by Mary Dublin
"There we go." Jon finished setting Hazel up on two pillows next to him on the bed. She held still obediently at he drew up the sheets around her tiny form. Sylvia was laid out beside her, slow breaths the only sound to pass her lips.
He gave Hazel a thoughtful look before his hand approached and made her go still. His long fingers carefully rested behind her. "When I was around your age, I used to get pretty homesick," he admitted. Lifting a few fingers up hesitantly, he stroked her hair top to bottom in a slow, repetitive motion. "I swear I'll get you there soon."
Although she initially flinched at his touch, Hazel found herself relaxing. Perhaps it was just a product of her drowsiness, but the stroking was rather comforting. The soft, inviting surface of the pillow didn't help at all in her desire to stay awake. Blinking, she forced herself to sit straighter.
"Being around here isn't as fun for me as it is for her," Hazel admitted softly, as if it wasn't obvious. She desperately wanted to be in her own bed, but the desire seemed unimportant when she looked at Sylvia. Hazel yawned and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "But since you haven't tried to eat me up or anything, I guess being here isn't all that bad."
"You're too scrawny for me." Jon gave her ribs a light nudge before he drew his hand away. He reached over with an arm thicker than the willow's strongest branches and switched off the light. The darkness that followed turned the man into nothing more than a colossal shadow, one that made the mattress creak as he settled under the covers and pulled up a corner for Hazel.
"Stay warm. Please," he murmured.
Hazel nodded, tiny hands clutching at the blue fabric. The moment she laid herself down and lowered her head, she felt herself succumbing to her weariness. Without a doubt, she had just endured the most stressful day of her life. Worse than the past few days when she'd had no idea where Sylvia was.
Turning on her side, she pulled her portion of the sheet up to her neck. Her gaze rested on Jon's hand, draped over Sylvia like a human blanket, blocking her from view. Even as he fell asleep, he was still trying to warm her. There was something comforting about it to Hazel, knowing that she wasn't the only one looking out for Sylvia. Between the two of them… Sylvia had to be okay.
Twenty
Three
Time didn't flow right. Everything went head-achingly fast and slow at the same time, never settling. Endless darkness surrounded Sylvia everywhere she turned. Something shifted in the pitch black, making her freeze in alarm. She wanted to get a closer look, but she didn't need to. A pair of enormous hands sped toward her. She tried to lurch away, but every muscle of hers was secured in place. She tried to shut her eyes, but they refused.
One hand enveloped her from the waist down, squeezing so tightly she thought her legs would snap. Fingers clawed at her skin and ripped at her wings. All at once, there were more pairs of hands.
White-hot pain and terror was all she knew. She needed to get away, to run.
Time decided to slow to a crawl while she searched for her voice. After what felt like an eternity, she took in a harsh gasp that burned her throat. Her own scream rang in her ears and shattered whatever force was keeping her limbs locked in place.
She blinked hard, but she could still only see the hands of her faceless attackers. She whimpered and gasped wordlessly, fighting madly to get away.
In the midst of her terror, Sylvia felt the faintest sensation of something moving gently along the side of her face. It seemed out of place in the confusion of clawing fingers, but she tried to lurch away from it all the same. The familiar, barely-there touch demanded her attention all the same.
Then, a faraway voice. She could hardly focus on what it said. It was difficult enough trying to catch the sound at all. She squirmed against the invisible force that pinned her arms to her sides.
"You're okay, Sylvia. You're not in danger, but I'm going to wait here. Right here with you until it's all over." The voice sounded closer, reverberating through her.
Jon?
His name rang through her mind, clear as a bell. The world of terror and pain came to a screeching halt when she realized none of it could be real. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, and she fell motionless. Instead of falling back into unconsciousness, her senses returned. She could hear herself panting, feel the warm hand coiled around her. Most importantly, she could feel his presence.
"I'm right here with you, Sylv."
She cracked her eyes open, afraid of what she would see. Her gaze met with Jon's face, and she let out a shaky breath of relief. They were in the living room of the apartment. The images of her night terror were still just as vivid as the tangible world around her, but now she understood what was real and what wasn't.
