Lies in the Dark

by Robert J. Crane

  “This all sounds wonderful,” I said, “but you’ve got to admit it all sounds like … well, like the aforementioned bedtime stories.”

  Lockwood shrugged. “You believe in vampires now, do you not?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve actually seen those. Experienced them, gnarly teeth and all. The bad and the ugly. There isn’t much good in that world, other than Mill and Iona.”

  Lockwood’s gaze sharpened. “And you’ve seen me, and the little fae this afternoon.”

  I pursed my lips. “I did …”

  “Are you telling me that you will only believe in something if you see it?”

  I looked up at him. “Well … it does make it easier. Seeing is believing and all that.”

  “Well, then I am asking you to have faith in me.” He drew himself up to his full height. “I am asking you to trust me.”

  It was really hard. Just when I thought that nothing about the world around me could surprise me anymore, I was faced with an entirely new world.

  “Mill said something similar to me today,” I murmured. “About other creatures.”

  Lockwood nodded. “All of our worlds are aware of one another, though they seldom come into contact with each other.”

  “And yet, somehow humans are totally unaware of all of them,” I said. “Other than through stories and fairy tales, we think that there is nothing else to this world.”

  “Some humans are aware of us. You, for instance, have found a way inside the intricate web we have woven.”

  “Yeah, but I’m in the small minority there.”

  “Even still,” Lockwood said. “These worlds exist, whether humans discover our secret or not.”

  “So, when you say world, do you mean like another dimension? Or are all of these faeries holed up in a tiny grotto or something somewhere in Ireland?”

  Lockwood smirked. “It is, as you said, more akin to another dimension.”

  “And why don’t you have wings?” I asked.

  “Oh, I do,” Lockwood said. “But you can only see them in the world of Fae. On Earth, we have glamours that allow us to look like humans.”

  “Figures,” I said, crossing my arms. “So are like, half the people in my life mythical creatures? Or am I the only human and you’re all here just for my amusement?”

  Lockwood laughed. “Very few people who you pass on the street are not human. There aren’t as many as you might think of my sort who wish to wander in the world of the humans. It can be … fatal.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So why do you do it? Got an addiction to danger? Because that’d explain why you seem to like me.”

  Lockwood smirked, and for the first time, I saw something like mischief in his eyes. “I do have a soft spot for a few special creatures. I find the lives they lead interesting, and I prefer to offer my services to fight the good fight.”

  “Who met you first? Iona, or Mill?”

  “Mr. Mill. I have worked for him for quite some time, although not exclusively. As to Miss Iona, I met her at a large vampire gathering. She looked terribly sad. It happened that she had just been turned. We … commiserated about being fish out of water. She seemed to be having the worse of the adjustment.” He smiled. “And then you came along.”

  “I’ve always known that Mill and Iona rely on you. I guess I didn’t realize there might be more to how you know each other than … employer/employee stuff.”

  Lockwood shrugged his shoulders. “It is predominantly just that. They would do fine without me.”

  Seeing this side of Lockwood was very bizarre. He was relaxed. Informal. Almost as if we were old friends. I had always been comfortable around him, but this was different.

  But this wasn’t all supposed to be question and answer hour.

  He had come to me for help.

  “So … what’s the issue, exactly?” I asked, sitting back on my hands. “I want to know what I’m getting into before I agree to anything.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Well, it would appear the Seelie court has found me, and it is causing—”

  “You’ve already lost me,” I said. “Seelie?”

  “Ah,” Lockwood said, bowing his head. “My apologies. Let me start even simpler. The world of Faerie is split into several types of fae, but the two most prominent are the Seelie, like myself, and the Unseelie. These two types of fae each have courts, or what you might consider a seat of rule, a kingdom. Each is ruled by a queen and her king, and there is a constant tension, a perpetual vying for power between them. Each wants control of the world of Faerie, but for very different reasons.”

  “Makes sense so far,” I said.

  “The Seelie court, or what we called the seat of the Shining Throne, and the faeries who belong to it, the Golden Ones, is made up of faeries who use light magic. The Seelie have the best relationship with the other creatures of Faerie, as well as non-faerie creatures. Humans, for example. We are helpers.”

  “Let me guess …” I said. “The Unseelie are pretty much the exact opposite.”

  Lockwood nodded. “Not all Unseelie are bad, but surely you have heard of faeries who are mischievous? Devious? Those are typically Unseelie. They use what we consider dark magic, and do not usually get along well with humans. They believe that faeries are the leaders of all creatures, and that other non-faerie creatures, especially humans, are nothing better than a form of entertainment.”

  “I see.” I rubbed the side of my head. “This is all a lot to take in. A real crash course.”

  “I can understand that.”

  I could have probably asked him another hundred questions, but I knew that it would have led to even more questions, and I knew that we didn’t have time for that right now.

  Best to cut to the chase.

  “So you ruffled the feathers of the … honestly, I don’t remember which court is which.”

  “Ah, sorry,” he said. “Think of it this way—Seelie is also known as the Summer Court. Unseelie is associated with Winter.”

