Resistance

by Allana Kephart

  She pauses, and for a minute I have hope she finally decided to go to sleep. Then I hear the soft sound of padding feet against carpet and the door squeaks as it opens. I freeze, shifting onto my feet when I see the shadow of her heading up the second flight of stairs. She could be sleepwalking is my justification for worrying about her. After all, she didn’t even notice me lying here. Wouldn’t want her to fall and hit her head on something…

  Who am I kidding? I can’t even fool myself at this point. I’m actually worried for no justifiable reason at all, except that I care about her. And that thought terrifies me straight to my bones, so I will sit in happy denial for now, thank you very much.

  I silently head up the stairs and step into the library when I see her shadow going back and forth wildly. She’s pacing again, stopping every few minutes to look out the huge window overlooking almost the entire city. Her fingers drum against her bottom lip, and her other hand bunches her oversized shirt into a fist. I realize she has no idea I’m here, and I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “Little late for such intense inner dialogue, don’t you think?”

  She jumps and whirls to face me, taking a step towards the table beside the couch as if she’d planned to chuck the lamp at my head. I can’t help but chuckle at the mental image and she makes a sound of shock. “For heaven’s sake, Flint! Make a noise, would you?” she snaps. “You scared me!”

  I try to physically wipe the smile off my face but can’t seem to hide my amusement. She narrows her eyes and I tell her, “Sorry…that wasn’t my intent.”

  She waves her hand at me, unimpressed with my apology. She shakes her head and continues pacing back and forth on the ground. I look down at the floor where her tiny bare feet are passing over — she’s only been here three minutes and the carpet is already developing a dip. “No, it’s not your fault,” she says and I look back up. Her fingers are on her mouth again; pounding against her lips in a rhythm only she can hear. “My head — it’s just in chaos.”

  “I never would have guessed,” I say lightly. “You seem so centered tonight. I thought you were meditating.”

  She rolls her eyes and continues pacing. “Was there something you wanted, Flint?” she asks bluntly, already exhausted by my presence. “Or did you just want to antagonize me a bit before turning in for the night?”

  I shake my head. “I came to see if you were alright, love. Your pacing was keeping me up, and when it finally stopped I thought you fell into a black hole or something.”

  She stops pacing again and her brows draw in before she turns to face me. Her eyes narrow again. “How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?”

  I smirk at her and she scowls, then goes back to wearing a hole in the floor. “Couple dozen more times and you might get the message through,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though.”

  “I’m fine,” she snaps at me, ignoring my response. “I just can’t sleep, and I can’t sit still long enough to try.”

  “That fact alone leads me to believe you’re far from ‘fine’.”

  She stops pacing, spinning on her heel and opening her mouth to shout at me, when she realizes she doesn’t have a proper response. Her face falls and her hand moves to her side; her eyes locking on the carpet beneath her feet. “Did I make a huge mistake, Flint?” she asks in a broken whisper.

  I frown and push off the wall, moving to stand in front of her. She’s still gazing downward and I duck my head, trying to make contact with her eyes. “By doing what?”

  My voice snaps her out of whatever universe she faded into and she stumbles back, shaking her head hard, her hair swinging around her face. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that, it was a stupid question,” she rambles. “I’m sorry I woke you. I forget you’re here sometimes… And Eirnin, he sleeps like the dead, so I never have to worry about disturbing him—”

  “Fi,” I cut her off and she flinches before taking a huge breath of air into her lungs. “How do you think you made a mistake?”

  She swallows and bounces on the balls of her feet for a moment. She has to tilt her head back to look up at me, and she’s trying so hard not to cry. Her deep green eyes are shimmering with tears she’d never let fall in my presence. I almost feel the urge to hug her, but I feel she’ll break my jaw if I try. “Lumi,” she says quietly. “Did I sign a death warrant for everyone by bringing her here?”

  It takes me longer than it should to stop focusing on her eyes and understand her words. Somehow, I manage to shake my head. “Of course not,” I reply. It’s quite obvious the girl on the second floor is of no threat to anyone, and I can’t understand why she’d be afraid. “Why would you think that?”

