“Fair enough,” I allow. “But that can't be all. I mean we can't possibly protect them with just knowledge and mind reading. And before you start to argue that we can, please just move on from those two topics.” I hold up a hand before he starts ranting about the positive uses of those two marvelous powers. Honestly? There has got to be something better than that. I mean, he did make Parker forget that we were missing, and probably my mom. But you won't ever catch me asking her about it. That's one thing better off unsaid seeing as she's already antsy to jump ship and take off to Bora Bora for the rest of eternity. Would I bring that on myself? I think not.
“Alright. Well as I am sure you figured out for yourselves already, we can make people forget things. Like an encounter with the Fey or that someone in their family is missing. If we want to we can make them forget that they even had a child. I know you probably think it cruel that we do that, but considering the alternatives it's the best way to help them cope with their loss. You see, how can they feel grief or guilt or loss when they don't even know what they are missing? It never existed. But, mind you, it would be bad for a rookie to attempt this right off the bat because it you wouldn't be able to erase their memory completely and they'd be left with this nagging little thought at the back of their mind for the rest of their life. It has even driven the occasional person mad with longing for something they don't even know. I assure you that I have never done that myself. I've only heard stories.” He adds after seeing our aghast faces.
“When was the last time there were Faery Keepers?” Maggie asks. “I mean if we're the first in years, I want to know how accurate these stories are. How do we know that we haven't acquired new powers in recent years?”
Derek ponders this for a few moments.
Go on tell them. Tell them what you know about your family. I take a breath. “My father was one, one of the Zions.” I admit finally.
Both of their eyes widen, saucers of blue and brown gaze at me in disbelief.
“For real?” Maggie asks. “How come you never told me?”
“I only recently found out myself,” I cringe at the memory of Chrysantha’s mind games then flash back to the conversation with my mother mere hours ago. We got married and bought this house. For a while everything was quiet. He hadn’t heard from the Order in months. We thought we were safe. We weren’t. Her words echo inside of my mind. “I'm not proud of his choices, but in a way I am, because he fought them. He tried to get away. But he couldn't and they killed him for it,” by now my voice is shaking.
“Oh Kate," Maggie sighs. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It's OK.”
“No it's not,” Derek interjects angrily. “Don't you see? You out of all of us have a reason to hate them. And yet you don't act like you do.”
“I'm scared of them and what they could do to my family and friends but don't think that I don't hate them. They killed my father, Derek. I don't have a dad because of them. I realize you can't relate but imagine how that must feel for me for just one second before you respond.”
“Don't tell me what I do and don't have or can relate to! For your information I lost my parents eight years ago!”
I stop. “You're parents are dead? Both of them?”
“No, but they might as well be.”
“Then it's not the same thing!” I argue vehemently, placing my hands on my hips stubbornly.
“But it is worse because they didn't want me anymore! They threw me out like garbage for someone else to take care of! They. Didn't. Want. Me. Who does that to their own kid? Their own flesh and blood?” He clenches his hands into fists and starts pacing back and forth, breathing heavy. “Do you think your mom would do that to you? No she wouldn't. You're normal in her eyes. Well you're lucky. You both are so, so lucky and you have no idea.”
“Yeah?” Maggie demands. “Well guess what? I have the worst luck. You want to know why? Both my parents are dead. Maybe we should all have a sob fest because of our misfortune, but that is not why I'm here! I did not come here to relive my past and whine about how unfair my life is.”
Derek stops, looks at the two of us, then sinks down to the floor in defeat. “You're right. I'm sorry. Where were we?”
“When the last Keeper was alive,” I supply, my voice soft. There's something vulnerable about him right now, like a kid who's been wounded in the worst sort of way. That's the thing I keep forgetting. We are just kids. Yeah, sure we're teenagers, but all in all we are still just kids. We depend on parents for guidance in our life. What do you do when the people who are supposed to take care of you, guide you, teach you, just abandon you? Maggie's parents didn't abandon her on purpose. They would have stayed if they could. My dad would have too, I'm sure of it. But him? How could those people live with themselves?
“Right, right,” he runs a hand through his hair. “It had to have been a hundred years ago. I'm not really sure exactly. Fey count time differently than we do because they can live for centuries. There are Fey still alive today that were there when Creation started. It's very rare for a new Fey to be born and when there is, they are protected and hidden until they can take care of themselves. It's been centuries since the last birth. The last birth was Ceara. She is, in a way, the youngest of her kind.
“That is why Ceara's ideas are so questioned by Chrysantha and why she has started her own rule in a separate court. She doesn't believe in the archaic ways in which Chrysantha governs in. Ceara wants to work along with humans while Chrysantha wants nothing to do with us, with the sole exception of me I suppose. Ceara believes that while some humans cannot be trusted, there are a few who have proven themselves. And would it not be wise to have as many on our side as we can? Especially when the Zions are loose and going on killing sprees. Take Miruna for example. She's the middle sister of the royal family, and yet does she pose a difference when it comes to who dies and who doesn't? They will just as sure kill her as they would a lesser sentry or one of the Royal Guard like Breen. They don't care. It's like they lack empathy when it comes to faeries.”