  “Seelie, Summer,” I said. “Unseelie, Unsummer. Okay. So … what’s the issue? Why do you need me?”

  “Well, I am not presently welcome among my own. The queen of the Shining Throne has banished me until I can right the wrong that led to my coming here. And that leaves me a bit spare on options.”

  “Which is why you are turning to a human high-school girl for help,” I said. “Makes total sense.”

  Lockwood lost some of his composure. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his green eyes staring into the void.

  “Yes—and no,” he replied. “There is something else that you need to know about these faeries. True faeries, anyway, not the other fae-associated spirits and creatures, at least those of us from the Seelie. We look like you … but we cannot lie,” he said.

  I swallowed hard.

  Uh oh.

  “I think I see where this is going …” I said.

  He nodded. “I need you to come with me to the Seelie court … and help me lie my way out of trouble with them.”

  Chapter 7

  Yay. More lying.

  It was strange to think that Lockwood wanted me to do the thing I had apparently become best known for. Not my curly hair, not my vivacious personality. No, no. Cassie the liar, that was going to be my place in history.

  Urgh.

  Upstanding, wholesome Lockwood, asking me to help him by intentionally lying.

  “Hang on …” I said. “Can’t faeries tell half-truths? Which are technically lies …?”

  “No,” he replied. “We can make a choice to omit information, but everything we say must be the truth.”

  “Does that apply in the human world, too?” I asked.

  “It does,” he said.

  I wasn’t really sure why, but it brought me a great sense of comfort to know that Lockwood had never once lied to me since I had met him.

  “Which is why I need your help,” Lockwood said. “You have a propensity for convincing lies, and I need that skill right now more th
an ever.”

  I sighed. “Lockwood, I appreciate your admiration … I think … but you totally have it wrong. All my lying has done is gotten me in trouble, especially with my parents. And look at Draven. If I hadn’t started lying, he wouldn’t be after me like he is.”

  “You have lied for noble reasons,” Lockwood said. “If you hadn’t, and Draven had found out you were human—”

  “Yes, yes,” I sighed. “I see your point. But the thing is, Lockwood … lying is not the way out of your problems. Take my word for this, buried as I am under a forever grounding. Lying only makes things worse.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I hate lying,” I told him honestly. “I really hate it. It has ruined my life. In more ways than one.”

  Just then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and from the heaviness of the footfall, I knew it was Mom.

  My blood turned to ice as I leapt up from the bed.

  “Closet—now!” I hissed, shoving Lockwood toward the doors.

  But just as I had grabbed onto his suit coat, it had disappeared from beneath my fingers.

  Into thin air.

  The door to my room flew open, and Mom stepped in.

  The sight she must have seen. Me standing there in the middle of my room, pale as a sheet, grabbing onto nothing.

  My heart was hammering against my chest as I looked up at her.

  She was looking around the room. She opened the door to look behind it, then walked over to my closet and threw the doors open.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked as she got down on her hands and knees and peered underneath the bed.

  I blinked a few times and then regained my composure.

  “Myself, obviously,” I snapped, throwing myself back onto the bed, my tone surprisingly even. “Since you took away my phone, and there’s clearly no one else here.”

  Mom glared at me, her brow still firmly knit together. “You didn’t sneak your father’s iPad up here, did you? I told you—”

  “Mom, come on,” I said. “There’s nothing to see here.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed even more. “Fine,” she said. “Just … keep it down. And dinner is ready.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be down as soon as I wash my hands.”

  Mom shot me a last, skeptical look before disappearing, closing the door behind her.

  I looked around the room.

  “Where are you?” I whispered, feeling like a Grade A imbecile.

  There was a small pop that echoed with the sound of wind chimes and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Lockwood was back, standing exactly where he had been before.

  “Where the heck did you—”

  “I crossed over to Faerie,” he said. “Was that your mother?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s a pretty neat trick. Mind teaching that one to Mill? Might be handy if we ever want to make out here—”

  “If you’re not fae, you can’t learn it,” Lockwood said, obviously missing my joke.

  “Well, a little bit of warning next time would be nice.”

  Lockwood shrugged. “I’ve done that more than once with you around, and you didn’t even notice.”

  That comment piqued my interest, and I thought back to times when he had seemed to disappear. “I always just assumed you were … quick. Resourceful.”

  “I am both of those things,” he said.

  I looked at the back of the door that Mom had just closed.

  I sighed heavily, realizing full well that I might regret what I was getting myself into. “I was going to make up this whole convenient lie about how I’m not really that good at lying … but obviously, that’s not true.” I turned to look at Lockwood. “And lying to your face after you’ve saved me and helped me … so many times … would be kind of insulting.”

  Lockwood smiled. “Well, I appreciate your candor, as well as the respect you offer me by not attempting said deceit.”

  “I’m serious, though,” I said. “I don’t deserve the kindness you’ve shown me. You’ve gone way out of your way to take care of me. You drive me around, including all the way to New York. You always look out for me, Lockwood. You …”

  Now was not the time to get overly emotional.

