by J. S. Malcom
She beams at Ian with a silly smile on her face, strongly suggesting she’d like to see Ian propose to Autumn at this very moment. Hell, if she had her way, we’d have the wedding right there with a body-snatcher presiding, a werewolf best man and witches as witnesses. And I’d be more than happy to jump in as maid of honor if it keeps me from having to talk to Phoenix. There’s just no way I can handle that in front of all these people.
Autumn’s face turns beet red, of course, but she raises her glass and says, “Happy birthday, honey.”
They kiss and a chorus of people saying “Happy birthday!” follows, even Paul and Claudia joining in. Not that I expected them to remain silent, but I didn’t picture them being quite so exuberant. Then again, they’ve both had several margaritas, not something I quite imagined from our typically refined Vamanec P’yrin friends. Paul, in fact, is grinning. I have to wonder. Is it a good idea for body-snatchers to lower their inhibitions? I can only imagine what a Vamanec P’yrin drinking game might entail. Loser has to live inside that monkey for a week. Ha!
As it turns out, our table makes enough noise that we do, in fact, attract the attention of the wait staff. Undoubtedly directed by a manager who doesn’t have to suffer the same humiliation, they come our way clapping and singing, as all eyes turn to Ian. Soon, he’s blowing out the candle on a complimentary piece of cheesecake, which leads to a round of dessert ordering, which leads to coffee and my sister surreptitiously texting me to say she’ll be driving our mother home.
For the remainder of our meal, the conversation remains shared table-wide. I make sure I track it closely and stay fully engaged at all times. Yes, I know I’m being a big chicken, not to mention sort of a jerk. But it’s been a really long, strange couple of weeks, and I’m already close to the breaking point. On top of that, we’re past the point where a private conversation could possibly go unnoticed. Thankfully, it isn’t very long before we’re paying the check and leaving, although somehow it still feels like a million years.
CHAPTER 7
I drive back across town feeling lonelier than maybe I ever have. I’m sure most of it’s just me. I’m tired and stressed, and probably just making things worse by refusing to share the burden. For at least the hundredth time I think that maybe I should talk to Autumn. Once again, I remind myself that I could put her in danger. Possibly even get her trapped like Julia. If that happened, I’d never be able to forgive myself.
Not for the first time, I wonder how Grayson found out about me being a veil witch. I assume the same way the vampires did. Somehow word got out that I was living at the Cauldron. Or it could have been through Maggie. Grayson frequented Grimoire, and she both trusted and liked him. The thing is, I just don’t know. But if he somehow didn’t catch wind of my veil witch sister, I’m sure as hell doing everything possible to keep it that way.
My thoughts return to Julia and Phoenix. I realize there’s no comparison between the two situations but, other than my family, those are the main people in my life. Or, at least, they were until I pushed one away and led the other into danger. What the hell is wrong with me? But I know the answer, don’t I? I’m messed up. My life got derailed when I was just a kid in ways for which there is no therapy, and no professional to turn to for help. As far as the world goes, what happened to me doesn’t exist. As a result, I don’t know when to hold on or walk away. I don’t know when to trust that I’m worthy of being loved, or to have the common sense not to lean on the person who does. The result being that I’m alone, sad and afraid. And maybe I deserve to be for being so clueless.
I get back to my street, just barely holding it together. I tell myself I’m not crying, but that’s bullshit too, because I can feel my eyeliner running down my face. I find a place to park, kill the engine and lower my forehead to the steering wheel.
“Get it together, Cassie,” I mutter, under my breath.
But the tears keep coming.
This time, I raise my voice. “Get it together, asshole. You’ve faced worse than this!”
But, have I?
I’ve gotten myself out of some serious supernatural scrapes. I reclaimed my body, took down a Vamanec P’yrin mega-bitch named Opal. I’ve expelled demons and melted vampires to piles of bones and dust. But I’ve never faced this before, have I? Not the prospect of realizing that whoever loves me gets hurt in some way. That being around me is a risk not worth taking. Okay, sure, maybe Phoenix didn’t have to grab onto the first warm body that came his way, but maybe he realized what a mess he was dealing with. Who knows? Maybe he couldn’t wait for me to get out of his life.
