by Marie Hall
The ball gathered into a tighter knot and then blasted itself into Esmeralda who shrieked, the sound like a banshee’s wail as flames licked at her flesh, consuming her in a net of sparkling green radiance.
“She’s dying!” Danika cried, rushing to retrieve her wand, ready to extinguish the flames. But Mir stilled her.
Within moments it was over. Esmeralda slumped on the ground, panting and breathing heavy. Clumps of ivy slithered from her pores, covering her body in a lush and living drapery. It took a second for her to stand. Her hair curled in becoming waves down to her waist, ivy threading throughout. It moved as a snake, sliding slowly down her neck, sheathing her body down to her legs. Her eyes were no longer green, they were black as night.
She nodded toward Miriam. A silent exchange passed between them.
Esmeralda opened her broad monarch stained wings and flitted first to the red wolf, passing her wand lightly along the length of his body. Pops and snaps sounded as his bones shifted, reformed, and became whole again. She then turned toward Violet and made to touch her forehead.
“No, Ese,” Miriam shook her head. “She is mine. I will strip her of the memories myself.”
Ese turned with a sad smile. “As you wish, Miriam.”
A scent of lavender and sage traveled in the new Green’s wake as she flew past them. Then she turned, and looking directly at Miriam, whispered, “I will not forget.” With those cryptic words, she left.
“Forget. Forget what? What has happened?” Danika could barely understand anything of the night. Where was her timid friend? Who was this new fairy, commanding such powerful creatures around? Even Galeta had eventually given in to her.
Miriam closed her eyes. “I’m leaving, Danika. I must take the Heartsong far from here.”
“No!” Ewan roared again, and rushed to the still frozen side of the huddled mass draped in red. “Leave her in peace. Give her to me, to heal, to love. I will protect her.”
“Ye will get yourself killed,” Miriam snarled. “Ye will do as I say. Ye will go with Danika, ye will stay in human form for fifty years. Fifty years. No less. After that time it will be safe to resume wolf form, Malvena will no longer care if ye’re discovered to be amongst the living.”
“Mir,” Danika pleaded, grabbing hold of her friend’s arm. “Please, what has happened to you? Was it that vision you had in the forest?”
It felt like her entire life had just been turned on its head. This was her friend, from the moment of their birth underneath a moonlit rose garden, they’d been inseparable. Why would Miriam leave? Forever, no less. This couldn’t be happening. Surely they could find a place to hide them within Kingdom, a place Galeta would never think to look. “Tell me, Mir. Please.”
Miriam shook her head. “I ken what ye’re thinking, sister. Galeta has a track on me. There is no place to hide in Kingdom. I wish I could tell ye all, but I canna. Not now. I will, I swear it. But not yet. She must be safe. Time is quickly fleeing. Take him and go, Dani. I’ll find ye again.”
A distant rustling sound alerted them to the presence of something.
Even in human form, Ewan growled. He had Violet in his arms--she was still frozen as death--keeping her close to his heart.
“Go, blast ye!” Miriam cried, and then cast a net of magic around Danika and Ewan, throwing them through dimensions just as the pounding of feet poured through the thatched cottage.
Ewan’s howl was a melancholy tune as he reached fruitlessly for the mate stripped violently from his arms.
Chapter 1
Present Day, Alaska
“Aunt, M, I’m going,” Violet called over her shoulder.
A spry woman, looking no older than middle age with salt and pepper hair, stuck her head out of the kitchen door. Clearing her throat, she wiped her hands on a blue rag and padded on bare feet into the living room. “Where to, honey? Isn’t it kind of dark?”
Her aunt eyed the window, nothing but black and stars as far as the eye could see--the occasional tree breaking up the monotony of a monochromatic world.
Violet sighed, giving her aunt the same smile she always did. After five hundred mortal years it no longer bothered Vi that her aunt was always such a worry wart. “It’s always dark here, you know that. But not to worry, I think the dancing lights will be out soon. I’ll have plenty of light.” She winked, cleaning a pear on her winter jacket and took a huge bite of the sweet fruit. Juices dripped down her chin before she could wipe it up.
“Aurora Borealis, Vi, and don’t laugh.” Her aunt pursed her lips. “There’s wolves, bears, wolverines--”
Violet rolled her eyes and hand mimed talking. “Oh, c’mon now, I think I can handle myself just fine.” She patted her jacket, reveling in the familiar hardness of the six inch blade. “But,” she crossed her heart, “I promise to be safe.”
Her Aunt meant well, truth was, this had become more of a routine than anything else. Violet loved her space and her aunt knew it. There was something about the outdoors, of walking alone through the trees, and inhaling the sharp sting of the cold winter night (actually day, it literally was dark in the middle of the day this far past the equator), that made her feel alive. Violet hated confinement of any sort.
No longer tasting the fruit, she tucked it into her pocket. It would freeze within minutes outside.
Miriam walked up to Violet, her unusually colored eyes so different than Violet’s own. She traced Violet’s cheek, a sad smile on her face. The glow from the lit fireplace shaded her aunt’s face, making her seem in that moment distant and faraway.
