Shoot the Messenger

by Pippa Dacosta

  She yanked her hand back. “I think you should go now.”

  She wouldn’t or couldn’t see the truth. “Sure.”

  I drifted down the corridors. There had to be almost a thousand employees working at Arcon, not counting the satellite offices. And Eledan had the entire staff under his spell. How far did his reach go?

  I touched the iron collar under my coat collar and swallowed, feeling it bob.

  I activated my comms and whispered, “Kellee…?”

  The marshal didn’t reply.

  It had only been a few hours since Eledan had taken him. Now, I wandered Arcon’s maze of corridors and offices, searching for a way down. The magic was down there. Kellee probably was too.

  What Eledan was doing, casting an illusion over an entire workforce, should have been impossible. For any other fae, it would have been. But he was Mab’s son. A prince. He had access to the kind of power I had only dreamed of. His power was royal and ancient, the same as his mother’s. But Mab hadn’t sent me here like he thought. Her only order had been to kill her. But there had been other orders, things I had deliberately forgotten, choices that had been made for me.

  I’d brought me here to Calicto, nobody else. Mab hadn’t possessed the means to control that.

  I massaged my temple. Yes, those memories were real. Eledan couldn’t change my past. He couldn’t get inside my head and mess with my mind.

  My pace quickened. I wasn’t like these doe-eyed people.

  “Kellee… please answer me.”

  I stopped and found myself outside Sota’s clear-walled room. Pressing my hands to the glass, I willed Sota to fix his lens on me, but the drone didn’t move. Sota could cut through illusion. He wasn’t susceptible like humans were. He would have told me what was real. I missed him.

  All I had to do was kill Eledan. The people working at Arcon would be free. Sota would be free. The company would collapse, freeing its hold on the Halow system. But what about the defense net? Without Arcon behind it, would it open? There had to be fail-safes in place. The human governments would have insisted. There had to be more stopping the fae than just me.

  Pressure pushed against my skin, rippling my coat with unseen movement.

  I turned my head.

  Eledan’s magic pushed down, rippling the space he carved through. The walls he passed bowed slightly, reality distorting around him. He wore soft gray leather pants and a partially armored gray jacket, unbuckled to reveal a loose white shirt. I blinked. He was blatantly fae, but nobody looked up, nobody cared. He wasn’t pretending for me anymore.

  “You’ve been busy.” He opened the door to Sota’s room and gestured for me to enter.

  What was happening here? All around, through the glass walls, people went about their business. There had to be a hundred witnesses, and yet not a single soul looked up. In fact, they seemed to be going out of their way to avoid looking. Some switched their paths mid-stride, veering away. Others turned their chairs away.

  “That’s what happens when you leave your prisoner alone,” I mumbled, his power crackling across my skin.

  “Knife.” He held out his hand.

  Damn, I’d hoped he had forgotten that. I hesitated, but he had Kellee, and withholding the knife wouldn’t achieve anything. I handed the knife over.

  He slipped it into a leather sheath and hooked it to his belt. “You are beginning to understand the weight of the decision on your shoulders.”

  I was beginning to understand that nothing was as it seemed. I had assumed he was weak. I had been wrong. I had assumed much of Arcon was real, but I had been wrong about that too. The people were his puppets. Was I? “I want to know one thing.”

  He nodded, his gaze sweeping over me, seeing too much.

  “Are you saving this system or condemning it?”

  He lifted his chin.

  “You’ve had your hands on the defense net for years. Why haven’t you let them in?”

  He sat on the edge of the steel table next to Sota. “You believe I care what happens to the people here?”

  “I think, over the years, you’ve learned to care. You didn’t have much choice.” Saying it out loud brought home exactly how insane it sounded. The fae didn’t care for humans. And a prince? He cared less than most.

  He laughed. The smooth, luscious sound tried to influence my mind and body. I swallowed, holding myself under control, feeling a terrible sense of foreboding pressing in.

