Dreams of Darkness: An Anthology of Dark Fairytales

by Cassidy Taylor

  Killian laughed and then inhaled deeply. “I wouldn't be the first one. I can smell you on her.”

  Finnegan's snarl ripped through the tense silence as he put her down and tucked her behind him. Protecting her. Funny, after he had failed so severely at protecting her from himself.

  Killian did not even flinch. Nilsa's head was still spinning but she didn't like the cruel tilt to his lips. How had she not seen it before? Killian didn't care for her any more than the captain did. He only wanted what he couldn't have.

  So the captain said what he knew would make it worse. “She is mine.”

  “I'm not yours,” Nilsa protested.

  He ignored her. “She is bound to me and under my protection.”

  When he scooped her back up and took a step away, the faeries converged, tightening around him.

  He looked back at Killian. “Shall I call in the Host to prove my point?”

  “I thought you couldn't raise the Host for such trivial matters,” Sir Killian said.

  The captain stared at him blankly, a challenge. Or a statement. Making it clear that Nilsa was not a trivial matter, in spite of what he’d told Jock.

  Killian waved a hand lazily and the ring of faeries parted. The music began piping again but it didn't have the same effect on Nilsa this time. Whatever the spell was, it had been broken.

  It wasn't until they were beyond the ring of faerie light that the captain whisked her away into the sky. He didn't need a horse or a Host, not when he was the magic. She had forgotten the depth of power hidden in his handsome face. He was not a man, no matter how much he felt like one.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him.

  He did not look at her when he answered. “Home.”

  Chapter Eight

  He did not mean the stone manor on the mountainside.

  He meant Aramore.

  Somehow, the town was exactly as she'd left it.

  And why wouldn't it be? She'd left only a couple of days ago, but it felt like a hundred years.

  He set her down just outside of town on the edge of the forest. It was that moment just before the dawn, that in-between time when the fae were said to be most active. She could just make out the shape of her family's small house through the dark. A candle burned in the window. For her.

  “Why are we here?”

  He looked out over the town instead of at her. She wondered if there were any souls calling to him. “Your sister suffers without you. You told me that she was yours, and yet I took you from her anyway. It was selfish and cruel, but that is what I have always been. You are free to go.”

  Nilsa studied the planes of his face, the sharp cheekbones, the tapered ears. “But, our bargain?”

  Finally turning to her, he touched a hand to her wrist. The black metal band cracked and fell off, landing at her feet. She stared at the two pieces, searching inside herself for the thread that had bound her to him, and found nothing but empty darkness.

  “You're letting me go?” Why could she not just accept this gift and walk away? She had broken every other rule, why not this one, too?

  “Yes.” He looked away. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

  But she didn't. She put a hand on his arm and felt him tense at her touch. “What about us?”

  “There is no us.”

  She could not make herself walk away. “What if I could free you?”

  He smirked cruelly. “I do not want to be free. My duty is to the Host.”

  She could feel the lie as surely as if he were still bound to her. “Doesn't everyone want to be free?”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  “Finnegan . . .”

  “Nilsa.” There was no kindness in the way he said her name, and for the first time she was afraid of how he might use it. “Go to your sister. Forget me. This. Us.”

  She took a tentative step away from him. Then another. Each step got a little easier. When she reached her front porch and put her foot on the first stair, she looked back.

  But he was gone, faded into the shadows, like he'd never been there at all.

  Chapter Nine

  The first thing Nilsa noticed was that there was no iron horseshoe hanging over the door, and the wreath of blackberry stems, ivy, and rowan that had hung on the front door all year was gone. Eberlyn had removed the faerie protections, perhaps in some misguided attempt to make it easier for Nilsa to return.

  She crossed over the threshold. The empty front room was illuminated by the candle in the window, but the rest of the house was dark. Nilsa made her way to the back by memory and feel alone, and opened the door to her sister's bedroom. It creaked lightly. Moonlight through an open window revealed Eberlyn's sleeping form.

  And someone else.

  “Thoughtful of her to remove all the protections from the doors and windows.” Killian stood over the bed, his wings too big for the small room.

  “What are you doing here?” Nilsa hissed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She had forgotten these last few days how terrifying the fae truly were. Why people feared them. But seeing him here, knowing how he had faced down Finnegan, she remembered.

  He reached a finger down and stroked Eberlyn's cheek. The girl smiled in her sleep. “When you said you had a sister, I thought maybe I could have one of you for myself.”

  “You cannot have her.” But what could she do to stop him? Maybe she could convince him to leave. Even though the thought made her feel sick to her stomach, maybe she could make a bargain with him.

