half of their butts.

“Can you explain to me why he just fucking killed himself?”

Plak rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, he didn’t kill himself to die. He drank death because it’s the only way for us to reach the Veil and find your female. The living are not permitted inside.”

Oh. That actually makes sense.

“Okay…but won’t your brother stay dead?” Sylred puts in.

Plak blinks at him.

The Horned Hook laughs, startling us enough to turn around and look at him. “You should see your faces right now,” he gasps out.

“Never fear,” Plak answers. “We are connected.”

“Yeah, we can fucking see that,” Evert drawls.

Plak looks down at their conjoined butts and then back again. “Yes. But no. I meant that we are the only fae who have connected life forces. He has died many times, as have I. As long as the other one of us lives, we pull the other back to life. He will be walking in Death’s Hollow soon. Once he finds your female, he will perform some magic, which I will feed to him from the living realm, and he will bring her back.” He taps his chin in thought. “Or…this will fail, and he won’t. Either way.”

Okay then.

I suddenly see a shadow poking out of poor dead Plik. No, not a shadow. His invisible, ghostly form. He floats up out of his body and stands beside his brother, strangely whole. No half butt for him in the afterlife, so that’s something.

He shakes his arms out and looks around, his eyes immediately landing on me. “Ah. The female, I presume?”

“Umm, yeah. Yes. That’s me. I’m the female.”

“Hmm.” He studies me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my wings. “You’re not a ghost, nor angel, nor demon. What are you?”

“I’m…really ready to have a body again.”

He waits for me to say more, but I keep my mouth closed and he finally gives up. “Fine. Come on, then.”

I float up beside him and he puts his hands on my chest. We don’t touch, exactly, but I can feel something. A sort of tingling sensation where his hands rest against me.

“What—”

“Shh!” Plik snaps.

I clamp my mouth shut and see that both he and his brother have their eyes closed tight in concentration.

Suddenly, his brother’s glowing light starts steaming off him like he’s a cup of coffee. In turn, the steam sinks into dead Plik’s body. Then it appears around ghostly Plik’s body, too. I watch as the tendrils start travelling from him to the spot where he’s touching me.

“This may hurt a bit,” he mumbles.

The warning is barely spoken before excruciating pain slams into me. Blackness floods my vision, and I can hear screaming.

Oh, wait. That’s me.

It feels like I’m burning alive.

Just as suddenly as it came on, the burning pain is gone.

I fall. Yep. My knees actually hit the floor. The pain I feel from it is the most welcome thing in the world, because it means one thing.

“She’s back!”

I’m not sure who says it, but suddenly I’m being lifted up off the floor and pressed against a hard, warm chest. Before I can get my bearings, I’m pulled out of one set of arms and into another, while yet another body presses up against my back, jostling against my quiver and bow.

Then I’m yanked away again and different arms encircle around me, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again. I feel his nose against my neck as he slowly inhales.

Okot.

“My beloved.”

I turn my face slightly so that I can have a sniff, too. Yep. He still smells amazing. I just wanna bottle this stuff and spritz it into my face.

When he finally lets me go, I take a step back so I can see all my guys. But I watch as four faces go from ecstatic to furious.

I blanche and take an involuntary step backwards away from them. “What…?”

Evert is suddenly in my face, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Who. The. Fuck. Did. This.”

I blink. “Did what?” Then I register all the pain. My face. My arms. My stomach. My wing. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah, fucking that.”

Okot presses in closer to my left, Sylred to my right, and Ronak at my back. It’s like I’m barricaded in by four big hunky man beasts. It’s intimidating to suddenly be at the center of such intense attention after being invisible. A small shudder passes through me as I struggle to meet their eyes.

“What happened, Emelle?” Sylred asks quietly, touching my arm.

“Who hurt you?” Okot asks, his tone furious. I’ve never seen him angry before. The red circles in his irises are pulsing.

“It doesn’t matter,” I hedge. “I’ll heal. Besides, I have my bow and arrow again. That’s pretty exciting, am I right?”

“Nope. It matters,” Ronak says, ignoring my attempt at distracting them.

“He’s right. Tell us, Scratch.”

“Well, when the prince arrested me and put me in the cells, he sent Chaucel and his guard to…question me.”

“Beat you. He sent him to beat you.”

“Eh. Semantics.” I start scratching my arm at the spot where my old itch used to be. Thank gods I didn’t get stuck with another itch this time around.

Okot cocks his head. “Do you have fleas?”

That makes Evert bark out a laugh. I level a glare on him. “No,” I answer Okot primly. “I just like scratching. A girl can never be too careful. You should always scratch right when you feel an itch crop up. Trust me.”

“Your skin is turning red,” Ronak observes with a frown.

I look down at all the red scratch marks marring my arm. “Yep.”

His hand reaches around and clamps around my wrists, preventing my movements. I pout up at him.

“Stop stalling and tell us.”

I blow a piece of hair out of my face. “Fine. Yes. I took a few hits. They wanted to rough me up a bit, make me hurt and scared. You know, Torture 101.”

“Who did it?” Okot asks again.

I hesitate, but decide it’s best to just be honest. “It was Gammon. Chaucel would ask a question, I would answer, and then Gammon would beat me. It didn’t last long. I’m fine.”

“He will be punished,” Okot vows.

“I’ll fucking help,” Evert puts in.

“I think we should all pay him a visit.” Ronak adds.

“Look, that’s sweet that you guys are getting all murdery, but can we not right now? I don’t want any of you going off on a dangerous mission to exact vengeance just yet. I just got back, and I’m hungry. Feed me.”

Sylred chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “There’s our girl.”

When they shift aside, I can see Plik’s ghost-form soaking back into his body. Simultaneously, Plak loses the last of his glowing light. A shudder passes from Plak into Plik, and then his prone form suddenly bolts upright again. The twins look at each other with matching grins. “Well done, brother,” they both say at the same time.

“Thank you,” I tell them. “I don’t know how you did that, but thank you.”

“Is she still anchored to us?” Ronak asks.

“Oh yes—can’t undo her anchor. Tried. But she no longer—depends on your—proximity. Only your lives. Should all of you die—she will, too. Much like we depend—on each other,” they say, motioning to one another.

“Well that’s good news,” I smirk. “Nice to know I can get away from these jerks once in a while,”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Evert says sternly.

I’d forgotten about The Horned Hook until he pushes his way through my guys and stands in front of me. I stare at his silver horned masked. “Thank you, too,” I say. “You saved Okot and me.”

Instead of answering, he just keeps staring.

I shift on my feet awkwardly. “Umm…”

After another weird lull, he reaches to the back of his head and shocks everyone when he removes his mask.

Holy moist macaroons.