The Fae is working herself into a tizzy, her cheeks turning bright red as she talks, and her anxiety is rubbing off on me. My hands are clammy as I try to calm the woman down.
A hysterical female is thelastthing I need right now.
“Stop it!” I bark. My tone is sharper than I intended, and I wince as the female immediately ceases speaking.
She takes a step back, then another. Her face pales as a tremor rushes through her. At that moment, I realize how much larger I am than her. There’s a mirror behind her, and I try to see myself from her eyes. I’m a massive, bare-chested human man with dark tattoos scrawled over my body. My hair is messy, and the circles under my eyes are pronounced in a way that I'd expect from a corpse.
It’s not surprising she is frightened of me.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I hold up my hands in supplication. She watches me warily, and I try to lower my voice. “I’m Erik. What’s your name?”
She shakes her head before erupting in another stream of unintelligible language.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I breathe as I try to figure out what to do. My precious rules won’t help me here. What good are they if I can’t even communicate with the person right in front of me?
“Please,” I say again, tapping my chest and speaking more slowly, “My name is Erik. What is your name?”
Another stream of words rushes out of her mouth as she crosses her arms and studies me intently. Then, her eyes light up.
“Do you finally understand me?” I ask, excitement lacing my tone. “I need to get out of here. Can you help me?”
She shakes her head, babbling incessantly as she rushes out of the room.
Great.
A groan escapes my lips as I look down at myself. Wearing pants and nothing else isn’t ideal, but I also need to leave this room. I’m halfway out the door when I realize I’m forgetting something.
My satchel.
I can’t leave without it. It has everything I need in it. Turning around, I look around the small space. Other than the bed and mirror, it’s completely bare.
“Where is it?” I mumble through gritted teeth. “I need my gods-damned bag and my weapons.”
As if in answer, footsteps pound down the stairs. I clench my fists at my side, focusing on the open door. In rushes the Autumn Fae, but she isn’t alone.
A large, burly male is walking beside her. He’s clad entirely in black leather, and his hair is shorn into a mohawk on the top of his head. His ears are rounded, and his eyes are as black as the night. His face is as stunning as a piece of art, too angular and chiseled to be flesh. He walks towards me, his lips curling up to reveal fangs as he runs a finger down one of my tattoos.
The Vampire says something in the strange tongue, which causes the woman to laugh. I bristle, pulling away from his touch.
“My name is Erik,” I repeat. I feel like a broken record. I’m trying to keep the frustration from my tone, but it’s difficult. “I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I get my things. Do you know where they are?”
The Fae and Vampire launch into a rapid conversation. I’m completely lost, following only their expressions and the way they move their bodies.
The male steps towards the Fae, his eyes flashing as he crosses his arms. She nods, pointing at me and then at herself before miming long talons running through the air.
The Vampire pinches his lips, turning to stare at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze as he observes me. I fight a shiver as his eyes travel from the top of my head to my bare feet. He says a few short, clipped words as he stares at me.
I refuse to cower in his presence.
Then, the Fae starts speaking again. I watch as she turns and rushes into the stairwell. She comes back a moment later with her hand clasped around that of a much smaller child. If the boy were human, he wouldn’t be older than five or six. As it is, his pointy ears mean he could be older than me, for all I know. Based on his bright orange hair, I’m guessing the female is his mother.
The woman opens her mouth again, and another volley of words comes flying at me. She is gesturing, and the boy keeps looking between us. The Vampire steps between me and the boy, his gaze hard.
I quickly decide this child is my best bet for leaving here alive. “Please,” I try again, moving my hand across my chest and miming, putting a bag over my shoulder. “My satchel. I had it on me before. Where is it?”
The female stares at the boy expectantly. He steps forward, clearing his throat.
“My mother...” he stops, staring up at the female. Relief floods through me at the sound of the Common Tongue. The boy’s voice is accented, his words clipped, but I can understand them. “She says you don’t understand her?”