“So where are their parents? Chrysantha, Miruna, and Ceara's? I mean there has got to be parents, right?” I ask thoroughly curious. Someone had to have made them into existence, right?
“The High King Orion and High Queen Syrus are in their own domain. They do not interfere with their daughters business unless it directly pertains to them. They seldom venture here on Earth, but when they do, watch out because it's something serious.”
“Orion, like the constellation? How lame is that?” Maggie laughs.
“Who do you think the constellation was named after? The original Hunter.”
“What about the Unseelie Court? Don't they have a King and Queen?” I'm sure he said something about it a few days ago, but right now I can't be sure.
“Yes, they do. There's High Queen Ivane, High King Cassius and their daughters; Evelynne, Timberlee, Neille, and lastly their son, Bryce.”
“I bet he feels smothered by all the females in that household,” Maggie observes.
“Not necessarily. Prince Bryce spends most of his time hunting away from home to notice. He's the second youngest Fey next to Ceara. The kings tried to arrange a marriage long ago between the two, but it didn't quite work out as well as they'd planned. Ceara, being her stubborn self, wouldn't allow it and Bryce ran off with the huntsmen before they could begin any real party arrangements. I think it's safe to say that little plan blew up in their faces.”
“As it should have. That's just wrong; the whole idea of it is just so Victorian Era. I mean, who does that anymore?” Maggie asks. Leave it to her, our very own woman's rights liberalist.
“Actually you'll find that it is as common today as it was back in the Victorian Era. Besides, these are Faeries, not humans. They have their own code, beliefs, and culture. It isn't like here where you have freedoms. For example: When you are around royalty you always bow and show respect. In your world, kings and queens won't have you beheaded if you're from another coun
try and don't know to bow. With Fey, they will. They don't care. I know that sounds harsh and unforgiving, but you must understand that they have been around for a very long time and they have a sort of self-image of themselves that won't change no matter what you do, to them you're just a lowly peasant and human to boot.”
“I agree with Ceara. Things do need to change among them. This whole I'm holier than thou thing really isn't right,” I rub my arms self-consciously. “I mean, how can they have let this go on for so long in the first place? The other Keepers, I mean. Didn't they have opinions about it, too?” They had to. I mean who would follow something so blindly without having something to say about it?
“You have a point. And I'm sure someone along the line had second thoughts about it all. It's just that after a while, you stop asking questions and just go with it. Especially when back then, back talk resulted in time in prison cells or torturing, which, trust me you do not want to go through. It makes your little trip to the cells look like vacationing in the Bahamas.”
“Yikes,” we both cringe. “So what other magic can we use?” I ask, getting back to our original topic.
“Well, we went over mind reading, projection, and memory erasing, so what we have left is hiding ourselves in a time of need and being able to have a certain persuasion when it comes to getting what we want. It takes some practice, but it is possible. I know you probably don't believe me since our meetings with Chrysantha and Ceara haven't gone exactly how you wanted them to, but that's only because they are stronger faeries. Your influence will work much better on lesser Fey, I assure you. At least until you get more practice, and even the Queens will be effected somewhat.”
“So it wasn't the clover that hid us that day, it was our own powers?” I muse.
“What are you mumbling about?” Derek asks.
“Remember that day that you found us and you said we looked scared out of our minds? Well part of that was because one of the Zions were following us and trying to kill Miruna, the other part was because when we hid in that field, we turned invisible. We thought it was because of the clover there, which, yeah, I get is pretty stupid now. But now we know why that happened, it was because of us not the plants we were laying in.” How thick could I get? I mean, seriously, how could a plant turn you invisible?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Rewind and pause a second! What do you mean one of the Zions was chasing you? Is that why you were so freaked out that day?”
“Well yeah, and the fact that we just found out that Faeries really do exist, I mean that is kind of freaky.” There's a grumble of protest from the other room. “No offense to you, Nyla!” I call to her in a quick apology. “I swear you aren't freaky at all.”
I hear her harrumph and there's a clatter of something falling down, but Derek isn't worried about it at all, what he is troubled with is what words just came out of my mouth. His mouth is a thin, angry line and most of the color has drained from his tan face.
“But I was right there! How did he get past me?”
“Well gee, I don't know!” Maggie interrupts, “maybe if you were actually paying attention for once, we would have caught him in the beginning.”
I shoot her dagger eyes and sigh internally. I swear they act like kindergarteners! “Would you two cool it?! It's neither of yours fault! I mean, this whole bickering thing you've got going on is getting pretty old real fast! Can't we all just get along? We're on the same side of a war, here!”
“Whose side are you on, Katelyn? Your best friends’ or his?” She gets up and stomps out the front door, slamming it shut with a loud bang and I cringe slightly.
“Should we do something?” Derek asks hesitantly, looking wary but starting to get up nonetheless.
“No. Leave her. She'll be back once she calms down, trust me.” I've spent much of my life dealing with Maggie's temper and am pretty much used to it and used to ignoring most of the insulting things that exit her mouth while she's in a fury. She'll come back when she is ready. “You do know that I don't blame you for not being there with that Zion, right? We're no worse for wear anyways.”