  He looked up at Nilsa and cocked his head. “You're still so mortal. If only you would embrace the gift that he gave you, then maybe you could stop me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Eberlyn shifted on the bed, somewhere between sleep and awake. Nilsa willed her not to wake. Her fear would only make it worse. But then Sir Killian bent and scooped her up. She woke, eyes wide, flicking from him to her sister.

  “Nilsa?” She said it like a question, like she didn't recognize her.

  “Eberlyn, I—”

  But she didn't get to finish. Eberlyn opened her mouth to scream and in a flash of light, she and Killian were both gone before she could make a sound.

  “No!” Nilsa rushed to the window and hung her head outside, but it was useless. He was gone, and he'd taken her sister with him.

  She pounded her fist on the window sill, and to her surprise, it cracked beneath the blow. She stared down at it, then at her hand. Was it just her, or did her hand seem . . . different? And why hadn't her own sister seemed to know her?

  Nilsa crossed to the vanity pushed against one wall and picked up the looking glass. Stepping into the sliver of moonlight that shone through the window, she studied her face, confused. She was at once herself but also something other. Her features, which had always been sharp, were fine-tuned. Her skin was smooth and pale. And her ears. She put her fingers to the tapered points.

  If only you would embrace the gift that he gave you.

  Finnegan had taken her soul and made her a part of the Host, and in doing so, had made her ...

  Fae.

  Not just any fae.

  A hunter. And to become the hunter, she had to let go of her mortality. She had to embrace the monster that she hadn't even realized was lurking inside of her.

  To save her sister, she would have to lose herself, this time completely. And there would be no coming back.

  There was nothing to consider. She closed her eyes, her face turned to the cool night air, and called to that part of her that had been tethered to Finnegan. That piece of her that he had awoken inside of her. And when she found it, she pulled it out and into the light.

  When she opened her eyes, the world was different.

  No, that wasn't right. The world was the same as it had always been, but she was different. She saw the eyes in the dark that her mortal mind had ignored, felt the stirring of the trees and heard the words that the wind whispered into her ear. Beyond the window
, a horse appeared as if out of thin air, its coat a sleek, shining black. It chuffed and nodded its head, as if telling her it was time to go.

  Nilsa climbed out the window, her movements smooth and purposeful. She hadn't realized exactly how clumsy she'd been as a human. She mounted the horse easily and it began to run. And then, after a few steps, it began to fly.

  Chapter Ten

  She wasn't just in the air. She was the air, and the sky, and the stars, and the shadows. And the rest of the Host was somewhere out there, too, bits and pieces of the night. She could feel them. Not as strongly as she'd once felt Finnegan, but they were there just the same, an awareness that she wasn't alone, not truly. She never would be again.

  The horse slowed when they came upon an estate set high on a grassy knoll. The whole structure seemed to be made of starlight, twinkling and shifting before her eyes. It was extravagant and maybe a little unnecessary, just like Killian.

  Nilsa dismounted before reaching the gates and slunk along the walls and shrubbery, knowing instinctively how to take a quiet step, how to keep out of sight of any sentries. She saw only two, posted on either side of the door. And beyond the door, inside the home, a glimmer of light beckoned to her.

  Eberlyn's soul.

  It was so . . . bright. So fragile.

  So human.

  Even in her bright white dress, all the hedges and stone walls made it easy for her to stay in the shadows as she approached the home. Considering she'd never fought or killed anyone, surprise was her only advantage. She would have to find a way in without alerting the household to her presence.

  She was nearly around the corner of the house, looking back over her shoulder to see if the guards were still in sight, when she plowed into someone.

  Hands gripped her shoulders. She tried to jerk away but his strength surpassed hers. Screaming would do no good. Instead, she stomped one slippered foot down on his insole. He grunted and spun her around, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her back against him. She reached for the shadows, gathering them around her, but she didn't know how to use them yet. So, she did what any human would do. She struggled and fought until she was panting and limp.

  “There, there,” came Sir Killian's cloying voice over her shoulder when she'd stilled. How had she ever found comfort in the sound before?

  “Release me.” The shadows swirled at her feet, waiting for a command that she didn't know how to give.

  He laughed. “I will not make the same mistake as our mutual friend.”

  Around her wrist, a band of polished white ivory appeared. When it snapped closed, all the darkness inside her disappeared and the voices of the Host quieted. She clawed at the bracelet, trying to push it off over her hand, but it didn't budge.

  “I made no bargain with you,” she hissed.

  He spun her around and peered at her face. His blue eyes were like a cold wind that left her unable to catch her breath.

  “You may look like one of us now, but you have much to learn. You have trespassed in my lands, come to my estate with the intention of stealing from me, and you were captured. You owe me a debt, and that is a type of bargain in itself.” He paused, cocking his head. “Or, I could just kill you and be done with it. Put poor Finnegan out of his misery.”

