Fae

by Jennifer Bene

  “Fae? I need you to come with me. Now.” There was a male voice at the open doors behind her. It was the young guard from the day before, Hills, and he looked worried again. A chill rushed down her spine, but she shoved it away. Neala sighed and gripped Ebere’s hand that held the only item in the world she cared about right now, and then she let go and walked towards the door.

  “I guess Marik is keeping his appointments today?” Neala tried to sound brave, because she needed to give the girls back some hope or they wouldn’t last much longer. Without hope there would be a room full of girls like Caridee, broken and gone. The look on Hills’ face at her sarcastic question made her stomach drop, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stepped back from the door to let her walk into the hallway, and then locked the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tazewell, Virginia

  Cole let go of Kiernan’s shoulder as they appeared behind his cabin. They were both laughing so hard that they couldn’t catch their breath. Cole looked up at the sky, shouting, “Holy shit! Let’s sit down!” The snow crunched under their feet as they stomped up onto the back porch and dropped onto chairs.

  “That was crazy, Cole. I can’t believe you broke a chair over that guy’s back!” Kiernan was still laughing but as he propped his feet up on the railing of the porch it was winding down. Cole was still loudly laughing, even with a split lip.

  “He bet me I couldn’t take him! Technically he owes me fifty bucks – maybe I should go ask for it?” Cole raised an eyebrow, standing back up. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and chuckled a little when he looked down at the blood.

  “I think the cops are already there, probably a bad idea for us to show back up.” Kiernan leaned his chair back and grinned at him while Cole pulled open his back door and started to step inside.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah… want a Coke?” Cole was still smiling even though he had to dab at the blood on his lip with his shirt. Kiernan nodded and relaxed back, looking out over the snow covered landscape. Dense trees surrounded Cole’s cabin, keeping the world hushed and quiet around them. It was nested amidst the over fifty acres of land he owned. Just a single road heading up, and no neighbors for miles – Cole’s bit of paradise.

  “Here.” Cole tapped the side of Kiernan’s chair with a can and then sat back down taking a drink from his own. “Man, I have missed this. Eryn is way too serious to go out like that and just have fun. He’s down for either total destruction or nothing.” Cole leaned over and slapped Kiernan on the arm, laughing again. “You knocked that one guy out! I bet you the fifty bucks that other guy owes me that he’ll be sleeping until tomorrow.”

  “These last few days have been ridiculous, but fun.” Kiernan smiled, watching the last rays of sun filter through the trees, leaving deep shadows in the woods around them.

  “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t avoid me so hard in the future, eh?” Cole leaned back, appraising Kiernan as he tilted his own chair onto two legs.

  “I know. I just needed some time to myself, some time to adjust to life away from Gormahn’s keep.” Kiernan mumbled, knowing it had probably hurt Cole to be ignored for so long. First, because he couldn’t find Kiernan. Then, when he had found him Kiernan ignored the letters. Later, the phone calls. And for the last couple of decades he’d been ignoring letters, and e-mails, and cell phone calls. Cole hadn’t given up though.

  “I get that. And it seems like the time away fixed whatever was wrong with you. You actually seem happy.” Cole wasn’t looking at him. He was staring out into the woods and the lack of eye contact made it easier to talk about the damage Kiernan had done to their friendship. They’d been like brothers once, and it seemed Cole was willing to be like that again.

  “I am happy. And I’m sorry about avoiding you, when I left the castle I broke off from everything, but I shouldn’t have ditched you too.” Kiernan pushed on his side where he’d taken a series of punches earlier that night, and smiled. The ache would fade in a few hours, but for now it was a nice reminder of getting to fight side by side with Cole again. Even after centuries they didn’t have to talk to work together in a fight, it was as easy as breathing.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s all in the past. So, what finally made Kiernan the Brooding happy? Even back in the day when you were all-warrior-all-the-time and hanging with Eryn you weren’t what I’d call happy.” Cole finished the can of coke and got up to set it just inside the door. He grabbed his guitar and came back out while Kiernan was debating how to answer. If he brought up Neala, even if he didn’t say her name, Cole would never drop it until he knew who she was, so that answer was off the table completely.

