The Iron Witch

by Karen Mahoney

  It was the perfect place for an ambush.

  Xan was on the ground again; the big man had him pinned and it didn’t look like he’d get free anytime soon. Donna looked around for a branch or something else she could use as a weapon, but it was hard to see clearly in the dark and the constant movement and fighting made things all the more confusing.

  Her eyes came to rest on the street guy’s hands as they forced Xan’s head back against the cracked earth. There was a strange sort of blurring happening around them—a soft glow of light that didn’t belong—almost as though she’d just woken up and her eyes weren’t working properly yet. Xan was still struggling wildly, making it hard to focus, but there was no mistaking the weird haze surrounding the attacker’s hands and face—the only two visible parts of his body, given how bundled up in Goodwill clothing he was.

  “Xan, get away from him!” Donna called, her voice shaking. Of course, that was exactly what Xan was trying to do, but she couldn’t help herself. An awful feeling was crawling from her stomach up into her chest. Her arms were starting to ache horribly, and the sensation of pins and needles in her fingers made tears stand out in her eyes.

  Crazy Homeless Dude lowered his head to Xan’s face and … what the hell was he doing? Donna watched with repulsion as the man’s teeth suddenly seemed sharper, like there were too many of them to fit properly in his mouth.

  That’s not a homeless dude, Donna thought. This wasn’t just a random street guy trying to mug them.

  The hands now squeezing Xan’s throat began to look more like claws. As Donna focused her full attention on the two figures scuffling on the cold ground, she saw right through the wood elf’s glamour.

  No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here—here on the Common while she was on a date. Only her “date” was being attacked by a creature with too many teeth and an otherworldly strength that was completely out of proportion to its size; its true size. Because now that she could see through the elfskin, Donna saw that Crazy Homeless Dude’s clothes were all part of the illusion—none of it was real—and Xan had a wood elf sitting on his chest, digging its claws into his wrists and trying to reach his throat with its razor-sharp teeth.

  “Stop!” she yelled, running forward, ignoring the pain stabbing at her arms. The elf was in its natural habitat—surrounded by grass and trees, with no buildings or cars or other man-made structures to trouble it. No iron.

  No iron, Donna thought, except for the iron in my own body. Pushing down the rising terror that made her feel like she might vomit, she pulled the velvet glove from her right hand and ran toward this creature from her nightmares. This was the second one that had stepped out of those dreams in as many days, and now she knew there was something serious happening. No more wondering about chance strays or Maker’s “experiments”—this was something else.

  And it was very, very real.

  The clouds chose that moment to part. The waxing moon shone down and its light flashed on the tattoos winding along the back of Donna’s hand. Her flesh was barely visible through the silvery patterns that were stamped permanently into it. Xan was too busy to notice anything at the moment, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find out the truth the moment she grabbed the wood elf.

  Well, there were worse things. One of them would be seeing Xan hurt by the creature, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  The elf’s black eyes flickered in her direction as Donna approached, but it was too late for it to stop her and she was already on top of it. She gripped its spindly arm and gritted her teeth against the pain that settled into the bones of her fingers.

  As the pure iron in her hands made contact with the fey flesh of the dark elf, smoke belched from the twiggy surface of its shoulder and the creature howled with inhuman fury. It released Xan and tried to bat Donna away with its free hand. She dodged out of reach—just in time—but kept hold of the elf and pulled it farther away from Xan. She tried not to think about the smell of burning wood. Her eyes watered as the smoke filled the air, and her alarm grew as she saw how high the curling cloud had already risen. Crap. Lighting bonfires on Ironbridge Common was illegal, and the last thing they needed was a park warden turning up to see what was going on.

  Xan stumbled to his feet, brushing himself off and staring at Donna with amazement. Not horror, she was relieved to note, but something more like admiration. And something else, too, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but his eyes flashed viridian-bright in the darkness as he watched her grapple with the screeching elf.

  Before she could think about it further, the creature got its other hand around her forearm—still covered by the thick wool of her coat—and tried to free itself.

  Xan was suddenly there, too, and the thing didn’t stand a chance after that. They got it pressed against a narrow tree trunk between them, and Xan whipped off his long black coat and threw it over the elf’s head.

  Donna wondered if Xan was still seeing a homeless guy, but she doubted the elfskin had held once she’d gotten hold of the creature with the full force of her iron-clad hands. She wondered how Xan was coping with the revelation that monsters existed; was this the second time she was going to have to explain all of this craziness to a friend?

  And yet … Xan hadn’t exactly looked shocked.

  Just as Donna thought it was over, with the elf subdued beneath Xan’s coat and Xan sitting on top of it while Donna pulled her glove back on with shaking hands, the elf somehow wriggled free and leapt to its feet. Damn, those things were slippery.

  The coat was now hampering Xan more than the elf—he couldn’t get hold of the creature before it bolted into the nearest gap between two saplings. The coat caught on a branch, and the wood elf was off and running.