The great brown eyes widened, and the grip around her lower body loosened tentatively. She watched like a distant spectator as a breathless smile took hold of his face.
Although it had been years since her last night terror, Sylvia could remember her tendencies when she had one: the screaming, the writhing. She couldn't imagine how freaked out Jon must have been with her violent thrashing. With this in mind, she gave him a sheepish look as she shifted in an attempt to free her arms.
"I'm sorry, did I… w-was I screaming?" she asked softly, voice breaking from the rawness of her throat.
Instead of answering, Jon swung her toward him, hugging her to chest in a grip that was both gentle and unrelenting. His shoulders shook with soft, relieved laughter, rocking her within his smothering embrace. "Finally."
"Whoa! Okay!" Her eyes went wide, but she couldn't see more than a cramped area of his t-shirt and his fingers arcing overtop her.
She squirmed feebly, more out of instinct than discomfort. Her mind was still hazy and struggling to piece together what had occurred before her night terror, but it was difficult to focus on anything except the moment in front of her, so she simply shared in his relief that she was awake. Her forehead throbbed with a headache she couldn't ignore.
Leaning the side of her face to his chest, she pried an arm free and rubbed her temples. "Ungh… Have I been hitting my head against a wall or something? What happened?"
Jon withdrew her in an open palm before his face, any lingering drowsiness quick to flee from his expression.
"Sylv, you've been unconscious for five and a half hours. I-I tried… I tried to keep you warm, to wake you, but you just… you just stayed so damn cold." His voice tapered off, a sorrowful look prompting his dark eyes to glisten with apologies.
She shook her head, eyes widening in disbelief. The length of time she had spent unconscious was startling, but the guilt on Jon's face drew her attention. "You don't blame yourself for that, do you? Jon… you took care of me while I was out. You did everything right." Her shoulders slumped. "The backfiring… I couldn't handle the spell. The magic was stronger than me."
He clenched his jaw, glancing away pointedly. He did blame himself to an extent, she noted in dismay.
"Promise me you won't do that again. Ever," Jon said, facing her with a sigh. "I don't care if it's the friggin' werewolf itself. Whatever magic or spell you threw at the gator almost killed you. And I'm not going sit around wondering if you're ever going to open your eyes again—" His feverish words choked into a softer voice as he bent his thumb inward, just barely pressing the pad to her cheek. "Not when I just got you."
"Hey." Sylvia frowned and rubbed the side of his thumb reassuringly. The fierce care in his eyes made her heart pick up speed after it had only calmed. "I'm here. I'm fine."
She couldn't bring herself to apologize for taking a bold risk when she should have eased more carefully into her ice magic. Holding back would have meant the possibility of seeing her friends torn apart right before her eyes. Imagining Jon in that position stung deeper than any ice.
"I… promise," she hesitated, "that I won't do anything unless I'm sure I can handle it." She sat up straighter, though she knew it wouldn't erase the weakness she had already shown him in her unconsciousness. She squared herself no
netheless. "I'm not giving this up again. The worst has happened. This is it. I'm not going to get any stronger if I always play it safe."
"Stronger," Jon muttered. "You keep talking about stronger… like this is just some kind of workout for you."
"What's wrong with that?" she said, eyebrows shooting up. "It is sort of like working out, isn't it? The more you push yourself, the more capable you are in the end. But if you go too far, you can hurt yourself. I won't push past my limit anymore, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't push myself at all." She clenched her jaw and breathed out sharply. "I need to be stronger, Jon. I'm not going to be of much use if all I can do is turn rain into snow."
Held at such close quarters to him, every detail on his large face was unmissable. Sylvia watched his concern deepen, an intensity to his attention that would have been downright intimidating if not for the tender touch still warming her cheek.
"I get it, I do. I just wish there was another way. Something that wouldn't risk such a nasty backfire when you do decide to push yourself." Jon smirked then, his frown unknitting for a blessed moment. "Or maybe I need to stop being such a damsel in distress, huh?"
