by J. A. Curtis
“I’m sorry,” Kris said. “I don’t know if I’m more happy that you’re alive or angry that I’ve shed so many tears over you for nothing. And now you come here and say something as silly as that, and I just...” She sobered. “I didn’t think I would even hear your voice again.”
She pulled off her covers, strode to her dresser, tugged the top drawer open, and began rifling through it until she pulled out a crushed paper ball. She unfolded it, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
“Do you know how many people showed up to your funeral, Mina?”
My mouth fell open. Funeral? I hadn’t even thought—but of course—
Kris read my reaction. “Yes, we had a funeral for you,” she said hotly. “You were dead. At least, everyone thought you were.”
I pictured my family. But outside of them and Kris and a past soccer coach or two, I couldn’t think of anyone else who would bother to show up at my funeral.
She walked over to me and handed me the still crinkled paper that had my name and picture on it. My funeral program. Some print was smeared by now from dried dark wet splotches that must have been Kris’s running mascara from too much crying.
“About two hundred people came,” she said.
Two hundred. Did I have some long-lost relatives? Or perhaps the local fire station had come out to reinforce why kids shouldn’t play with matches. Maybe Kris was seriously exaggerating.
“Your parents had an open mic where about twenty kids came up and spoke,” Kris continued.
“What did they say?” I asked.
“They talked about you, Mina. How you protected them and stood up for them against bullies. One kid even told how you stood up to your ninth-grade science teacher when he was giving thirty hours of homework over homecoming weekend.”
“Mr. Horstund had crossed a line.”
“I got up and told them how we met in third grade,” she continued.
“You did? Did you tell them how I tried to be your friend, and you blew me off for the popular girls? Did you tell them what a jerk you were trying to look good in their eyes by making my life miserable?”
“Yes, I told them all of that,” Kris said defensively. “I also told them that despite how I treated you, when I was being bullied by Billy Henderson—the meanest fifth grader in the school, a kid even some teachers feared—you were the only person willing to stand up to him. I felt so bad that he gave you a black eye that I visited you every day after school.”
While the black eye had been painful, it hadn’t been the first time Billy Henderson had socked me in the face. After the last incident defending Kris, Billy had been expelled. That had been the sweetest victory.
“The point is,” Kris said, “yes, you can be pushy and self-righteous and relentless, and those things make you unpopular, but don’t think for a second that people hated you. Because you have impacted every one of those kids’ lives, and they were grateful, Mina.”
I stared down at the program. It had started with Corbin. I don’t know how, but the small quirky kindergartener had somehow attracted the attention of the meanest kid in school. That was how I got mixed up with Billy Henderson. From there, I couldn’t stop myself from standing up for other kids. It just became something I did.
“So what should I do?” I asked.
“You have to decide that. But if you believe you don’t have what it takes to be a leader, I know at least twenty kids who would say otherwise.”
I smiled, handed my funeral program back to Kris, and walked to the window. “You can’t tell anyone I was here.”
A worried expression crossed Kris’s face. “You’re only a kid—”
“If my parents found out, it would only cause them more pain.”
“You’re going back.”
“Thanks, Kris,” I said, swinging one leg over the windowsill.
“That’s it?” The sharpness in her voice made me pause. Kris ran a hand through her hair and blinked rapidly. “Will I—will I see you again?”
I swung back into the room and hugged my friend. “I hope so.”
Her arms wrapped around me, and she sniffed. “Where have you been?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
We parted, and I offered her a small smile before heading back for the window.
“Bye, Kris.” I was heading back because Kris was right about one thing.
I was relentless.
24
Relentless
“Never give up, no matter how difficult. You can make a difference.”
I THOUGHT MYSELF A failure. Nobody listened to me or cared. Often, I stood alone—against bullies and for my causes—but I hadn’t done those things to be popular. I had done those things because someone needed to do them. My causes were forgotten and obscure. The kids I stood up for were beaten and bullied. The last thing they wanted was more confrontation, more fights. That’s why I had to stand up for them. Why I had to stand alone.
I walked up the street and stopped outside my parent’s home. Even though the front porch light shone bright, the rest of the house remained dark, with everyone fast asleep.
I pictured myself ringing the doorbell. What would they say? What would I tell them? I thought of doing it, just to see the looks on their faces. But would they believe me? Perhaps I’d show them my faerie guardian. That would be hard to disbelieve.
But staying wasn’t an option. Someone would come to get me. In fact, they probably were already here.
My parents wouldn’t understand. They’d be frantic if I disappeared again... it wasn’t fair. I wanted to see them. I thought of the sorrow in my mother’s voice when Nana had held the phone out to me. She hadn’t sounded angry or spiteful over me destroying Nana’s home. They were the only people who accepted me exactly how I was. Yet I wouldn’t cause them more pain just so I could hear their voices telling me how much they loved and missed me. And Corbin. I pictured his bright eyes, his floppy mop of hair. Please be okay without me.
Arius had been right. I should let them move on. The faeries, even though they didn’t know it—didn’t want it—needed me. They’d been divided for far too long. It was time someone fought to bring them together. If that meant I had to stand alone, then so be it.
