by Mary Dublin
Sylvia pursed her lips together and pulled her hand back. "It's only for a couple of hours," she reasoned, giving Hazel an intense stare, determined not to be swayed by her wide, pleading eyes. "The only way I'll get locked up is if you tell anyone—especially Mother. You don't want that. Just go back to bed and pretend you didn't see me." She chanced a softer look. "And I promise I won't hit you with my pillow if you wake me up early."
Hazel snorted softly, but the worry continued to taint her smile. She gnawed on her lower lip, making it flush a brighter pink as she shiftily glanced around the main chamber of the family dwelling. Sylvia had to fight off a grin of sheer relief when Hazel finally bobbed her head and sighed.
"Okay just… don't be long," Hazel said decidedly. She shuffled back toward her own room, clutching a handful of her wispy nightgown with white knuckles.
Sylvia made sure she heard Hazel crawl back into bed before turning for the door again. She pulled it open and grimaced at the squeak of the hinges. Dividing her attention between her home and the hall outside, she slipped through the narrowest gap she could manage before shutting the door again. She paused, half-expecting the door to fly back open with her mother standing at the threshold.
Silence.
The corridor was lit by a few dim orbs, but Sylvia kept a hold on hers for when she reached the dark passageway that led outside. No one was in the hall, but there was faint sound of voices behind a couple of the doors she passed on her way to one of the wider tunnels. Her gait was careful but confident. Without ever looking down, she avoided every slight bump on the floor and anticipated every slope and incline.
Her carefully routed path didn't lead her into open spaces, though she did have to pause when she heard a couple of guards passing through an adjacent chamber. She would have landed directly into their line of sight if she hadn't paused before stepping past the archway. Once they moved on, so did she.
Sylvia let her spell light peek out once she took a narrow branching hall into darkness. The path was crooked and inclined steeply upwards. Finally, she felt the faintest hint of a fresh breeze touch her face. She grinned and climbed the rest of the way up. Scraggly roots brushed her shoulders and hair just before she reached the top, where thicker roots crisscrossed the opening. She pushed them apart gingerly to make room for her exit, squeezing out aboveground. A thick bush flourished overhead, but freedom was only a matter of flying out from under the cover of leaves.
The Edge awaited her.
Two
The human house on the hill had gone uninhabited for decades, but the large "For Sale" sign that had been spiked into the ground a few weeks ago marked the possibility of change. There were no neighboring houses or buildings to speak of. A gravelly road stood in front of the unkempt lawn, and miles of woodland surrounded the house on all the other sides. Perhaps the estate would be fixed up to its former glory, or maybe demolished for something entirely new.
Whatever the house's fate, Sylvia knew her days to explore it were numbered. She had never quite mustered up the courage to venture inside. The place looked dauntingly huge even from a distance, but she would regret it if she let that stop her from seeing what those rickety shutters hid away.
It wasn't just Damian and Rebecca who were wary of her morbid curiosities. Sylvia knew for a fact that, perhaps with the exception of children, her entire village would scoff in disgust and question what was the point of such a risk. But it had been years, and she hadn't grown out of it. A lifetime of wondering, and Sylvia wasn't interested in arguing or justifying her curiosity any longer.
Her gauzy wings hummed in flight, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the midsummer breeze. The treeline tapered off, leaving her exposed, but she'd chosen her timing well. It was the dead of night, and no one was around to interrupt her, fairy nor human.
Heart fluttering with anticipation, she circled the decaying home and found a single shattered pane in a first-floor window. She marveled at the knowledge that a human probably wouldn't have even been able to fit an arm through the opening. Sylvia, on the other hand, flew neatly through the frame, careful not to cut herself on the remains of jagged glass.
Eyes raking the cobweb-coated foyer, she didn't know where to start. It felt surreal, hovering inside the place she had watched between branches for so long. It felt right. Moonlight filtered through the expansive, dusty windows. The cavern-sized area was stripped of furniture, save for some picture frames bolted to the wall along with a few shelves. The faded wallpaper was peeling all over, and it was a wonder how any of it managed to stay attached. Tall arches led off into other rooms, likely just as barren.
