Melinda Hellert
The Faery Keepers
Melinda Hellert
Contents1. Caesleanyx
2. The Queen's Guard
3. Derek Carson
4. Traitor
5. Chrysantha Queen of the Summer Court
6. Hallucinations
7. Antidote
8. Nyla's Magic Touch
9. Home
10. Ceara's Domain
11. Answers and Questions
12. Keeper Lessons
13. Family Dinner
14. Gwephenlark & the First Keepers
15. Chaos
PrologueA Faery with raven black hair walks among a patch of woods just before twilight. Her magnificent translucent wings are spread out behind her like twin fans, twitching softly in the light summer breeze. She wears a strange dress that is made entirely out of leaves that have been woven together, which cinches at the waist and forms straps around her shoulders. She doesn't worry about being seen by any humans that may have wandered into this particular part of the forest because she is glamoured invisible to their mortal eyes.
Unfortunately she doesn't notice as a man is following her. She doesn't notice the gun he has concealed beneath his belt. She doesn't see the black Z like mark on his skin. She doesn't see him pull out the gun and aim it directly at her, pull the trigger.
But she does feel the bullet, iron, a Faeries only weakness, infused in its core as it rips through her skin. Silvery blood seeps from her skin and her world fades to gray. She falls to the ground, unconscious amidst millions of flowers, shrinking to a size no bigger than a human finger.
1. Caesleanyx “Katie, watch out!” Maggie squeals, taking a running leap into the pool next to me. The impact sends a spray of water into a couple of small boys sporting floaties swimming around next to us. They glare at her form beneath the water and paddle away.
She resurfaces, giggling.
“Sheesh, Mags. Why don’t you just drown the kids?”
Maggie laughs, splashing me with a torrent of chlorinated public pool water.
“Gah! You got it in my mouth,” I sputter.
“Hey, you think maybe we should get going? It’s getting pretty late,” she asks, sobering up instantly after she’s had her fun.
I cast my eyes skyward to find she is right. The sun has moved from the middle of the sky when we’d arrived to low on the horizon. The heavens look on fire with orange and bubble gum light.
“Yeah. I suppose we should,” I sigh.
We wade out of the pool through scores of families trying to get cool in the ninety-eight degree heat wave that blankets the city. But even a day in the water can’t stave it off for long. In the dead of summer this degree of heat isn’t at all uncommon in Hawthorne Hollow, Michigan.
We go to gather our bags and wrap ourselves in towels for the walk home. My green two piece makes me feel like an upside down carrot with my striking red hair. That plus a smattering of freckles—and I mean everywhere—and overly pale skin that makes me look like a ghost, I am nowhere in the boys department. Not even a one. So it is better to have something to cover myself for the journey home.
Maggie, on the other hand, is Barbie doll next to my Raggedy Ann. Ultra blond hair, that isn’t dyed by the way, and startling icy blue eyes. And a perfect tan complexion without a freckle in sight. But I don’t envy her. She’s my best friend.
I’m walking, lost in my own thoughts so I don’t notice right away that Maggie has disappeared. One second she’s right beside me, the next; gone.
“Maggie?” I call out.
No answer.
I whirl around only to find strangers faces staring back at me. No Maggie.
Then I spot her under the alcove that leads to the parking lot. She’s kneeling on the cement talking to someone out of sight. A boy around our age walks in and sits on one of the stone benches toweling his hair.
Maggie straightens abruptly, looking disgruntled even from this distance.
I dart over to her. “There you are!” Relief floods my body. “What were you doing?”
“Shh,” she shushes me, distracted by something or someone.
“What?” I hiss.
The boy behind us perks up in interest. He lays down his towel and gazes at us, not even trying to hide it.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” Maggie snaps. “Beat it.”
Whoa. That’s not like her. I peer at her in concern as she locks eyes with the boy until he leaves. He stalks off, looking over his shoulder at her, a weird expression painted on his face. O...K
“What’s up?” I finally ask.
