by Tina Smith
*
I woke up with a start, convinced I’d heard something. In my drowsy state, I was unsure whether or not it was a sound rooted in a dream or reality. The weird guy still slept next to me. Chewie’s paws twitched, lost in his own dream world across the room.
Smack!
Dropping my throw onto the floor, I stood, immediately awake.
Smack! Smack!
I followed the disturbing sound down one hall to another, flicking on lights of other rooms to check inside them as I passed by. Nothing appeared disturbed. Entering the kitchen, I heard it loudly.
Smack!
I stopped short, heart rattling like an Amtrak car. The screen door banged against its frame each time a swift wind moved it. The main door stood wide open.
No way! Both doors had been closed and locked when I cleaned up. Could someone have broken in, someone searching for—?
I flew to the door, yanked the screen closed, and jammed its lock into place. I repeated the process with the second door, slipping the deadbolts in, and then glanced around. Everything looked the same.
Mom’s knives sat in their wooden holder beside the stove. All accounted for.
“Calm down,” I whispered, unable to take my own advice. “If someone was here, Chewie would let me know.” I think.
Turning off the light, I retraced my steps, stopping by the foyer table where I’d dropped my keys earlier. They were still there. Slipping my mace off the ring, I gripped the metal canister and continued my search of the first floor. After I checked each room, I made sure to close the door behind me. When done, I headed upstairs.
Within minutes, I’d completed that level, finding nothing disturbed. I didn’t bother with the basement. I’d noticed the door leading downstairs was still padlocked when I grabbed my mace. Once I’d finished, I breathed easier and returned the mace.
Back inside the family room, my two companions hadn’t budged. I sat down.
“What did you do to my brother?” a sharp-toned, feminine voice demanded.
After shoving my heart back inside my chest, I turned to see who my visitor was. Thanks for the heads-up, Chewie.
If the guy was gorgeous, she was beautiful. I’m talking Renaissance faire, poster girl beautiful. Straight, dark hair plaited with silver roping and bordered with small leaves and flowers swished across her back as she paced in front of the other sofa positioned to my left. Her long ears, quite visible, were adorned with rows of tiny glistening jewels.
“What did you do to him?” Deep blue eyes glared at me. Tall and thin, she also wore that overly decorated style of clothing, matching jacket, vest, and shirt. The only difference was her long skirt with similar boots. Her arms were folded across her chest. Anger radiated from her like invisible steam.
The nerve of this woman. Where did she get off? I stood, copying her pose. “Excuse me? I—” pointing to myself—“didn’t do anything. I found him.” Again with the identifying finger motion. “Like that.”
She chuckled. “Where did you two meet?” When she glanced down at him, her look switched to affection.
“Meet him? I found him inside the woods, over by a weeping willow.”
“How long have you two been together? Lately, he’s developed a weakness for this realm.” She rested a hand by his face. “Though I do not know why.”
“Huh?”
She caressed his cheek. “Lacon and his fascination with humans. When will you learn?” First she tapped his shoulder. When he didn’t move, she tried both hands. Still no response.
Those icy eyes bore back into mine. “What did you do to him? Drug him?”
My brows knitted. “I didn’t do a thing. I don’t even know him! He’s arrogant and cocky. I found him and brought him back here after he asked for my help. I cleaned and bandaged his body, and have been watching him ever since.”
“You’re not his latest female friend?”
“Heck no,” I said, outraged. “He’s got pointy ears for fudge sake.”
Her next glare would have killed me if she didn’t jump when Chewie nuzzled her leg. She screamed and withdrew a knife just like the one I found on him.
“Hey! Hey you! That’s my dog, don’t hurt him!” I yelled, my voice rising like a banshee.
She ran behind the other sofa, facing an amused dog, the knife outstretched as though in a fighting stance. Visions of Inigo Montoya flashed across my mind again. I have to stop referencing that movie.
“Keep that hell hound away from me, or I’ll slit his throat.” Her voice dripped venom.
