Shot in the Dark (Shot in the Dark Trilogy Book 1)

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Shot in the Dark (Shot in the Dark Trilogy Book 1) Page 9

by Mary Dublin


  Sylvia's eyes widened and looked between Jon and Cliff with wide eyes. More fairies could arrive at any second.

  "You two need to get out of here now," she said urgently. "If they see you, it'll be worse. Much worse."

  "Should I just… leave you on the ground?" Jon inquired skeptically. The fairy nearly toppled over as he got out of the car, but he was prepared with a hand cupped at her side. Sylvia rested an arm on the hand for balance as it approached.

  "Yes," she replied in a soft voice, lowering her head and refusing to make eye contact with either human. She pursed her lips irritably at the little ache she felt from her answer. This wasn't supposed to be difficult. This was supposed to be relieving. She was escaping a nightmare. There shouldn't have even been any question of how she should feel. "Right over there, where Cliff left me before," she instructed.

  Cliff crouched down next to Jon in the grass. The willow branches waved in the wind, brushing forward and backward in a melancholy manner. Jon set her down amongst the unkempt grass.

  "Stay on the mend, okay?" Cliff's farewell was clipped.

  "Any chance I'll, uh, see you around?" Jon asked hesitantly.

  "Um…" Sylvia wrung her hands together and shuffled her feet on the ground. She should have said no, that she couldn't see him again because she needed to completely cut herself off from any temptations of the human world if she wanted her normal life back, but…

  Her eyes flitted to the car, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

  "The spell book. I left it in the car," she said, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I need it back, but it would make things worse on me if I walked into the village with it right now. Evidence of what I did, you know?" She rocked back and forth, failing to hide a mischievous smirk when she met Jon's gaze. "If you could bring it back sometime, I'll, uh. Be here."

  The smile that took hold of Jon's features was instantaneous and bore more than a hint of relief. "Yes! I mean… yeah, of course."

  Cliff nudged him, standing up. "Come on," he urged him.

  Jon nodded. No sense in getting them all in trouble now. "You better come up with an excuse for your wing." With that last advice, he also stood.

  An inescapable chill ran through Sylvia head to toe, seeing both humans at their full height right before her eyes. Their footsteps shook the ground beneath her as they strode hastily toward the car. With the same urgency, she turned on her heel and ran for the village. She heard the car start behind her and rumble away before she even reached the big tree.

  No guards were inspecting the area. A good sign.

  She made her way among the roots and entered the hidden corridor. When she reached the end of the dark path, she froze at the sight that awaited her beyond the archway.

  Hazel, her face tear-streaked, had her arm within a guard's tight grasp. Another guard was in the middle of barking a question at her.

  Eyes widening in disbelief at their roughness, Sylvia lunged forward, arm outstretched. "Let her go! What are you doing—!"

  She paused, staring in horror at her hand. It was still stained with blood from the healing, which the guards didn't fail to notice. She was in trouble. If that wasn't bad enough, her injured wing was in plain sight.

  The guard kept his hold on Hazel while the other approached Sylvia with a suspicious scowl. She stood her ground defiantly. After facing humans, she doubted anything could make her flinch.

  "The Council will be very interested to hear about where you've been off to," the guard said evenly. He grabbed her by the shoulder and led her away.

  Eight

  Humans. Hazel had mentioned humans when she rushed into the village.

  That was the main reason Sylvia was standing in the deepest level underground, waiting to be called into the chamber for her interrogation. The events had whirled by at such a frantic pace, she could hardly believe it had already been hours since she poured her magic into Jon's near-fatal bite wound. Of course, when the guards had warily gone out to inspect the area, there were no humans to speak of. Gone.

  Sylvia leaned against the wall, gaze cast to the ground. Two guards stood opposite her, ensuring she didn't get any ideas about slipping away. She had been promptly silenced when she demanded to know where her sister was taken.

  Excuses and lies crossed her mind nonstop. The humans had merely walked by, and Hazel had panicked. Or there were no humans at all, and Sylvia had only told her that to scare her. Anything. Anything but admitting what she had done.