“He’s the reason he left, Kate.”
Huh? “The reason who left, exactly?”
“Caesleanyx.”
“Pardon?”
“Say-slea-nicks,” she enunciates impatiently. “He was right there until he came marching in here.” She points to a small square on the floor.
“Okay now I’m completely lost. What is a Caesleanyx?”
“Not a what, a who.”
“Who is three inches big?” I exclaim.
“Forget it. You won’t believe me anyways.”
I pause. “I’m sure I can handle it Mags.” She takes a breath then:
“Caesleanyx is, at least I think he is, a gnome.”
I blink at her stupidly, thinking she’s joking. She has to be. Right?
But when all she does is meet my stare evenly; her blue eyes sincere as ever, I back pedal. “Wait, what? You’re serious?” I ask, flabbergasted.
She merely looks at me like I’m the one who’s crazy.
“Come on! You can’t drop something like that on me and just leave me hanging!” I protest vehemently.
“All I know is I saw him there with my own eyes. He seemed pretty adamant about telling me something but then that guy had to come in and scare him off,” she pouts. “Maybe we can find him! He can’t have gone far,” Maggie exclaims excitedly. “Come on.”
She pulls me to the wall, the bottom of which is solid cinder block, I may add, mumbling something like Caesleanyx had gone into it. How he managed that...you got me there.
“Start feeling along the bottom there,” she instructs. “I’m not sure where but he vanished here somewhere.”
I kneel down on the cool floor next to her feeling the wall for I didn’t even know what. A tiny door? Holographic cement that your unsuspecting hand suddenly goes through?
“AH!” I squeal as a small square gives way at my touch at the seam of one brick and the next. “What the—?”
Tiny beady eyes gleam from within the darkness. Followed by a brown tattered hat that tapers to a point. A pudgy body that’s clothed in pants, a shirt, and what looks like an apron, all in shades of brown. This includes his beard and scraggly hair, a deep umber.
My reaction to him: not at all gracious I’m afraid to say.
I give a little shriek and jump back, clutching my towel around me protectively. Like it’ll save me if Caesleanyx decides to bite.
“Would you stop that?!” Maggie hisses. “You’re fifteen, not five. Besides you’re going to scare him away again.”
I shoot her a glare.
“You can come out now,” she coaxes gently. “Kate won’t hurt you. She’s just a big baby.”
“She is not the one who worries me so,” Caesleanyx says. His voice is both gravely and squeaky at the same time.
Maggie squints at him.
“My kin are being hunted. We know not who is doing so. You bear the Mark of our allies. Help us you must.”
It’s amazing how loudly he could talk for such a small creature.
Wait, Mark? What Mark?
I look at him speculatively to find his eyes intent upon mine.<
br />
“What Mark?” I ask, finally finding my voice after my freak out.
“That matters not,” he says. “Follow me.”
I glance at Maggie, expecting her to say something along the lines of “let’s get off this crazy train.” Instead I get a grave nod at Caesleanyx and her grabbing my hand to tow me along.
I sigh inwardly and hope she knows what we’re about to get into. Then we walk.
Following a little dude who could probably fit in my hands through the parking lot in fading light is not fun. Luckily he stops and calls out to us any time we lose him among the cars. Which happens a lot considering it isn’t at all that hard to do.
Once out of the lot, Caesleanyx leads us to a sparse cluster of trees that rims the property. Beyond which lies a field full to the brim with wild flowers of all sorts.
We used to play back here as children, but the flowers resilience in this heat still amazes me. Rosy pinks, sky blues, royal purples, and lemony yellows assault the eyes even in the dimming twilight. It’s a beautiful sight.
“Is this where you live?” Maggie asks.
“Some of the time,” Caesleanyx says truthfully.
“So why do you need us?” I ask.