Sylvia was not disappointed.
She ventured further into the room, wings maneuvering expertly as she turned in all directions to get a good look at it. She wondered if her entire village, chambers and all, could fit into that one space.
That train of thought came to a halt when a sudden creak came from somewhere within the house. Gasping, she backed away toward the window, ready to bolt back into the woods. She listened closely. Nothing. Nothing but the natural noises seeping in from outside and her own breathing in her ears.
She chuckled wryly at her jumpiness. The place was enormous and falling apart. She was no expert on human structures, but something so old was bound to make noises once in a while.
Her gaze landed on one of several picture frames hung on the other side of the room. Although she was directly aligned with it, she couldn't make out the picture or see any moonlight bouncing off the grimy surface. Narrowing her eyes, she approached it, seeing as there wasn't much else to look at in this room, other than the staircase. When she was close enough, she reached out a hand to wipe away a thick layer of dust from the glass.
Resting inside the frame was a still image of a human family. Sylvia thought it was a painting at first, but there were no brush strokes that she could see. There was a stern looking man with a proud mustache under his nose. The woman beside him was a head shorter, and held a child on each hip. Sylvia felt a pang of familiarity when she looked at the younger of the children, and found herself thinking of Hazel. All at once, it dawned on her that this place had been more than some massive eyesore on the horizon. More than just a building.
This was someone's home once, she realized.
She twisted around in midair to face the staircase, observing her surroundings with more reverence. Despite the darkness, she felt no fear. There was no reason to be afraid of memories. Flitting away from the dust-blanketed pictures on the wall, she flew toward the bannister.
She hadn't made it far when rhythmic thudding invaded the silence. It was no mere creak. And it was coming closer.
Sylvia spun around. Enormous footstep-like pounding shook through the floorboards, moving toward the stairs. Something had beaten her to the house.
Humans.
She was too stunned to move.
Then the voices came.
"Holy—what the hell is that?!" A man's voice rose over the thunder of footsteps. "Mutant mosquito or something?"
The mere volume of his voice filled the space more than half a dozen fairies shouting. Sylvia barely dared to breathe.
"It's not a mosquito," a different voice scoffed in reply, just as booming as the first. "Hang on, it's still there. I see it up ahead."
The gigantic footsteps pounded closer, and a narrow beam of light danced on the wall as massive shadows emerged behind. Snapping out of it, Sylvia darted away from the wall, cutting through the air in the opposite direction of enormous presences. She doubled back to fly toward the broken window. It was just across the room—almost there!
A deafening crack exploded from behind. Her ears rang as she watched the world spiral upwards around her, no matter how hard she flapped her wings. Searing pain, air rushing past the—the hole in her wing.
WHAM.
With a half-hearted groan, Sylvia opened her eyes. She lay upon the spongy, pungent surface of half-rotted floorboards, tremors shaking it all with incre
asing magnitude as the humans stormed mercilessly into the room. An enormous pair of boots landed mere inches away from her, another pair only a few feet away at her back. Her entire body was rigid with fear as she mustered up the courage to roll over and look at them. She cringed when a painfully bright light was shined right in her eyes. Beyond it, she could barely make out the man holding it: a giant with dark hair framing equally dark eyes.
"Is that—?" The massive man let out a slow breath of astonishment.
Uncomfortable silence took hold of the room, broken only by the humans' heavy breathing and the creak of floorboards bearing their weight. The blinding beam of the light felt more like a spotlight as they openly ogled her. She could feel the weight of their bewildered gazes trained on her, even if they were only shadowy outlines in her eyes.
The dark-haired man spoke up again. "Dude, you just shot a fairy."
His partner shook his head, frowning in wonderment. "Fairies aren't real! Do I look like a Disney character to you?" His voice was deeper and faltered with what might have been fear if Sylvia didn't know better.