No, I tell myself. Stop. You’re exhausted and not being fair to yourself. Just get some goddamned sleep.
I get out of the car and start walking toward the Cauldron. Naturally, it begins to rain, since this seems to be my new personal motif. Cassie, the girl who wanders lost and looking like a drowned rat. On top of that, as I get closer to the building I remember that we’re almost at the weekend, so of course there’s a party going on. If I have to face that door troll right now, I swear...
I slow my pace and wipe my eyes again, to make sure I’m not mistaken. No, I’m not. Dead ahead, a figure passes beneath a streetlight heading straight toward me. Just a flicker, then gone, as whoever it is disappears into the shadows again. But, if I’m gauging things correctly, that person is moving fast and I can’t possibly get to the building in time.
I try telling myself it’s just my imagination, that he’s just someone out walking. That this has nothing to do with what happened the other day at the warehouse. But then I see the figure again. It’s a guy, definitely, broad shouldered and tall. He’s striding fast. This time the light catches something more, the unmistakable glint of steel. He’s holding a knife. No, not just a knife. A dagger.
I come to a stop, my heart hammering in my chest. I try to measure the distance again, thinking that maybe if I break into a run I can make it. Bad idea. There’s no way I’ll make it in time. I either run back to the car now, or hope I have enough magic to take whoever it is on. No, to hell with running back. If I turn my back, I’m screwed. I’m not going down that way.
I walk forward fast, reminding myself that I possess magic. I can blow out windows, deflect rocks and levitate objects. I have a knife of my own. I can handle this. He crosses beneath another streetlight, close to full-on running now. For the second time, the light catches the steel of his blade. He knows I see him, so there’s no point in keeping to the shadows. He’s coming at me fast and there’s no stopping whatever is about to happen.
Suddenly, I’m jerked hard to my left, almost off my feet as I’m yanked into an alley. I spin and lash out, shoving hard. A guy stumbles away from me, as my mind reels. I wasn’t near an alley. I was on my block, a few buildings down from my own. It’s still dark, but not as dark, the light different somehow. It’s not raining.
“You’re okay,” he says. He holds his hands out, palms facing me. “You’re okay, I swear.”
“Who the hell are you?” My eyes start to adjust and I take him in. He’s slightly taller than me, and wearing old jeans and a pulled-up hoodie. Even in the shadows, I can make out those same thick eyebrows I saw before. Yeah, it’s him. There’s no doubt.
I say it again. “Who the hell are you?”
“Try to stay calm,” he says. “You’re okay now.”
I try to slow my heart, which feels like it’s about to leap out of my chest. “Yeah, you said that already.” I stop and look around again. Beyond the alley, I see streetlights. But they’re not just streetlights. They’re gas lamps, their flickering glow rising and falling. I bring my attention back to him. “Let’s try this again. Who are you, and why the hell do you keep grabbing me?”
“Cade,” he says. “My name’s Cade.”
I repeat what he said, trying to regain composure. “Cade.”
“Yeah, I'm Cade. And you're welcome, by the way.”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come. I try again. “For what
?”
“For saving your life. I don't expect you to make a big deal or anything, but a simple thank you might be nice.”
I know it's true, what he's saying, but only then does it start to sink in. There's no way to deny what just happened.
“Who would try to kill me?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
Cade’s eyes search mine, and I can't help but notice that they're flecked with gold. Maybe it's just the light from the moon, or the flickering gas lamp at the mouth of the alley, but those gold flecks seem to glow.
“No idea,” I say, which is true. While I can think of why the vampires might want me dead, I can't think of why any humans would.
“Well, I guess we'll need to figure that out,” Cade says.
Once again, I'm not sure how to respond. Who is this guy and what's he talking about? Which brings me back to my original question.
I lock my eyes onto his and say, “Why have you been following me?”