“Come. This way,” he beckons us to a small patch of grass in the shape of a ring, around which a smattering of yellow flowers rimmed. In the center of it lay a tiny figure wrapped in a dress of leaves, a strange silver substance coats the front of it. Her skin is ghostly pale and has a faint blue tinge to it: a sure sign of oncoming death. Delicate translucent wings lay folded beneath her back, shimmering rainbow colors in the vanishing sunlight. Her limbs are contorted at odd angles banishing any pretenses that she could be asleep.
“What happened to her?” Maggie and I demanded simultaneously.
“Attacked she was. I fear she will perish.”
“And she hasn’t already?” I ask, none too kindly, peering at her still form.
“Nearly, but not yet,” he says morosely.
“What can we do?” Maggie’s eyes are full of concern.
Caesleanyx plucks a pink tulip seemingly out of nowhere.
“This will protect her.”
I stare at him, not grasping what he means. What is it, some sort of talisman?
But when I take it from his small knobby hands and feel the silkiness of the petals, the glossy, wax like green leaves, I realize that it’s not a false flower. It’s an actual plant.
How the heck is a tulip supposed to protect you?
I am going crazy, its official. I think to myself. This is all some insane hallucination. Yep, that’s it. Explains it all.
Then why is Maggie with you? a small voice reasons in my mind.
So, I decide to just go along with it. First weird Marks and now flowers for protection. What else can they throw at me?
I suck in a breath through my teeth. Well here goes nothing. Or everything . . .
During my tirade of thoughts Caesleanyx and Maggie were having a hurried conversation that I completely missed.
“Huh?” I ask
“Later,” she whispers while plucking the flower from my grasp.
“Hey!” I protest. “Give it back!”
“It’s not for you, it’s for her,” Maggie jerks her head to the crumpled Faery on the ground.
“Wha—?”
She scoops up the inert, barely breathing Faery and dumps her inside the tulip. The flowers petals shiver and glow a golden color as they close in on the Faery forming a protective shell. It’s like watching one of those shows on Discovery where the film is sped up as you watch a flower open, only in reverse. Soon it looks like Maggie is holding any old flower hunkering down for the night.
“There’s not much time, “Caesleanyx intones. “You must hurry. Go to the orchard. You will find help there. Make haste!”
Maggie clutches the tulip closely to her chest, careful not to crush its fragile cargo.
Thinking it’d be easier to discard the towels and don our clothes I take our shorts and T-Shirts out of our bags and shirk mine on, the cloth warm from basking in the sun all afternoon. Stowing my towel away I take the Faery/flower from Maggie a moment while she does the same. Then she takes her back, I hoist our tote bags on my shoulder and we take off into the now full darkness.
Running flat out uphill towards what I’m guessing is the closest apple orchard with two—albeit pretty light—bags in ninety degree heat at night is not, in one word, fun. Thankfully I haven’t tripped yet.
Our sneakers pound the sidewalk, echoing loudly through the streets. I pant with exertion. Already my body is screaming at me to rest and we’ve only run five blocks with at least that many more to go. I push myself forward regardless.
The hairs on the back of my neck bristle as the eerie sense that someone’s watching me overtakes me. Panic wells through me as I cast around for anything abnormal.
Sure sounds of pursuit erupt behind me and I pump my legs faster, catching up to Maggie in a desperate attempt to warn her.
She must’ve seen the bewildered expression on my face before I could utter a word because her eyes widen as she demands, “What? What is it?!”
“Faster! Someone . . . back there!” is all I can sputter due to lack of oxygen. If we get out of this I need to give serious thought to some gym time.
“Come on!” she urges veering right, towards an area unlit by streetlights. It looks as if it once was a parking lot but is now over grown with dense clumps of weeds. The ground is uneven and our feet kick up bits of rock that clatter noisily as we run. Run from an unknown threat.
Run until we drop from exhaustion.
