by Sasha White
Bowing its head, the creature struggled to unfurl its wings. Pain flashed across its face as the broken membranes and thin delicate skin of its wing tore open, leaving it with one full wing and a piece to fly with. Springing up with its legs, it took to the air.
I watched as it maneuvered toward the night-blooming moon flowers, fully expecting it to disappear into the dark petals.
At the last second, it turned around. Teeth bared, it launched at me.
This time, I was too slow. Pain ripped through me as it tore into my right cheek. Teeth and claws dug into my flesh with ruthless slashes and bites. With both hands, I gripped it and yanked violently at its body, desperate to get it off my face. As I extracted it, I could feel skin and flesh coming with it. My stomach roiled over at the thought of what the pixie had managed to rip off my cheek.
Hissing and spitting in my hands, the pixie’s face was covered with gore. My gore. My blood and skin and flesh.
Without another thought, I crushed it in my hands, too iced up to revel in the sound of snapping bones and squishing insides. I squeezed until the heat of its body dissipated. I squeezed until I couldn’t feel the tiny patter of its heart.
Once I was positive it was dead, I tossed it into the garden then attended to my father lying still on the ground. I checked his pulse again and thanked god it was getting stronger. Sliding my arm under him, I lifted him into a sit.
He stirred from the movement, eyelids fluttering.
Holding my breath, I waited until he opened his eyes. At first, he seemed disoriented, peering around at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Then his gaze settled on me, and recognition settled in. “Nina?”
“Yes, Da.”
He raised his hand and touched the now-tacky cuts on his forehead. Wincing, he pulled his fingers back and stared at the congealed blood on the tips. “What happened?”
I debated whether to tell him the truth. For years now, I’d been protecting his fragile mind from the reality of the situation. Trying to convince him, and maybe myself, that the fae world didn’t exist. That he hadn’t been fae struck and was slowly dying from it. But after this attack, I couldn’t hide it from him. He had to know. Then maybe he could protect himself, instead of letting the magical myth of the fae to brainwash him into believing that they just wanted to play. The games these fae played had lethal consequences. “You were attacked by a pixie.”
He frowned. “What? Surely not. Pixies are friendly.”
Standing, I helped him to his feet. He wobbled once and I had to put my arm around him so he wouldn’t fall. Once he was stable, I grabbed his hand and turned it so he could see the cuts and scratches. “Does this look friendly?”
Eyes wide, he turned his hand back and forth, studying his wounds. “I must’ve fallen in the rose bushes.”
“The rose bushes are on the other side of the yard.” Anger clipped my words, but I was beyond tired of his ignorance to believe that those from Nightfall were not our friends. Including my mother.
It was then that his gaze fell upon the dead pixie in the garden. “Oh my God, Nina. What have you done?”
“That vicious little bugger nearly killed you. He even attacked me.” I turned my face so he could see my ruined cheek.
Tears welled in his eyes. “Oh, Nina. You don’t know what you have done.”
“I saved your life is what I did.” Tired of standing out in the garden, I started for the house, half carrying, half dragging Da with me.
By the time we reached the deck, he was sobbing. “You have brought ruin onto us, Nina. Those in Nightfall will avenge the pixie’s death.”
I dragged him through the glass doors and into the kitchen. He wasn’t resisting me, but he definitely wasn’t helping either. By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, I was breathing hard
“To kill one of the fae is to bring death upon your head,” he ranted, his voice now shrill with hysteria.
“Let them come, then. I’m not afraid.”
Turning, he grasped my shoulders, a wild look in his eyes. “You should be.” Then he promptly passed out.
I managed to catch him as he fell, cradling his head before it hit one of the steps, but I knew now I’d never get him up the stairs to his bedroom. Inching him down gently to the floor, I pondered his last words.
I was never one for fear. My mother had cured me of that emotion by abandoning me to an alien world I would never be a part of. After something like that, a child doesn’t really have much to fear.