I grabbed the nearest weapon—a table lamp—raised it, and prepared to strike the crazy woman. “Why don’t you take your brother and get out? G-go!” Adrenaline pumping, I pointed towards the door. Chewie sat next to me, tongue hanging.
“Lila, please, no more.”
His timid, tired voice stopped us both.
She ran to his side, clasping his outstretched hand in hers. “Lacon? What happened?” Patting his cheek, she dropped to her knees beside him.
“Put your knife away. The girl helped me. I am in her debt.” Those dark eyes zeroed in on mine. My breath hitched as we stared at each other. She regarded him, then me, before the knife disappeared back inside her jacket. I replaced the lamp.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
His gaze flickered back to her as he clutched his chest. “Liat’s men grabbed me. They tried to kill me.”
Gently, she pushed up the Gold’s Gym tee shirt and took in the abuse he’d suffered. Her face couldn’t mask the horror. “Are-are you sure it was him?”
He nodded, closing his eyes. Sweat rolled down his face, and his head lolled to the side. His clothing now stuck to him. I’d overlooked the possibility of fever or infection.
“Lacon?” She shook him. “Brother…”
“He’s done that a lot today.”
“The knife, where is it?” Her hand sprang out for it as though I too carried a weapon inside my hoodie.
“Um…” Where was his knife? “Hold on, I’ll get it.”
Glad to get out of the stifling room, I trekked down to the laundry room. I’d washed all of my and his clothes, even the ripped pants, and folded everything into two piles on top of the dryer. His knife was hidden behind the fabric softener on the shelf above the machines. Grabbing it, I turned and bumped right into his sister. Whoa, when did you get here?
She eyed the weapon. “Did you do anything to it?”
I shook my head. “No, just pocketed it.”
Removing her own knife, she cut the tip of her index finger and let the droplets fall onto his knife. Her blood matched his—that brownish color, but hers held flecks of silver. The drops sizzled when in contact with the blade. The hiss she released made me shiver.
“Liat, wait until Father hears what you’ve done,” she uttered, sliding the weapons into individual slots on the inside of her jacket liner. I glanced at the other odd armaments before she stalked off. What was she—a hunter or something? The less I knew the better. We both returned to the family room where Chewie sat guard by Lacon’s sleeping body.
Instead of going to her sibling’s side, she headed straight for the fireplace and kneeled before it. Bowing her head, she stretched her arms out over the blaze, whispering indiscernible words. The flames bent backwards as if moved by an invisible breeze. Some tendrils flashed blue, others silver and black. Out from the center sprung a bird the size of a crow with feathers of black and silver. It hopped onto her turned-up palms.
“Yes, Princess?” the bird asked.
I dropped down onto the ottoman. Things kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Majo, please locate the Queen and tell her that Liat is playing games again. He is to be seized and put into a dungeon cell until I return. Alert your guards to follow Liat’s most faithful and report to me. I will remain here with my brother.”
“Yes, Princess.” The bird hopped backwards, and brushed one wing against its chest before dissolving back into the fire. Ch
ewie’s head twisted back and forth, confused. Me too.
“Your name, girl.”
I jerked. Popping-up beside me and stopping my heart was becoming a habit of hers. “Holly.”
Surprisingly, she sat down next to me, removed her jacket, and placed it on the coffee table. Smoothing her skirt, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for bringing my brother to safety. It’s late, and it would be best if you slept in your room. I will remain here with Lacon.”
“Lacon? That’s different.”
She sighed. “His name is Hallacon. Those closest to him call him Lacon. He is a Prince of the fae Summer Court, and as the oldest, next in line for the throne. We can speak tomorrow.” With a sharp nod, I was dismissed in my own house.
I got up, turned the TV off, and gave Hallacon a parting glance. A streak of jealousy flared up inside me over the idea that she’d get the chance to sleep near him and I wouldn’t. I shook my head and moved on. Chewie hadn’t budged from his sofa spot. After a quick pat on his head, I left. Suddenly tired, I hustled up the stairs. After climbing into bed, I stared out between the open curtains, up into the moonlit sky.
