Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2

by J. S. Malcom

  Yeah, no shit. I assumed no one has been since the sweatshops of the Victorian era. And while I appreciate Helen’s kindness, I’m not quite sure what she means. Where would I possibly go?

  Apparently, she reads the confusion on my face. “Go out and take a walk,” she says. “I’m sure it’s a beautiful day.”

  When she says it, I realize that I’ve barely experienced daylight since coming to Faerie. My time outside has amounted to dodging Seelie soldiers and getting jumped in an alley. Other than that, I’ve either been in a sewer, a bar or this prison of a house. My eyes cut to the window, through which I see blue sky and sunlight. Part of me feels bad for leaving Helen and Lily to continue working, but way more of me can’t wait to get out of there.

  “Go,” Helen says. “Take half an hour or so. Just be sure to stay on the property.”

  I’m not sure how I’ll gauge either, but I don’t have to be told again. I ditch the apron and try not to run as I head for the door.

  *

  At first, I simply revel in being outside. I close my eyes and raise my face to the sun, as I breathe in fresh air for the first time in what feels like years. It's so quiet, with just a mild breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees and birds chirping in the distance. After a few moments, I start walking across the grass behind the house, taking in what I've only glimpsed briefly from the kitchen window. Those glimpses told me that the grounds were expansive, but now I see just how much land they have back here. The lawn slopes gently down to where gardens bloom with life and paths wind past topiaries and greenhouses. Beyond those are stables, barns and outbuildings, and beyond those orchards and fields. And that's just what's directly before me, never mind to my right or left or whatever might be out front.

  It's the strangest thing looking at all this beauty knowing that it's rooted in ugliness. The air touching my skin is mild and pleasant, but I remind myself that it’s an illusion. What about the cold I felt the other night in Gorgedden? What about that dead forest with its falling flakes of ash? Isn’t everything I see a distortion of reality caused by entitlement and arrogance?

  Still, I stride toward the garden, breathing in the sweetness of blooms to rid my nose of the scents of grease and blood. I look around, part of me nervous at being caught out here, but it seems that I'm alone. I keep expecting someone to call me back, to accuse me of doing wrong and subject me to more torture. By someone, I mean Raakel, of course. It's her face I imagine, as behind that I dredge up memories of those men on their horses.

  And there’s a reason for that fear to rise within me. Because I'm walking in a straight line now, aren't I? Already, I’m picking up my pace as I head toward that distant tree line. How far is it to the wasteland? A mile? Two? And how far do I have to go before I get my magic back. Because I know that out there it waits for me, beyond that place where victims are chased for sport, to be dragged back or quite possibly killed.

  I start to run, my legs pumping against the ground, past the gardens with their paths and topiaries that, for me, loom like grotesque monsters of a foreign world where no human was meant to set foot. I continue running, past the greenhouses, barns and outbuildings, to where the land opens up again into a field of wild flowers and grass a pale shade of indigo. I run even faster, gulping air, my heart pounding, part of me not caring that I might be killed, and only caring if I’m caught. The wind whips through my hair, and all I hear now is the sound of my own breathing. These might be my last breaths, my last actions, but at least they’ll be taken in moments of freedom. But then images start to flash within my mind. I see my mother, and I think about how she suffered. I see Autumn, and remember how she fought to save me. No, don't stop me. Don't make me care! But then I see Julia, and I think of Ellie, Helen and Lily. If I get myself killed, who will help them?

  It's only because of these thoughts that I falter at the sound of an approaching horse. I'm almost to the tree line where the property ends, beyond that the wasteland. Maybe I could still make it. But if not, what then?

  I slow my pace more as the horse draws closer, the rider a silhouette backlit by the sun. He must know my intentions. Why else would I have been running toward those trees?

  Suddenly, I come to a stop, my breath catching in my throat as I realize who it is. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with jet black hair. Dark brown eyes gaze back into mine. It would be impossible not to recognize him now as Raakel's son, but I’m also sure he’s the one who helped Ellie. My heart hammers as he rides up. I wait, unsure what to expect, as he brings his horse to a stop.