  “I don’t know, maybe I’m finally settling into life. I’m just happy.” Kiernan finished his own drink and put it next to the chair, enjoying the chill in the air and the darkening woods. He could understand why Cole lived out here, where he could be himself and not worry about anyone intruding on his space. It was a different kind of quiet than in the city, an old quiet.

  “It took you two millennia to settle into life?” Cole was grinning at him as he started to pluck on his guitar, but Kiernan just rolled his eyes.

  “Maybe it did, what do you care?” Kiernan threw the can at Cole, but he dodged it and laughed while he plucked the earliest notes of Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana.

  “You don’t have to tell me what it is. Whatever it is, I’m glad you have it, because it woke you up. And I’ve missed this – having you around, I mean.” Cole stared down at the guitar, and Kiernan just nodded.

  “Me too, brother, me too.” Kiernan said it and then let the silence return, the guitar the only noise around for miles and miles. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cole smiling, but there was no need to talk more about it, they were good again. Like there hadn’t been almost two hundred years of silence.

  After an hour or so Kiernan started to get antsy. He wanted to go home, and he wanted to see Neala again. It wouldn’t be so late in Seattle and he was sure she’d be up, and just the idea of having someone waiting for him at home made him feel light and warm. The more he thought of Neala, of getting to wrap his arms around her again, the more anxious he got to leave. He didn’t want to ditch Cole so quickly, but he didn’t have the patience to wait anymore. He stood up and stretched, looking over at Cole who seemed to already know what was coming. Cole sighed and leaned the guitar behind him on the wall as he stood up. Then he pulled open the door and reached inside, grabbing a duffel before dropping it at Kiernan’s feet.

  “You heading back home?” Cole asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, I have stuff to handle, but this was good. Maybe we can keep this a regular thing? We just might want to expand into other bars.” Kiernan grinned and Cole laughed, making his lip split again.

  “Agreed.” Cole said it loudly, and they clapped each other on the back. “So that means I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Kiernan stepped back from him and Cole nodded as he gave him his sarcastic salute. Focusing back on his apartment, he felt himself shift and the warmth of his apartment hit him like a welcome home.

  “Neala!” He turned around and set the duffel bag against the wall. An uneasy feeling unfurled in his stomach as his eyes scanned the apartment. Something wasn’t right. It was too quiet, and too still. He’d expected Neala to come out as soon as he got there. Slipping off his coat he took a step forward and glass crunched under his shoe. There was a broken wine glass and a dried pool of wine under it.

  No.

  Panic ran through him as he turned around and shouted her name into the dark. He ran to the bedroom and flipped on the light, then the bathroom, the closet. He was tempted to check under the bed.

  Nothing.

  Running back to his living room he saw all the design books laid out across the kitchen table and a notepad. Maybe she’d left a note? He moved around to the side and traced his fingers over the smooth script of her handwriting. It wasn’t a note, just things she’d liked in the bo
oks. Things for the home they were going to build.

  She hadn’t left on her own.

  The realization became a hole that was tearing open inside his chest and all the darkness was leaking out of it, filling him up. He walked over to his desk and slowly pulled the wood box for the observation glass towards him. His stomach was turning as he flipped it open, and he tightened his jaw as he thought of her and touched the glass.

  It flared to life under his hands and he saw her figure, her arms extended above her, head down. The hole in his chest grew, the dark one she had kept at bay just by being near him filled him up like a bitter wind. He forced himself to run his fingertip counter-clockwise and images flashed through the glass on fast-rewind. She was back in that house, she was hurt - they’d dared to touch her - and then he got to the moment when she’d been pulled there. He let it play and couldn’t bring himself to touch the wood, to hear her screaming when the bands lit up and she was yanked back to that house. The silent film version was torture enough. His hands went into his hair and he pulled at it as the truth set in.