Sylvia unwound her arms from his thumb as it smoothed down her side. Up and down, gentle and slow. Already petting me again, she noted wryly.
"I won't make you go through that again," she said in a softer voice, undeniably soothed by the careful action. Despite spending hours unconscious, she rubbed her eyes, beginning to feel exhaustion creep up on her. "Testing my boundaries is the only way to expand my magic. I mean, it isn't the only way, but… it's the only one I have."
"Hold up…. what's the other option?" Jon pressed. "Do you need another spellbook from your village?"
She was silently grateful that he kept his volume so low for her sake, finding his deep voice nearly as hypnotic as the petting motion. It didn't stop her from frowning fretfully. "It's nothing like that. It's something much… rawer."
She paused, fidgeting and pursing her lips. Surely he wouldn't drop it now that she brought it up.
"There's these special gems out there—sapphires, emeralds, rubies, all kinds—with special properties," she told him carefully. "If used right, they can boost a fairy's magic. Some people dedicate their whole lives to finding gems and absorbing magic." She faltered and shook her head, immediately trying to dispel any ideas he had. "But it can be dangerous. And addicting. Besides that, I'll never get my hands on one with how rare they are. Like I said, training myself the old-fashioned way is all I have."
"Alright, alright. Old-fashioned way it is," Jon agreed, shaking off his bewildered look. "But at the very least, I can make sure you take it easy for one more night before we get started on that."
With a soft groan, he stood up, giving Sylvia another nuzzle against the side of his face. Sylvia smiled sleepily, lifting her hands to bat at his stubbly jaw half-heartedly. She remained relaxed back in his hand as he shuffled down the narrow hallway, finding his presence an utter relief from the hazy night terrors that had exhausted her mind for hours on end.
"Hazel's gonna be thrilled to see you," Jon said, dropping his voice to a whisper.
In an instant, Sylvia snapped into full alertness. "Hazel?" She looked up, searching for Jon's gaze in the dimness of the hall. "What… how's she going to see me if she's at home?" She narrowed her eyes at him, dreading the answer she already knew. "You took her back to village, didn't you?"
He stopped short by his side of the bed. His long shadow stretched out over the rumpled bedding, but Sylvia could still make out a tiny figure curled up on the edge of Jon's pillow.
"I couldn't take her back. She begged me not to," Jon said, looking down on Sylvia with a look so imploring she wondered if Hazel had been giving him lessons. "She was worried sick about you, we both were."
Sylvia softened, though she was shocked that Hazel would insist that she stay with a human. It warmed Sylvia, but she couldn't stifle the thought of what Hazel's choice could be causing at the village. Everyone already recognized Sylvia as a traitor, the insane human-loving freak in their midst. And Hazel was her sister. Some of that reputation might spread to her if she didn't get back in time to quell the rumors.
As annoyed as she was that Jon hadn't taken Hazel back according to her specific instructions, Sylvia had to fight a smirk when she look back up at him. "You're telling me she made you let her stay? What'd she do, twist your arm? I know it's hard to say 'no' when she breaks out the doe eyes, but you realize that my mother is going to kill us?"
Jon cast a quiet look at Hazel's fast-asleep form, barely a prominent lump under the thick fold of the comforter. "Guess it's time for me to invest in fire-proof clothes?" He raised his eyebrows at Sylvia, only half joking.
Chuckling half-heartedly, she shrugged her shoulders. She couldn't imagine what her mother was going through with Hazel just up and disappearing. Sylvia wondered if they would arrive at the woods to find it half burned to the ground.
"Guess we'll just have to worry about it tomorrow," she sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. Straightening, peered at the other bed in the room, alarmed to find it empty. She drew in a sharp breath. "Wait… where's Cliff?"
"They're keeping him overnight at the hospital. It was a big bite to stitch up."
