Wiretaps & Whiskers (The Faerie Files Book 1)

by Emigh Cannaday

  Her sobbing grew louder in response.

  “Fuck,” I said to myself as I realized I was going to have to go up and find her.

  Hoping that every step I climbed wouldn’t bring me closer to death, I ascended the stairs with bated breath and prayed I would at least reach the top alive. When I got halfway there, I looked down and sighed.

  There was no turning back.

  18

  Logan

  “Hey! Where are you going?” I called out to the shrinking figure of Elena as she disappeared down the hall.

  Now alone in the kitchen, I was faced with nothing but a handful of cats and a single moonbeam shining through the window. It reflected into my cup, leaving a mesmerizing trail of colors in my coffee.

  “Wow . . . ”

  It looked like a rainbow pearl held between my hands, and I lost myself in the image.

  I could dive right into that pearl. I could live in those colors.

  Out in the hall, I could hear Elena’s footsteps with each creak of the floorboards.

  “Elena? Come back here. You gotta see this moonbeam! It’s like a pearl fell through a rainbow and landed in my coffee!”

  The only response was the sound of her creaking her way up the stairs and calling out for Sylvia.

  Ah, Sylvia, I thought as I looked around her kitchen. She’d understand the beauty in this cup.

  I took another sip of my coffee and melted back into my seat. Staring at the walls, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the beauty of the wallpaper—pink with peony flowers. Why wasn’t this in the Smithsonian? It was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen. But so were the kitchen cabinets in their off-shade of beige with rusted brass handles. And then there was the sink. Every chip in the white enameled cast iron told a story. It was such a beautiful sink.

  As I watched the moonlight glint off the faucet, I had the most overwhelming urge to jump up take a closer look.

  “Whoa! So shiny.”

  I leaned in closer and watched silver trails of moonlight leap out from the bottom of the basin.

  Why has no one told me how beautiful sinks are before? Have I always taken them for granted?

  As I stared, I realized a slight drip was coming from the faucet. Just a single drop falling every ten seconds. Or was it every ten minutes? There was no way of knowing, and it didn’t matter, anyway. Time was useless. All that mattered was the shine of the moonlight and the hypnotic sound of each drop as it fell into the sink. It felt as though its energy was reverberating across the entire kitchen counter.

  Splat . . .

  Splat . . .

  Splat . . .

  A gentle meow sounded from my left. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Lafayette sitting next to the sink, watching me with a smirk on his face. Had he been there the whole time?

  “Ah, hey dude. You see this?”

  He cocked his head to the side inquisitively and meowed back.

  “The sink,” I elaborated. “Have you ever seen anything so pretty? It’s so smooth . . . so shiny.”

  Lafayette brushed himself up against my arm before turning around and brushing the other side of his body against me. I reached out to pet him, wondering why his fur was cut so unevenly.

  “Were you groomed by a weed wacker, little guy?” I asked. He rolled his bright green eyes and looked away, apparently insulted.

  “Ohhh, that’s right. Sylvia said your fur was full of mats and burrs, didn’t she? So she probably had to cut them all out. I feel your pain, Lafayette. When I was in high school, one of the guys put gum in my football helmet. I had a bald spot for months!” Lafayette lifted a dark paw and cleaned his face. When his eyes met mine, he began to purr.

  “Are we . . . having a moment?” I asked him.

  I had never felt more connected to another being in all my life, and for what felt like a hundred years, we both stared into each other’s eyes as the sound of his purring serenaded us. It somehow sounded like both an earthquake and a soothing lullaby as it rumbled through the entire room.

  Closing my eyes, I listened to nothing but the sound of his purrs and relaxed even more.

  “That’s such a cool noise,” I told him. “Real deep. You ever thought of playing bass? I think you’d be really good at it.”

  “I don’t have thumbs, dumbass.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at him. Did he just talk? Did he just call me a dumbass? I looked for a sign, but he was busy gazing out the window, ignoring me.

