by Ruth Vincent
Grover Heights was just as I remembered it: the shining chrome diner; the dying main street with its mostly closed-up shops; the various churches; the redbrick school with its sign proudly proclaiming a blue-ribbon award for excellence; the rolling green hills of suburban houses. It was just on the edge of being too far from New York City for a person to commute, though there were still many who did, and the quaint old-fashioned train station was always packed at 5:00 a.m.
Obadiah and Dad talked baseball scores, while Mom asked me all about my newest case with Reggie as we drove the winding, forested back roads to the house.
We pulled up in front of their modest, split-level home, with its single oak tree in the front yard, from which my childhood swing still dangled, hardly used anymore. It always looked small to me these days when I visited it, nothing like the sprawling house and the enormous tree I remembered playing in as a little girl.
It still smelled the same, though, when Mom opened the glass all-weather door. That distinctive aroma of old-house always brought memories back. I used to find the smell of the house comforting when I’d come home on winter breaks from college. But somehow right now it just made me feel sad.
“I’ll let you guys get settled upstairs,” Mom said as we trudged up the plush, carpeted steps. “Your father booked us dinner reservations for seven o’clock at Mr. Giuseppe’s. I know how much you like that place.”
It had been my favorite Italian restaurant when I was ten, but I didn’t contradict her. We made our way up to my old room.
Obadiah and I sat down on my childhood bed, still covered with the purple, floral comforter I remembered from high school, and I gently closed the door, so my folks couldn’t overhear us.
We looked at each other in silence for a while inside my childhood room.
This place never changed. It was like walking inside of a time capsule. The door was covered in stickers, the bookcases were full of paperback fantasy novels and the stuffed animals on the windowsill had been cleaned and dusted but never removed. I was glad of that. It was the one constant in my world. And I knew there was a time—not now, but someday and probably not as far off as I liked—where I was going to have to say goodbye to this room, to my parents, to my entire human life forever, when I took up the mantle of Fairy Queen.
“Thanks for coming out here with me,” I said to Obadiah. “I know Grover Heights isn’t exactly an exciting vacation destination. But I really wanted to see them.”
“Of course,” he said. “And don’t thank me. You were the one who was trying to talk me out of coming here. I told you it would be fine.”
“Yeah, I guess it is a good time for a visit. Since I might be going away for a little while.”
Obadiah stopped and stared at me.
It was the first time I was telling him of the decision I’d already made in my heart.
“Wait, you’re not thinking of doing what I think you are, are you?”
“It won’t be for long, but I don’t have a choice. I have to go back and see the Queen.”
“No, you don’t. If you’re worried about that knife, I think it was a ploy from the Queen to try to get your attention. She’s needy. She wants you back. I get it—she’s your mother,” he said in a low whisper, so my human mother downstairs couldn’t hear. “But you don’t have to let her run your life. You go back when you want to, and not before.”
“That’s not why I’m thinking of going back,” I said. “I’m worried about you. Your Thirst symptoms are progressing.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.
“Passing out is a symptom of the Thirst. You need to get some Elixir. If you’re worried about the ethical implications of getting it from the kids, I’ll find a natural Elixir stream that hasn’t gone dry yet. And don’t worry, I’ll go to the ones on the southern tip of Manahatta. I won’t mess with the Wolfmen’s territory. But seriously, you’re not well. You need something.”
“I don’t need any Elixir. And you don’t need to do this.”
I could tell there was no way I was going to win Obadiah over talking about his own needs. The only way he’d think the trip was a good idea was if it was about helping someone else.
“Look, I also told you about Cory. He’s still at large out there. I need to find out who he is, and how to stop him. I’m sure the Queen knows. She keeps tabs on everyone in the Vale. I’m not sure she’s behind Cory, just like we’re not sure if she’s the one who’s really diluting the Wolfmen’s Elixir streams, but the only way we’re going to get any answers is if I go there and talk to her.”
“I’m worried about you going back to the Vale by yourself and chasing some rogue, potentially dangerous fairy. I want to come with you.”
“You can’t; you’ve still got a werewolf locked up in your store.”
Obadiah frowned. “Reuben is caring for him. Blake’s gotten a little calmer since you saw him last.”
I raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“I still would like to come with you.”
“You’d be putting yourself at risk. The Queen hasn’t accepted you in my life the way my human parents have. Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice down for the sake of my parents and shout at him at the same time. It turned into sort of a hiss. “I appreciate that you want to help, but my mom almost killed you last time. If you came back, she’d just try to kill you again. Even if I make her promise not to, she’ll find some way to weasel out of her promise. She always does. I don’t want you risking your life!”
“Well, I don’t want you risking yours!”
We stared at each other, at an impasse. His hands were cocked on his hips, mine were crossed tightly over my chest. The dozen or so My Little Ponies on the shelf above our heads stared down at us, their overlarge eyes looking thoughtful. I didn’t want this turning into our first major fight, but it seemed like it was going that way.