  “We kidnapped a faery princess,” she says, and moves her eyes to the floor again, “and brought her to our home. It’s not something my father would have done.” She reaches up and presses her fingers against her temples. “I just, I feel so guilty. She can’t go home, and what if they come here to bring her back? We can’t wage a war with the Winter Court right now.”

  “You won’t like hearing this, but I highly doubt anyone will come looking for her. The way they look at her…” I tell her with a frown, and tug her hands away from her face slowly when she digs her fingers into her eyes. “Well, you probably did the Winter Court a favor, in their eyes.”

  She shakes her head; disbelief and sadness flaring to life in her eyes as she pulls her hands away from me and turns to face the window. She wraps her arms around her middle and tugs the sleeves of her shirt down, patting at her eyes. I pretend not to see her reflection in the window, or the few tears that escape out of the corners. I’m not sure why, but it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

  “C’mon,” I hear myself saying. “Let’s go for a run.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” she says shakily, trying to compose herself. Again, I pretend I don’t notice the quaver in her voice. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Nah. Come on,” I say again. “It’ll help clear your head. We can talk about everything else in the morning.”

  She’s still for a moment and then slowly turns to face me; assessing my sincerity. She nods after a moment. “That sounds good.”

  I smile at her and she returns it, albeit shakier than normal, and I pat her arm. “Race you outside.”

  “Oh, hell no,” she says, and takes off running out the door and down the stairs. I can’t contain the laugh that falls out of my mouth and I follow after her, letting her win. She sticks her tongue out at me when her feet clap against the dirt before mine and heads off without me. I bite the insides of my cheeks to get rid of the stupid grin on my face and let her believe she’s faster, just barely keeping pace with her. She seems to swell with pride at this concept, and I don’t want to ruin her moment.

  We take her shorter route — just past her uncle’s house, around the block and back around to the back door — and I’m just about to exhaust her in the last few feet and pass her when we see the door being closed.

  Shit.

  “Eirnin?” Fi calls, and stumbles to a halt. Shock is written clearly in her eyes and I see the look of panic that crosses Eir’s. Fi’s face, already flushed from the workout, takes on the dark red of anger when she realizes he is most definitely not sleepwalking nor looking for us. “EIRNIN!”

  Hearing that tone, he does the smartest thing anyone could do — he turns around and runs in the other direction, towards the park. Fianna’s face flames further and she takes off, but I step in front of her and she rams into my chest. Her fury is immediately transferred to me. “Get out of my way, Flint.”

  “Fi, he’s fine,” I try, grabbing her arms when she tries to plow me over. She squirms and tries to stomp on my foot, but I just end up yanking her against me in an attempt at self-defense. This only seems to annoy her further and she starts fighting harder.

  “HE IS NOT FINE!” she yells. “He’s sneaking out in the middle of the god damn night without a guard! In what way
is that fine?”

  Honestly I don’t have a response for that. I can’t exactly tell her he’s just going to the old book store without her finding out I knew about this long ago, and I can’t really let her go attack him either. “Look, it’s okay, he’s just going for a walk—”

  “If he was just going for a walk, why would he run away when he saw us?” she demands. “Huh? What’s your excuse for that, Flint?”

  “Because he knew you’d react like this!”

  She pauses in her struggle to maim me with her feet and frowns; hearing the truth in my words. She swallows hard and tries pulling away from me again, but softer this time, and I let her. She backs away from me and looks in the direction Eirnin took off. “Am I—”

  I don’t know what she was going to ask me, because her brother’s scream in the distance cuts off her words. Her eyes bulge and I’m sure my expression matches hers in the split second we’re still.

  “Go!” I instruct at the same time she shouts, “Eir!” We take off faster than we had been, hearing a loud crack as we round the corner, and I stop dead in my tracks when I see what caused it.