  A moment passes as we stare at each other, my breath rising and falling. During those seconds, he holds me in his gaze. In that brief span of time, I see in his eyes warning, concern, and something more. For just a moment, I feel almost sure he makes the connection to where he’s seen me before.

  Then he looks out at the trees, and then back to me. “I wouldn't,” he says. “Not in daylight.”

  He flicks the reins, commanding his horse to go, and then rides off again without looking back.

  CHAPTER 25

  Morning gives way to afternoon, which apparently is when we’re allowed to eat and clean ourselves up. It's a moment I've been both wondering about and anticipating apprehensively, but we take brief turns with the bath. Thankfully, Mitch doesn't feel the urge to pee during mine. Somewhat refreshed, we go back upstairs to a room off the kitchen, where Helen issues each of us a canvas bag full of cleaning supplies. I peek into mine and spot cloths, a couple of jars, and a feather duster. Really, a feather duster? I mean, come on.

  “Okay, I'll head up,” Helen says, nodding toward the ceiling. “You two take care of this level. And, Megan, pay strict attention to what Lily shows you. Lady Ferndelm is very particular.”

  Right, I can only imagine. God forbid you broke something. She'd probably have you beheaded. Slowly. With a butter knife.

  “Who's actually up there?” I ask, once Helen disappears up the back stairs.

  “That's where the children stay. Perth and Erdella. You met them yesterday.” Lily glances away nervously, and I know why. I didn't exactly meet them, so much as be brutalized in their presence.

  “Does Beth take care of them alone?” I suppose that must be the case, based on what I've seen. Clearly, Helen and Lily work down here, and Mitch appears to work mostly outside.

  Lily glances away, her eyes searching across the room. Then she rummages nervously in her bag. “Yes, just Beth. Before that, it was Simone, but the children didn't like her very much. Oh, there it is.” Lily pulls a small jar out of her bag and says, “This is the furniture polish we're supposed to use. You should check to make sure you have one.”

  It's obvious that she's trying to change the subject. I can only assume that something bad happened to Simone, which seems easily achieved where Raakel's children are concerned. If she nearly killed me for touching her teenage son, I can only imagine what the retribution might be for upsetting an actual child. To say I feel bad for this Beth person is way beyond an understatement.

  I follow Lily out front, where she shows me what's expected. Basically, it consists of dusting and polishing tables already spotless and gleaming, while sweeping and straightening anything that looks out of place. In theory, it seems an easy task, except that the downstairs is enormous and, evidently, we’re expected to dust and polish everything within those rooms every day. Literally, hundreds—if not thousands—of objects. Add to that, Lily points out, “Basically, the idea is to touch everything but make it look like you touched nothing.”

  Sure. No problem.

  In any other situation, it would be laughable. Except there’s no telling what the repercussions might be here for screwing up. That Lily and Helen have managed this balancing act for so long is both impressive and tragic. From what I’ve gathered, it seems a safe bet that Simone didn’t, and now she’s nowhere to be seen.

  At one point, we split up since Lily thinks it might help us get done sooner. The light outside is already changing, an
d before long we’ll have to start preparations for dinner. I have no idea how she and Helen handle things normally, but it seems like, even with the three of us, we’ll barely have time. I’m about another hour into it, making my way through yet another room when the sound of voices catch my ear—one a woman, who I recognize right off as being Raakel, the other a man I assume has to be her husband. There’s an urgency to their tone that compels me to follow their voices into the hall. Immediately, I realize it’s the same hall the ghost led me into last night. In fact the voices come from the same room, the door to which now stands open.

  “Are they sure it was her?” Raakel sounds intensely interested, her voice rising on the last word.

  “According to what I heard, one of Vintain’s men spotted her. They were riding through Gorgedden at the time.”

  “So, it’s not just rumors,” Raakel says. “She can enter this realm.”

  “As was foretold.”

  The man drops his voice to a whisper and I step closer, bumping my hip against a table I hadn’t noticed. I freeze, my pulse instantly skyrocketing. I think about running but I’m sure it’s too late. Instead, I spin around and start polishing one of the picture frames lining the wall. I hear footsteps and then Raakel’s voice. “You. What are you doing out here?”

