by Mary Dublin
Scrunching her face up, she swiped playfully at his fingertip. She pushed her fingers through her hair to fix it, giving her head a shake. She was exhausted, sure, but not quite ready to admit it.
"Guess I'm just tougher than I look." She tilted her chin up at him proudly, utterly at ease despite the monstrous hand resting right beside her. "And maybe if you're nice to me, you won't have to worry about stitches anymore."
"Oh yeah?" Jon said, grinning. "Well here, how's this for earning your good graces—" The whole couch vibrated as he sat up halfway to grab the blanket Cliff had left tossed over the right armrest. He tugged it over his legs, letting it fall comfortably. "Warming you up by the light of the—oh, crap!"
Sylvia barely got out a squeak of surprise before she was bathed in sudden, humid darkness. The blanket was far heavier than Jon made it look, and she had to stoop over to bear its weight. Thankfully, it wasn't a very long discomfort. Mere moments later, Jon was peering in at her sheepishly.
"Crap, I'm sorry about that." He held the blanket up a little higher, giving her plenty of room to scoot into the open, but he folded it down carefully somewhere behind her.
"Great start," she teased, smoothing out her clothes. Now that it wasn't smothering her, the thick blanket looked far more inviting. "At least you know I can't hoard it all to myself."
She stood and moved over to it, wading into the folds until she found a comfortable spot to nestle in. Jon's chest was a living wall at her side, separated from her by the blanket. The dull thud of his heartbeat had become commonplace enough that it could fade into the background.
It occurred to her how content she was. Curled up with a human, sleeping in a strange and unfamiliar place. Her life was entirely upside-down, and she was positively relaxed. She wondered if Jon was going through something similar. He had to be. Then again, not all of his world had changed. He was still living in his apartment, still had Cliff, still had hunting.
"Hey, what would you have done if I'd gotten away?" Sylvia asked suddenly. "I mean… if Cliff had missed when you two first saw me, and I made it out the window, what would you have done?"
Jon gave her a surprised look. It took a few moments for him to gather his thoughts. "I dunno, really. The werewolf and whatever its venom spawns was—and still is—our first priority. You'd be long gone before we got around to checking out the old Dottage house again, I'm sure." He frowned, looking on the cusp of clamming up. "Is that… something on your mind a lot?"
"I… sometimes," Sylvia admitted, running her fingers over the thick fabric of the blanket. She avoided his gaze. "It's hard not to wonder what would have happened if I had moved a little faster and the bullet had missed." Or if it had hit more than the wing. She swallowed a shudder, wishing she could stop thinking about such things. She made herself think of something else, lifting her eyes again curiously. "I also wonder… what you thought of me at first." She smiled sheepishly. "You know, besides the whole 'fairies exist' thing."
Jon chuckled, the sound rumbling right through her back and wings back like a pleasant stormcell.
"Yeah… 'holy shit, fairies exist' was about that only thing running through my head at the time," Jon said with a wry smile. He paused, then smiled wider. "But y'know, it's stuff like this that boggle me. Just talking to you. Fairies existing is one thing, but to meet one that speaks English, same as me? Talk about lucky."
Sylvia leaned against the wall of blanket beside her, smiling back at him. "We weren't always isolated," she pointed out. "Our kinds used to communicate on friendly terms, remember? We do have our own language—ancient Fae. But that's mostly used for spells. Not so much for casual conversation."
She paused, never having put much thought into the fact that fairies would allow themselves to casually speak a language developed primarily by humans.
"I'm not much for history, but what I do know is that once humans became too much of a threat and fairies isolated themselves to their clans, it became a normal thing for fairies to keep up with the common human language of the area," she said. "Or, at least try to. Slang is much harder to follow. Understanding the enemy was considered vital to surviving, and it stuck."
"Damn. That's a lot to take in," Jon said with a short sigh. "Makes more sense than you talking with jingle bells or flashing lights though." Sylvia gave him a strange look, but he shook his head before she could even ask. "Just human stories. Guess we're kind of ruining the whole 'enemies for life' thing here, aren't we?" A crooked smile touched his lips.