  However, Xan—as well as being incredibly agile and undaunted by an inhuman opponent—was fast. He dashed after the fleeing wood elf, leaving Donna to wait, her heart pushing its way into her throat with each passing moment. She wondered if she should follow them, but she was pretty certain she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And maybe she’d get lost, and then she might not find Xan at all. Biting her lip and rubbing her arms to keep warm, she was just beginning to doubt her decision to stay put when Xan’s bright hair appeared from a different place in the small patch of trees.

  He didn’t seem particularly out of breath, but his cheeks were flushed, probably more from the cold than from exertion. They looked at each other across the short distance that separated them.

  What did it all mean? Donna fought down panic and tried to think of the best way to approach this—should she admit to knowing what the creature was?

  Xan broke eye contact first and collected his coat from the shrubs. He dusted it off and shrugged it back on, running both hands through his hair as he looked at the ground for a long moment.

  “Xan—” she said.

  “Donna—”

  They both stopped.

  Xan walked toward her. “Ladies first.”

  She frowned. “What happened to … you know … ”

  “Oh, you mean the elf?” His voice was filled with loathing, but she was pretty certain it wasn’t directed at her. She somehow knew that the clear note of disgust was aimed solely at the elves.

  Okay, so he knew what the creature was. Alexander Grayson knew what a freaking wood elf was. And this evening was now officially weirder than ever. Not knowing what to say, Donna kept her mouth shut and just watched him. She hardly knew Xan, but something connected them. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to find out what it was, sooner rather than later.

  Xan suddenly stumbled, pain flashing across his face as he clutched his ribs. Her heart pounding, Donna ran to his side and hovered there, unsure whether or not she should touch him.

  “What happened?” she asked, feeling useless as he winced and bent over, breathing hard.

  He held out a hand. “Don’t,” he said, strain making his voice weak. “It’s nothing.”

 
“Nothing?” She was suddenly angry. At the party he had seemed so keen to get close to her, and now he was holding her at arm’s length. Literally. “You’re hurt, let me see—”

  Xan knocked her hand away. “I said, it’s nothing. That thing bit me before it escaped. I almost had it.”

  At least he could stand straight again, and Donna realized that the anger she’d heard in his voice was born not just of pain, but of frustration—disappointment that the creature had gotten away.

  “It bit you?” She tried to pull open his coat to see. “Where? Oh Xan, those things are vicious … ”

  “Yeah,” he replied, stepping out of her reach. “And you seem to know a lot about them.”

  Donna chewed on her lip. She was worried about Xan—about how badly hurt he might be—but she was also terrified about revealing too much of herself. It seemed like someone had declared open season on her most carefully guarded secrets, and she didn’t like it.

  She didn’t like it one bit.

  “Listen.” She raised her chin and looked Xan fiercely in the eye. “Yes, I know things about them—but so do you. And you’re the one who said we had stuff to talk about. That’s why we’re out here in the first place.”

  “So let’s talk.” It sounded like a challenge.

  “I’m not talking about this stuff out here—no way.”

  “There’s nobody to hear us, Donna.” Xan gestured around them at the empty trees and the deserted pathway.

  Donna swallowed, feeling suddenly very alone. She wished that Navin was here, which was pretty dumb considering how hard she’d tried to protect him from all the craziness. “I’m cold and I’m scared, Xan. I don’t want to talk here.”

  He winced again, touching his ribs as though gingerly testing them. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m being a jerk. Let’s go to my place.”

  She only hesitated for a moment. “As long as you let me see where it hurt you.”

  A lopsided smile replaced the pained expression on his face. “You just want to see me with my shirt off.”

  Donna felt her cheeks flush. “You wish. Come on, let’s get moving.”

  She turned away from him and headed back to the path, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear the soft laughter behind her.

  As they turned onto the wide residential street lined with oak trees and townhouses, the hair on the back of Donna’s neck prickled. She glanced behind them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She tried to shake the feeling that someone was following them, but found herself turning around every so often, trying to catch a glimpse of a pursuing shadow.

  It was no wonder she’d gotten so paranoid—now she had proof that there were wood elves sneaking around the city (not that the one on the Common had been doing much sneaking). It had been such a long time since the dark fey last entered Ironbridge; they must have their reasons, but Donna wasn’t certain she wanted to know about them.

  She shivered in the evening air.

  “We’re here,” Xan said, stopping halfway up the street.

  They stood in front of the familiar three-story house, almost identical to its neighbors except for the bright window shutters. Donna couldn’t tell what color they were in the shadow-strewn lamplight, but they looked like they might be crimson. The place seemed different, somehow, from the way it had looked on Saturday night. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something to do with the fact that back then, she’d been with Navin and, no matter how much she’d protested going to the stupid party in the first place, there had been an element of adventure about the whole event.

  But this time? This time things were very different, and this was certainly no adventure.

  Xan walked up the three stone steps and took a bunch of keys out of his jeans pocket. “Well, come on then.”