  He released his grasp on her and she tried to strike out at him but found her limbs as heavy as if they were made of stone. She remembered this feeling, remembered standing above the battlefield while the captain had completely usurped her will and forced her to come to him. Her blood went cold with fear—Killian could make her do anything. Anything.

  She followed him into the house, fighting each step. Even though she was screaming on the inside, it had no effect on her willingness to follow him like a puppy. They crossed the foyer with a stone floor that looked like the night sky, and entered a dining room.

  There, at the mahogany table, sat Eberlyn. She was no longer in her nightgown, and instead wore a dress similar to Nilsa’s, exposing her skinny arms and long, slender neck. Her hands were planted flat on the table on either side of an empty plate.

  She looked up, her face crumbling when she saw her sister. “Nilsa,” she sobbed.

  Nilsa tried to go to her, but of course her legs did not obey, instead carrying her to the chair across from her. She sat heavily, gritting her teeth as she tried to resist. A servant brought out the meal on a silver tray—roasted chicken coated in aromatic spices that made Nilsa’s mouth water, steaming vegetables, brown rice. She turned her head away from her plate. Across from her, Eberlyn glared down at her food.

  Killian was the only one to pick up his utensils. “Eat up,” he said, glancing at his guests.

  Nilsa’s hand moved against her will. Her fingers pinched a green bean and brought it to her lips. She turned her head away again. Even if she was fae now, she didn’t know if eating Killian’s food would further bind her to him, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

  A glance at Killian told her his temper was rising. He would soon shed his cloak of civility and turn into the monster he’d been hiding inside of him this whole time. What then? She wasn’t scared for herself as much as she was for her sister.

  Nilsa parted her lips to take the green bean and appease the fae lord, when a crash from beyond the room startled Killian. He released his grasp on her and shot to his feet. But his lapse was only temporary, and his control gripped her even tighter as a smile spread across his lips.

  A figure burst into the dining room, black wings spread wide enough to take up the entire doorway. It was Finnegan. Blood coated his hands, and he was panting. He looked from Nilsa to her sister.

  “What is this?”

  Nilsa tried to stand but it felt like there were boulders weighing her down. She couldn’t even speak.

  Killian gestured to her and her sister. “We were just sitting down to dinner. I believe you’ve met my guests.”

  Nilsa stared hard at Finnegan, willing him to see the truth.

  His eyes flicked to the white band around her wrist, and then to Eberlyn, missing nothing. Faster than even her fae eyes could follow, Finn launched himself over the table. He and Sir Killian collided and slid backward across the floor, tangled in each other’s arms.

  Nilsa was instantly free. She rushed around the table to her sister and pulled her to her feet.

  Eberlyn was sobbing. “What’s happening?”

  “We’re leaving. We have to go. Now.”

  She dragged her sister toward the door that Finnegan had left wide open. There was a crash, and a growl that belonged more to a wild animal than a man. Nilsa forced herself not to turn around. She didn’t want to do anything that would draw attention to them.

  Outside the dining room, a trail of blood led to two bodies. Finnegan had made fast and thorough work of the sentries. This hadn’t been a reaping. It had been a massacre.

  Eberlyn sobbed again and Nilsa clapped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet.”

  They wove around the bodies but it was impossible to avoid the blood. They tracked bright red footprints through the foyer and into the courtyard beyond. Her black horse was waiting for her and pawed the ground when they appeared. She slung Eberlyn onto its back and then moved to pull herself up.

  There was the sound of glass shattering and a howl that chilled her to the bone. She paused, looking back at the manor. Could she just leave him? He could handle himself, couldn’t he? Another scream, and this one stirred something dark inside of her that she thought had been quieted by the ivory bracelet.

  She released the horse and stepped back. “Take her home.”

  Eberlyn looked down at her, brows furrowed, eyes puffy from crying. “What?”

  But the obedient horse was gone before Nilsa could open her mouth to explain.

  She spun around as the plate glass window shattered. Finnegan’s body rolled to a stop at her feet, blood trickling from his mouth, his eyes blank and unseeing. Her head jerked up to find Killian leaping out behind him.

  He landed in
a crouch. Blood covered his white and gold armor and streaked across his face. He looked down at Finnegan, then straightened. “I win,” he said coolly.

  Could he really be gone? All this time, the captain had seemed invincible, untouchable. Had he really been defeated by someone like Killian?

  The darkness swelled around her, shadows stirring around her feet and her hands. Voices in her head—the Host—whispered to her.

  Take him. Take his soul. He is yours. You are ours. Take him.

  No. She wouldn’t. She’d told Finnegan she would never reap a soul.