  Someone had claimed her; someone in that house had claimed her without even knowing where she was.

  Panic and disbelief gave way to anger as the images he’d seen flashed through his mind. He had sworn he’d protect her, and he had failed. He roared as the rage swelled inside him and he slammed his fists down on the desk, the glass top shattering into a million pieces. The box for the observation glass, his laptop, and other things hit the floor amidst the sparkling fragments. He roared again and picked up the box for the observation glass, hurling it against the wall. It rebounded off and the glass flew out and slid across the floor, undamaged. Looking down Kiernan saw the black lines on his arm. The vines were between his wrist and his elbow now, much shorter than they’d been when he left, and now he knew that part of that retreat - part of his pushing the poison back - had been Neala being returned to a master. His chest hurt from the pain of failing her, his stomach was roiling with how much he wanted to tear Butler’s head off.

  He had to do something to fix this. He had to fix it now.

  He felt himself losing it, losing himself. He was moments from a complete blackout like back in the days of Gormahn’s control. All because his neglect had sent her back to hell. He roared again trying to maintain some semblance of control, and kicked the frame of his desk. It skidded backwards before toppling into the remnants of the glass top.

  That was not controlled.

  He tried to breathe but his lungs wouldn’t inflate, his chest burned and the urge to destroy rose up and filled every thought. He had tunnel vision as he looked across the broken glass, the spilled wine, and he fought with the side of him that was Laochra, the side that urged him to let go of civility and take back what was his. The thought bobbed to the surface in the violence of his mind, all those times he had worried he would claim her for himself… it was this voice he’d been fighting. And now none of it mattered, because they had taken her, and she was in pain. His ribs threatened to cave in from the ache. The images had moved fast but he had watched them hurt her. They had hurt her. Again and again.

  His.

  Kiernan felt himself shift again and he was disoriented for a second as his eyes ran across metal shelves full of weapons, and boxes of bullets. His hand traced the black metal grip in front of him, lifting the gun from the rack. He turned around to see trunks of clothing and realized where he was – the weapons vault at Gormahn’s keep.

  Kiernan knew he wasn’t in complete control of his thoughts at the moment, but some part of him had a plan and it involved a need for a lot of weapons. Whatever the plan was, he was on board. He could feel the old bloodlust rising in him like a fog, obscuring the pain he felt, and focusing him on a single need to get to Neala no matter who he had to get through to do that. He wanted her back, he wanted her because she was his, and they had no right to touch what was his.

  Hate pulsed inside him, smoothing the jagged edges of his pain, rolling away his shame and regret at failing her. Kiernan could feel the growl work its way through his chest until it vibrated his teeth. This was the version of him that Eryn had loved, the version of himself that Eryn had smiled at before they charged an opposing army. This was the dark one.

  This was not who Neala wanted.

  Kiernan put his hands against the wall, forcing himself to breathe. He thought of her, and of everything good she said she saw in him. If he was going to get her, he had to still be worthy of her when he got there. The buzzing in his head slowed a little with each deep breath, and with the easing of the bloodlust came the return of the pain in his chest – but her safety was the only thing that would heal that.

  Kiernan let himself get to the edge of that bloodlust, teetering over the edge where the clarity of battle meant he wouldn’t give mercy to those who had harmed her, but he didn’t let himself go where he couldn’t come back. He wouldn’t be some mindless killing machine, some puppet for a god of war, not ever again. With a steadying breath he moved quickly, changing into combat gear and using the various straps on the clothing to arm himself. He grabbed the smallest set of clothes he could find and shoved them into a bag that he put across his back, crisscrossing the sword peeking over his shoulder. He palmed two Beretta handguns and thought of that house, focused on it even as his pulse ramped up, and then he felt himself shift again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ráj Manor, Caledon, Ontario

  It was dark. Kiernan crouched to look around, he could hear breathing all around him but it was much darker than the weapons vault and his eyes were still adjusting. He took a step backwards and heard a feminine yelp as he stepped on someone. They scrambled away from him in the dark, not a threat, and then a light clicked on.