“Listen, I don’t mean to get so angry. It’s just because”—he ran a hand through his dark curls in frustration—“I’m just worried about you. Because I love you.”
He sat down on the bed, and I sat down next to him. We were silent for a long time. I lay my head against his chest.
“I know. I love you too, and I’m worried about you.”
I could hear my parents’ voices from downstairs, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I wondered if they’d heard us arguing. I tried to think of a compromise.
“If you insist on coming,” I said at last, “can you stay in the Central Forest, away from the Fairy Queen? When I meet with her, I’ll do that on my own.”
Obadiah frowned. “I’d prefer to come with you, but if that’s the only way you’re going to agree to things, I suppose I’ll have to live with it.” He sighed. “I’m glad at least I’m coming.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Eva wanted to come too. She wants to help, but I told her no. I’m too scared of what could happen to her.”
“I agree. I’ve at least been in the Vale many times before, so I know what to expect. Eva only had that one trip and she doesn’t remember most of it. She’s fully human. It would be too dangerous for her.
“What are you going to tell your parents? And Reggie?” he asked.
“I’ll tell my parents I can’t stay the rest of Labor Day weekend, that I have to go back to the city to work.”
“And then hope your parents and Reggie don’t talk to each other?” said Obadiah, raising a brow.
“They don’t have each other’s numbers. They wouldn’t track each other down to get in touch unless it’s a real emergency. And it’s only four days.”
I felt bad lying to them both, but I didn’t see another way. What I was telling my parents was closer to the truth; I did have a lot of work to do. And as for Reggie, he’d never understand, but my trip to the Vale wasn’t just about helping Obadiah; it was about helping Quinn too.
I called Reggie before we left for dinner. He sounded harried.
“Brenda Sheffield has been calling
nonstop,” he said. “Asking us if we’ve found anything helpful for her daughter. I’ve been telling her these things take time, but she keeps calling.” There was a moment of silence and a strange noise that might have been Reggie chewing on his pencil. “I kind of wish you’d planted a spy cam. Then at least we would have had something to give her.”
I flushed, feeling the weight of his disappointment with me. It was the first time I’d heard Reggie sound disappointed in the way I’d handled something.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea. She was just starting to open up to me. If she found out I was filming her against her will, that door would close permanently; I’d never gain her trust back.”
There was another pause and then Reggie said, “You’re right. I see your point. The mother’s just stressing me out, is all. Between you and me I’m this close to just dropping this case. The kid needs a shrink, not a P.I. I don’t think we’re going to win this one. I think we should just give her a refund and drop it.”
“No, we can’t quit yet.”
I looked over and saw that Obadiah’s and my parents’ heads had raised at the sudden loudness in my voice.
“I have an idea I’m working on,” I said. “I don’t know if it’ll pan out, but I have to give it a try. One last try. I want to talk to her again after the holiday weekend.”
“Sure. I’m glad we’re off for a few days. I think it would be good for you to have some free time. I always say when you get stuck, it’s good to take a break and get away from things for a while.”
Get away for a while. He had no idea how true his words were. It bothered me that Reggie was writing off this case as unsolvable. I was going to find Cory, dammit, find out who he really was. And get to the root of what was really wrong with Quinn. Now that Tiffany had told me how many other girls there might be, it wasn’t just Quinn’s case anymore either. It was everyone Cory had touched. Reggie might be ready to write it off, but I wasn’t giving up so easily.
My folks drove us back to the Grover Heights train station later that night. Mom pressed a Ziploc bag of her organic, gluten-free cookies into our hands. Obadiah managed to act excited about them, and I appreciated his effort. We’d had them before. They were as hard as hockey pucks and had a strange aftertaste of Stevia; the only one who seemed to genuinely enjoy them was Reggie. But I tucked them into my purse and told her we’d have one on the train. The whistle blasted, and it was time for us to go up onto the platform.
But I found myself lingering as I hugged my mom goodbye.
“What’s the matter, Mabily?” she asked me. She always knew, instinctively, when something was wrong.
“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile, and turned to hug my dad.
I didn’t know why a lump was forming in my throat. I wasn’t going back to the Vale forever. I was just going back for a few days. I’d be back here with my folks for Thanksgiving, if not Columbus Day. So why did I feel like I might be hugging my human parents goodbye for the last time? I swallowed the lump in my throat, telling myself I was being melodramatic.
That night, we sat together on my bed in the apartment, plotting how we were going to transition to the next world. As terrifying as the plummet in the Times Square New Year’s Eve ball had been, I missed it compared to this. There was no other way—we would have to use the Vale Cleaver.
Obadiah frowned, his forehead wrinkling. I could tell he was remembering the time when he had stabbed himself with this same knife, as the Queen’s prisoner.
“You’ve never had to stab yourself with the Vale Cleaver to travel to another world before, have you?” he asked me.