  “Your human naivety is adorable. I thought they bred those ridiculous notions out of saru.”

  I clenched my hands. Something was wrong. The air was too tight, the magic too sweet. “You can’t breed out compassion.”

  “No? I’ve heard the stories of you mercilessly slaughtering your kin. Where was your humanity then, Wraithmaker?”

  I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached.

  “I thought so,” he replied, smug as always. “You like the pretty idea of being human, but you are no more human than I am. You are saru. It must have been easy to forget that while playing at being a messenger for… what was it? Five years. A blink in a fae lifetime, and you believe you understand me? You actually believe I feel something for humans?”

  Clearly not, but at least I had my answer. His motives were purely selfish. “So why the delay?”

  He shrugged. “It isn’t the right time.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “You.”

  Icy dread clamped around my heart. Me? But he couldn’t have known I’d come to Calicto. He couldn’t have planned for that. He had been in Halow a thousand years. I was only twenty-six. It wasn’t possible. Unless…

  I reached for a nearby chair as the world necessary tipped, taking my memories of the queen’s murder with it. “You knew I was going to kill Mab…”

  “You don’t think she plucked you out of the arena to actually serve by her side?”

  I had. I had strived to be the best. I had longed for them to notice me. And they had.

  “She had warriors, a thousand years old, trained in the art of battle. A saru is nothing compared to them.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Why would the Queen of Faerie pick a saru as her personal guard? You’re not stupid, Kesh. But you are blinded by your love for her and for Faerie.”

  No, she had picked me because… because I was the best. I had killed all the others to prove I was like them. She had picked me to reward my devotion and the blood I’d spilled. She had loved me as I loved her. She had respected my advice, and she had confided in me. She was mine and I was hers. I was hers. I would always be hers… She had told me so.

  I flinched, the memories turning jagged and sharp.

  I was hers.

  I would always be hers.

  I had made sure of that.

  “You’re lying.” The words were weak, clutching at hope.

  He dipped his chin and peered through his lashes. “You know I can’t.”

  “But she gave me her magic. She said it was a gift.”

  “It was. For me.”

  I gripped the back of the chair, all my strength draining away. “But I’m the Wraithmaker,” I whispered. I had earned my name. Earned her respect.

  He touched my shoulder, suddenly beside me. I hadn’t seen him move, and now he was so close, filling my view of everything. “We gave you that name. We built you up. We made you what you are. From the moment the saru breeding bitch squeezed you out, bawling into this world, you belonged to Faerie. Everything you know, everything you are, we gave to you. My mother, the Queen of Faerie, put you in her bed and gave you the blade to kill her.”

  “Why?” I whispered, ignoring the cold tears that fell.

  “How is it possible you came to be here, in this room with me, without all of Faerie knowing I still lived? It had to be you—someone who wouldn’t be noticed, a tek-whisperer, a ghost, a nobody girl with a queen’s magic tied around her heart.” He pressed his hand to my chest and pulled. All at once, an integral part of me ar
ched toward him. Power—mine—surged from my heart and poured outward into his hand. His lips parted, eyes widening. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Screams shattered my mind but never left my lips. Prince Eledan leaned close. His mouth brushed mine, and his gaze burned. “Your life was never about you. You are just the messenger, and you are here for me.”

  More and more he pulled, draining the touch of the divine out of my veins. The queen’s love had filled me, made me into something, and now he was taking it all away, emptying me out and leaving me hollow. And I couldn’t stop him.

  It was a lie.

  All of it.

  My entire life.

  I had always known. But it had been easier to dream of more. To make it mean something. Anything.

  His fingers brushed the collar. It clicked, fell open and clattered to the floor somewhere far away. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he whispered.

  My eyelids fluttered down as the last strings of Mab’s gift left me. Her magic had been all that held me up. I collapsed into Eledan’s arms. He stole permission and licked his tongue over the corner of my mouth. “They call me the Dreamweaver, little saru. I will show you why.”