Thaya materialized from between two houses, flanked by Nerime.
“I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to come here,” she said.
I gave a thin smile. “With family, we all tend to lose our sense of reason.”
Her lip curled back, and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to give me another bruised jaw. She took a couple threatening steps.
“Careful, Thaya,” I said calmly. “You hold no control over me right now, and we are surrounded by homes full of people. One scream, one call to the police, and your life and the lives of all the faeries of the Haven would be turned upside down.”
She stopped. “You,” she said between clenched teeth, “are coming with us.”
“Yes, I am,” I said. I let myself enjoy the shock on their faces. “How are we going to get there? Flying?” I noticed a car parked on the side of the street. I recognized Jorgeral standing outside it, watching us. “I see you brought a car. That will work.” I began walking toward it. “Shall we go?”
Thaya and Nerime hurried to catch up with me, Nerime taking up a position in front and Thaya behind. They prison marched me to the car.
“Give me the keys. I’m driving,” Thaya snapped, and Jorgeral reluctantly gave up the keys. Before I climbed into the car, I glanced back one last time at my home. Thaya noticed and sneered, “You came so close, but you will never see your little family again.”
I met her cold glare. “You’re right,” I said. “We’ve both lost relationships we will never get back.”
She shoved me into the car, then got into the driver’s seat. Jorgeral sat in the passenger seat and Nerime in the back with me.
“Tie her hands,” Thaya said.
Nerime had a length of rope ready.
> “If you must,” I said, and held my wrists together as Nerime wrapped the rope around them.
I settled back into the seat and tried to get comfortable. The drive back to the Haven would be long. I wished I had my phone to listen to some music. It wasn’t far away, I realized. It probably sat in my backpack in my bedroom across the street. But it might as well have been miles, I thought, as the car pulled out from the curb and took to the streets.
My head lulled to the side, and the sound of tires grating on gravel woke me. I straightened as the car came to a stop. Darkness blanketed the sky, and no streetlights illuminated the surrounding area for miles. We were in the middle of nowhere.
“Where are we? Why are we stopping?” I asked.
“Prisoners don’t ask questions,” Thaya said.
I waited. The car filled with silence, and then I said, “Anyone want to play a game?”
Thaya turned in her seat, her eyes daggers. “I gave you an order.”
“Sorry, I don’t take orders from subordinates,” I said. I glanced around at Jorgeral and Nerime but both of them steadily avoided eye contact with either of us. Good, I thought, they at least recognize my authority enough to not get involved.
Thaya kicked open the driver’s door and rounded on my side of the car. She yanked my door wide. “Get out of the car.”
I stayed in my seat, seatbelt securely buckled and sighed. “How many times are we going to do this? You know I’m not to blame for what happened that night.”
“I said get out.”
“I want to tell you, had I known, even had the tiniest clue about what was going on, what Dramian was about to do, I would have tried to stop him.”
“Get out, coward!”
Talking wasn’t making things better. Every time I opened my mouth, she only got madder. I couldn’t stay in the car any longer. If I did, I would appear to be the weak one. With my hands bound in front of me, I struggled to undo my seatbelt, climbed out of the car, and faced her. Apprehension built inside me. Until this point, I had stayed calm and so kept Thaya from taking advantage of my emotions. But now I didn’t know if it even mattered. Thaya would take all her pain and frustration out on me whether or not she could manipulate me. And yet she didn’t notice my lack of calm, her own emotions were so out of control.
“You have caused nothing but disappointment and trouble since you arrived. It’s time things went back to normal,” she said. The tattoo on her arm began to twitch.
“You haven’t been listening, Thaya. I have no fight with you.” I hoped I would be able to respond quickly enough to her attack. For a moment, I felt that now familiar shifting sensation. I let it take hold of me.
“But I have one with you.” Her faerie guardian stood before me, an arrow aimed down at me. I released my griffin, and it gripped the bow clutched in the woman’s hands and jerked upward. The arrow sailed over my head and split the earth behind me.
I swallowed. Thaya wasn’t messing around tonight. My giant eagle-lion flew downward, hooked the bow string under the warrior’s chin and pulled her backward into the dirt. The woman’s hands clutched at the string at her throat, and Thaya gasped for breath.
“Pull her back Thaya,” I said.
“N-never,” she gasped.
My griffin pulled the bow string, cutting deeper into the warrior’s throat. Perhaps I should end the fight. Make Thaya fall. Certainly would save me future headaches.
But I couldn’t. My realization with my parents was still fresh. I held her same weakness in myself. I hated that weakness as I hated Thaya. But I understood her, both her pain and her reaction. Irredeemable. I wasn’t and Thaya wasn’t. My griffin released the pressure on Thaya’s woman, then flicked its head and flung the bow off into the darkness.
Thaya bared her teeth and growled, “You are no leader.” The warrior woman climbed to her feet, towering over me. And held out a hand. A bow materialized out of nowhere. She turned toward me, an arrow of light notched and pointed directly at me.