  Donna took a deep breath, realizing that she’d been staring at the windows. She was still on the sidewalk, and Xan was holding open the front door.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to figure out how to get the lid back on.” The image of Pandora’s Box had come to mind—there was no getting away from it now, and not just with Navin. It seemed she was being forced to let people into her life, no matter what the Order of the Dragon wanted.

  His face twisted with confusion. “Um … what lid?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing, forget it.”

  Xan was still frowning at her as she walked past him and into the house.

  “There.” Donna put the finishing touches on the medical dressing. “All finished.”

  Xan raised an eyebrow. “Not bad. First time?”

  Dammit, she thought. Another guy in her life who could do that eyebrow thing. She willed herself not to blush and, for once, managed to stay composed. Xan really was very good looking, with cheekbones a model would kill for. Just sitting this close to him—on his bed—made her skin vibrate.

  They were in Xan’s bedroom again; he’d said the medical supplies were in the upstairs bathroom, and Donna had chosen to believe him. She didn’t think he was just trying to lure her back to his room, not when he was bleeding all over the place. She’d refused to talk about elves and insisted on seeing his injury before anything else. Not that she was a first aid expert, but she at least knew something about the sort of damage the creatures could inflict.

  Donna had tried really hard not to think about how toned Xan’s chest was while examining the imprint of the elf’s jagged teeth. This wasn’t the time to act like a teenager. But I am a teenager, she’d wanted to shout. It was so unfair—why did these things have to happen? Why couldn’t she just have a normal life? And then she immediately felt angry with herself for the blast of self-pity. She was determined to accept whatever life had to throw at her.

  Of course, despite her good intentions, she didn’t always succeed.

  Xan had lifted up his gray button-down shirt so she could get to the cuts along the ribs on his left side. There was already a livid bruise against his golden skin, but the flesh had only been broken in a couple places.

  As she packed the bandages away, Donna’s mind immediately turned to what came next. Did they have to have the Big Talk? Something had brought this beautiful guy into her life, and she was both terrified and excited to find out why.

  “Donna, look at me.” There was that thread of vulnerability in Xan’s voice again. “I have to show you something. It … might be easier than just talking. You want to understand how I know about those things, right? Know about the fey?”

  When she didn’t reply, he stepped in front of the bedroom door and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Donna heard how thin and breathless her voice sounded. “We already dealt with the wound.”

  “Oh, come on.” He let out a frustrated breath. “What the hell do you take me for?”

  She laughed, nervously. “Sorry.”

  “Just let me do this.” Xan continued to work on the buttons, his eyes fixed on hers. It was intense and weird, and she wondered if she should feel more afraid.

  “Wait a minute,” she said finally. “I think we’re having a misunderstanding here … ”

  “Shut up, will you? Trust me.” His tone made her stop. What was it about this guy that made her want to trust him?

  Xan’s fingers looked steady as he got to the top button of the shirt. He turned to face the door, so that his back was toward her, and allowed the shirt to slide off his shoulders and fall softly to the floor.

  The skin on his back was as smooth and golden as it was on his chest. He was broad-shouldered, and his muscles were lean and sculpted. His waist tapered neatly to the top of his jeans.

  But it was none of this that held Donna’s attention. None of this that made her gasp with shock and a strange sort of recognition.

  Above Xan’s shoulder blades lay two livid scars, several inches long, covered with bumpy scar tissue. White, pink, and magenta. The palette of colors told the old and painful story of a gradual healing process. The scars stood
out starkly against the warm tone of his skin.

  With one hand to her mouth, Donna stepped forward despite her horror. She had to see. If he was going to trust her—someone he hardly even knew—with this, she could at least show the respect such a revelation deserved. She stood within touching distance, wanting desperately to reach out to Xan in that moment. Her hand wavered, then settled back against her fluttering belly.

  Up close, she could see twisted ropes of scar tissue deep beneath his flesh, not just across the surface. Whatever it was that had happened must have hurt like hell. It was unimaginable. Well, maybe not unimaginable … She felt a sympathetic twinge in her hands and arms as she craned her neck in the dim light to examine the badly healed wounds. Sadness tightened her throat at the thought that his healing had come with such terrible scars. It made her feel a rush of gratitude toward Maker, for the care she’d received after her own terrible injuries.

  Releasing a painful breath, Donna brought her attention back to the room. Back to Xan.

  “What happened?” Her voice was low but steady.

  “I think you already know.” Xan’s voice was muffled, his back a painful map of loss and history.

  Shaking her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, Donna tried to reply. “No, I don’t know. I don’t.”

  “It’s where they tore out my wings.”

  “Wings,” she echoed, faintly.

  Xan turned to face her, turning those dreadful scars away so she no longer had to look at them. He bent down to pick up the discarded shirt and hastily shrugged his way back into it, leaving it unbuttoned.

  She stood there for a moment, motionless, allowing herself to breathe slowly and evenly. Be calm, she told herself. You can be calm in the face of this.

  Another thought came to her: Isn’t it interesting that I don’t doubt him? Not for a second. She could thank her twisted upbringing for that.