“Thanks for that. I mean it. But I don't know how I'm going to teach you two anything if one of you is at my throat at one point or another. This stuff is crucial if you want to survive out there.”
“Believe me, I know,” I sympathize, “but that's just how she is. You'll get used to it. Meanwhile, just bear with it. She's not that bad to be around, you know.”
“I'll take your word on it,” he smiles. “In the meantime, since we're waiting anyways, you want to get out of here?”
I frown. “I'm sorry, but I don't really think that that's a good idea.”
“Why not?” he faux pouts. “I'll be on my best behavior, scouts honor.”
“You know that promise is worthless unless you actually were a Boy Scout.”
“Actually, I was, three years in a row.”
“No dice, I still don't think being alone with you anywhere is a good idea, cow boy. Maybe someday you know, in the distant future.”
“Cow boy? Where did that come from? In no way do I resemble someone who wears girly boots and a wide brimmed straw hat all day. Not to mention plaid. Yech. I hate plaid. In fact, we should stop talking about plaid right now.”
“You hate plaid? Who hate's plaid?”
“I do. It makes me look like a flag.”
I snort. “That doesn't even make sense you idiot. And cow boy boots are not girly. Hence the whole boy part in cow boy.”
“Let me guess, you own like three pairs don't you?”
“One,” I sniff. “And they are actually really comfortable.” Of all the shoes I own, not very many mind you, I don't have a whole separate closet for them or anything, cow boy boots are one of my favorites. Next to my sneakers that is.
“Point made. They are girly.”
“Nyla, how on Earth do you live with this boy?” I call to the kitchen and get no response. Smart woman, I think.
“This is where you jump in and say that it's a blessing having me here and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if I weren't! Nyla!” Still no response. “Well. I see where your loyalties lie. Does anybody else get the feeling that I'm talking to a wall here? Because I sure do.”
By now I'm laughing outright. “Oh come on Derek, she can't love you that much!”
He glances at me then back at the door, worry starting to line his face.
“What? What is it?” I ask, sobering up immediately.
He shushes me with a finger to his lips. “Nyla?”
No answer.
He jumps up and bounds to the door, throwing it open so fast that it all looks like one blurred movement. At least he tries to open the door, but it sticks after a few inches and doesn't budge. He raises his eyebrows and shoves at it until it moves a little more than more. When it doesn't give much he backs up and runs at it, forcing it open with his shoulder. Finally, it's open enough for him to squeeze through sideways, albeit he's rubbing his shoulder and wincing slightly.
I'm going to ask if he's OK, but he's already moving past the door and looking down at whatever was blocking it.
I don't think I've ever heard Derek gasp, but as I'm sure you've heard before, there's a first time for everything. He swears and there's an intake of breath. Then he asks in a scary calm voice, “Kate, can you get some blankets from the cabinet in the far corner over there and spread them out on the couch?”
I don't hesitate and go to the cabinet he described and pull out multiple blankets, which vary in shades of brown, just as he asked and lay them out over the sofa smoothing them down carefully. The kitchen doorway is unobstructed now and Derek is there striding forward while carrying a very limp Nyla in his arms. Her head is lolled back over his arm and her raven braids dangle beneath her eerily, she looks like a limp doll. He hurries over and sets her gently on the couch and gestures for me to hand him more blankets which he tenderly covers her with, tucking in the corners.
“What's wrong with her?”
I ask unable to stop the flashbacks of myself being in this situation no more than a few days ago.
“I'm not sure yet,” he admits, his voice still in that scary calm mode, flat and emotionless. He peels back Nyla's eyelid, none too gently, and the pupil behind is rolled back in her head, darting drastically back and forth in her skull. Derek swears again. “Just as I thought. Watch her, I'll be right back. Give me two seconds, tops.”
I barely nod and he's off up a set of stairs that was previously concealed behind a plain wooden door. A few heart beats later he's back and slightly out of breath holding a tiny vial nearly filled to the brim with cloudy blue liquid.
“One drop should do the trick,” he murmurs seemingly to himself as he pries open Nyla's mouth and administers a single drop down her throat. She swallows and sighs, falling into a more peaceful sleep.
I swallow, shifting my eyes from her to Derek unable to find my voice for a second. “What was that? Was she poisoned?” my voice sounds shrill in my ears.
“Yes,” Derek says grimly, shaking his head. “But how? It doesn't make sense. Not much gets by Nyla . . .” he straightens from kneeling beside her and strides into the kitchen. I look at Nyla warily and follow him. When I walk into the kitchen, a tiny room with cupboards full of crockery and cups and a fireplace with a spit hanging over tiny receding flames, I find Derek ransacking the place. The only modern thing in the whole joint is a small refrigerator that is not apparent at first because the door blends in perfectly with all of the wood. He comes over and opens the door, moving around the pop bottles and left over food dishes and a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables. A vegetarian’s heaven. One question niggles at the back of my mind, though, how do they have a fridge in the first place? Don't they have iron in them? I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure there's some amount of the metal in it.
Derek catches my questioning look as he looks up from it. “We had it specially made at the factory so that there were no harmful components in it.”
The Faery Keepers Page 12