Love is Fear

by Caroline Hanson

  Cer laughed darkly, looking at Rachel and Jack in turn. “You have unusual travelling companions, Lucas. You come traipsing around my lands with your horde nowhere in sight?”

  “Most of those you knew are gone.”

  Cer raised a brow, almost mockingly. “A changing of the guard, is that it? Or has a smattering of justice finally reached out and wiped out your own kind, just as you slew mine?” He turned back to Valerie, apparently dismissing Lucas.

  “Welcome to the Land of the Fey,” he said evenly. Then he shook his head slowly. “You were always so careful, Lucas. After all this time, all the tricks and traps, we never managed to get you to our land, where the odds were even. And now, here you are. I look forward to extending you the same courtesy you have given me and mine. You are more than welcome to join us at the castle, as soon as you may.”

  Something grabbed Val around the ankle, and she stumbled backwards. Vines twined around her legs, sliding upwards towards her waist, binding her legs together and cinching them tight.

  The dense green vines consumed her, covered her ears and her eyes, so she could hear nothing, see nothing, consumed so fast she couldn’t even draw breath to scream. The green bands tightened across her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs, strangling her tight from head to toe.

  She felt tugging, as though someone was trying to rip the vines away from her, even as they coiled more tightly. She was nothing but a spider’s meal, wrapped up and ready to be devoured.

  Chapter 34

  As the vines twined around Valerie, Lucas burst into action, charging Cerdewellyn—and running straight through him. Cer laughed. “Really, Lucas? You are getting old. It is an illusion. I would not stay around here, waiting for you to take my head off as I free your victim.”

  Lucas was back to Valerie, ripping vines off of her body, before Cer had even finished speaking. The vines multiplied, grew sharper, so that each one he touched pierced his hands, shredded them. Jack swore and rushed forward, standing beside Lucas as they tried to get Val free. The vines were alive. Twisting and shifting away from their grasp. When one was pulled free, another grew back, stronger and more resilient. In seconds, the vines went slack, dropped to the ground, dried and blackened, then decayed. And where Valerie had been was only a small pile of earth.

  “Where is she?” Jack asked, gasping.

  Lucas was already up, strapping his sword across his back, looking at Rachel. “The castle is to the West. Go there as soon as you may, and I will meet you.”

  Rachel looked outside. “What about the snow?”

  “It is melting. He has no purpose for it any longer. As soon as you can travel, come find us.”

  “Lucas, you should wait. He’s not going to hurt her,” Rachel said, coming forward and taking his arm.

  Lucas stepped close to Rachel. “You do not know anything about him or what he might do. Come to the castle and, when you get there, we leave this accursed land. There is a way out at the castle.”

  “Wait. How do you know there is a way out?” Jack asked.

  Lucas didn’t spare him a glance. “Everyone knows.” And then he was gone, disappearing in a blink.

  Jack stared at Rachel sightlessly, thoughts whirling through his mind. Valerie was gone. They were trapped here. He and Val were nothing but food. Assuming she is still alive.

  His fault.

  I failed.

  Rachel turned, watched him. “Let’s go. We’ll follow his trail. It’ll get us there eventually.” She walked to the door, and Jack took a step, tried to follow, heard the blood pounding in his ears, beating out accusations and blame. He’d pushed Val into this. She was here because of him. Wasn’t that always a price you were willing to pay? You knew it was dangerous and that she might die, but you wanted her here anyway.

  “Let’s go, Jack. We have to move.”

  He stumbled after her, almost falling out of the cottage and into the snow. Lucas was right—the snow had begun to melt and was now hard and frozen, half the height it had been the night before. At this pace, it might be completely gone in an hour or two. Impossible.

  Jack trudged along behind Rachel, lost to his own thoughts. Rachel stepped carefully, filling Lucas’ tracks in the snow. Lucas was nowhere to be seen, using his super-speed to hurry ahead of them.

  The ground was flat enough, but trudging through the snow was awkward and slowed them down. Every now and again, they passed through sections of forest. But there were no more cottages or dwellings, no other footsteps in the snow beyond Lucas’ and theirs. Not even animal tracks.