Sylvia threw her head back and scoffed. "I'd say we've more than ruined it, you being a hunter and all." She knew for a fact that she would have been less inclined to trust the humans if she had known from the start exactly what they were. "But as far as vicious, bloodthirsty enemies go… you're not so scary."
A handsome smile lit up his face again—though she didn't get a good look at it. The hand next to her swept her out of her comfy burrow in the blanket and squeezed her against a firm wall—his stomach. His gratitude came in the form another soft laugh and a strange, enveloping hug too gentle to be truly human.
If only the Council could see this, Sylvia thought wryly, squirming in Jon's grasp. Not an attempt to get away, but to free her arms and reciprocate the hug as best she could.
"What was that you said before, feeling bad about grabbing me?" she teased.
"That wasn't grabbing," Jon argued, releasing her back to her comfortable nook in the blanket. "I just sorta… scooted you closer, is all."
"Sure," she drawled, wearing a grin at the thought that he wanted her closer to him. She shifted among the folds of the blanket, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. She rubbed at her heavy eyelids with the back of her hand. "I'm beginning to think you just like holding me."
Jon let out an uneasy laugh that sounded entirely unnatural. "Yeah, well, that's…" He averted his gaze, suddenly absorbed in the television show still flashing in the background. "I'm getting used to it, I guess."
He was quiet for a while after that, and Sylvia let it be. She was exhausted. It wasn't a stretch for her to zone out in watching the big screen of moving pictures. She watched the TV with fascination, noting how utterly different these moving pictures were compared to what she had been shown before with Cliff. Although she didn't understand many of the cultural references, she found herself breaking out in laughter at the universal humor of the characters' antics. To her pleasant surprise, Jon joined her on multiple occasions.
"My mom used to watch these retro shows with me, growing up," he confessed out of the blue. "Twilight Zone… stuff like that. Whenever I couldn't sleep, she'd plop me on the couch with a couple episodes, just sitting there with me till I conked out."
Sylvia twisted around in time to see the wistful nostalgia in his expression. He stared at the screen like it was the face of his mother, gazing back at him.
Jon shook his head. "They just don't make shows like this these days. Not anymore."
She was at a loss for words for a moment, wrestling without whether to ask about his mother. Noting his heavy tone of voice, Sylvia held back, not wanting to dampen his spirits any further. She didn't want to brush off what he was sharing with her either, so she tread carefully on the subject.
"I can see why you miss it," Sylvia said, keeping her head tilted up to offer him a soft smile. "But maybe it's the memories that come with it that makes it seem like nothing will ever be better than this. You've probably changed as much as the shows have. Change doesn't have to be bad. And even when it is… that doesn't mean something good can't come out of it, too." She paused and looked away sheepishly, stifling a yawn. "I, uh… sorry. Didn't mean to try and force my wisdom on you."
"Hey, it's fine," Jon assured her. "I'll give a penny for your thoughts any day."
She smiled at the phrase, finding it pleasant if a little cryptic. Stifling another yawn, she stretched and rested her head on her folded arms. She thought her exhaustion had gone unnoticed by the huge man, but o
nce again Jon proved her wrong.
"One of these days, I'll teach you to pull an all-nighter," he joked. He moved to muss her hair again, but this time Sylvia was able to dodge the incoming fingertip.
She rolled away and narrowed her eyes at him. Putting her head back down and closing her eyes sounded like a much more appealing idea, but she kept herself propped up and put her hands under her chin to prevent her head from lolling down.
"Hey, m'still awake," she insisted, blinking heavily. "There's nothing to teach. I've pulled plenty of all-nighters." To prove her point, she pushed herself up, using his nearby hand for leverage. Straightening to her feet with a grunt, she swayed on the surface of the blanket but managed to keep steady. Raising her eyebrows cheekily, she gave him a drowsy smile. "See? Not even sleepy."