  “Just finishing the cleaning, Lady Ferndelm.” I nearly choke on the words, but I manage to get them out.

  “Who told you to clean in this hall?”

  I keep my eyes from meeting hers, because I’m not sure what I’ll do if I actually look at the bitch. “I thought we were responsible for—”

  The man’s voice rises from the room they were in. “Is that the new one?”

  Raakel tears her eyes off of me and turns toward the open door. “Yes. She’s out here...cleaning.” She brings her eyes back to mine again, suspicion obvious in her pointed gaze.

  “Bring her in here.”

  Raakel points toward the door. “You heard him. Go.”

  All I want in this world is to tear this woman’s heart out. Well, and then to stomp on it. But I walk toward the door, reminding myself that for some reason I was brought here last night. In fact, the timing couldn't be better since I'll get a look inside that room.

  I enter to see what could only be Lord Ferndelm’s study, a space paneled with lustrous cherry wood, featuring a large desk, a fireplace and shelves of leather-bound books. I take in as much as a few glances will allow, but I see no reason why Fashenan felt the need to bring me here.

  Behind the desk sits Lord Ferndelm, who doesn’t look up from the leather-bound ledger which has drawn his attention. Like so many of the Seelie fae, he's thin and pale with long blonde hair. He has a tall brow, a straight nose and, of course, elegantly pointed ears. He’s the living embodiment of Seelie aristocratic refinement. I feel an unexpected sense of disappointment. Even though I knew better, I was half-hoping that the oldest son, Esras, didn’t get his dark good looks from his mother. Obviously, he did, but I didn’t want to associate someone so physically beautiful with someone so inwardly hideous. God knows, he has to be evil too, I tell myself. After all, he’s one of them. Still, that doesn’t explain why he showed kindness toward Ellie. Nor why he seemed willing to ignore my aborted attempt at escape.

  “So, you're Megan.” Lord Ferndelm still doesn’t look up as he taps a feather pen above a column of numbers.

  Somehow, I manage to keep the venom out of my voice. “Yes,” I say. “I’m Megan.”

  Lord Ferdelm's pale blue eyes flick up.

  “Yes, sir,” Raakel says, from where she stands off to the side.

  Somehow, I manage to ignore a nearly overwhelming desire to punch her in the face. I keep my eyes on her husband, and force myself to think of Julia. “Yes, sir.”

  Lord Ferndelm just barely nods. He turns his attention back to his ledger, and seems about to write something, but then something makes him look up again. He stares at me hard, looking me up and down before bringing his eyes back to mine. “My understanding is you came from the half-blood realm. Is that so, Megan?”

  “Yes… sir.”

  “Did you come alone?”

  I hesitate, but then say, “I was with a friend.”

  He keeps his penetrating gaze locked on mine, as I try not to look away. “A friend. Yes, that’s what I heard. Why did you cross into this realm?”

  Shit, shit, shit. It seems like anything I say might lead me into a trap. Only one thing seems sure. He needs to think I’m a half-blood. “We were…curious,” I say. “We heard we’d gain stronger magic here.”

  Lord Ferndelm’s face remains impassive for a few moments, then a sneer tugs at his lip. “Oh, yes. Of course. You half-bloods always want more magic, don’t you? Well, let me tell you this, Megan. Trespassing into this realm is punishable by death. Regardless of how things are handled in Silvermist,” he says, nearly spitting the word out, “here in Scintillia, we have laws. And not abiding by those laws carries consequences. Do you understand me?”

  I curl my hand into a fist, driving my fingernails into my palm to keep from screaming. Where the hell is that amulet? “Yes, sir.”

  “So, as you must therefore know, you should be dead right now. Instead, you've been provided with a job and a roof over your head. And not just any roof, obviously. Rather, you've been welcomed into this honorable and highly respected house. As a result, Megan, effectively you owe us your life. You seem like a bright girl, so I'm sure you understand this.”

