Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2

by J. S. Malcom

  “Can I turn around now?” Helen says.

  “I'm good,” I say.

  Helen turns and takes me in. She nods approvingly. “Much better. Come, and I'll show you around a little.”

  Awesome. I can’t wait.

  We leave the evidently gender-neutral locker room, walk down another stone corridor past a series of doors, and then climb a staircase. So, everything I've seen so far is on a below-ground level. I know nothing about the layout of fae houses, so I can't say if it's typical, but what I've experienced so far suggests that the House of the Rising Sun has a lower level the size of an airplane hangar.

  We emerge into a back hall paneled with gleaming mahogany, and from there into a room so vast and bright that it takes my breath away. Massive ornate rugs rest upon a blonde wood floor polished to shine like a mirror. Several sitting areas feature plush chairs and sofas, while a distant corner is devoted to what must be the fae equivalent of a white grand piano alongside a jewel-encrusted harp. Above looms a crystal chandelier roughly the size of a car dangling from an arched white ceiling that rises to at least sixteen feet.

  As we continue walking, I take in the finely crafted end tables, upon which rest glass candleholders, delicate vases holding sprays of flowers, leather bound volumes, cut crystal bowls, and miniature paintings held within graceful gold and silver frames. One of those tiny portraits catches my attention. It features an elegantly dressed couple, him tall and blonde like most of the Seelie I’ve seen, while she’s of similar stature but with nearly black hair. I just barely have time to glance, but even in that short time I can see that she’s stunningly beautiful.

  Helen gestures to indicate our surroundings. “The rule of thumb, when in the family's living areas, is to touch nothing you shouldn't, and only clean when told.” She reaches down and scoops a wooden toy animal from the floor. “Unless, of course, you spot something out of place.”

  Huh?

  Seeing my puzzled expression, Helen continues. “Lady Ferndelm can be…” She looks around to see if she's being heard. “Well, she has very high standards.”

  It's not hard to read between the lines on that one. Lady Ferndelm is an abusive nut job.

  “What’s her first name?”

  Helen lowers her voice to a whisper. “Why?”

  I shrug. “Just curious.”

  Her answer is nearly inaudible. “Raakel.”

  Okay, then. Raakel. We’ll see what happens there, but I’m sure as hell not going to start thinking of her as Lady anything. Screw that. I stare at the expansive windows opening onto the seemingly endless grounds behind the house. The lawn is pristinely manicured with paths leading toward distant gardens. Far in the distance, I can just barely make out a tree line marking the end of the property.

  “So, are we like maids, or what's the deal?” I ask the question absently, wondering if the windows are locked.

  I jump when Helen touches my arm. “It wouldn't do to make a habit of staring longingly out the windows either,” she says. “Your intentions might be misinterpreted.”

  Actually, no. They'd be interpreted correctly. As in, I need to get my ass out of here as soon as possible.

  We resume walking toward the back of the house, passing through two arched sets of doors. From there, we enter an enormous kitchen where a giant hearth blazes despite holding no burning wood or evidence of the fire's source. Could the Ferndelms actually be burning magic? If so, I can't imagine why. It's about a thousand degrees in there. Across the room, a waif of a girl stands before a behemoth of a stove, where she stirs and seasons a bubbling kettle. Next to her stands Mitch, talking quietly as he leans against the wall. He stops mid-sentence upon seeing us, his face turning red. Is this kid ever not blushing? Then again, maybe he’s just roasting.

  “I understand you've already met Mitch,” Helen says. “He tends to the horses and works with the groundskeeper.” She directs a mock scowl at him and adds, “At other times, he loiters in the kitchen.”

  I make pointed eye contact with the blushing teenager. “Hello, Mitch.”

  “And this is Lily,” Helen says. “She takes care of the laundry, does general cleaning, and assists me with the cooking.”

  Lily can't quite bring herself to look at me. She shifts her gaze from the bubbling pot to the floor.

  “Nice to meet you, Lily.”

  I offer my hand. Lily hesitates, then gives it a quick, nervous shake. In a nearly inaudible voice, she asks, “What are you good at?”