  “You know, I played bass for a while. For one summer, anyway. I was, like, fourteen and joined a band with these two kids that lived at the end of the street. We called ourselves—”

  “Stop. Talking.”

  Suddenly, I was aware of deafening silence. Lafayette had stopped purring, and when I looked at him, he was jumping up against the window and pressing his paws against the glass.

  “What’s up?” I asked him. “You wanna go outside?”

  He didn’t so much as meow but scream in reply.

  “You wanna go outside? I’ll take you outside.”

  I’d always been slightly afraid of cats, but for some reason, I felt perfectly comfortable picking up the little guy and squeezing him beneath my arm like he was a set of bagpipes.

  “Let’s get you outside,” I said to him as he burrowed his face into my armpit. “I could use some fresh air.”

  Holding him tight, I walked out of the kitchen into the darkened hall and stared down towards the front door.

  “Shit,” I said to myself. “How am I supposed to get down there?”

  I had never been so acutely aware of the dark before. It wasn’t so much an absence of light, but an inky abyss that I was sure I’d get sucked into. Lifting up my right foot, I hovered it over the threshold of the kitchen doorway and imagined placing it onto the floor. But as I lowered it inch by inch, I saw it sinking into the floor as if I was lowering it into wet tar.

  “I can’t walk on this,” I said to Lafayette. “What do I do?”

  He gave no answer, just dug his claws into my side and made a strange noise that resembled a tiny lawnmower.

  “I know what we’ll do,” I thought out loud. “We’ll climb out through the kitchen window. Sound like a plan?”

  Carrying him back across the kitchen towards the sink, I leaned across the counter and twisted the latch on the window.

  “Well, shit. This thing’s pretty much rusted shut.”

  Refusing to give up, I twisted harder. A snapping sound came as I broke the rusted window frame. A moment later I was hit in the face by the smell of fresh woodland air. I sucked in a deep breath and sighed as I let it out.

  “Aaaahhh, you smell that, Lafayette? Isn’t that incredible?”

  I watched as he jumped gracefully out the window, landing on the grass with a soft “meh!”

  I couldn’t say the same for myself. As I climbed onto the counter, my shoes slipped in the wet sink and I fell headfirst out the window.

  “Aww, fuck!”

  At least Elena wasn’t there to see it happen. Rolling onto my hands and knees, I pulled myself upright, brushing the grass off my jacket as I looked around for my new friend. I caught sight of Lafayette making his way towards the nearby woods. I could tell he was on a mission by the way his tail kept flicking from side to side.

  “Wait!” I called after him. “Don’t go without me!”

  I walked after him, following his lead into the treeline. Moonlight couldn’t reach us in here. But for some reason, the darkness of the woods didn’t scare me like the hallway had. If anything, it excited me.

  With every step, I became more aware of how beautiful the moonlight was as it fell in silver strands across the leaves and tree roots. The sound of my feet crunching on dried leaves was like a tiny song in each footstep.

  “Amazing . . . ” I said to myself.

  There was a tiny clearing where I watched a single speck of moonlight dance on the edge of a broad, low leaf before jumping over to the next one. It was just about the most bea
utiful thing I’d ever seen. I wondered if Elena could see the silver beams of light wherever she was. I wondered if she’d appreciate it the same way that I did right now. I hoped so. I think she’d look at the moon the same way she’d looked at that sad little dandelion in the parking lot. She looked so cute, hunched down on the ground and playing in the mud. Not that I could ever tell her that. I knew she thought I was a dumb jock. At least I knew the reason why she was always such a jerk to me.

  It wasn’t about me at all.

  It was about her past.

  A few yards away, I could hear a gentle scratching sound and looked down to see Lafayette raking his nails down a nearby tree.

  “Ooh, are you sharpening your murder mittens?”

  He scratched faster, and it was then that I realized he wasn’t just filing his nails. He was drawing his weapons.