He lowered his hand to the pillow, and Sylvia scooted off. She held fistfuls of the plush fabric to keep from being shaken off as Jon climbed under the covers. He kept sending worried glances at Hazel, but for all his immense movements in settling in beside them, the tiny fairy remained in a sound slumber.
"Don't worry, though," Jon assured her across the pillow. "We'll have him back by tomorrow."
Easing up, she gave a small nod and moved closer to Hazel. Running a hand through Hazel's hair, Sylvia smiled softly at how she didn't even stir. Sylvia knew well enough from her nights of sneaking out that Hazel could either be woken at the slightest noise or be utterly oblivious to the world for hours on end. Sylvia was glad it was the latter tonight. She could scarcely imagine the kind of day her sister had dealt with. She deserved a good night's rest.
Turning over her shoulder, Sylvia easily found the expanse of Jon's face even in the dark. "And if we want to keep you after tomorrow, I suggest you keep your distance while I get her home to Mother. You remember how mad she was when you first took me? Well, now you've stolen a mother bear's last baby cub, and this bear can burn you alive."
Jon pulled a grimace. "Yeah, well let's hope it doesn't come to that."
He reached over for the comforter draped over Hazel and tucked it securely over Sylvia's lower half as well. The sheer weight of the thick fabric urged her to recline further on her back.
"Stay warm tonight," he mumbled, fighting drowsiness.
"Won't have a problem there." She turned her head between Jon and Hazel briefly before choosing to slide closer to the hunter's face on the pillow. Tugging the comforter up over her shoulders, she curled up near him. She shut her eyes and basked in his presence, content to let her worries belong to tomorrow.
Twenty
Four
“Sylvia!" Jon's frustrated exclamation rattled the driver's side window of the car.
Dangling greenery hung around the car on either side, draping across the roof and fondling the windows. Invisible from view of the dirt road, the car was parked far enough from the village tree itself that no fairies would sense the vibrations of the vehicle. This entire trip was to be off the books, as far as either of them were concerned.
A fleeting look of fear crossed Hazel's face when he raised his voice, but Jon was focused on the fairy perched atop the steering wheel. Sylvia stared right back up at him, unfazed by his distress.
"You seriously expect me to just sit in the car," he fumed, “and let you deal with this after what they did to you last time?"
"That's exactly what I expect you to do," Sylvia replied calmly, but an edge was creeping up in her tone. The determination in her expression was set, and Jon had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to
be talked out of it. "I know my mother. She's going to be irrational right now. If she sees you, she's going to jump to conclusions and hurt you without evening thinking about it. She won't listen to a word you say."
Her eyes lit up as an idea sparked.
"Here. If this'll make you feel better," she said, lifting off and fluttering to the dashboard. She knelt and traced her fingers on the surface, muttering an incantation Jon couldn't quite make out. The faint symbol glowed to life with pale cerulean light. "A traveling rune. You know what it does. If I need a quick escape—which I won't—this is where I'll end up. With you. So stay in the car, unless you want me to pop up here and find myself alone." She stood and raised her eyebrows at him, seeking his approval on the precaution.
Giving a short laugh of disbelief, Jon stared hard at the trees outside. The same feeling he'd had while trying to rouse her from her frozen slumber was creeping up on him once again. Powerless. She was headed straight into her village's territory, straight toward the people who had her branded like unruly cattle for showing him mercy. And while she made her approach, he'd be sitting here like a chump, unable to protect her.
Jon turned a begrudging gaze back toward the traveling rune on the dashboard, skeptical. He had half a mind to just tell her to suck it up, 'cause he was coming along. It's not like she could really stop me…
He rolled down the window without saying a word. When he turned to face her again, his features were softer. "Think your wings can handle the distance?"
Sighing in relief, Sylvia flew up to his face. "They handled much worse yesterday. I know I'm wasting my breath here, but… don't worry."
Offering him a reassuring smile, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek before pulling back. He could have sworn he saw Hazel roll her eyes at the exchange.
"Come on, Hazel." Sylvia gave Jon one last nod before exiting the car. She lingered a few feet outside the window, waiting for her sister to follow.