  “I'm sorry?”

  Lily drops her gaze back to the floor. Her voice grows even softer, as if she's already sorry she asked. “I mean, are you a cook or a gardener? Why did they buy you? Do you know?”

  Does she mean there's an actual half-blood slave market? Do Cade, Sloane and Isaac even know about this stuff?

  “They didn't buy me,” I say. “They jumped me coming out of a bar with a friend. I don't know what happened to him, but they brought me here. I don't know what they want me for.”

  “Oh.”

  Mitch, I notice, now stares at the floor too, while Helen glances across the room. Something tells me this might not be a good sign. Why was I brought here?

  “I’m sure it’s just because I’m getting older,” Helen says. “I’m not as fast at getting things done as I used to be.”

  Whether she means it, or she’s just trying to keep me from worrying, I can’t tell. But if that’s the case, wouldn’t Lily know? I don't have any more time to think about it, since at that moment the back door bursts open. Two boys stride into the kitchen, one maybe nine or ten and the other much older. He’s probably the same age as Mitch, seventeen or eighteen. Both of them are extremely fair, with white-blonde hair, the younger one with gray-blue eyes and the older with eyes nearly dark purple. At a glance, I can tell that their tunics and leggings are made of materials much finer than anything we’re wearing. They also have bows slung over their shoulders and quivers full of arrows on their backs.

  Helen offers them a smile and executes a slight bow. “Good morning, Master Weylar, Master Perth. Have you been out hunting?”

  I gather Perth must be the younger one, and Weylar the older. Either way, they completely ignore her, as the older boy speaks to his brother. “Askar is always overestimating himself. The next time he challenges you to a tybolt match, take him up on it. Twenty dactos says he wouldn’t get past the third round.”

  I can only assume there is no translatable equivalent to “tybolt” or “dactos,” but I catch the drift well enough. Not that I care what these arrogant little shits have to say.

  Perth opens a panel in the wall, which emits a cloud of cold vapor. He withdraws a glass of blue liquid. Some sort of juice, I assume. He gulps down half of his drink, and then finally turns his attention to Helen. “Where are the tarts? I want one.”

  Helen keeps a smile on her face. “I’m afraid they’re gone, Master Perth. I could—”

  Perth’s eyes flash angrily. “What do you mean they’re gone? I said I want one.”

  “Ssh.” The shushing comes from Weylar, who appears to have just now noticed me. He steps closer. “Who’s this?”

  It’s not clear who he’s addressing as he looks me up and down. I get a better look at him too, and I don’t like what I see. Weylar is a tall kid, lean and well-muscled. He also shares the Seelie trait for possessing a sort of predatory beauty, with high cheekbones, a straight pointed nose and a hungry look in those wine-colored eyes.

  “Master Weylar, this is Megan,” Helen says.

  Behind her, Lily shrinks back as Mitch remains with his back pressed to the wall. Both of them look away.

  Weylar gives no sign of having heard Helen speak. “I didn’t even know we were in the market for a replacement yet.” His eyes run up and down my body again, then he steps even closer. He reaches out to where my hair lays across my breast and I bat his hand away.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  Lily audibly gasps.

  Weylar’s eyes n
arrow to slits. “What did you say?” He raises his hand to slap me across the face.

  “What’s going on here?” The woman’s voice cuts through the room, freezing all action.

  Weylar looks past me, and I turn to track his gaze. She’s the same woman I saw in the portrait out front. Raakel, presumably. She’s tall and thin, with raven hair pleated in a coil at her shoulder. She’s striking, actually, with pointed eyebrows to match pointy ears. She has large green eyes, long dark lashes and sensuous lips. A little girl stands at her hip, who I guess to be maybe three or four years old. She shares the same features and coloring as Perth and Weylar. If the woman is their mother, then I have to assume the children take after their father.

  Weylar lowers his hand, but not quickly. He turns his hard gaze from his mother to me again. “Mother, it would appear that you’ve brought an insolent bitch into our home.”

  It’s all I can do not to punch him in the face. I spin around to face the woman full-on. “Your son tried to touch me.”