  “What’s got you spooked, Lafayette?” I asked, bending down to gently pat him on the head.

  “There’s something out there,” he said, his voice so low I could barely hear it. Then his eyes widened as he looked over my shoulder, his pupils dilating like I’d just dangled a sardine in front of him. Out of nowhere, he screeched an unholy noise and bolted into the shadows. I could see the leaves of a nearby bush rattling and shaking as he dove into them for cover.

  “Hey! Lafayette! What’s the matter? You’re freaking me out.”

  Silence.

  Even the crickets were afraid to chirp too loud. I became aware of a darkness creeping over me. Not dark as in nighttime, but dark like that terrible hole in Sylvia’s face when that awful noise had poured out of it. Behind me, I could sense a presence . . . an energy. It was the opposite of the purple beams I’d seen swirling around Elena. This was a dark energy that crept closer and closer until my heartbeat was thundering in my chest. My hand instinctively reached for my gun, but it was missing.

  I stood there, afraid to turn around, knowing that whatever stood there wasn’t human. I could hear it breathing. I could feel its eyes burning into the back of my head.

  Just look, I told myself. Whatever it is, you have to face it.

  But I couldn’t. Not yet. I stood shaking as the thing moved closer, its feet shuffling through the underbrush.

  “Hello?” I called out, but there was no reply. “Who’s there?”

  My breath failed to come as I stood there, trembling.

  “Elena? It’s you, isn’t it?” I hoped out loud.

  Yeah, that’s it. It’s just Elena. She’s playing some stupid prank on the Fucking New Guy. Of course she is.

  But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, deep down I knew it wasn’t true. Something was in the woods with me. Something that shouldn’t exist.

  Just turn and look. You need to know. You have to learn about what exists in the shadows.

  I knew I’d have to look at some point. No matter how afraid I was, I had to see what lurked behind me. I’d gone through plenty of hand-to-hand combat training. So what if I didn’t have my gun? I still had two hands.

  Slowly, with my heart beating in my throat, I turned around inch by inch.

  At first, all I saw were little black blobs creeping down low among the trees.

  What are those? Cats? Coyotes?

  But as I turned myself all the way around, I realized they were faces. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. There were dozens of faces . . . all attached to small, spindly bodies about three feet tall. Their big black eyes reminded me of giant flies, and they all stared at me, their spidery fingers pointing out towards my face.

  “These can’t be real,” I told myself. “They can’t be real. I’m imagining it. It’s just the moonshine.”

  But as I stared into their creepy, distorted faces, my eyes scanned their dark green, scaly skin, I knew exactly what they were. They were the same things that had scared the shit out of Sylvia.

  Sprites.

  19

  Elena

  “Sylvia? What room are you in?”

  Her sobs echoed down the hall towards me. I could see shapes of rotting furniture jutting out from the walls. There was a chest of drawers with clothes spilling out onto the floor, a chair missing a leg, a sofa with cat-claw-shredded cushions leaning away from the wall.

  As a kid, I’d always loved to poke around abandoned houses, but I’d never seen anybody actually living in one before. This place reminded me of houses I’d seen on Hoarders . . . not with the amount of utter crap lying around, but the perilousness of it. It was a miracle nobody had died in here yet. The poor old woman needed so much help. It was hard to know where to begin. First, I had to find her.

  “Sylvia? Where are you?”

  I stood still and listened to gauge the direction of the crying. Just my luck—it was coming from the room at the end of the obstacle course that made up the hall.

  Stepping over fallen books and the fleeting shadows of darting cats, I made my way down. As I reached Sylvia’s bedroom, I caught the scent of rosewater and mothballs, a peculiar combination that should’ve been unpleasant but for some reason calmed me. Her door was open, but as I looked inside, all I could see was the corner of her bed covered in a pink, frilly blanket.