“That's kind of a long story.” Cade pulls his hood back, allowing me to get a better look at him. He's around the same age as me, with a round, friendly face and a mass of curly brown hair that doesn't quite manage to hide a pair of very pointy ears. “How about we go find someplace where we can talk?”
CHAPTER 8
My options are either to trust Cade long enough to hear what he has to say, or go back and see if that guy still wants to kill me. I decide to take Cade up on his offer. I follow him out of the alley to where we walk beside a street made of cobblestone. Mist swirls from the ground with a phosphorescent glow, while above us a full moon blazes in a starry sky. There are others out there too, people passing by on horseback and some keeping to the sidewalk like us, where each corner holds another flickering gas lamp. It’s too dark to make them out clearly, but none wear tunics or carry swords. They’re just shadowy figures with one thing in common. Each time one of them is caught by the light, I see ears rising to points.
Obviously, we’re in some other realm, but it doesn’t feel like that one I can only assume to be the realm of the fae. Each time I’ve been there, I’ve felt constantly on edge. Of course, murderous men and screeching dragons haven’t helped, but I’ve felt uneasy there even when alone in the forest. It’s almost like I’ve been constantly aware of some subliminal threat. Here, I feel relaxed for some reason, almost at home. It makes no sense.
We walk past buildings of brick and stone, where moonlight reflects off windows. “Where are we?”
Cade glances over at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain.”
Typically, when someone says, “Don’t worry,” it seems like a very good time to do just that. Especially if that person is a total stranger with freakish elf ears leading you through a foreign realm with glowing fog. But, hey, it wasn’t like I had a lot of options. I look around again, and the feeling I get is that we’re in a business district, although most of the buildings around us are dark. Soon we approach one with glowing windows, where a wooden sign hangs out over the sidewalk. Apparently, the place is called The Rowan and Thistle.
“You’ll like this place,” Cade says. “Well, at least I do.”
Um, okay, I think. Glad we’re not going to a place you hate.
We enter a bar with brick walls and scuffed wooden floors, where neon lights advertise products I’ve never heard of. Titania Golden Ale. Lamia Lager. Summer Court Stout and Gossamer Wing Claret. The bar is nearly full, as are most of the tables, where candles flicker behind glass globes illuminating the faces of those who’ve gathered to drink and talk. Music plays in the background, and it surprises me to realize that it’s alternative rock, a song by Glass Animals that I just heard yesterday. As we cut through the crowd, I can’t help but notice that heads turn our way. People glance at Cade, but way more eyes linger on me. I don’t pick up on any suspicion or hostility, more just open curiosity.
We take seats at the end of the bar, and I look around again. The crowd is a mix of varying ages, most dressed casually. It’s also one of the most diverse I’ve ever seen, covering everything from white and black through Middle-Eastern, Latino and Asian. In and of itself, that’s a little unusual. And it’s not like I can see everyone’s ears, but all of those I do see taper up to a point. Some people still stare at me. When I make eye contact, some look away. Others don’t. It’s like they can’t help themselves.
I bring my attention back to Cade. “Okay, what’s the deal? Am I just being paranoid?”
Cade nods. “Right, I noticed that too. They’re looking at you because you shouldn’t be here. Not as in, you’re not welcome here. More like, it’s not possible. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
At that moment, the bartender comes over. She’s in her twenties, with bleached-white hair streaked with red, purple and green. Or maybe those are her natural colors. A pixie hovers at her shoulder for a moment, before fluttering down to set out coasters. Wait, is that—? Apparently it is, because the pixie glares at me and bares her fangs before flying off.
“Hey, Cade. How’s it going?” The bartender sets a pint of amber ale in front of him. “I figured you were having your usual. Who's your—” Apparently, she was too busy to notice the freak in the room before, because now she openly stares.
I waggle my fingers. “I know. Cade told me. I'm not supposed to be here.”
“Melanie, this is Cassie,” Cade says.
Melanie stares at me for another moment. She too has glowing flecks in her eyes, in her case brilliant azure. “I guess you'd have to be, wouldn't you?”