  Raakel looks from me to her son, and then back to me. “I’m sorry.”

  I hesitate, considering the situation. Inwardly, I bite my tongue and say, “Okay. Thank you.”

  Slowly, Raakel cocks her head, regarding me as if one of the family pets just managed to speak. “I’m afraid you misunderstand,” she says. “I’m sorry that you touched my son, leaving me no choice but to show you your place.”

  Her hand leaps up like a snake about to pounce, as she spreads her fingers above my head. Instantly, pain pierces my skull as a blinding white light flashes behind my eyes. I collapse inward, my entire body trembling with agony. I grit my teeth, trying to fight it, willing my own magic to rise inside me. I manage to meet her eyes and stare into them with hate, as her lips curl into a smile. She pushes downward, never touching me, and I collapse to my knees. It takes everything I have to retain even that much dignity, as I try not to scream.

  “Mommy, stop!”

  Through a haze of agony, I watch Raakel turn to the little girl at her side. Through ringing ears, her voice sounds a million miles away. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Erdella,” she purrs softly. “But they have to be trained. You know that, sweetheart.”

  Suddenly, I hear a different voice, calling out within my mind. Cassie! What happened? I can’t even try to psychically respond. I’m crippled, helpless, broken inside and out. I will myself not to let tears fall from my eyes as I try to remain upright.

  Raakel shifts her attentions back to her sons. “As for you two, take your shoes off before walking across my rugs.”

  With that, Raakel turns and picks up her daughter, who she carries from the room. The last thing I hear her say is, “Oh, Erdella. Don’t cry. You know half-bloods don’t feel pain the same way we do.”

  At least Raakel isn’t looking when I finally collapse to the floor and pass out.

  CHAPTER 21

  When I next open my eyes, I'm in another room I don't recognize, although it's not the same room in which I woke up before. Beneath me, I feel a firm mattress and a blanket covers me. I see four stone walls and the slit of a window, where moonlight casts a wash of light across the ceiling. Then I hear a girl's soft voice.

  “Did I wake you?”

  I wince and try to move my head to find that I can’t quite manage it. I squeeze my eyes shut, and then try again. Through blurred vision, I see Lily sitting on a bed just a few feet away. She's holding a book, which she must have been reading by the glow of a dim lamp. Her eyes meet mine and I try to speak, but fail.

  “How are you feeling?” Lily sounds almost afraid.

  I groan, and this time manage raising myself onto my elbows. My voice comes out weak, just above a whisper. “I've definitely felt better.”

  Lily sets her book down on the nightstand. “I'm sorry that happened to you.”

  I want to say, “That didn't happen to me, Raakel did that to me.” But I just lower my head back to the pillow. The blinding headache is gone, but a dull throbbing continues.

  “It looks like we're going to be roommates,” Lily says.

  She sounds cheerful, but I suspect she's just being nice since I've been hurt. I glance around the small room, with its bare walls and sparse furniture. A simple wooden dresser, a straight back chair and the nightstand between the beds. That's all Lily has, and now she'll have to share.

  Not for long, I tell myself, but I can't help wonder if I'm wrong. If the pain I felt was any indication of Raakel’s magical force, I'm up against a truly powerful enemy. And, at the moment, it seems I have no way to fight back.

  I glance over to see Lily still watching me, which makes me wonder how bad I look. Had Raakel been close to killing me? It sure felt like it. I try to offer Lily a smile. “I'll be okay,” I say. “I've been through worse.”

  Lily swings her legs off the bed and perches forward. “Really?”

  “No.”

  I close my eyes and a moment later hear Lily snickering. I open my eyes again to see that she's trying not to laugh.

  I smile at her again, or at least do my best not to grimace. What?”

  “You're funny,” she says.

  She sounds so much like a child that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. “Not when I try to be,” I say.

  My comment has the effect of making her burst out laughing. She covers her mouth not to be heard. Oh, right. There's probably not a whole lot of laughter going on in this house. Well, at least not in this part of it.