Sylvia craned her neck back as Jon leaned over her closely. Her heart skipped a beat as his eyes took on a considering gleam. His lips puckered, and she was wondering if she was about to get a second taste of what his kisses were like.
Needless to say, she was sorely disappointed when Jon merely blew a stream of air at her, aimed to knock her off-balance. She windmilled her arms to maintain her footing, leaning up against the side of his hand for support. She scowled faintly as laughter filled the air around her again.
"Well, you've convinced me," Jon chortled. "Wide awake, huh?"
"You bully," she grumbled, pushing off from his hand to stand on her own. Easier said than done, considering the warmth of his skin made her even more drowsy. She swayed and ended up leaning back against him anyway. "I'm awake. It's just a lot harder to stand on a giant blanket than you'd think." She tilted her face up at him pointedly, though her scowl was giving way. "Here I am, trying to keep you company, and you're trying to knock me down?"
Jon scoffed, feigning offense. "Come on, a little air shouldn't sway you if you're so alert."
A streak of lightning lit up the entire living room for a split second, freezing the teasing smile on his face. Sylvia stiffened up head to toe as an animalistic growl of thunder followed, quaking the whole apartment.
"Sylv—" Jon's voice was drowned out by a renewed roll of violent thunder. The TV flickered, distorted with static before it blacked out entirely.
Something shifted next to her, creeping around her.
"Sylvia." Jon's voice was a beacon in the dark. She swallowed, realizing the thing surrounding her was just his hand.
A shaky sigh passed Sylvia's lips, her breaths quickening as she fumbled around in the dark. Not bothering to keep her balance any longer, she sank down and leaned into Jon's hand. She could feel his fingers at her side and the fabric of the thick blanket beneath her.
"Wh-what… What happened? It went out." Her eyes flicked around for any sign of the TV's light. She shivered despite the warmth of Jon's skin, reaching out blindly to clamp her hands on a fingertip and bring it closer.
Sylvia held tighter to his fingertip as Jon moved her higher up on the blanket, huddling her further from the edge of the couch and closer to his chest. His voice was closer when he spoke again. "It's okay, it's just a power surge. Happens from time to time during nasty weather like this," Jon said calmly. "Probably nature's way of telling us both to give it a rest."
"Okay… okay," she said softly, making an effort to calm herself.
Rain was soothing, sometimes invigorating. Lightning and thunder just had to ruin it. She released a harsh breath and grimaced when light burst into the room for a split second. Although she anticipated it, she flinched at the boom of thunder.
She released Jon's finger and curled up on her side, determined to sleep through the storm without alerting Jon of her fear. Her wings flickered, brushing his hand. "It's so much louder here than underground," she said casually.
His hand drew away momentarily, but returned to smooth down over her folded wings. The motion was hesitant at first, but became more confident within a few repeated strokes.
"Yeah, I bet," Jon mumbled. "You're safe here, though. These buildings are built to withstand storms like these."
Sylvia shut her eyes, focusing on sound of his voice. She knew she should be more cautious about letting those massive fingers near her wings, but she couldn't bring herself to feel like he was in any danger of hurting her.
"It's not that I don't feel safe, it's just…" She trailed off. Hearing herself say it out loud, she was more aware of how irrational her fright was. But the memory was so vivid. Huddled under the roots, no way to get help, couldn't even hear herself think with that damn thunder ringing in her ears. "You're right. You're right, it's fine."
Jon's lighthearted teasing seemed to be a thing of the past, replaced by the soothing sensation of his fingertips trailing down her back. In past times, she had suspected he petted her to calm his own frayed nerves. There was no doubt in her mind that tonight, this was just for her.
"Fear doesn't make sense sometimes," Jon pointed out, still using a volume practically soft as a fairy's. "Tell you the truth, I'm petrified of ventriloquist dummies. Those big eye and jerky jaw movements… they scare the crap outta me. Cliff sure gets a kick out of it, watching Dead Silence every Halloween." He ended on a short scoff, fabric rustling as he shook his head against the throw pillow.