But I had to admit as I considered the consequences of my actions in killing the pixie, a small thread of fear wound its way around my body. Who or what would they send to avenge the pixie’s death? Maybe my mother would be the one to come. Deep down inside the place where I was still just a child, where the pain of her abandonment still lingered and the anger for what she’d done to my father simmered, I hoped that it would be her who the fae lords sent.
I’d be ready. Then finally I could get my retribution.
Chapter 5
After getting my father onto the hide-a-bed in the den and cleaning his wounds, I went into my bathroom and stitched up my cheek. Three painful stitches later, I crashed for a few hours before returning to work.
Two days passed without incident. My cheek was healing, probably a little too fast than was normal, but so far no one had commented.
Thankfully over the course of that time, I didn’t have any unexpected visitors from Nightfall screaming for revenge for the pixie’s death. My father returned to his blissful ignorance and acted as if nothing had happened in the garden. As if an assassin from Nightfall hadn’t tried to kill him, and I hadn’t slain the assassin instead. Sometimes I wished I could forget things like that so easily. Then maybe I wouldn’t be having trouble sleeping.
Every night before I retired, I looked out my bedroom window and stared into the garden, especially toward the moon flowers and the small pond that had magically appeared all those years ago after I planted the bracelet my mother had given me. Every time I looked, I fully expected to see the glimmer of wings in the moonlight.
I was sitting at the nurse’s desk, discharging patients and pondering that thought when Diana leaned on the counter and handed me a tall steaming cup of coffee.
“You looked like you needed this.”
I took the offering with a smile of surprise. “Thank you.” I took a sip and sighed. The brew was strong and just what I needed about now.
She gestured to my face, her gaze narrowing. “You’re a fast healer.”
I turned my face a little, subconscious. “Yeah, I’ve always healed fast. Good antibodies I guess.”
She nodded, but didn’t look completely convinced.
Diana’s cell phone shrilled from her coat pocket before I could comment any further. Tearing her gaze from me, she dug it out and answered. “Dr. Cole.”
A deep angry frown crossed her face. “No way is that going to happen, Lee.” She wandered to the far side of the nurse’s station.
As Diana continued to argue with, I assumed, another doctor, I opened my computer files and started to catch up on some of the reports that I’d put aside. Before I could start typing, the main phone on the desk buzzed. I picked up the handset and pressed the button. “Emergency. This is Nina Decker.”
“I want to apologize for scaring you the other night.”
It only took me a second to recognize the caller. My heart picked up a beat at Severin’s accented sultry voice. Pressing my lips together, I swiveled in my chair so no one could see the flush on my face. “No need. I wasn’t that scared.”
“Regardless, let me make it up to you.” He paused.
I heard hard rock music playing in the background.
“Let’s have dinner. Tomorrow night.”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know you.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but feared a little hitch sounded that Diana would pick up on. I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was there. Thankfully, I was rela
tively alone.
“What do you need to know?” He paused for a moment then continued, “It’s not that I’m a—”
“Oh God, no. I’m completely fine with that.”
“Are you now? That’s interesting.”
I chewed at my nail, tempted by his offer and on more than one level. I couldn’t deny I was attracted to Severin. What hot-blooded woman wouldn’t be? But also I really wanted to know about werewolves and how they lived and the function of a pack. Their society was all very fascinating. And I had to admit I really wanted to know how they did it. What motivated them to come out in the open. “I can meet you somewhere,” I finally said.
There was silence on his end, but I could imagine his smile, grinning in triumph. The image had my stomach clenching in anticipation.
“Lombardo’s on fifth, seven o’clock.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Nina.”
Turning to the desk, I set the handset back into its cradle, my hands quivering ever so slightly.
Diana stood in front of the desk looking at me. “Who was that? You’re blushing.”
I scratched my nose, the guilty itch plaguing me. “Just Rick from the lab calling about one of the patients.”