I trip on something—I don’t know nor do I care what—and fall on a large patch of short, soft plants and stay down. I lay there breathing in the smell of dirt and leaves and crumbling asphalt. The skin on my knee is torn and bloodied. Judging by the stinging and wetness when I touch it, anyways. I hear Maggie go down somewhere by me, albeit I’m not sure where.
“Maggie?” I whisper as low as I could.
A hand clamps over my mouth. A scream builds up in my chest . . .
“Shh. It’s me, you idiot!” Maggie’s voice murmurs, just as low, in my ear. Her breath tickles my neck.
I give a soft sigh of relief.
“Who is it, do you think?” I breathe.
“Katie, shut it!”
I’m about to retort when I see why I’ve gotta be quiet and snap my mouth shut.
A dark silhouette passes us not but ten feet from our spot, head swiveling around, clearly looking for something. For us.
I press myself closer to the ground, willing myself invisible. Twigs and pebbles poke through my clothes and scratch my bare skin. I don’t care though, as long as we don’t get caught...
He circles closer. I am pretty sure that they’re a he. There’s something distinctly masculine in his build and the way he carries himself.
I dare not move nor breathe. Doing so would easily give us away.
Until he’s literally right next to us.
Crap! Crap, crap, crap!!
I press my lips together, forcing myself not to make myself not to make a single sound. Maybe he hasn’t seen us yet.
He looks down and all around us, but his eyes seem to go through where we’re laying, I realize that he can’t see us.
I lift my hand in front of my face and wave it. I feel it there. I know it’s there. But I don’t see it.
A gasp bubbles to my lips. I barely contain it before it can become audible.
He looks around again and a bullet whizzes through the air a few yards away from us with a faint pop and I think back to all of the action movies Maggie and I have watched and realize that his gun must have a silencer on its muzzle. I start, but remain where I am, too frightened to move an inch. I look at his marred, angry face and I see something glint on his right cheek; it’s some sort of symbol. He’s moved on before I can get a better glimpse of it, though.
I wait until he’s long gone and count
to a hundred to calm my heart before I speak again.
“What was that?!” I exclaim. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.”
“Can’t,” Maggie’s voice is strangled. “Let’s keep moving before he comes back.”
She props herself on her elbows and hauls herself off the ground. I do the same, trying not to look at myself too closely. But as soon as I step from the spot of green I become visible once more.
“What the—?”
Maggie comes and pulls a shoot of the mysterious plant out of its soil and peer at it speculatively.
“Clover?”
She offers it to me, as if she doesn’t quite believe it herself. I examine it to find that it is, indeed, a clover.
“Huh,” is all I can say.
“We’re going,” she emphasizes.
I gather our things and we make for the road on high alert. It feels like every sound will turn out to be the creepy guy from before. Blessedly we make it without much more incident other than me probably looking like I have a severe case of epilepsy.
We skid to a halt before we run straight into the street, back peddling to safety as a dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee squeals to a stop in front of us. My heart races as I think of how that could have ended badly. Like, for instance, us smeared on the pavement for example. Or, another thought pops into my head, it could be that guy. That would be just peachy. Escape the psycho once to be found by the guy again. What did he want anyways?
I think the answer is quite clear. He must be the sicko who tried to kill the Faery. My temper rises and my fists clench, nails biting into my palms leaving stinging welts.
Then I realize who is behind the wheel through the tinted windows.
It’s the guy from the pool. The one who Maggie snapped at.
Immediately questions form as to what he is doing here. Is he following us? Is he with the guy with the mark on his face? I didn’t know. But what I did know was that he was rolling down the passenger side window and leaning across the seat towards me. My hackles go up right away.
“You two need a ride?” he asks. “You look a little unhinged.”
I don’t know whether I should trust him. Don’t know if he’s safe. But looking at our options I know that he’s our best bet right now. We still have a ways to go and I was already exhausted. Not to mention put out. I connect eyes with Maggie, and silent messages pass between us. Looks like we are getting in the Jeep.
The Faery Keepers Page 1