  But damn. I owed him.

  Certainly enough to do the thing that I apparently did best on his behalf.

  I let a small sigh. “All right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Come with me,” Lockwood replied simply. “To Faerie. Come to the Seelie court and help me explain my side of the story.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” I asked. “Your side of the story, I mean. And why do you need a liar?”

  “I will explain everything once we get there,” he said. “I’m not exactly welcome at the court at the moment. I may need your expertise to help me get an audience with the queen.”

  “But aren’t they going to know that I’m lying?” I asked. “I thought faeries were really smart. I mean … you’re smart.”

  Lockwood’s cheeks flushed. “We are intelligent creatures, yes, but if they think that you are fae, they won’t have reason to question your honesty. The lie will stand as truth, and my troubles … will be at an end.” He got a far off look in his eye, and I squirmed, because I suspected he was imagining me lying him out of trouble. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that when Cassie starts lying, that’s when the trouble usually starts.

  I chewed the inside of my lip. “One problem. I’m not a faerie.”

  “That’s part of the lie,” he said.

  “Aren’t they going to be able to figure out that I’m not a faerie?”

  Lockwood shook his head. “If anyone can pull it off, you can.”

  “This is crazy,” I said. “You know that, right?”

  “We have been through crazier things together, have we not?” he asked.

  Yeah, and they weren’t exactly the most happy, happy, fun times, were they? No. They definitely were not. This, I kept to myself.

  But through them all, Lockwood had never backed down, never voiced a complaint, never failed to help me.

  Everything seemed to be pointing to the same fact; I owed Lockwood. Like, a lot by now.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it—”

  Before I had even gotten the words out of my mouth, Lockwood had reached across the distance, grasped onto my outstretched hand, pulling me toward him.

  In one full swoop, he scooped me into his arms, causing me to gasp audibly in surprise, and then with a soft pop, and a flash of brilliantly green light, we had left my room …

  And were standing in a place that was straight out of a fantasy novel.

  Chapter 8

  As a kid, I loved fairy tales. I loved the idea of knights in shining armor, fierce dragons, and worlds beyond my imagination. But that was the thing: they were always in my imagination.

  “I kinda thought I’d have more time,” I breathed, looking around. “… didn’t mean … right this minute …”

  We were standing on what looked like a dirt path, surrounded by trees. But the trees were wild, strange looking. The bark was as smooth as glass, and came in varying shades of blue. The leaves fluttered in a gentle breeze and glittered as the light touched them.

  Which was strange, because there didn’t seem to be an actual source of light. Everywhere I looked, through the trees, up the path, the landscape faded into a green mist that obscured the view. The air was warm but not unpleasantly humid. There was a delightful scent in the air, something like honeysuckle and roses.

  I now understood why the air around Lockwood smelled so nice all the time.

  “This …” I stammered, my mind reeling, “this is Faerie?”

  “It is,” Lockwood said, smiling gently.

  And that was when I got a good look at him for the first time.

  He’d … changed. His hair, normally as dark as night, was now a dark, silvery blue, like slate. It was longer, too, hanging around his ears—which, I realized, were now pointed. He
still had that dignified air, but there was something wilder about him now.

  He turned his gaze to me, and I was relieved to see that his eyes were still the same shade of bright green.

  His clothes had changed, too. He was wearing a grey tunic that hung to his thighs, a long-sleeved, white cotton shirt beneath it, and a thick leather belt with tiny pouches around his waist. His boots, also leather, stretched all the way up to his knees, and he was wearing what looked like black breeches beneath his tunic.

  But the most magnificent thing were the wings protruding from his back. They were sheer, shimmering, and glowing faintly, little bits of faerie dust falling from the tips as they fluttered gently. They were blue, like his hair, and reminded me of a dragon’s wings. They reached over his head and almost all the way to the ground below him.

  “Wow …” I said. I had a strong desire to touch them, to feel their silky texture beneath my fingers.

  His wings shimmered and flexed.

  “It must feel good to stretch them,” I said. “Are they constrained back …” I really didn’t know what to call it. “Back home?”

  “I just haven’t used them in some time,” he said.

  “Even though you use a glamour and we can’t see them, can people still bump into them?”

  “No,” Lockwood replied, shaking his head. His blue hair ruffled as he did.

  “Man, Xandra would be super jealous of the shade of your hair,” I said, pointing at his head. “That’s the sort of color you see only in pictures.”

  “Hence why I glamour my hair,” he said. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

  I looked around again. The wind rustled through my own hair, ruffling my curls. A faint tinkling sound, like an unearthly wind chime, floated through the air. I didn’t recognize any of the flowers along the path, as beautiful as they all were.

  “Everything feels familiar …” I said, turning all around in place, afraid that if I moved off the path I might get lost immediately. “It’s like a long forgotten dream. I mean, there are trees here, and they are very different, but I … recognize them. And flowers, and wind. But it’s all … different.”