He managed to get a grin out of her. She kept her eyes shut, not out of fear, but because she was simply too exhausted to keep them open any longer. The gentle fingertips at her back were quickly coaxing her to sleep.
"Thanks for not making fun of me," she murmured with a soft chuckle. "If you're ever dealing with a vantrelo—whatever you just said you're scared of, I'll protect you."
Sylvia welcomed the familiar sound of Jon's laugh, the way he rested his hand over her like a strange, heated blanket.
"I'll be counting on it," he murmured.
The windstorm of his relaxed breathing soon lulled her into a peaceful state, where the raging thunderstorm couldn't be further from mind.
Sixteen
Around midnight, a key slid into the lock. Leeana crept into the dark apartment as quietly as she could, a box of belongings in her hands. CDs, half-folded t-shirts, and a small blender all rattled around as she slunk down the entryway. Moonlight was the only illumination that permeated the modest apartment. She prided herself with how familiar this place had once been to her. When it had been just her and Jon and these walls for company…
"Shit," she cursed under her breath, doubling back from where she had run into a floor lamp.
Her time away had been longer than she thought. With one hand sliding along the unpainted wall, Leeana found her way to the bedroom all the same. The beds were empty, bringing about both relief and disappointment that there would be no final confrontation with her ex-boyfriend. Leeana put the box of borrowed belongings on the foot of Jon's bed and stepped away.
I guess it's official now.
As she passed the living room on the round trip, she nearly screamed. A man's outline was sprawled out on the couch, his head laid on the side closest to her. Apparently, the apartment was not quite as empty as she'd assumed, but the silhouette never moved for her. He must have been sleeping. There was just enough moonlight to highlight his broad shoulders and the shaggy bangs strewn across his face. Jon, she realized. Leeana stayed frozen even with this realization, wrestling with herself in the crushing silence. Seeing as there was no sign of Cliff, she indulged herself one last look.
The couch barely creaked as Leeana seated herself delicately on the edge. She pushed his messy hair off his face with tender fingertips, revealing the peaceful expression hidden beneath. His slow breathing was audible now, a sound so familiar, she was tempted to just curl up beside him to finish the night.
"We always did do this part pretty well, didn't we?" she whispered. Slipping her hand under the blanket, she leaned forward, sliding her hand along his toned chest. Jon moaned in his throat, turning more into the pillow. She smiled. She really was going to miss him. Or at least, parts of him.
As she teased the trailing
edge of his shirt, her fingertips brushed over a harder edge. Her touch became investigative, pushing the weird thing into the open. To her horror, it recoiled in defense, little limbs flailing against her fingertips. This time, there was no preventing the wild yelp that escaped her lips.
"Ew! What the hell?" Leeana gasped in disgust, whipping her hand away. She rifled through the blanket draped over Jon's body, cursing audibly as she uncovered what looked like an itty-bitty person sprawled out under the shadow of his hand. In her panic, she couldn't care less that she had startled Jon wide awake.
"Leeana?" he asked groggily. His eyes ballooned when Leeana lunged for the fairy. "No, wait!"
***
Snapped from her deep sleep, Sylvia awoke with a yelp, unable to piece together the chaos. One moment the blanket was ripped away from her, the next she was seized in a fist. Her initial assumption was that Cliff had returned and was trying to scare her for whatever reason. That theory died when she fully registered the voice of her captor.
Her.
She writhed madly, wings cramped against her back painfully. She managed to yank free an arm, almost straining her shoulder in the process. One arm was all she needed.
Latching onto the fuel of raw fear racing through her, Sylvia screamed out the first desperate incantation that came to mind. She curled her fingers like claws and slashed downward through the open air in front of her. Four gashes deep enough to draw blood appeared inexplicably on the back of Leeana's hand, as if she was being scratched by an invisible cat.
Leeana cried out in surprise, her injured hand going slack around the fairy. Sylvia landed nearly inaudibly between the humans on the couch. Leeana went to grab her again, but Jon was faster. His two gigantic hands cupped a protective dome around Sylvia.