Hallacon’s eyes had actually lightened when he stared at me. The obsidian had changed to almond. And like that change, something inside of me had burst to life—a switch had been toggled—and it still remained on.
What shocked me the most was the day’s outcome. How had I, an anxiety-prone, nineteen-year-old freshman, rescued a prince of the Summer Court? A fae whom I now crushed on?
Chapter Five
That night, my dreams contained unfamiliar faces, voices, and sounds. A caring hand caressed my cheeks, stroked my hair, and murmured a strange language in my ear. Then I danced with a hooded stranger in a crowded ballroom. From there, I rode a pink horse across wildflower-filled fields alongside a man who turned his head every time I tried to look at him.
When I woke to heat and sunshine across my face, refreshed wasn’t the word I’d use to describe how I felt. Restless and sexually frustrated fit better.
Following my usual morning routine, I counted on a hot shower snapping me out of it. The heat partially worked. Instead of jeans, I put on a long corduroy skirt, boots, and a cashmere sweater Nana had given me last Christmas. “A young woman should always have one piece of cashmere in her wardrobe, for those special events,” she’d said as I held it up. I was thrilled she’d flown in and stayed a week. The material felt soft and comfortable, the red warmed my pale skin, matching the auburn highlights in my long hair.
I combed a side part in my hair, catching part of the waves up in a silver clip.
After a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, the crusts all tossed to a begging Chewie, I looked in on the prince and his sister. They both appeared asleep on the two sofas.
“Hey, boy, keep an eye on those two until I get back,” I whispered, buttoning up my nice wool coat. One tail wag and he lumbered off to play watchdog.
Once outside, I called Mom. Our conversation was brief. She sounded as worn-out as I felt but promised to message me with any updates. I drove through town, taking in the holiday decorations. Besides that, everything looked the same as when I left in the fall.
After being away all semester, entering St. Lucia’s Church brought a sense of community back to me. In the vestibule, I told Father Gabriel about Nana. He nodded and clasped my hand in his burly grasp. The urge to cry overwhelmed me in that moment, but I fought it back. Nana is a fighter, would always be one.
High school friends turned to wave as I took a seat in a back pew. The mass began and then went by, my mind miles away, back at the woods.
Franny, the missing kids, a beaten fae prince—could they all be connected?
“Let us remember in our prayers Helle Conroy, who is recovering, and Melissa Davis, may she find her way home.” Heads bowed along with Father Gabriel.
Mrs. Roberts elbowed her husband sitting beside me and whispered, “We saw that pregnant girl at the grocery store the day she went missing. Poor thing.”
Her husband nodded.
Melissa was gone? She was so sweet when she babysat me and tried to get information on who Brad was dating. Someone else had disappeared?
As soon as mass ended, I left through a side door to avoid the town gossips. Grabbing a spot by the entrance made for an easy exit. I turned onto the main road before the rest of the congregation even descended the church steps.
After I parked my car and watched the garage door close, I unlocked the kitchen door and stepped inside, eager for a second cup of coffee. The room was abuzz with several people stirring, slicing, and mixing. I stood by the closed door, mouth open. The aromas were intoxicating. The buzz of chatter immediately stopped.
All eyes fixed on me. Similar-looking faces took in my appearance from boots to hair in silence. They all shared the same dark hair as Hallacon and his sister, but these people looked tired. Sweaty hair, rolled up sleeves, stained work shirts.
That’s how they differed—they were workers.
The murmurings began.
“Our prince has been sneaking off to see a human?”
“I guess she is pretty.”
“But look at her hair!”
“Her manner of dress is boring. Not one jewel.”
“The prince must see something in her.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. These people were insulting me in my house? I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, but who are you?”
All talk ceased. One older woman with weathered skin and a grey-streaked bun stepped forward. “I apologize, red-haired one. We are the royal cook staff.” She bowed. “May we offer you something?”