  No, no, no, no… My vision fluttered, the edges of my world tearing apart. My heart stuttered, his hand still pressed close, still taking, still pulling more than just magic.

  He lightly brushed his fingertips down my face, closing my eyes. “Sleep. Dream. When you wake, the worlds will be better for having the fae in them.”

  He hadn’t needed me—Kesh Lasota—at all. All he had wanted was my magic, his mother’s magic. It would make him whole again, make him the prince she had lost so long ago. She had died to give me the gift that would bring him back to Faerie. He would be the prince who would herald in a new age by poisoning Halow from the inside out, starting with Arcon at the system’s heart.

  As I fell into nothing and nowhere, I wondered if anything I had lived had been real.

  If I was just the messenger and I had served my purpose, what was left of me now?

  Part II

  “Come away, O human child!

  To the waters and the wild

  With a faery, hand in hand,

  For the world's more full of weeping than you

  can understand.”

  W.B. Yeats ~ Old Earthen, 1892

  Chapter 20

  When dreams were layered one on top of another on top of another, reality became the nightmare. I lived a thousand lives, loved a hundred souls and lost them all. With every day that passed, the dreams buried me deeper. I dreamed of carving out Eledan’s heart. I dreamed of thrusting a sword through Mab’s chest. I dreamed of a prince seated on a throne of bones. I dreamed of wishes and nightmares and all the things that mattered, until they didn’t. I dreamed until there was nothing left to dream, until the fantasies had emptied out my mind, leaving it barren and ravaged.

  “Reach out to her. She’s calling your name.”

  “I can’t.”

  I knew those voices, but from where, I couldn’t recall.

  All around there was darkness, and I heard him laugh. The sound of his laughter stirred me to life, and the dreams began again. Over and over and over, they turned me inside out and upside down.

  I heard myself weeping like the saru who had begged me for their lives moments before I’d cut their throats. I’d killed them for praise, and their blood on my hands was worthless.

  Dreams became nightmares that tore me apart. The ghosts I’d made came back to haunt me. I was the worst ghost of all. Kesh Lasota didn’t exist. I didn’t know who I was.

  A hand waved in front of my face.

  A man blinked at me. His eyes were green. Pretty.

  “I don’t think she sees us,” he said.

  He wasn’t real, so I didn’t answer.

  He straightened and propped his hands on his hips. He seemed frustrated, but I couldn’t imagine why. Then he gestured at someone standing to the side, almost swallowed inside the darkness threatening to wash over me again. “You try.”

  A second male came forward. Although his stride was casual, he moved like a killer. Each step was a statement, each footfall placed to pivot and launch if he needed to. He wore their leather clothes, adorned with too many ties and straps. Silvery hair veiled half his face.

  Fae.

  My teeth chattered together, adrenaline racing through my veins.

  He stopped, his violet eyes darting over me.

  He wasn’t him, the one who had made me dream. The Dreamweaver. But he was one of them. My top lip twitched.

  I heard laughter. It sounded terrible, like nails on glass.

  The first man turned and shot me a concerned glance.

  The laughter had come from me.

  “What did you do?” the man asked.

  “Nothing.” The fae backed away, sinking into the shadows. He lurked there, waiting. I kept my eye on that one.

  “Kesh?”

  Kesh, Kesh, Kesh… There’s no Kesh here. I giggled and lifted my hand. So pale and thin, it didn’t look like my hand. But it must be mine. I waved it. Yes, definitely mine. He had taken my hands from me. I couldn’t remember when. But they were back now. This dream was confusing. Was I supposed to do something? And I knew these males, didn’t I? Or were they dreams too?

  “I think she sees us.” The man ran his hand through his shaggy hair. He had claws, though they weren’t out now. I remembered those claws piercing his throat. Was this man my friend? He looked a lot like a man who had died in many of my dreams. His blood had painted me. So much blood.

  I looked at my hands, seeing blood there. I blinked. Gone. Not the hands. They were still there. I laughed again or maybe cried. It was all the same.