"Well, what would you call that?" The first man gestured in her direction.
The shorter-haired giant scowled and dropped to a kneeling position—a movement that shook the ground and Sylvia with it.
"I did not come all the way out here for a friggin' fairy, Jon."
"We can't just leave her here!" the other protested. "She's like this big! And hurt, thanks to you."
Although the persistent light in Sylvia's eyes prevented her from seeing most of their facial features, she had no trouble seeing the outline of the enormous hand that reached down from above, aiming for her with fingers as long as she was tall. It was like watching one of those horror stories back at the village unfold before her, and she was living out the punchline.
Heart racing, Sylvia leaned away from the monstrous digits ready to snag her into their bone-crushing grasp. Every movement made her injured wing rage in pain. She couldn't risk hurting herself further by trying to run away. When the hand filled most of her vision, she yelped and threw her arms out in front of her, not that they could serve any protection. Trembling, she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Stop!" she gasped, piloted by instinct and self-preservation. "Touch me, a-and you'll be sorry!"
She opened her eyes and dared to look up. The hand instantly faltered and drew away into the shadows. The light adjusted, giving her a clearer view of the monstrous human. The dark-haired man—Jon, he had been called—looked utterly frozen with shock at the mere introduction of her voice. The other man's eyebrows shot up as he wore a patronizing smile.
"We'll be sorry." He shrugged at Jon, mocking her threat. Without any of Jon's hesitation, he snatched up the fairy in a fist and held her just below face level. Sylvia struggled against the giant man's grip weakly, whimpering in pain as her wing was jostled.
Her mind raced with the thought of attacking—a simple clawing spell might be enough to make him let her go. But… she couldn't fly. If the fall to the floor didn't kill her, the men would certainly have every excuse to.
"So what's your deal, huh?" the blonde human said, looking her over. "You covering up for the missing people you've lured here for gashers?"
"W-what? I don't know about any missing people!" Realizing it was futile to fight, she stopped in hopes that the pain in her wing would dull out. "P-please, just let me go!" She made no attempt to conceal her desperation, not while those fingers were locked around her. "Whatever you're doing here, I want n-nothing to do with it!"
Dark green eyes narrowed at her, his face remaining oddly contoured by the flashlight beam.
Jon's dark gaze shifted from the fairy to his friend and back, conflict warring in his expression. "Cliff," he urged. "Cut it out. You're scaring her!"
"Good."
"Seriously?" Jon rebuked him.
"She's not human! Why should we trust her?"
A loud sigh, then what seemed to be a thoughtful pause. The dark-haired man retained a reasonable tone of voice. "I'm not saying you have to trust her. Whatever was here would be long gone by now. Let's just take her back with us. Maybe she knows something."
Cliff deliberated for a long, uncomfortable silence. Sylvia squirmed weakly as his daunting gaze honed in on her. At any moment, he could clench his fist and smush her into a pulp. It would be easy for him. A number of equally horrifying outcomes played through Sylvia's mind, each worse than the last. At long last, he shifted and stood up.
"Fine," Cliff grunted. Jon rose next to him, tucking his gun out of sight as they started back the way they had come.
Sylvia was dumbfounded. What just happened? She wasn't sure whether to be relieved they weren't killing her, or horrified they were taking her. The latter won her immediate concern when a wheeled metal contraption hidden near the underbrush came into view. She wanted to kick herself for not noticing it when she circled the house.
"Hey!" she shouted, wondering if she could even be heard over those lumbering footsteps. She took up another struggle, ignoring the pain that shot through her wing. "P-please, let me go! I don't even know what you're talking about, I swear! I have to go—"
She stopped short and didn't allow herself to say "home." She couldn't risk the men finding out about her village. What would stop them from capturing her family, her friends? They certainly seemed ruthless enough to go hunting down the willows. The very thought of Hazel being snatched up in a massive fist made Sylvia stop fighting, still trembling all over as pain continuously throbbed through her wing.