“Be safe, my love.” Her aunt embraced her in a rough hug, squeezing tight, and Violet frowned, patting her back gently.
Lately her aunt had been acting weird. Different. More touchy. Violet’s lips thinned.
With a small shake, her aunt nodded. “Okay, then. Dinner’s at six.”
Violet snorted. “I’ll follow the shadows.”
Miriam chuckled. “It’s all your favorites. Roast beef, new potatoes, and peach cobbler.”
“Wow. I feel so honored.” Violet sniffed, stomach grumbling as the scent of rosemary and thyme in a beefy brine tickled her nose. “Sounds like a last meal.”
Miriam’s smile was frozen in place. “Be on time, Vi.”
Violet frowned. “I will.”
“Good.”
Violet left, closing the door softly behind her. Shutting out the soft blues and pastels of their decorated home, walking deep into the woods, uncaring of the howls echoing long in the distance. She shrugged deeper into her parka, taking deep breaths, letting the cold pierce her lungs like a blade.
Stars twinkled like brilliant jewels above. Somewhere a snow owl hooted, seeking a meal to devour, and Violet laughed. There was magic in the woods. In the quiet serenity of nature, it hummed all around her, through her, even her blood sang with it. Fluttering with something more powerful than herself.
She and aunt Mir had arrived at this remote part of mortal realm a hundred years or so ago. Before that, they’d moved often, always running in the middle of the night. Her aunt had said that it was because she had an adventurer’s heart, but it didn’t take long for Vi to figure out it had more to do with them running away than seeking adventure. Eventually she’d stopped asking why and just resigned herself to a life of solitude. Never allowing anyone too close, never really making friends. Intuitively knowing it was verboten. Now, the lifestyle was one she preferred. She just wasn’t much of a people person.
Violet ran, zipping in and around twisted trees. Snow drifted in lazy curls through the breeze, kissing her nose. She didn’t care, her legs were strong and her body sure.
A gray cloud streaked slowly through the navy sky.
Her aunt always wondered about Violet’s forest romps. But now it was getting worse. Actually, for a year Miriam’s worry had increased. To the point she had even followed Violet on more than one occasion.
Lungs heaving with fire, legs burning, Vi pushed on. She was almost there.
/> The worry had probably started the moment her aunt noticed her drawings. Sketches really. When they’d first come to Alaska, Violet could barely remember her past. Her aunt had called it brain trauma. From what, she hadn’t known, and Miriam hadn’t explained. But large snatches of time had been lost to her.
A hundred yards ahead she spied the tree. Heart galloping with glee, she put on an extra burst of speed--uncaring that she sank into thick snow; nothing would stop her this night.
It’d frustrated Vi for years that she simply couldn’t remember a childhood, a point where she wasn’t grown. She’d asked Miriam countless times to tell her of her youth, but her aunt was always tight lipped and easily aggravated when the subject came up. So Vi had stopped asking. Her life was good now, and though it was strange to move so often, she didn’t think much of it. She loved her aunt and trusted that her best interest was in Miriam’s heart. But like a fuzzy television screen getting signal back, things had begun to take shape recently.
An image of an old woman. Then more.
Apples.
Rolling like heads on a packed dirt floor.
Lots of them.
Her lip curled. She hated apples.
Innocence.
She’d been that once. Pure joy. The old woman--her grandmother--had once told her she lit up her life with her smile.
Violet’s heart gave a painful squeeze and she blinked back hot tears.
And then the nightmares came and the wolves with them.
A thin pine branch slapped her cheek, but Violet barely felt it. She was panting hard now, huffing from the exertion. She wondered if the tracks were still there.
Her body tingled, a slow hum at first, but the closer she got to the tree the harder it pulsed. The tracks were here, she still felt its magic. She smiled.
In her dreams, the wolf was black. Big. Frightening. And she hated to admit, even to herself, how absurdly drawn to the beast she was. She was fixated. Obsessed. Sketching his image over and over. Most of them were of him kneeling over her, over her grandmother, with a shocking spill of scarlet bathing the ground all around them.
Violet grabbed her chest, panting when she finally reached the tree. She took a moment to calm herself and then looked down.
Large paw prints circled the tree. Her entire body flared to life when she brushed her finger over the impression. It was close.
Biting her lip, she glanced both ways. Was it watching her? She cocked her head, listening for the faint disturbance of movement. All she heard was silence. But not the dead silence of fearful animals, the silence of nature at rest.
He wasn’t here. Yet.
Grabbing hold of the lowest branch, she hoisted herself up. Climbing from one branch to another, delicately, gently… trying to disturb nothing. Knowing her scent would be all over the place and hoping it would attract him.
When she got as high as she could, she sat and waited, scanning the horizon for any movement.
Minutes ticked past, and then an hour. Two. She didn’t move. Barely breathed. He would come. She knew it.
They would always come for her.
