Free Child of Darkness-L-D-2 by Jennifer Armintrout Page B

but unable to reconcile that with what their stories and legends told them about the Death Angels’
    purposes.
    “I am looking for one who is not of your kind,” he called out in the mortal language before they could get too close, before they could seize him, do him harm. They still might; their fear glittered in their dark eyes like the glimmer off of spilled blood.
    “You are one who is not of our kind,” a thin man called to him. “And you are not welcome here.”
    “I will leave, and gladly, once I find who I came for.” He considered for a moment that Cedric might not have told them his identity, that he was masquerading as Human. Among these people, as keen and superstitious as they were, it seemed unlikely that they would not know what Cedric truly was. “He is a Faery.”
    A murmur went through the Gypsies who stood before him. Something that sounded suspiciously like “Tom.”
    Had another Faery come to live among Humans? To have tracked the wrong Lightworlder into the Darkworld would be the perfect end to an absolutely fruitless day. The thin man nodded, once. “We cannot take you to him. We can bring him here, to you.”
    “That will be enough for me.” Malachi bowed his head briefly, to show them deference. “I will go into the tunnel, and wait there, so I will not further upset your people.”
    “And after that, you will not come this way again.” It was not a question, but Malachi answered with a nod, all the same.
    He waited, as he had promised, in the tunnel. What would have possessed Cedric to come here, to cast his lot with these strange creatures? All mortal beings were strange, and Malachi did not excuse himself from that description, but Gypsies were among the most bizarre. And for a Fae to knowingly pursue one, when mortal lives were so terribly short and fragile…
    It was something Malachi found himself thinking of far more often lately. The fragility of mortal life, the interminable length of immortality. He was not unaware of how his mortal body had aged. What had been full and strong in youth was now lean and tough. Lines marred his face. Those lines had not been there before, nor had the strands of silver that had grown into his hair. He had more years to live, true enough. But he could not imagine what it would be like to watch Ayla age, wither and die, as she would watch him fade away. Their circumstance, he had thought, was exceptional. Why would another immortal seek out such an unhappy situation?
    Footsteps in the tunnel brought Malachi’s mind sharply back to where he was. His mortal life would be much shorter if he let his attention wander in the Darkworld. The figure that approached was unmistakably Fae, from the way it moved as though somehow not a part of the space it inhabited. And it was Cedric. He was distinctive among the other Faeries that Malachi had seen, in that he was not as wiry, as short and slender, as the others. At first glance, someone who did not know better might mistake him for mortal. But Malachi would never tell him so.
    “What are you doing here?”
    It was not the greeting Malachi had expected. He’d thought that, upon being found out, Cedric would beg forgiveness. He seemed, instead, to demand apology. It took Malachi a moment to adjust his response. “You are needed, back at the Palace.”
    “I am always needed at the Palace,” Cedric said, but did not move, or offer any other explanation.
    “I understand you are angry.” And Malachi did understand. What he did not understand was why the Faery did not rush from this place, as he would have done before. “But this has nothing to do with the betrothal.”
    “It does not matter what it is. I will not return.” Cedric stepped into the light. He wore Human clothes, and they looked strange on him. His mothlike wings were unbound, powdered blue dust falling from them where they touched the fabric.
    The Humans permitted him to walk among them this way? It almost made Malachi laugh, but that would