  Long before she was prepared, the rounded, vine-bound door at the end of the hall creaked open on its wooden hinges, casting a pale beam of light into the dank hallway.

  "Sylvia," the older woman beckoned her without any flourish. Like the others of the Council, she wore a sash around her shoulders. The lilac color of hers revealed she wasn't as in high standing as those members of the village's High Council.

  The room within was smaller than expected: a simple rounded room with a single stool in the center of the room, a few matching ones off to the side—one of which a trembling Hazel occupied—and a long table made entirely of hardened, coiled vines. It was dark, the only illumination coming from an orb of light on the table in front of each Council member—eight in total. The unnatural glow cast their faces into an even more unfriendly fixture.

  "Have a seat," she was instructed. The door shut behind her.

  Sylvia's legs didn't cooperate. Her eyes swept over the room once more, a shiver seizing her. "Nothing happened," she said weakly.

  "Sit," she was told forcefully.

  She sat. Air rushed past the hole in her wing from the simple movement, and every excuse she'd conjured fell through. How on earth could she explain her injury? Either way, they had gotten to Hazel first. There was no telling what she had already confessed.

  Steeling herself, Sylvia folded her hands atop her lap. Maybe they would understand. She had felt justified in her actions. But the moment that crossed her mind, she knew it was a long shot.

  She heard a small sniffle to her right. Looking over, she saw Hazel swiping at her cheek. Sylvia knew that face. It was the terrified look her little sister wore when she was in trouble, though that wasn't often.

  "Is all this really necessary for her?" Sylvia snapped her face back to the High Council. "She's a little kid."

  "And apparently, an eye-witness," a Councilman snapped back at her. Hazel buried her face in her hands, shaking her head and muttering desperate pleas into her palms.

  "We expect more from a girl of your age," a lilac-haired Councilwoman began sternly. "Surely, you understand the severity of making direct contact with humans. Why, if your sister hadn't come in time, you could have brought a massacre upon this village!"

  The first Councilman cleared his throat, sending a pointed look over his spectacles at the lilac-haired fairy.

  "Adela," he scolded quietly. He turned his old eyes back into Sylvia, lingering for several moments on the edge of the bullet hole in her wing. "In your own words, tell us what happened."

  Jaw set, Sylvia glared at the Council, swallowing the temptation to console Hazel. She wondered if their mother had been alerted of what was going on. If she had, the guards certainly had their work cut out for them in keeping her away. Sylvia tilted her chin up, firmly reminding herself that she was the only one who could salvage the situation, not her mother.

  She opened her mouth to answer. I was shot by accident near the Edge, but I was brought back home. That's all.

  "I went to the abandoned human house just outside the woods last night," she blurted. Her eyes ballooned. Where had that come from? She breathed out shakily, realizing the buzz of magic in the air was from more than just the glowing orbs. "What is this?" she gasped, frantically looking upon the grim, unchanged expressions of the fairies seated behind the long table.

  "You're going to tell us exactly what happened." The old Councilman adjusted the cerulean sash around his shoulders before leaning forward in his seat. At the far end of the tab
le, an elderly Councilwoman's lips were murmuring an unheard spell, her eyes locked on the lone fairy in the middle of the room.

  "I'm afraid we're skipping the courtesy of giving you the benefit of the doubt," another chimed in. Their voices were beginning to ring in Sylvia's ears, clamoring into one daunting judgement row.

  She gave her head a small shake of disbelief. A spell that forced her to tell the truth. It was so archaic, so wrong. Spells that imposed upon free will were so severely frowned upon, she couldn't believe the High Council would resort to such a thing right away. But humans were involved. The greatest threat to their kind. There was no time for formalities.

  Wincing, Sylvia gripped the sides of the stool. Her head was pounding, a spur of pain to egg her on. "I was shot through the wing by a weapon called a… a gun," she breathed. "T-two human men captured me. They were hunting for—for something that had been killing and dragging away humans."