Long ago Violet had suspected she was special when she didn’t age, when Aunt Mir didn’t age. Time stood still for the two of them, whatever damage had been done to her brain was now gone. Because, last night, Violet remembered everything. In her sleep she’d heard the growls, the screams of her grandmother being ripped apart, fear closing her throat and making her numb, stupid, and weak. Huddled under her red robe like a child thinking if she closed her eyes they wouldn’t see her, couldn’t hurt her. Violet knew who she was now.
She was the Heartsong, the manifestation of wild fae magic. She wouldn’t age because she wasn’t mortal.
Vi tore a sturdy twig off her branch and toyed with its sharp edge, dragging it along her palm. Time had been good to her. She wasn’t only strong of mind and body, but she’d learned to do something even grandmother had said was impossible.
She rammed the twig through the palm of her hand, entranced as the pool of blood--black because of the night--welled up and began to spill. The pain had been absurdly delicious. Strange to think of pain that way, but for her it was more euphoria, a drug-like high of adrenaline and cutting pleasure.
But that wasn’t what she’d learned.
Violet focused on the twig, watching as it slowly worked its way completely through her hand before dropping to the ground below.
Grandmother had told her she was magic, but she could never do magic. But grandmother was wrong.
Violet raised her hand up to her face. The hole went completely through. Then she kissed herself, right where she’d shoved the twig through. A small sphere of light escaped her lips, like a golden drop of dew, it entered her wound. Flesh and tendon knit themselves back together again.
Something snapped.
Violet jerked her head up and smiled as a massive loping beast emerged from a dense thicket of bushes.
The creature was easily nine feet long, with its massive shoulders and gigantic paws, there was no mistaking the thing for a normal wolf. Its grey coat was muted in the moon glow. It stopped, taking a moment to sniff the air before padding slowly to the tree. She’d noticed it last night, the first wolf roaming these woods that wasn’t quite a wolf. Just like the wolves from her past.
Something gold glinted around its neck.
It was one of them.
Not the black wolf that’d almost killed her. But just like it, close enough she could pretend it was the big, black wolf of her nightmares. Close enough to make her thrill with the sharp desire of ripping into him, of watching his blood spill like he’d watched her grandmother’s.
She was easily twenty feet up. Violet smiled. “Looking for me.”
The wolf growled, looking up, its hackles rose and mouth pulled back revealing impossibly thick canines.
Violet withdrew her knife and jumped. All breath left her on impact, needle sharp stabs of pain clawed through her thighs. She’d not broken any bones, but there would be bruises later. Snow drifted in a flurry around her face, blinding her for a brief moment. The wolf pounced, its claws gouged her legs, her stomach, and she laughed as the power of hate rose up inside her. She wielded it truer than any blade and slashed mindlessly, feeling a rush of strength she’d never known before surge through her muscles. She was strong. Powerful.
There was blood everywhere. On her arms, her hands, her face. It coated her tongue, but she didn’t stop stabbing. Over and over again. The wolf lay still, no longer fighting. Little more than a carcass and still she savaged it.
“Down with the Big Bad Wolf,” Vi hissed, stabbing her knife down the gut of the beast; smiling as the blood painted the white snow crimson red.
Chapter 2
Danika--fairy godmother extraordinaire--waited until the sun set fully, the last warm rays dissolving behind the sharp blue sky. All around her, the woods sang with the song of fairies deep in sleep. Actually, sang was a nice word for what they were doing. They were snoring. Like banshees. All of them. They’d fallen soundly asleep, dropping like flies the moment they’d left her home. Some were leaning against the wall, half slumped forward, and others were spread eagle upon rocks and mushroom caps.
Why?
Danika whistled, patting her pocket that at that moment concealed a glass vial full of eau de dragon. Or in laymen’s terms, dragon fart. Crude yes, but effective. One whiff of a dragon’s fart, especially of the sea variety, (let’s not get started on just how impossible it is to bottle a dragon fart underwater… Danika shivered remembering) and a fairy was as good as drunk. Something about the noxious odor of the fumes mixing with a fairies magical make-up, and boom… a fairy was out for the count.
The serpentine dragon’s smell had been so powerful; it’d brought tears to Danika’s eyes, even though she’d placed an invisible pincher upon her nose prior to the tea. She’d worried a fairy might realize she was breathing through her mouth during all of tea time, but thankfully she’d been spared.
Her heart clenched when she heard a noise.
Bianca--fairy godmother of toads--scratched her tiny bell shaped rear, let out a belch and sighed happily, sinking even deeper within the grassy field. Grabbing her chest, Danika leaned against her door, awaiting the signal.
She hated to poison her friends. And normally she’d never dream of doing anything so awful. But she did what she must. Orange blossoms began to open, their perfume thick in the air, as they yawned loudly. It was a beautiful night and the flowers would soon notice there were no fairies to dust them. No amount of squawking or crying would wake the fairies at this point. They’d inhaled a potent amount and would be out of it for at least another hour, none the wiser, and suffering no long term effects.