Mutely, I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t wish those moments on my worst enemy. You think you’re going to die. Intellectually, you know it can make you disappear from this world and pop into the next, but you’re still stabbing a knife into your own heart. It’s terrifying.”
“I’ll be okay,” I said, though in my heart I was terrified too. I was really going to have to stab myself. Would I have the guts to? Or would I chicken out at the last second? And god forbid, what if we were wrong about the Vale Cleaver? What if somehow it wasn’t real? Obadiah had almost picked the knife’s identical twin; I could too, and then I’d be dead. I felt bad voicing these fears to Obadiah, though. I didn’t want to make him more worried than he already was.
“How is all this going to work?” Obadiah asked me, getting up to pace. “I mean, how are we both going to be able to use the same Vale knife? When I stabbed myself with it last time, I came to in the next world with the knife still in my hand. And it stayed in the human world with me. Well, until it disappeared from my back room. I’d been trying to hold on to it for you, in case you ever needed to go home. I guess your mother wanted it back.” He rolled his eyes. “But the point is, for you to use the knife, I would need to somehow pass it back to you, otherwise it’s going to transfer over to the Vale with me.”
This problem had occurred to me too.
“That’s why I have to go first,” I said. “In case it doesn’t work. If only one of us is able to get through, it should be me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid,” Obadiah shouted in exasperation. “We just had this conversation at your parents’ house. I don’t want you to go alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered. “But since you’re worried and I know you want to come too, I’ll try to drop the knife after I use it, okay? Then you can grab it?”
I didn’t know if that was going to work and neither did he.
Obadiah crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like the sound of this one bit, I could tell.
“I don’t want you taking this risk,” he said quietly.
I stepped right in front of him, stopping him short in his pacing. I raised my hands to cradle both sides of his face.
“I love you,” I whispered, “but I need to do this. Please, let me do what I need to do.”
He looked away from me, swallowing hard. I could tell it took a lot of effort, but at last he nodded. “Do what you must.”
There was something so old-fashioned about the phrasing that it made me pause in what I was about to say. Sometimes I forgot how much older Obadiah was than me, and I didn’t mean ten human years. Counting my fairy life before I’d become a changeling, I was closer to fifty, but Obadiah had passed more than three centuries. He never reminded me of that fact, never made me feel like anything less than an equal. And yet, the gap of years was there, like a tiny crack in how well we could ever fully understand each other.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I said at last, and he pressed me to his chest so hard that I could barely breathe. I embraced him back as hard as I could. He held me like he could somehow keep me here.
At last we let go. I walked over to my bed and picked up the knife that I’d been sleeping with under my pillow since it had appeared. I hated to touch it. It was so eerily warm, like skin, pulsing, almost vibrating with an alien life. This thing was ancient, powerful. I didn’t fully understand how it worked, but I was going to use it. That scared me, far more than I wanted to admit to Obadiah. I looked down at the stone blade. How the hell was I going to stab myself with that? I didn’t know if I could do it, or if I would flinch at the last second, just before it pierced my skin?
But Cory was still at large. He was going to suck all the joy from every woman he touched unless I could stop him, and the only way I could get any answers about his real identity was by going home and seeing my mother. If I didn’t convince the Wolfmen the Queen wasn’t behind the depletion of their Elixir streams, they were going to murder her. And what did the message on the knife really mean, that things were “worse”? I had to find out. This wasn’t just about me and Obadiah.
I held up the knife in one palm. With the other, I squeezed Obadiah’s hand.
“Wish me luck,” I said with forced cheerfulness.
Obadiah’s face was stricken. “My love, I’m already praying as hard as I can, even though I�
�m not sure I still believe in God.” His voice was shaking. “Stay safe. Do you have any idea how precious you are to me?”
“You’ll join me in just a few seconds,” I said, making a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.
I let go of him and held the knife with both hands, pointing it towards my chest.
Terror took hold of me. A deep survival instinct screamed in my ears how stupid this was.
I began to move the knife towards my skin, then stopped.
I couldn’t do it.
What was I going to do if I didn’t have enough courage?
I could feel Obadiah watching me. I couldn’t bear the concerned look on his face.
I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of his tenderness, steeling myself for what I was about to do.
I took a deep, sharp inhale and, with a wild yell for courage, plunged the knife into my sternum.
Pain exploded through my chest. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. It was like all the breath had been knocked out of me. I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of pain. Everything was going black. And then a thought of pure panic rose in my mind:
I’d used the wrong knife.
I’d used the knife that looked like the Vale Cleaver, instead of the Vale Cleaver itself.
I’d really stabbed myself. And now I was going to die.
My whole body was burning, the entire surface of my skin from the tips of my fingers to the roots of my hair, all the way down to my feet. Was this what it felt like to die? I’d stabbed myself in the heart, and now I was dying quickly. Would Obadiah realize I was dying? I couldn’t even scream for help. Would he think to call 911? Would an ambulance even be able to get here in time?