  Kiernan swung one of the guns toward the source of the light and he saw a small framed girl of Asian descent, with dark, pin-straight hair. She stared at the gun, but her face didn’t register fear, just a resigned acceptance. Someone else was scared though and he heard a few suppressed screams around him. He lowered the gun and scanned the room looking for Neala’s auburn hair, the curve of her waist, her pale blue eyes.

  “I’m looking for Neala… Fae.” Kiernan’s voice rumbled out of his chest, lower and more strained than normal as he said the name he’d promised himself to never use again. As jumbled as his head was at the moment, he was impressed he’d strung together an entire sentence.

  “She’s not here.” The smooth, calm voice came from his left and he spun to see a dark skinned young woman step out of a nook, a soft yellow dress clinging to her curves. She was beautiful, and although her eyes showed fear, she didn’t back down from talking to him.

  “Where is she?” He tightened his grip around the guns, feeling his knuckles grind under the strain.

  “Downstairs. Has been all day.” It was the girl by the lamp that had spoken this time, a soft voice slightly tinted by an accent. Chinese, if he had to guess.

  “How do you know?” Kiernan didn’t feel like chasing ghosts, and he didn’t know why his focus had brought him to this room instead of right to her.

  “We could all hear her screaming.” A very young sounding voice that made Kiernan’s stomach plummet. Screaming? He turned around to see a waif thin pixie, very rare on this plane of existence. Her light blue skin and tuft of unruly hair would have been enough of an identifier, but those iridescent wings springing from her back would have made it obvious even to a mortal.

  “Gods…” Kiernan whispered to himself as he turned away from the pixie, not wanting to let his brain bring up all of the images of what had made Neala scream loud enough to be heard through the floor. He rubbed the grip of the gun against his temple, clenching his teeth against the urge to let loose and scream again.

  “Are you the one she was with? The good place?” The dark skinned girl took a step towards him and he couldn’t even process what she was saying. She extended her arm and from her hand hung a silvery disc on a dark strand of leather. It was like
a punch to Kiernan’s stomach, he’d just given that to her. The girl winced when he moved towards her suddenly, but she didn’t step back. His nausea increased as he imagined what it would take for a girl to react that way to any man approaching her, and what kind of bravery it would take for her to stand her ground.

  “She was with me.” Kiernan didn’t respond to the other question, but he grabbed the disc between his fingers and traced his thumb over the letters he had painstakingly carved into the metal.

  “Then after you get her, after you help Fae,” the girl let go of the necklace and he watched her swallow and take a breath, “will you help us too?” Her eyes were wide but she straightened her back, making herself be brave. Kiernan respected that in her, the strength it took to ask for help from a stranger, just on the faith that he had helped Neala. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the assembly of women around the room, all staring at him and waiting. It looked like someone had walked through all the major cultures of the world and picked a beautiful girl or two from each of them, and they were all afraid.

  He couldn’t say no. Neala had carried more than enough guilt for leaving them.

  “Yes,” he said, and several intakes of breath around him showed their surprise, “but I have to get to Neala, I mean Fae, first. Tell me where she is, and I’ll come back for you. I swear it.”

  “Right under us.” The soft spoken girl near the light talked again, but when he turned to look at her there was a faint smile on her lips. His words had made her smile, his words had sparked hope. Kiernan nodded and focused on moving to the floor below him, his pulse was racing, his stomach twisting at what he’d find, but he tucked the silvery disc in a pocket, gripped the handle of the gun and moved.

  Another dark room. This time he wasn’t going to move so foolishly, instead he closed his eyes and counted in his head, waiting for his pupils to dilate. With his eyes closed, the sound of his pulse in his ears was deafening, and he made sure to breathe carefully so as not to alert anyone. Even the swish of his clothes moving seemed loud. When he opened his eyes he could see he was in a large bedroom.