  Eirnin is sprawled on the ground, wincing; his hand cupping the back of his neck. He tries to sit up, but appears to be held down by invisible bonds that keep him within a claustrophobic space. There’s a man standing there with black hair I always found too long and even darker eyes, holding his arm out with his palm facing Eir.

  “Get away from him, you son of a bitch!” Fi yells.

  Without dropping his hand, he looks over his shoulder at us and looks Fi up and down. He scoffs and smiles at her, humored by the authority in her voice, before glancing in my direction. His eyes widen a little and he turns toward us; keeping Eir in place with the powers he’s harnessed. “Keegan?” he smirks. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  Fi hesitates and looks at me, wondering about the different name. I avoid her stare and nod. “Q.”

  Quincy is one of the many acquaintances I had that never found out my first name. I knew him for years before we ended up on opposite sides of the fence — me siding with humans and him doing the exact reverse. He’s part of the Winter Court, a nobody, as standards say, and he always fawned over the oldest Winter princess, Milcah. He has an affinity for air, and judging by the way he’s keeping Eirnin in place and talking to me at the same time, he’s mastered it. When we last met, he could hardly move leaves.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. I’m trying to ignore the questioning glare Fi is giving me and focus solely on the person I once knew in front of me. This will be impossible to explain away later and she knows it.

  “Heard some rumors at home,” he says. “Thought I’d come check it out. Didn’t expect to find you here.” He looks at Fi again, smirking when he takes her in, and I kind of want to punch the hungry look off his face. “Cute. Is this your new squeeze, then? ’Bout time you got some action.”

  Fi’s eyes bug and she scowls. It’s then I notice she has her knife out and ready. “Get the hell away from my brother,” she snarls, ignoring the question. When Quincy laughs at her, she looks like she might explode.

  “Fi, don’t—” I reach out to grab her arm and stop her from lunging at Q, but she’s out of range and I grab at air instead.

  Quincy is still laughing as he flicks his hand. The wind rushes towards us and Fi’s knife flies, jamming into the tree Eir is leaning on, mere inches above his head. Fi gasps at the proximity and Quincy flicks his hand again, sending her flying in the other direction, up against another tree.

  “Enough!” I yell at him, scowling. He looks at me in confusion and then rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you fancy the girl.” When I don’t respond he busts out laughing. “You and your human fetish… Some things never change.”

  “If you touch one hair on my brother’s head, I promise I will end you!” Fi screams; trying her damnedest to fight around Q’s prowess with air. She screams in frustration and flails pointlessly, glaring daggers at the man.

  “Is that so, cutie pie?” Quincy coos. He makes kissing noises at her like she’s a dog and she literally growls. “Someone’s a bit full of themselves tonight.”

  “Just leave, Quincy,” I interrupt him firmly; almost begging. Eirnin is still trying to stand up; his eyes filled with panic and locked on Fi, who is going to get herself in more trouble than she understands if she keeps threatening him.

  “No can do, pal,” he says, and I almost see a hint of sympathy in his eyes, a shadow of someone who used to be my friend. “I would, but there’s quite an offering on this group.”

  “Leave them alone, you coward!” Fi shouts again before I can respond. “What — are you afraid of a woman?”

  Quincy’s whole body shifts to look at Fi, and his eyes harden into someone I’ve never seen before. “You talk far too much, little girl.” He flips his hand over and makes a slicing motion. Fi separates from the tree, but her mouth is hanging open. She clamps her teeth together and claws at her throat, stumbling forward and landing on all fours.

  I’ve seen this before — cutting off someone’s air supply. It’s a violently painful thing to endure, and takes longer than it should. “Don’t!” I try, but he’s not listening. Fi’s words have angered him into hearing nothing but white noise. “Quincy!”

  But he’s too caught up in watching Fi struggle. He’s enjoying this far too much, and I realize he’s turned into everything I hate about the Fae. He’s become the same as all the other psychopaths I once shared a home with. He’s in the same state of mind my father lives in.