  One foot in front of the other. And so he did it. Stepped and stepped as his mind sluggishly rehashed everything that had happened in recent memory. Nate. Hawaii. The fights.

  Eventually, Rachel stopped and so did he. She turned and looked at him, head to foot and then back, stopping at his eyes. “You’re still back there, huh? I wasn’t sure. It’s been hours since you’ve said a word.”

  Jack licked his lips. God, he was thirsty. “What is there to say?”

  She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  She looked around, rubbed her arms like she was cold.

  “Where is everyone?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only seen pictures of Fey in books. And I’ve heard stories. Forests teeming with animals and creatures of all kinds. Monsters that live in lakes and in the skies. But this…I think…it feels like it’s just us. It’s like walking through an apocalypse. Let’s keep going. Hopefully, we’ll see it soon.”

  Jack looked at Rachel like he’d never seen her before. Had only just seen himself. “Do you know”—he took a breath and it was ragged, like he was breathing in grief, exhaling despair—“I have now failed everyone I’ve ever loved. When Marion came to my family’s hotel, Nate said to hide. But I was afraid. I didn’t listen to Nate. I had the right course of action in front of me, and I couldn’t do it. I told my dad and he walked straight up to Marion and she killed him. If I had listened to Nate, listened to Val, she wouldn’t be here.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s all my fault. All of it.”

  She was very quiet. “You were really young, Jack. What? 10? 12? Don’t rewrite history. You did the best you could.” Snow crunched underfoot as she moved closer to him.

  “My best is worthless.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake. What? Did you cause Cancer too? It’s not your fault. And, I hate to tell you, but you were never going to be enough for Val. She wanted things from you that you could not do. You’re a hero, Jack. A hero. How could you give that up? And how could she be so selfish as to ask you to?” she said, voice filled with scorn.

  “She’s not selfish. She’s been through a lot,” he said dully.

  “Bullshit!” Rachel said, voice harsh and angry. “She’s got it all. She had you and she didn’t want you. She had Lucas and she threw him away, too. The girl is a fucking menace.”

  Jack shook his head slowly, crossed his arms. “She didn’t have me. That was the problem. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be ‘the guy’.”

  Another crunch as she took a step closer. But she didn’t speak until he looked up, meeting her gaze. “You are ‘the guy’, Jack. She just wasn’t the girl who fought hard enough to get you.” Rachel made a slicing motion with her hand—conversation over. “Now stop your bitching and let’s go. She’s not dead yet.”

  She trudged away from him, and there was nothing left to do but follow.

  Chapter 35

  Val dragged in a huge breath, suddenly feeling weightless now that the vines were gone. She shook her arms and legs, trying to get her blood moving again. That pins-and-needles feeling was everywhere, from her feet to her hands, radiating down her arms and legs.

  She turned in a circle, looking at where she was. A castle straight out of a fairy tale or the Princess Bride. Huge stone walls that were made of sand-colored stone, torches that lit every corner, making the room feel as inviting as a castle was ever going to.

  Colorful rugs were on the ground and massive
tapestries were on the walls. The countryside, a hunt, and some satyrs mating with some less-than-willing women. It took a long time to make those tapestries, potentially years. Women working around the clock, getting arthritis just to make this beautiful piece of art. And it was of a gang-rape? People were so weird back in the day. Like having a public disemboweling event for family entertainment.

  Goosebumps rose on her skin. She might as well be in another time. And she just knew that couldn’t be good for her. Call it a hunch. And against the backdrop of this huge majestic room was Cerdewellyn.

  He advanced towards her, hands clasped behind his back, standing tall, looking severe in black velvet and satin trimmed with gold thread. He made Lucas look current. Even when Lucas wore his ‘old’ clothes, there was something slightly modern about him. She hadn’t realized that until she saw Cerdewellyn, a man who was really stuck in the past.