“Was he flirting?”
I nodded. “A little.”
“Yeah, he’s like that, the little leech. He once had the nerve to call me babe. Can you imagine?”
“No.” Biting on the inside of my cheek, I smiled up at her. “And you, who were you yelling at?”
“Dr. Lee Song from oncology. He’s such an asshole.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
She smirked. “All right, I guess I better be off to save some lives or something.” She saluted me then wandered off to exam room four.
I watched her go then returned to my work. As I typed information into the computer, I noticed something odd about my hands again. The skin almost seemed transparent. I could see the veins and little capillaries clearer.
I set them on my lap and flexed them seeing if that helped. Again I looked at them, and my skin seemed normal. Well, as normal as I ever got.
Was the evidence becoming stronger that I wasn’t like everyone else? Was my fae-ness showing through more?
I had been feeling different lately. As if something was going to happen, as if something was going to change for me soon. In a way, the sensation was like puberty all over again. I could feel the changes slowly moving over me, rippling under my skin, waiting to burst through.
I just hoped I had enough strength and humanity to keep them at bay. At least until I could figure out how to control them. Or find some way to cleanse them from my blood.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, and I heard the tick tick tick of the second hand and knew I didn’t have much time before something monumental happened.
Chapter 6
It was past midnight when I finally shuffled through the front door of my house, dog tired with a migraine digging at my right temple. Tossing my bag and keys onto the table at the front entrance, I toed off my shoes and then padded into the kitchen for some tea. If the tea didn’t soothe my head, I was definitely going to pop pain meds so I could get some decent sleep.
The kettle whistled, knocking me out of my reverie. I poured the hot water over the herbal tea bag. As I dunked, I looked out the window into the garden. The night was beautiful, clear skies without any breeze. I wondered if my father had spent some time outside today. Although I warned him to stay away from the garden, I knew he wouldn’t listen. He was stubborn. That was one trait we shared.
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. I took a sip of my tea and hoped the brew would do its thing and relax me enough to let me sleep soundly. There’d been too many nights with troubled thoughts and strange dreams.
Tea in hand, I turned to go upstairs to bed when something out the window caught my eye. Squinting, I stared into the garden near the pond. Something glimmered there, a flash of something white. Was it wings? Were more pixies coming to finish the job?
Setting down my cup, I reached for one of the butcher knives from the wooden block. If the tiny fae were back, they would soon wish they’d picked another house to flutter over. Holding the knife, blade down, in a defensive position, I slid open the deck doors and crept outside in my bare feet. Heart pounding so hard it hurt, I moved toward the garden, searching the plants for any movement.
Every breath I took burned my lungs. Fear gripped me tight, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I wouldn’t let anything injure my father, no matter how big or how mean it turned out to be.
When I reached the edge of the garden, I scanned the area. Nothing moved. No breeze whispered. The only thing I heard were crickets chirping nearby in the grass.
I stepped into the dirt between the rows of night blooming moon flowers. Feeling the earth between my toes grounded me a little. I’d always possessed an affinity to the ground, the dirt, and the flowers and plants that grew in it. During my childhood years, I spent as much time as I could in our garden, running my fingers through the soil, touching the leaves of the plants. I didn’t realize why then, but I knew now my actions were because of my fae blood. I was connected to the earth.
As I continued through the garden, I trailed my fingers over the dark petals, feeling for anything out of place. Anything not of plant origin. When I reached the pond, I turned and looked over the path I’d just come. Nothing out here. Maybe my fatigue was playing with my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.
As I let go the breath I’d been holding, something caused me to turn toward the pond. Normally, there were two frogs living in it. I eyed the rippling water, searching for the tops of their warty heads. I didn’t see them, but the water continued to ripple as if stirred by something beneath the surface.