  “No, no, no,” Eir chokes. He tries to move again and punches the ground beneath him, screaming for Q not to hurt her. When he receives no response he meets my eyes. “Stop him!”

  I feel panic rising in my throat and look around for an answer. Quincy is long gone and the faery standing in his place isn’t going to stop hurting Fi by choice. He’s honed his skills with air and fighting him with fire will only piss him off, and against his element I’m not sure what I can do. I look at Eirnin when he slams his head against the tree and screams again, and I see Fi’s knife above his head.

  My stomach churns at the thought. I have two choices here; I can kill Quincy, or I can lose Fi. I’m startled to realize the second isn’t even an option for me.

  I rush to Eir and rip the blade from the trunk and hiss a curse when the iron triquetras on the hilt burn my palm, leaving wounds I know will scar. Eirnin looks at me in shock and tries to say something to me, but I don’t have time to listen. Fi is curling in on herself and Quincy looms over her, oblivious to the fact I’ve moved. “Come on, little one,” he says crudely. “Stop me from scalping your brother now.”

  In a few large steps I’m right behind him, and I hook my arm around his neck and slam the burning weapon into his chest. His concentration is broken instantly and Fi swells with a gasp, jerking into a sitting position. She looks like she’s about to lunge at Quincy with what little energy she has, and then her eyes find me yanking my hand away from the knife. She’s staring at me the same way her brother was, but Eirnin is suddenly there by her side, freaking out and asking if she’s okay.

  Quincy stumbles and falls back into me, his hands shaking as he touches the handle with his fingertips. Smoke flares up around his hands when he touches it. “Keeg…” he rasps. He sounds so lost.

  “Easy, easy,” I tell him and slowly lower him to the ground. I kneel beside him and try not to look at the knife in his chest—the knife I put there—and instead look right into his eyes. His eyes are foggy and have a caged look about them, though, and I find they are no easier to look at. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  Quincy gasps in pain and eyes the blade sticking out of him. He meets my eyes and looks so confused and hurt that I feel uneasy. I fight the urge to cover my mouth when his head drops against the ground.

  “You changed, Pansy,” he chokes around a mouthful of blood. “You couldn’t stomach road kill when I last saw you, and now look �
�� downright murder.”

  I look away from him. His face is pale, his shirt is soaked with blood and the iron in his chest is burning at him. The smell of burning flesh and blood is overpowering and I breathe through my mouth. My hand is hot from the iron and sticky from his blood, and I try to ignore the feeling. “Yeah, well,” I cough. “You changed, too.”

  He smirks. “You might survive this after all.” I have no idea what he means but I can’t think about it right now.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again, but when I look back at him, he’s already gone. My breath hitches and I remind myself I shouldn’t feel so guilty. I didn’t kill him in cold blood. I gave him every opportunity to leave…didn’t I?

  I grind my teeth together to keep quiet and look over at Fi, who is swatting Eir’s hands away and insisting she’s fine. The tightness in my chest loosens a little and I clear my throat. “Are you okay?”

  Fi’s head snaps up in my direction but she doesn’t say anything. She’s staring at my hand, bloodied and burnt, and I clench it in a fist before hiding it behind my back. She drops her head and looks at her lap. Eir is looking over at me with pity and I hate it. His sister nearly got killed. I should be the last thing on his mind. I clear my throat again and gesture to his sister. “We, uh, we should get her home.”

  Fi is still ignoring me, but Eirnin picks up on my need to get out of here and nods. He slowly shifts onto his feet and scoops up Fi, who flushes furiously at being lugged around like a baby. Eir silences her attempt to say she’s fine and looks at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I answer bluntly. Eir frowns but doesn’t push. I don’t want to talk about this right now and he knows it.

  “’Kay…” he says quietly, and starts back towards the house. I look at Quincy again and close his eyes with my clean hand; muttering a small prayer that he ends up somewhere better than this hellhole. I grasp the knife and slowly remove it from his corpse, not even wincing at the burn this time. I wipe it clean on my shirt and stand on shaky legs.