  This guy was gorgeous—make no mistake—but it wasn’t his looks that made her jerk her gaze away from him but his intensity and charisma. It was an almost touchable force. An electrical charge that went before him.

  Cer was handsome, but she could find fault with him. His lips were wide, nose slightly large.

  Whereas, Lucas was too perfect. He was almost hard to look at. She looked at Lucas and couldn’t stop, her eyes roaming his face like her brain was trying to find something out of balance—people didn’t look like him. It made him almost freakish in his beauty.

  “Miss Dearborn, I owe you my thanks. We are in your debt.”

  That’s a good start. “We who?” she asked, crossing her arms nervously and glancing around the empty room. She was so thirsty her head was pounding. There was no one else in sight. Certainly not Lucas or Jack. Shoot, even Rachel might be welcome about now.

  He smiled sharply. “’We’ as in the royal we. Me. ”He stepped up close to her, eyeing the length of her dispassionately. “Your companions are on their way here. But I wanted a chance to thank you in person. You did me a great service. And, of course, I will release you from him. It is the least I can do.”

  Hewalked a little ways away from her, as if to give her a break from his scrutiny. “How long have you been with him?” He turned back to her, his knowing gaze taking her apart. She stared down at the ground, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t scary, just…. He watched her like he knew her every thought. As if she was a simple puzzle and he almost had her figured out. It was disconcerting and creepy.

  “We will start earlier, perhaps. Something less personal. How many of your kind are left? The Empaths.”

  What? Is it tattooed on my forehead? She tried to think what the harm would be in telling him she was the only Empath left. Well, probably the only one left. Could it make things worse?

  If anything, it probably made him less likely to kill her. Unless he decided to keep her here forever. That would be worse. But why would he want to? Lucas had told her that the Fey were uninterested in Empaths. That they had done nothing to protect her kind when the vampires killed them all—at Lucas’ direction.

  “Not many,” she hedged.

  “And your wolves?”

  Her hands were clasped tight together, nails digging into her palms. I’m so ridiculously out of my element. And the way he said ‘your wolves’ was odd. Like there was a story there. Or as if he might have said, ‘where are your shoes? ’That the notable thing was their absence.

  “Did he kill them? Do they know where you are?” He seemed genuinely concerned for her.

  His gaze narrowed. “Lucas is your companion? Is that what you said?” He seemed almost as confused as she was.

  “’Pleading the fifth’ isn’t going to mean anything to you, is it?” she mumbled, breath coming fast.

  He stopped before her. “May I?” he said, his hand extended towards her.

  “May you what?” she said, and took a step back. “Let me go? Buy me a pony? I’m good with either of those.”

  “Touch you.” He looked down at her hands. They were clenched tightly in fear, his eyebrows rose at the sight. “Tilt your head up, so I may see you,” he said gently.

  “No. I mean, I’ll look up, but you, uh, don’t need to touch me.” Dude is going to get a serious frown line if he isn’t careful.

  “Asking was a mere formality. I ask to touch you, and you say no? Why?” He didn’t like that. She felt like she’d just told Henry VIII he couldn’t marry Anne Boleyn. It’s never a good idea to tell a King no.

  “I’m not the touchy-feely type,” she muttered, looking around, for an escape route. She forced a smile. Not a door or a window in sight. What kind of room has no door or window? A Fey cell?

  He straightened, expression suddenly foreboding. His words were quiet. “I am the King of the Fey. I have offered to put my hand upon you, and you say no. You come to my kingdom with no protectors. No wolves, no Witches, not even another of your own kind. When we left Europe, there were some who refused to come. Presumably your ancestors. If I asked you their names, would you know? Do you know your history at all? Do you know the value of my touch for one such as you?”

  Oh shit. This sounded like some kind of mumbo-jumbo crap that was about to bite her in the ass. “I’m sure you have an… awesome touch. Really. But…I’m…okay without it. Not to be mean or anything, I just have no idea why I should want you to touch me.” She swallowed hard. “I’m ignorant, like...peasant, sign-my-name-with-an-x-because-I’m-illiterate ignorant.”