  The fae male hissed, and I shot him a silent glare.

  “Maybe you should leave,” the man suggested. Vakaru. That’s right. He was like me, maybe. Created to serve the fae.

  “I am not going anywhere,” the fae replied stiffly.

  The man sighed. I often dreamed of that one. I’d lived a few lifetimes with him inside my head. In one, we’d had a family. The Dreamweaver had killed them. In another, I’d killed them. In so many dreams, the Dreamweaver had cut him open again and again. And there was something about a fish in a glass bowl, but I couldn’t remember.

  I pressed the balls of my hands to my eyes. I wanted to go away again. It was cold here and dark, and these two… I didn’t want them here. Their being here was wrong. It was all wrong. If they were here, and I was here, then something terrible had happened and I didn’t want to know it.

  “You killed her.”

  I opened my eyes and found the violet-eyed fae crouched in front of me.

  “Do you remember that?” he asked.

  My face crumpled and fell away. Beneath it, I was a ghost.

  “I’m not real.” The words tumbled. “Not real, not real. Everything is a lie.”

  Violet-eyes moved away. “It’s hopeless. He always broke them. Every time. They used to throw his used ones in the pit for the sluagh. It’s all they were good for.”

  I was broken?

  “Stop,” the man growled.

  “You don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth. She’s too far gone. He breaks human minds. It’s what he does, and he’s been doing it for thousands of years. We can’t save her.”

  Save from what?

  “You should have left her there,” he added, driving the words in like spikes into a steel coffin. “This is… this is cruel.”

  “I couldn’t leave her,” the man snapped, making me jump. I hugged my knees closer. “She saved my life.”

  “And it cost her hers.”

  The man pushed the fae’s comments away with a growl.

  I liked this dream. I didn’t have to do much. Just watch them fight. The Dreamweaver would probably take them away soon, but I could enjoy them for now. The man, he was pretty looking. Dark hair, too long. But it would be nice to run my hands through it. And his green eyes, the
re was an intensity to them that I hadn’t seen before. Rage lurked inside, making his eyes piercing. He was a dangerous one. But the fae, he was the opposite. Ridiculously long hair—pin straight because they never could stand a single strand out of place. Its ends were a bit ragged. This one had let himself go compared to other fae, but I liked his rough edges. He was wary too, holding back, deferring to the man. A curious pairing.

  “She hears us,” the man said, coming forward.

  “But she doesn’t believe any of it,” the fae dismissed.

  “Do you remember me?” the man asked me.

  I closed my eyes and buried my face against my knees. The Dreamweaver would take him from me, and I didn’t want him to go. If I hid, maybe he wouldn’t come.

  “Kesh, please. I want to help you. Just… just let me know you’re in there.”

  I peeked over my knees. “He’ll find you.”

  “No. He can’t find us here. You’re safe.”

  I whipped my head from side to side and touched my temple. “Up here.” Tears filled my eyes, making him all blurry. “He’s up here.”

  “No, Kesh…” His hand touched mine. “He’s not.”

  I stared at the contact, panic clutching my heart. He felt real. But I had been here before, and every time he came to take it all away.

  A suffocating pressure pushed down. I smelled the fresh scent of lemons. I looked up, straight into the eyes of the Dreamweaver, and screamed.

  They came again, the pair of them. Violet-eyes and the pretty one. I couldn’t talk to them. If I did, he would come. I shut down, made myself small, and hid. If I didn’t talk, he didn’t come, and so I listened and watched and studied.

  We appeared to be in a cavern. Many corners harbored shadows. The Dreamweaver might be in any of them, so I avoided staring too long into their darkness.

  I wanted to believe the pair were real. I wanted it so much that my heart ached. Tears fell when they weren’t looking, and when they left me, I rocked back and forth, pushing the bad thoughts away.

  But when I closed my eyes, the dreams came. I danced in the rain. I danced with the Dreamweaver. And then I carved out his heart.