Bewitching Monsters

Hamadryad - Part 2

The dryad approached and stopped a step in front of me. His gaze was hypnotic at this distance. When he took my hand, I felt a hot rush of power flux through me. This was no normal dryad I was dealing with. "You're a hamadryad, aren't you?" I murmured.

"Perceptive."

"You..." My heart rate started picking up. The longer he held my hand the more uneasy I became. That tree that I saw was him. He lived as long as his tree stood, and it had been standing for tales of time. "You have so much power—what could you possibly ask from me?"

He pressed my hand to his chest. It was strange feeling a heartbeat from one who looked so much like a tree; to feel his deceptively smooth skin. "I would ask you for your protection."

"Protection from what?"

"That I am unsure. There have been trembles in the world roots. I fear there might be something on its way. Regardless, the safety of my heart is always of concern. Especially when there is a surge in power around my home."

"You know my magic comes at a cost."

"As does my humbleness."

What? What was he implying? I pulled my hand free and squared my shoulders. This was beginning to take cold turn. "Speak frankly, hamadryad."

"I do not enjoy pests in my home."

"And I do not enjoy being threatened."

"Neither do I." The forest appeared to close in around us, towering higher than before, suffocating my strength. I was not prepared to pony up for a game of chicken. "I'm sure we won't need to get that far."

"Let's barter terms then." I yanked the charm off my necklace to summon my broom to sit and hover on. Instantly I felt more in control, more grounded despite no longer touching the ground. "What level of protection are you looking for? How exactly am I to protect you?"

"Am I correct to believe sensitive information will be permanently non-disclosed?" I nodded and he continued. "Your residence overlaps the plane where my tree lives. I was able to move it there thanks to a witch long ago. However, that spell is waning. I'm not sure the effects the reincorporation into this plane will have on my tree—or your house. And I prefer my tree to be inaccessible to others."

Yeah no, I didn't want to find out what would happen either. I was sure it would be terrible for everyone. The real question running through my head was how in all the worlds did I fix this? I couldn't just refresh the old spell. Every witch had their own signature embedded in their magic, a fingerprint impossible to copy. Only the caster could recharge a weakening spell.

I could break and recast the spell. However, I didn't know the exact spell used before; I doubted the hamadryad knew either. If I supplemented a different one, there was a small risk of causing him shock. "Do you remember anything about the spell?"

"It was called garrán i bhfolach."

"Oh. Well." That was extremely helpful—and literal. "That makes this easier. Still, I'm going to need time to prepare. And I'll still need payment of some kind. Is there anything you'd rather—"

"How about ichor?" he butted in. My jaw actually dropped as I gawked at him. Ichor was such a rare resource it was considered a fable. He chuckled at my reaction. Stepping closer, he ran the backs of his talons down my cheek. "You may have it, though you have to collect it through your own means."

There was trickery in his words. "And how do I do that?"

His wide grin revealed a mouth of sharp fangs. Funny—I didn't realize trees were so carnivorous. "Do you know what exactly ichor is?"

"The blood of ancient magicals?"

"That is one type."

Type? There were multiple types of ichor? My mind began racing with questions about what they were, if each kind had different properties, different influences. It all came to a halt when I wondered where each source came from. If one was blood... I wasn't sure I wanted to know about the others anymore. I asked cautiously, "Is that the type you'll give me?"

"No."

"Then what is?"

His claws trailed down my neck, down the center of my chest. "My ichor is more," his fingers spread across my thighs, "sacral in nature."

By. The. Gods. Was he for real? The ichor he'd pay me with was his—I mean I guess it was on par with what I accepted. I just wasn't expecting it. Nor was I expecting all the caressing right now. You'd think there was braille on my legs that he was trying to read with how much he smoothed over the thin fabric of my nightgown.

We had gone from polite to aggressive to frisky in the matter of a minute. Boy the fae were exhausting.

"What's your ichor best used for?" Like I said, this stuff was ultra-rare. I knew some general uses for it, but since I had not worked with, I wanted to verify with the hamadryad before I started using it and mucking up my spells.

"Are you accepting the payment?" He stepped back from me and placed his hands behind his back.

"Is that the only way you'll answer my previous question?" He raised his chin. Why did I expect a real answer? I sighed. "How much are you actually gonna give me?"

"You may collect once a week for as long as the spell stands."

"You need that much time to recover?" I quipped.

"The magic required to imbue my seed into ichor—yes."

"So you have to intentionally make ichor?" He tilted his head and leveled a gaze that screamed bitch you know I'm not going to answer that. I couldn't help it; I was full of questions. "Fine, fine. I have work to do now. I'll be in touch once I have things ready."