What the hell does that mean? Then again, she hangs out with that pixie, so she’s probably bonkers.
Cade turns to me. “What would you like?” he says. “I’m buying.”
I glance at Cade’s beer, which looks pretty good. “One of those, I guess.”
Once again, while I felt both exhausted and buzzed before, now I don’t. I wonder if I’ve just discovered the cure for the common hangover. Simple. Just go to where the faerie people live. Warning: side effects include doppelgangers, dragons and possibly death.
Melanie delivers my beer and then leaves to take care of her other customers. I take a sip. The beer is cold, smooth and delicious. Actually, it’s one of the best I’ve ever tasted.
“Okay, let’s try that again,” I say. “Why isn’t it possible for me to be here?”
“That part’s simple. You’re not a half-blood.” He gestures to the room at large. “That’s what we are.”
“By that, I can only assume you mean half faerie. I’m just going with the ear thing, so let me know if I’m off track.”
“Well, fae,” Cade says. “Faerie is actually the place. But, more to the point, we’re the only ones who are supposed to be able to come here.”
Did he really just say, “More to the point?” I tear my eyes off his ears and ignore what might be the best pun opportunity of my entire life. “Um, you brought me here.”
“Right, but I shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
I think about that for a second. “So, let me get this straight. Some guy tries to kill me. You just happen to be there—which, by the way, is next on our agenda—and you try bringing me to some place I shouldn’t be able to go. If I understand your plan correctly, it would seem the probability for me having been killed was pretty high.”
Cade signals the pixie, who evidently must know his habits. She starts flying our way with a bowl of pretzels. Or maybe Jerome and Bobby got it wrong and she’s really a Pretzel Pixie rather than Pocket Pixie. A common mistake, I’m sure.
Cade waits until the pixie leaves, then picks up a pretzel. The pixie shoots me a death-glare over her shoulder. “See, that’s just it,” he says. “Technically, you shouldn’t be able to come here, but I knew you could. Because you definitely shouldn’t have been able to visit she, but I’d already seen you there on several occasions.”
“She?”
Cade shakes his head. “Not she. She.”
I grab the pretzel ou
t of his hand just because he’s bugging me. “What the hell are you saying?” I crunch into the pretzel and stare at him.
Cade picks up another pretzel. “S-i-d-h-e. It’s pronounced ‘she.’ And it’s a place, as well as a people. It’s based on where the Tuatha Dé Danann were from. Regardless, it’s another name for Faerie.”
Now I’m sorry I ate the pretzel, because if I still had it I’d throw it at his face. I wonder if I’d get extra points for hooking it onto his ear. “Okay, sure. Faerie rather than fae. Gotcha. And I’m assuming you don’t mean the yogurt people.”
Cade grins. “Not Dannon. Tuatha Dé—” He stops, seeing my expression. “Right, not the yogurt people. The Tuatha Dé Danann was what humans first called the fae. They were once revered as gods in Ireland and Scotland, which is where they first decided to cross over. They have a thing about lush lands, so go figure.”
I help myself to another pretzel, despite the fact that Cade still hasn’t eaten one. “I’m with you so far.”
Cade nods, almost bites into his pretzel, but then continues. “So, yeah. It was one of those cross-cultural misunderstandings that the Tuatha Dé Danann didn’t bother to correct. Mostly, because they didn’t care.”
Actually, Cade’s kind of cute in a pedantic, nerdy sort of way. I can picture him in high school spending weekends playing Dungeons and Dragons with his nerd buddies. “Eat your pretzel,” I say.
Apparently, Cade has forgotten it’s in his hand. “This place has really good pretzels. It’s part of why I come here. Well, that, and they let me run a tab.”
In fact, they do have uncommonly good pretzels. Must be something about the dough. I wait for him to swallow.
“Okay, so we were getting to the part where I wasn’t supposed to be in Faerie. Why is that?”
Cade takes a sip of his beer, keeping his eyes on mine. The glowing flecks really are kind of cool. “Because it’s not possible. First, we have to back up a little. It gets complicated.”