I stepped over to the counter, eyeballing the Mr. Coffee I’d left half-filled. The carafe sat empty.
“I am Allium. I’m in charge,” she continued, following me. “Oh, we cleaned the glass container.” She motioned to someone, and soon a mug with swirling smoke was offered to me by a young man with shaking hands.
“Miss Berry.”
Here we go with the name again. Without taking it, I stared at him. “What is it?”
“Jasmine tea.” He stated it like I should’ve known. Why didn’t I stop at Dunkin’ on my way back? Oh yeah, fairy people in my house.
The urge to scream increased. All I wanted was to be alone.
He offered the mug again. I took it this time and sniffed. All eyes were glued on what I did next. What an odd bunch. I sipped and almost gagged. Tea is something I only enjoyed over ice. This was bitter and unsweetened. Coughing, I raised my hand to wave them off in case they wanted to pat my back or do whatever their kind did when someone was choking. “Th-thanks,” I said, quickly exiting the room.
If the ‘cook staff’ stood in my kitchen, who would I meet in the other rooms? I rushed to the family room. The door was ajar. Raised voices came through the open space between door and frame. Peeking in, I gulped down my impatience.
“With King Malus away on a trip, Queen Kalmia visiting the Winter Court, and Prince Hallacon ill, the throne is empty. They’re all out of the realm.” His calm voice oozed with authority. “Any of the other Courts hear about this, and we could go to war to protect your family’s place from usurpers. Remember what happened to the Autumn Court? Your twin brother, Prince Liat has a right to claim the seat for now, Princess.”
“He’s not of age, has no experience. He does not care. Tell everyone to keep their mouths sealed about Lacon’s absence.” Lila slammed something down. “Liat is up to something! I need to know what, Gazier.” Her tone rose a few octaves.
“We cannot prove anything, Princess. If not him, then your mother will have to be brought back to step in or you may, in Hallacon’s place, of course.”
She sighed. “I know—”
Something unyielding seized my elbow, dragging me into a room filled with men and Lila. Many sat on the sofa and chairs, others stood by the mantle or leaned against the walls. Again, these men all had the same shade of dark hair, but unlike the cooks, each had identical circular si
lver bands—almost like halos—floating an inch or so above their heads. The dark brown material of their tunics looked like leather but had a peculiar shine to it.
When they stood close together, as many were, they almost blended into the warm taupe paint on the walls like camouflage.
The Summer Court must be an interesting place.
My struggling stopped as all heads turned to us.
“Princess, this human was listening by the door.” He shoved me towards an amused Lila.
I shook off my humiliation as I slowed my steps before my tea sloshed onto the floor. “Excuse me, this is my—”
Lila was by my side in seconds, sipping from the mug she’d pried from my fingers. “Jasmine tea. Thank you, Holly.” She bowed her head at my accoster. After a few more sips, she drained the mug and handed it back. “Our meeting has ended, my loyal forces. The cook staff has been busy. Please eat something before you return to Court. You have my gratitude.”
The men began to file out. When the last one left, I realized what was missing. “Where’s your brother?”
Lila was staring at some papers spread out on the dining table. “I had him moved to a room upstairs. That thing you call a sofa is not comfortable.”
“Oh, right.” Chewie’s bed was empty. Where was he?
“My advisors and I believe my brother is safer here. We will compensate your family for everything, of course.” The princess cocked her head and studied me. “I need to ask a favor.”
“What?” I asked, apprehensively. Something else besides everything I’ve done?
A curt smile pressed upon her pink lips. She wore no make-up, didn’t color her hair, and yet, she appeared gorgeous. This was natural beauty, even if she wasn’t human. “I need to return to my Court. There’s treachery afoot. I have posted guards on the property. You won’t see them but they’re there. I’m leaving a Court healer, Milla, here to take care of the prince. I need you to listen, be aware of your surroundings at all times until I return. Any disturbance, call out ‘assistance!’ and the guards will materialize. Can you do this?”