Bleda received the small still beating heart on a bright morning. The rain from the previous night had made the heat bearable.
Drusilla was already finishing up her rune. The heart and a dagger were the only things left for her to use.
"You know," the goblin said, as she took the heart from the Mongol. "If you can call my brother right after the rune is complete, then I will be grateful."
"Will you lift the curses you made on me and my family?" Bleda asked. He didn't want to go back to Nikola, Dimitri, Jack, Jean, and the kids cursed.
But he was going to, for there was just one place where he could get rid of the curses.
And that was the Black Market.
"I cursed you because you took my brother away!" Drusilla yelled. She stabbed the dragon's heart, letting its blood pour into the rune she had carved on a stone. "Now, bury the stone under the soil. Everyone who walks on land will be spared from the coffin births!"
Bleda nodded, his head bowed. His shovel did quick work with the still wet soil.
The only thing missing, he thought to himself, as the rune let out a light show which spread to the four corners of the planet, was his end of the bargain.
He pressed a hand on a tree. Taking its mana.
Already feeling the regret at the fact that it was going to wilt.
A ghost appeared before Drusila. The goblin had chains on him and a muzzle.
"Oh, my poor brother!" Drusila tried to untie him, but the chains refused to budge.
The goblin placed a hand over her cheek.
Only to try to gauge out her eyes seconds later!
"What?" Drusila yelled, as she backed away from the ghost.
"Hungry," Grog yelled, as he lunged at his sister once more.
Bleda had seen enough.
He snapped his fingers. The ghost faded into the morning mist.
"What? My brother was never like this!" Drusila was still staring at the spot Grog had been in just seconds ago.
"Maybe not in the beginning," Bleda told her, as he patted her on the back. "But he was feral when he attacked us. Please — lift the curse. Do you really want to go to hell with him?"
Drusila began to wipe at her eyes with her bloody hand.
"He stopped taking his potions. I tried to keep him at home, but he always refused to stay put!"
Bleda nodded. He knew how hard it was to take care of a mentally ill person.
He could only imagine it being 100 times more difficult when the person in question was a goblin. A being who was made for violence.
"You saved my life," Drusila murmured, as she waved her hands around. "And I think I should get help."
Bleda nodded.
"The town of Oak's Rest will welcome you, as long as you can prove that you are no danger."
The Mongol bowed then. He knew that it was too much to ask of the goblin, but he needed her to be brave.
"And if you wish, you can visit me and Andrew as many times as you wish. Just be healthy!"
Drusila nodded. Her eyes stinging with the black dread of ending up like her brother.
****
By the time Bleda went back to the mushroom circle, Andrew had already solved two disputes, feed the elders and their tribesmen, and had gotten out of the circle.
Bleda sat by him, as the siren was writing something in his ledger.
"Did it work?" Andrew asked, not looking up from his notebook.
"Yes. There won't be any coffin births anymore," Bleda placed a hand near Andrew.
Oh, how he wished for Andrew to place his hand in his. How he wished for the pretty siren with his brown eyes and hair to smile at him.
Dreams were sweet, the necromancer knew. But that didn't change the fact that he had made his intentions clear, and yet, the siren still didn't want him.
"I ironed out the deal with the goblins about the inns," Andrew told him, as he placed his pencil behind his ear. "But we should run it by Niki and Dimitri first."
Bleda nodded. Placing his hand even closer. He wanted just a touch. Just an assurance that Andrew could let his guard down.
The siren blinked, looking at the hand next to his leg.
"Bleda…" he murmured, before taking in a deep breath. "I am flattered, I am, but I am not ready for a relationship."
Bleda took his hand away as if burned.
"We have a mission to complete," Andrew continued, not knowing that each word was like a dagger in Bleda's heart.
"Not to mention that I am just 18, and you look to be in your late twenties."
Bleda blinked.
"You are only 18?" The necromancer blanched. "Well… I see."
How was Bleda supposed to tell Andrew that he might look in his late twenties, while his first three centuries had come and gone already?
"What's with the disbelief? Do I really look that old?"
"Yep. Like a crone," Bleda teased. Andrew swatted him on the back.
"You take that back!" The siren said in mock horror.
"No," Bleda deadpanned.
"Well, then, I will call you an old man!" Andrew continued the teasing.
"Can you sing for me instead?" Bleda asked, as he laid next to him on the wet grass. "I need to sleep as well. I have been with Drusilla the entire night. The rune was tricky."
He closed his eyes. A song as lovely as spring filled the clearing.
Andrew sang.
He sang about the waves; he sang about the fish. But when his voice took up a purring note, he stopped singing.
He looked at Bleda, who was fast asleep. Andrew ran a hand through his hair.
How was he supposed to tell Bleda that his soul had just linked with his? After all the rejection, their souls had decided what was to be done.
Andrew was at a crossroad.
Should he taste life to its fullest before starting a relationship, or should he listen to his soul?
A soul which was singing to Bleda even though Andrew kept his mouth shut…