  Pained tears pricked at the back of her eyes even as she complied with the spell's bidding. Had they done this to Hazel, who had been unable to give all the details?

  "The humans took me with them," Sylvia was forced to continue, forced to relive the awful memories of agony and fear. "Th-they… they could have killed me. They thought maybe I had something to do with the disappearances." She paused and shut her eyes. "But they… he wanted to help me. With my wing." She lowered her head and grasped it with both hands. "Please… stop."

  The energy buzzing around her did not falter or respond to her request. A strained sweat began to freckle Sylvia's forehead.

  "If you were kidnapped, why did you heal one of your captors?" a new voice asked, coming from the end of the table. "Did they threaten you? Were they trying to domesticate you into some pet?" There was a strange sort of hope to the Councilwoman's voice. Her eyes slid to Hazel wordlessly, the prior testimony stuck in mind.

  Sylvia ground her teeth. So they had forced something out of Hazel.

  "No," Sylvia barked. She realized with a start that it was more than the truth spell eliciting a snappish answer. She was defending the humans and their intentions. "No, it wasn't like that at all. They never planned to keep me. The animal was still out there. The dog. They didn't want to release me while I was flightless and at risk of being attacked. They promised to let me go. So I cooperated and went with them on their hunt. I knew it was the only way to get home."

  The appalled stares weighed heavily upon her, but she was lost in her own thoughts. That morning, she had only been interested in baseline cooperation. How did she end up here?

  She winced and rubbed her temples, knowing she was avoiding a vital question: why did you heal him?

  "We found the animal in a cave by the lake," she went on, strained. "There were human bones. Horrible… the dog was rabid. It fought back before the humans could put it down. It bit… Jon. He was bleeding out. I…" She pressed her lips together, shaking. "And I offered to heal him."

  At this point, the murmurs between Council members became more pronounced. They huddled closer to each other with harsh whispers, fearful eyes cast in Sylvia's direction constantly. A few even looked upwards toward the packed earth ceiling, as if giant humans would break through at any moment.

  "Sylvia." The lilac-haired Councilwoman put her fingers to her temples, speaking out above the rest in a desperate attempt of patience. "Let me remind you that since the Falling Out over four-hundred years ago, we don't offer assistance to humans. We exist separately and don't interfere in their matters. If they are to die, let them die! We don't stand in the way of that. By healing that man, you've disobeyed the simplest and most crucial rule of our entire species."

  "I know," Sylvia said quietly, lifting her eyes from the ground with a desperate plea for understanding. "But, Councilwoman Adela… it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to let him die like that. He risked his life to save more innocent people from being killed. I acted on instinct, and I… I stand by it now." Even she was shocked by her final statement. But if it was coming out of her mouth, she must have meant it. The spell seemed to unlock truth even she was unsure of.

  A brief hush ran through the Council before the murmurs began again.

  "Then you proudly call yourself a traitor?" another Council member demanded.

  "No!" Sylvia wavered, unable to stand the venomous looks being thrown at her. "I didn't betray anyone! The humans didn't intend to seek out the village to do harm. They didn't ask for the specific location. Even while Jon was dying, Cliff respected my decision for me to be dropped off a distance from the entrance while I retrieved a book." Her breath caught in her throat as a thought crossed her mind. Once it did, there was no keeping it in. "I-I believe you're wrong. Humans aren't the monsters you've painted them to be. They're just people."

  "The child's been brainwashed!" Adela groaned loudly, instigating further speculation amongst her colleagues. She turned to those around her with an unparalleled sternness. "We can't let this go on, unchecked. I insist on house arrest at the very least. She's practically befriended the brutes!"

  "And how are we supposed to explain that without mass panic? Especially the children?" a bearded Councilman argued. "People need to have a peace of mind."

  "There's no way around it!" another cut in. "She couldn't keep her hands to herself, and now she's betrayed us all."

  Hazel, getting more worked up by the moment, suddenly jumped from her seat, wings giving a short burst to carry her in front of Sylvia.