  Does he seriously expect me to acknowledge this bullshit? But, of course, he does.

  I manage another “Yes, sir,” as my blood boils. If my magic was intact, I’d blow the walls off this place. I think of being in that room at the Gilded Gargoyle, and that sudden surge of magic that flowed through me. I try to will it up inside me again, and I could swear I feel it fighting to get through despite the red light starting to pulse behind my eyes.

  When Lord Ferndelm next speaks, his voice sounds a million miles away. “You may go.”

  Just as quickly as it came, the power starts to fade, leaving in its wake a dull pain at my temples. Something is pulling it back, I can feel it. How the hell are they doing this?

  “Did you not hear the Duke?”

  I shake my head to snap out of it, as the last trickle of power subsides. Lady Ferndelm glares, her tensed hand already rising.

  “Oh, yes. I—”

  “Don't speak. Go!” Raakel snaps.

  I spin around and leave without another word. As I walk back down the hall, I slow my pace at the sound of resumed conversation.

  “You looked at her strangely,” Raakel says. “Why was that?”

  A moment passes before he says, “She seems younger, but otherwise she fits the description. You don't imagine she could be…”

  Lord Ferndelm lets his words trail off, the question apparently implied.

  Suddenly, Raakel bursts out laughing. “Megan have a special power? You have to be joking. I brought her to her knees while barely trying.”

  Lord Ferndelm chuckles. “Yes, of course. You told me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Megan mastering magic. We'll be lucky if she can master washing the dishes.”

  Apparently, this strikes Lord Ferndelm as funny too. He and Raakel continue laughing as I cross the sitting room and keep walking back toward the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 26

  Somehow, I manage to survive three more days in that house. Each one gets longer, more physically demanding and gruelingly monotonous. My fingers are raw, my back in agony and my legs throbbing from standing from sunup to sundown. Okay, maybe I’m not built for manual labor, but I’m hardly to blame. I’ve only had my own body back for a short time. Before that, it was stolen property, although I suspect pampered by Opal during her stay. After all, she expected to keep it.

  One of my coping skills is constantly telling myself that the Ferndelms only think I’m a prisoner, while I’m actually a spy. That, by being there, I’m learning valuable information abo
ut the Seelie ruling class that will eventually help me to rescue Julia, Ellie and the others who were taken. I might be delusional, but I need to convince myself that I’m not just stripped of power, helpless and trapped.

  For a while, I hoped that Cade would find a way to help me, but I’m long past thinking that now. For all I know, his life might have ended in that alley. I try not to think about my family too. By now, they must know I’ve gone missing, but there’s nothing I can do. And if I think about it for too long, I’ll lose it altogether. What I do instead is make a promise to myself, to Autumn and to my mother, that I’ll find a way out of here. No, I won’t be able to just keep myself safe in my own realm and not come back, but there’s no way I can take on what I’ll do from there. I will escape. I will go home. And then I will come back. That’s all I know.

  As usual, it’s late by the time we finish cleaning up at the end of the day. Mitch sits at the table, dunking bread into a bowl of stew created from leftovers. As always, he gazes at Lily when he doesn’t think she’s looking. Still, Lily’s cheeks flush as she puts food away, while Helen writes a list for what we’ll need the next day. I stand at the sink scrubbing the last of a long line of dirty pots.

  Suddenly, Helen starts to chuckle and she looks up at Lily. “Remember when Mitch here fell in the river and dragged himself back all soaked and muddy?”

  Lily bursts out laughing while Mitch blushes.

  “Scared to death at being caught having ruined his clothes,” Helen tells me.

  “They would have skinned me,” Mitch says.

  “Aye, they would have too,” Helen says. “What were you then, maybe twelve or thirteen?” She directs her attention back to me . “So, the poor lad sticks his head in the kitchen and starts begging for help.”

  “Hey, I didn’t beg,” Mitch says.

  Helen laughs. “Oh, yes you did, young man. On the verge of tears, you were.”

  Mitch turns back to his stew, dipping another chunk of bread and shaking his head, his face growing more red.