  He scowled. Her valley girl speech might be a bit confusing to a guy like him. She tried to clarify. “But I can read. That was just to illustrate my point.”

  “You can read?” he said, seemingly pleased with the idea.

  “Yup.”

  “Then come. Let me take you to my library. I will acquaint you with your history, provide you with food, and we will speak again.”

  “No! No food. I’ve heard all about the food!”

  He waved a hand negligently and walked out of the room. She followed, assuming she was expected to and not really seeing another option.

  He waited for her and then said, “Food in the realm of Fey is enchanted. So are drinks. To imbibe or drink from them can bind you here.” They walked down hallways, her boots making light clicks on the stone floor. His shoes made no sound. Because he was graceful, and she stepped like a drunken Clydesdale.

  Everything they passed was clean and perfect. Oiled tables and vases, huge gold and silver urns. There was a faint smell of lemon and beeswax as though things had just been polished. And yet, something was off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw things that weren’t…right. Tapestries that were faded and black, curtains in rags, but when she’d turn to examine the item head on, they were whole and unblemished.

  They passed a huge dining room and Val stopped, looking inside. A fire burned in the fireplace, and the table was empty and cleared. Impulsively, she closed her eyes, and the sound of the crackling fire disappeared. The pleasant smell of wood smoke and lemon vanished, replaced by a heavy throat-clogging smell of dust. She opened her eyes and caught a flash of something different.

  The dining room table isn’t empty. That doesn’t make any sense.

  Cer was there beside her, his hand coming towards her arm.

  She jerked back, almost stumbling. “Don’t touch me.”

  Now he looked angry. “What do you presume I intend?”

  “How the heck should I know? You’ve kidnapped me. Separated me from my friends. I know nothing about you. Why would I trust you? I’m starving, thirsty, exhausted. So yes, I do trust Lucas more than I trust you. And all this cryptic crap about touching me and truth…I may be ‘young’, but I have spent enough time with Lucas to know the uselessness of words. Words are easy. I’m judging by actions. You’ve done nothing to show me you are sincere. In fact, you’ve manipulated me and used me.” Plus you scare the living shit out of me.

  He threw back his head and laughed. It made her feel warm, like the sun had just come out on a cold winter morning. “I can see
magic. See a vampire’s compulsion. He has not compelled you. And yet… you do trust him.” He said it like she’d just told him she believed in the Easter Bunny. “I can tell that you do not know how valuable that is. Trust. Loyalty. You are so…young.”

  Telling me how naïve I am won’t make me like you more.

  “The Fey do not make idle promises. We are bound to them. Do you know this?” He stood straighter, looked more arrogant and kingly. Actually, this guy makes Lucas look relaxed. Huh.

  Yeah, she knew the Fey were bound by promises. She nodded.

  “I swear to you—I promise—that I mean you no harm. I acknowledge that I owe you a great debt for helping me, and I will only speak the truth to you while you are here. Ask me for a boon and, if I may grant it without harm to me or my people, then I promise to grant it. The truth is that Lucas is a murderer. A slaughterer of every creature he meets.” He was close, his presence even closer, as if it rolled out before him. And there was that feeling again: Electricity. It wasn’t sexual, just charismatic.

  “But no one is in more danger from him than an Empath. Trusting him, looking to him, stripped from every ally you should have is….” He shook his head, almost speechless. Then he gave her a look of such sincerity that she forgot to breathe, dreading, and yet desperate to hear, what he was going to say. “He will kill you. You have no concept of the things he has done.”

  She felt a buzzing in her ears. Felt sick at his conviction, the disgust he felt for Lucas, the pity he felt for her. A part of her believed him. She spoke on auto-pilot, towing the party line. “I know what he did. He does too. He regrets what he’s—”

  “No, he does not,” Cer cut in sharply, lifting a finger. “Regret is an emotion. A part of remorse, a shard of grief. That is not something he feels. The vampires killed Empaths because they did not want to feel and saw no need for a conscience. You do not know what he has done, or you would run to me for help and fall upon your knees in gratitude!”