  "No! Don't hurt her!" Hazel cried. "I-it's not her fault!"

  "Get her out of here." Adela waved a hand dismissively.

  The middle-aged fairy who had brought Sylvia in came back to collect Hazel, half-dragging her toward the door.

  Stunned, Sylvia couldn't bring herself to do more than watch as Hazel disappeared behind the door, kicking and screaming. As much as Sylvia wanted to rush out to protect her sister, maybe it was better she was out of the room.

  Still, she couldn't believe what she was witnessing. She faced forward with a scathing look. The High Council had always been uptight in her eyes, but for the first time in her life, they felt like adversaries. She stood so quickly that that the stool toppled on its side behind her.

  "I'm telling the truth!" She slammed her hands on the table in front of the head Councilman. "That's the point of this damn spell, isn't it? The humans aren't a threat to us. Can't you hear me? I'm saying it, so it's the truth!"

  The Councilman stood up. For her boldness, Sylvia received a stinging slap across the face.

  "Humans will always be a threat to us, you stupid girl!" The man rubbed his temples and heaved a great sigh. "Bind her in place. A traitor has been determined in our midst and will be branded as such, to warn the others of danger in our community." He narrowed his old eyes at Sylvia, like she was nearly as bad as the humans themselves. "Our ruling is final."

  "No," Sylvia whispered, dropping her hand from her cheek.

  The rest of the High Council stood at once like a hive mind, expressions set.

  Sylvia staggered back from the table, legs tensing to make a run for it. Before she could react, the smooth-packed earth erupted on either side of her. Vines glowing with pale green luminescence sprung from the ground and lashed out for her wrists. She tried to whip her hands away, but the vines found their targets and wrapped five times over, immediately subduing any struggles.

  "I-I'm not a traitor," she grunted, fighting frantically when the vines began to sink back into the ground. She was forced to her knees before the enchanted vegetation stopped. Her wings flicked fearfully. "He didn't deserve to die! You have to believe me. The truth spell—"

  "Some truth is subjective." The head Councilman's cold glare didn't falter. "You gave us the facts we needed. How you feel about those facts is irrelevant."

  He raised his hand in her direction, and the High Council followed his lead.

  Sylvia stopped her struggles when the other fairies' lips began to move with a shared spell. She wasn't familiar with the incantation, bu
t its effect took hold a moment later. Her terrified silence was shattered as she let loose a piercing scream.

  Nine

  Outside, Sylvia sat on a willow root, hugging her knees to her chest. Sunlight fell upon her in leaf-filtered streaks. Her good wing lay limply against her back, while the damaged one folded awkwardly over the other. The hood of her cloak was drawn up, casting most of her face in a shadow. Since her audience with the High Council, she refused to pull the hood down unless she was alone in her bedroom. Everyone stared enough at her without seeing it.

  Even Rebecca and Damian had spent the day avoiding her, unsure of what to make of her treasonous act. She had always been unusual, venturing too far from the village and taking appalling risks. But this was unforgivable.

  Any free time she had to herself in the past day was spent outside. Even if she hadn't been waiting for the jarring noise of a human vehicle, she didn't want to be in the village a minute longer than necessary. Being alone with her own miserable thoughts was more appealing than having the others glare at her with a mixture of disgust and wariness.

  And they had every reason to feel that way. She was a traitor, after all.

  ***

  She hadn't specified a time, so Jon and Cliff waited until half past noon on the following day before venturing back out to the grove of willow trees by the lake. They parked a mile away, finishing off the journey on foot—subtler, they hoped. They trod carefully through the waxy grass, pausing periodically when they thought they heard a small voice. The discovery of a tiny species living right under their noses made every whisper of wind in the woods seem like an eerie voice, calling out to them as soon as their heads were turned.

  Despite the hair prickling on the back of his neck, any sign of actual contact proved to be the product of Jon's imagination. The branches remained bare, the sodden ground home only to a skittish family of beetles.

 

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