While I stared into the undulating dark pond, I felt something tugging at my mind. A phantom hand pulling on a string attached to somewhere deep within my psyche. Resisting its lure, I tried to move away, but my feet wouldn’t obey. I stayed standing in that spot, watching the movement of the water.
Buzzing rang in my ears. Like static, sound hummed against my eardrums. Between the waves of nothingness, I heard whispering. The murmurs were seductive. I strained to hear more. I wanted to hear more.
Dropping the knife to the ground, I fell to my knees and leaned toward the pond. Was the whispering coming from the water? Something was trying to communicate with me. Something alien but sensual in its promise. What was it saying? I needed to know.
Panic gripped me and I leaned even closer. I could see the moon reflected in the water. Something about the light urged me closer, tempting me to touch it, promising me that I could hold it in the palm of my hand. I’d always wanted to hold the moon. Knowing it would feel cool and pleasant on my skin like caressing porcelain.
Settling my hands on the water’s edge, I leaned even further, my nose nearly touching the dark ripples. I stared at my reflection, illuminated by the pale moonbeams. My eyes glowed green like the orbs on a traffic post. It might’ve been a trick of the light, but I felt like the luminosity was coming from within. Somewhere deep inside me burned bright with emerald fire.
My pale skin seemed even paler--as white as alabaster. That too could’ve been a deception by the moon’s rays, but from the same place that sizzled green flame radiated the white glow of my skin.
Wide-eyed and ferocious, my appearance startled me. I looked like a dark warrior not of this world. The cut on my cheek added to the battle-scarred effect. The fae blood coursing through my veins showed through my human façade. There was no mistaking it. Not now, with the glow of moonlight cascading over my flesh, urging the glow from within. I looked fierce, as if I could take down a man with one blow.
I liked that. A lot.
The whispering continued and I strained to hear the beautifully haunting words. Balancing on my knees and hands, I was close to falling into the water. But I didn’t care. The promises
in the murmurs were too seductive to pull away from. My whole existence resided on those words, if only I could decipher them. If only I could understand.
Then the words stopped. Dead. Like a vacuum had sucked up all the sound around me. Even the crickets stopped chirping.
Frantic, I eyed the water, searching for the source of the whispers. I wouldn’t be denied the knowledge that I knew lay within the murmured words. A cold sense of dread crept over me. As if I had lost the warmth of a sweater during an icy winter storm.
So lost in my hunt, I never saw the thing that reached for me from the pond.
There was no time to take in a deep breath before it yanked my head under the water. Frenzied, I clawed at the thing clutching me. I felt hard cold flesh under my fingers and nails. Plumes of blood floated up from the wounds I had inflicted. Something, or someone, had a hand bound in my hair pulling me down, keeping me in the water, drowning me.
As I scratched and kicked against the hold on me, I wondered how I could drown in the shallow pond. When I looked down through the water now, I sensed it went on forever. As if I had an endless ocean in my garden.
I pulled and yanked back my head, fighting desperately to get away. Even as I struggled, I could feel the air pushing out of my lungs. Pressure on my chest made my head pound and my eyes bulge painfully. I wouldn’t hold out much longer… the urge to open my mouth and gasp for air burned through me.
With a last ditch effort, I clawed my nails across the icy flesh holding me, tearing divots into it. A faint cry of agony floated up in a bubble and the grip on my hair loosened. It was enough to raise my head and gasp for breath.
As I filled my aching chest with oxygen, gulping mouthfuls of air, I saw the hand that had grasped me coming for my neck. White flesh covered long bones and angles. On the end of elongated skeletal fingers were jagged nails, black and rotting under the cuticles. Gray and mottled scales dotted the skin.
What in hell was it? Before I could come up with an answer, I was pulled under the water again.
Dagger-like claws dug into my throat as I thrashed about trying to get free. But the grip was a solid one. I wouldn’t get away so easily this time. Wrapping my hands around the bony wrist, I yanked and pulled and scratched and clawed but to no avail. Another minute more under the water and I was going to die.