She was gruffly handed off to Jon when Cliff had to unlock the vehicle. His hands were even bigger, but he didn't shut her in a fist like the blonde-haired man. Sylvia made herself as small as possible in the curve of his palm, keeping away from the long fingers.
The change of hands left her scrambling to find her voice. "C-can't you just pretend you never saw me?"
"No. I'm sorry." Jon did sound genuine, his darkened features downturning a pitying expression toward her. "We need to ask you some questions. Besides, I doubt you'd get far with your wing like that." He gave her a small smile that she wasn't sure what to make of, and then climbed into the metal machine after his partner.
"Oh, like you care about my wing," she snapped.
"We do!" Jon insisted.
The engine of machine turned over with a juddering roar. Sylvia looked around the interior of the vehicle, frustrated and terrified. Only from a distance had she ever seen the monstrous machines. If death hadn't been staring her in the face, no doubt she would have been fascinated. But at least she was out of the angrier man's grasp. More pleas for freedom threatened to burst out, but she didn't see how it would do her any good. Her shoulders seized as she buried her face in her hands. She would never see home again, all because she had to explore the abandoned house. Her good wing drooped over against her back, while the injured one remained flared in rigid pain.
"Do I at least get a say in how I die?" she said through her fingers, peering up.
Cliff glanced over, from the driver's seat, a thoughtful look on his face when she mentioned death. "Look, sugar, feel free to be scared. But we're not the sadistic type."
Did he have to talk so loudly? His voice rattled her bones right along with the roar of the driving machine. She couldn't help but feel he wanted any opportunity to remind her how she was helpless against him and his partner.
Without warning, the huge fingers of the hand holding her moved. They curled toward her like a concave wall of flesh as Jon raised her closer to his face. She ducked in alarm, waiting to be treated severely, maybe poked and prodded for inspection, or perhaps her wings would be tugged for him to examine. When nothing happened, she peeked at him tentatively over her hands. His gaze was riddled with astonishment when he caught her eye.
"You're safe. I promise," he said.
"Safe?" She scoffed, wondering if he was consciously lying or just stupid. "You've got a funny way of showing it, human."
S
he looked to the window and felt her heart sink when she realized how speedily the machine traveled. Every second pulled her farther away from home. She lowered her eyes, hopelessness trying to root itself firmly. But she had to be brave. Any glimmer of hope for survival would be lost if she gave up.
She clenched her jaw and kept her eyes pointed down. There was no turning the vehicle around. The only thing left for her to do was escape somehow and find her way back. "Where exactly are you taking me?"
"Our apartment," Jon replied.
Sylvia's brief glance upward revealed that he still studied her carefully, appearing to internally log every move she made. His large brown eyes and part of his face were illuminated in the periodic flashes of passing street lamps. His fascination made her queasy. She shifted to turn her back to him, and though he didn't protest, she swore she felt him shiver.
"What's your name?" He at least made an attempt to sound gentle.
She frowned at a random spot on the window. Her name? Why would he care? Biting her lip, she rocked back and forth for a moment, deliberating. Finally, she looked over her shoulder at him, still uncomfortable under such scrutiny. Maybe if she gave her name, they would be less inclined to treat her like a captured animal.
"Sylvia," she said reluctantly. "A-and you're… Jon, right?"
"Y-yeah!" he stammered, a surprised smile taking hold of his features.
"Huh. Observant little thing, isn't she?" The man behind the wheel sounded less impressed.
The vehicle took a sharp left turn, and Jon abruptly brought Sylvia to his chest. She yelped in alarm and squirmed against him, trying to squeeze her way out from between his hands and jacket.
Jon's voice was magnified, reverberating from his chest and right into Sylvia. "Geez, Cliff! How do you always forget that exit?"
"It's dark," Cliff grunted, his voice sounding muffled to her.
Jon's thick fingers adjusted around Sylvia to pull her away from the coarse fabric of his jacket. She winced at the sensation of his fingertips pressing against her, and she largely ignored the great big eyes that peered down at her with concern.