We were bathed awash in headlights. A car sped toward us, then brakes slammed hard as it skidded to a stop right behind our car, spraying us with loose gravel that stung. A door was thrown open and an authoritative voice called out.
“Thaya, get in your car,” Arius said.
“No! Tonight, I will get revenge,” Thaya snarled. The headlights from Arius’s car spotlighted her face, shining off the tears in her eyes.
“You are being weak, Thaya. Follow your orders,” Arius said.
The warrior woman’s heel ground loudly on loose gravel as she swung away and aimed her arrow of light at Arius.
“You were the one who refused to trade for Tily. All for that.” She pointed back at me. “Let me finish her and I’ll be at peace. You want her gone as badly as I do. I’ll do it for you. For all of us.”
Arius ignored the deadly arrow pointing at him and walked up to Thaya. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You will not be at peace. Mina is not the one who made Tily fall. Be patient. You will have your chance for revenge. Now do your duty, soldier.”
Thaya didn’t move, but then she said, “Yes, sir.” Her faerie guardian disappeared. She bowed toward Arius and turned. Her eyes flashed when they fell on me, but she looked away as she got into the car and shut the door.
“Good choice, sending angry girl to come get me,” I said. The thank you I planned on had gotten stuck in my throat at Thaya’s words.
You want her gone as badly as I do.
“You really thought you could return to your family just like that?” he said with a shake of his head. “Come with me.”
I pulled my faerie guardian back on my arm and followed him as we walked to the back end of his car and stopped. I didn’t like how he had promised Thaya revenge on Dramian. But he had gotten Thaya to back down, so I probably shouldn’t complain.
He pulled the knot binding my hands loose.
“Go. You’re free,” he said as he tossed the rope aside.
Alright, not what I expected. I rubbed my wrists and tried to think of what to say. “Those aren’t Nuada’s orders.”
He turned away, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. “Who complained about not being free to choose? Well, now you are free.”
Part of me wanted to hear him claim he freed me because he cared for me, but I knew Arius rejected doing anything solely for my happiness. He refused to go against Nuada on my behalf. Perhaps he thought he protected the faeries by setting me free. Or maybe he hated the choice between the duty he felt he owed Nuada because of their time together and the duty he felt he owed me because of my rank.
“Don’t return to your family right away,” he said, “Find a place to lie low for a month or two. Give me time to convince Nuada this is best.”
I took a slow steady breath. He would hate me for what I was about to say.
“I know this makes things more difficult for you,” I said gently. “But I choose to stay.”
He spun around, drawing himself up, his shoulders tight.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I said, trying to head off the explosion I knew was coming. “You don’t want me to return. You don’t think I can lead. But I have a duty to the faeries, and to the queen and I will not let you or Nuada stop me from fulfilling it.”
I could see the outline of his square shoulders, his body tense in the darkness as he glared at me. “You are the general,” he said, his voice hard.
“I have seen things. I know what happened in the last battle when everyone fell,” I said. “I hid the queen among the humans, and Dramian acted on my orders when he took me and hid me after I fell, to protect the queen. We weren’t divided then, Arius. We were one army, all of us.”
“That can’t be true,” Arius said. “Then who were we fighting?”
“That is one important question,” I said. “The other is why would Nuada tell us a different story than what happened?”
“You are misinterpreting what you saw,” he growled.
“Then ho
w could that stymphalian bird deliver a fifteen-year-old message to me from Dramian?” I challenged. “Last time I checked, those birds are loyal only to those who live at the Haven.”
“Iris was a traitor, remember? He could have identified Dramian as an ally.”
“But he was responding to my plan in the message. Actually, it was the queen’s plan—”
“That’s enough, Mina.”
“I get it. Easier to doubt me than to doubt the woman who practically raised you. To accept what I am saying is to accept that Nuada isn’t everything she—”
“I said enough!” Arius shouted.
Even with evidence, I was hitting the same wall I had always come up against, and I understood—he didn’t want to see. Accepting my version of events would change everything Arius had ever known. Like me hating my parents over Nana, he’d doubt me long before he would believe any deception from Nuada.
I had a back-up plan. I hated my back-up plan.
I tried to make my voice sound more compassionate. “Nuada taught you how to fight, how to be a soldier, and what it means to be a faerie. These are things I can’t do. But I do care about the faeries, and I have a duty to them and to the queen. So I propose a compromise. Until you, Arius, feel like I am ready to take up my mantle as general, then we, the three of us rule together. If one of us disagrees, we can veto the decision of the other two.”
“That’s not how an army is run.” The now familiar condescension was back in his voice.
“No, it's not,” I said, condescension filling my own voice. “In an army, the person with the highest rank is in charge, and any who dare defy said person would be completely at her mercy.”
He ran a hand over his face in thought. “We do majority rules instead. If we use vetoes, nothing will ever get done.”
“If we do majority rules, you and Nuada will always overrule me,” I said.
“Was I siding with Nuada when I offered to free you?”
I leaned back against the car, my arms folded. “Fine. But if one of us isn’t around, then the other two use vetoes. And if only one person is around, they get to make all the decisions.”