  With a gentle knock, I peeked around the door and saw her sitting with her head in her hands. I tip-toed in, well aware that I was entering her inner sanctum. A woman’s bedroom was her private sanctuary at the best of times, but for Sylvia, her privacy was more precious and guarded than most people’s.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, stepping closer. I set my candle on a nearby shelf and waited for her to respond. She nodded, her face still buried by her hands.

  “You don’t look okay.”

  Gradually, she lowered her hands from her face and glanced up towards me. Her cheeks were wet and red from crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

  “You didn’t have to come up and check on me,” she said with a sniff.

  “Of course I did. I’m worried about you.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  “I don’t like seeing people upset,” I said and knelt down next to her. She lifted her arm to her face and wiped away her tears on her bathrobe.

  “You must think I’m a basket case,” she said. “Running away and crying like a baby.”

  “I don’t think that at all.”

  She rubbed her eyes again, making them even redder.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” I asked.

  She shook her head and swallowed down the last of her tears.

  “Go ahead, hon.”

  Looking around at the walls, I noticed dozens of photographs, all of her in her younger days with her husband by her side. I imagined her lying in bed and falling asleep to the sight of those bygone memories. It was heartbreaking to think of her living in the past . . . but I suppose that was all she had. None of the pictures showed any relatives who might still be around.

  As I sank down onto the bed next to her, a bundle of sleeping cats stirred, but didn’t move.

  “You’ve got quite the collection of familiars in here,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Ever worry you’ll get allergies?”

  She smiled ever so slightly and pet the nearest cat, a fat gray female with an obviously pregnant belly.

  “I think I have enough herbs in my garden to treat allergies,” she said. “Anyway, the cats are the least of my worries.”

  Strands of wet hair clung to the sides of her face. She brushed them away with her stiff fingers and faced the window so the moonlight glittered across her cheekbones. For a fraction of a second, the moonlight revealed the last of the youth in her eyes, and I caught a glimpse of who she used to be . . . who her husband must have known her as. But as soon as it came, it disappeared, and I was once again looking at the haggard, old, eccentric woman I’d become familiar with.

  “I’m sorry about Agent Hawthorne,” she said, sniffling. “Am I going to be arrested?”

  I laughed softly.

  “Nah. It was an honest mistake. We just ha
ve to wait for him to sleep it off. Luckily, he can’t get into much trouble since I have his keys and his gun. He’s probably downstairs talking to the cats.”

  Sylvia laughed softly and said, “I think Lafayette likes him. Which is funny, given that he doesn’t like anybody. He told me so.”

  “Is that so?” I smiled and gave her a soft pat on the shoulder. “Well, let’s make sure that he doesn’t tell anybody that we accidentally drugged a federal agent. Especially not Sheriff McKinney.”

  “I won’t say a word, and neither will Lafayette,” she said with a wink.

  Rising from the bed, she walked over to the window and tilted her head curiously to one side.

  “Looks like Agent Hawthorn’s going on an adventure.”

  I joined her and looked out at the darkened backyard. Amidst the tall grasses and wildflowers, I saw him following a black cat into the woods. Sylvia must’ve sensed my slight uneasiness because she turned and placed her hand on my arm.

  “He’ll be okay,” she assured me. “If there’s anything out there, it’ll be more afraid of him than he is of them.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, but if he comes in here screaming about seeing aliens . . . ”

  We both burst out laughing, the two of us cackling together like a pair of old witches.

  “Bless his heart,” she said, returning to her seat on the edge of her bed. “He’s completely clueless about the paranormal. How does someone like him come to work with someone like you?”

  “I’ve been asking the same question. My boss thought it was a good idea. Apparently, he’s the FBI’s golden boy.”

  “I don’t have any doubts that Hawthorne’s a good agent, but . . . he’s not quite cut out for investigating the underworld, is he?”

  I gave a doubtful shrug.

  “We’ll see. I suppose everyone has to start somewhere, but he didn’t believe in any of it until today.”

  Sylvia stared at me as though she thought I was joking. When she realized I wasn’t, she shook her head in disbelief.