  I take Lily in again, in a way seeing her for the first time now that we're alone. She's younger than I thought, just a teenager herself. She's thin, with light brown hair, freckles and big hazel eyes. She's really quite pretty, especially when you factor in that she's not wearing an ounce of makeup, or jewelry, and she's clad in a potato sack of a dress. Could it be that Mitch appreciates her? In a way, I hope so, but it's hard to feel hopeful here.

  “How long have you been, well, living here?” I say.

  I regret asking, since the smile fades from Lily's face. “Since I was ten.”

  My heart plummets. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect that. “I’m sorry.”

  Lily answers in a small voice. “It’s okay.”

  No, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all. But I don’t say that, obviously, since she knows the same. Part of me doesn't want to ask, while another part needs to know her story. “Do you remember what happened?”

  Lily nods, but doesn't say anything.

  “I'm sorry,” I say. “I shouldn't have asked.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I don't mind. I don't want to forget. I need to remember.” In her eyes, I see a hidden strength I didn’t expect. A strength telling me that she's holding onto her story because, deep inside, she hasn’t given up.

  Lily scoots back onto her bed, crossing her legs beneath herself. A few moments pass, and then she speaks in the voice of someone looking inward. “My mother and I were at the park. School had just gotten out for the summer, and we went for a picnic. I still remember, she made tuna sandwiches because that was my favorite back then. And she made cookies to surprise me. Chocolate chip with peanut butter. They were really good.”

  She has a faraway look in her eyes, and a soft smile graces her face. Somehow, she's managed to hold onto the joy she felt on that day so long ago. I remain silent, so I don't spoil it.

  “After lunch, we read a book, and then my mother fell asleep. I mean, not all of a sudden. She told me first. She said, ‘Lilybell, I'm going to take a nap. Promise me you'll stay nearby.’ And I did, for a while. I think I even fell asleep too. But then I saw the two boys.”

  Lily’s eyes mist, and I know she's having a hard time continuing. I almost tell her to stop, but I think about what she said. She needs to remember. “What two boys?”

  Lily wipes her eyes. “I don’t know who they were, but suddenly the air rippled and they stepped into the park. As if from nowhere, two teenage boys with pointy ears. I told myself I had to be dreaming, but they saw
me and they noticed that my mother was asleep. They smiled and waved like it was a big joke.”

  I speak softly too. “They were half-bloods.”

  Lily nods. “Yes. I didn’t know what that was, of course. But the strangest feeling came over me. I thought, ‘I can do that too. If I want to, I can do just what they did.’ I don’t know how I knew, but somehow I did. So, I went to where I saw them appear, and I touched the air. It happened just like I thought it would. The air rippled and I stepped through.”

  I meet Lily’s eyes. “To here?”

  She shakes her head. “No, to Silvermist. Maybe I shouldn’t have been able to. You know what they say—most can’t until they’re a little older. But somehow, I did. At first, I was out in the woods, since I guess that’s where that rift led to. It was pretty and peaceful, with all that glowing mist, and I wondered if I might have been dreaming. I started looking around and I saw this strange animal. I mean, now I know it was a truth lemur, but I had no idea at the time. Suddenly, it spoke to me. Then I really thought I was dreaming.”

  It’s hard to imagine what it must have been like for her, at just ten years old. “I bet. Were you scared?”

  Lily shakes her head. “Not really. More just curious. It was all so strange.”

  “What did the truth lemur say?”

  “Here’s the thing,” Lily says. “It said ‘See you.’ At the time, I thought it was saying it could see me. But I don’t think that’s what it meant now. I think it meant I was about to realize what I really was. That, in a way, I was seeing myself for the first time. Do you think that’s possible?”

  Something tells me that she’s entirely right. “I do,” I say. “I bet that’s what it meant.”

  “Me too. Anyway, I tried to pet it and it ran off. So, I chased it. And, before I knew it, I was in the middle of this town I’d never seen before. All around me were people just like those boys with the pointy ears. And I got turned around and I didn’t know how to get back, so I just kept going and going. I don’t know how long I was lost there like that, but I didn’t think I was dreaming anymore, and I was starting to worry what would happen if my mother woke up and found me gone. That’s when I saw the bridge.”