by Mary Dublin
Not yet, the oath whispered. But soon.
***
There was no wait to endure to get into Cliff's room this time, and even standing at the receptionist's desk felt a lot less nerve-wracking now that Jon wasn't smuggling in a jumpy fairy and an unconscious fairy. However, it wasn't easy to keep a passive expression whenever Sylvia slight movements brushed up against his neck.
Before long, he was escorted down the hall once again and was relieved to the see that the second bed in the room was still unoccupied.
"Come to get me out of this hell hole?" Cliff perked up the moment Jon shut the door behind him.
Jon chuckled softly as he came over to take a seat near the head of the bed. "It can't be that bad."
Cliff brandished a hand at a small tray bearing mashed potatoes and half a turkey sandwich. "Look at this! They call this a full-meal. And now they cut me off of those little jello packs."
"Poor baby."
Cliff made a face at him before spotting movement near Jon's collar. Not bothering to hold up the pretense any longer, Jon extended a hand for Sylvia to step onto, carefully lowering her onto the sheets between them.
"Hey, look who's back in action!" Cliff's smile reflected much of the same relief that Jon still felt so freshly.
"Well, if it isn't the idiot who stood between an alligator and a river. Smart move there," Sylvia chided him, grinning broadly. Her expression became more subdued as she eyed the wrappings on his shoulder. "How are you feeling? I mean, other than being deprived of dessert."
"Not bad." Cliff plucked her up in a gentle fist. "The nurse thinks I'm some sort of people's hero for—" He stopped short when Sylvia's smile became a cringe. He hastily released into the open palm of his other hand. As she settled there with her legs tucked to the side, Jon's careful bandaging on her arm caught the light. Realization dawned. "Crap, I'm sorry. Your arm…" Jon shifted uncomfortably when Cliff looked to him for an explanation. "What happened to you?"
Sylvia pulled down on her sleeve, as if it would make the injury more inconspicuous.
"It's okay, you didn't know," she assured quickly. "Just some complications while getting Hazel back home. Turns out the Council is a little pissed at me for taking off." She shrugged, averting her gaze from both humans. "I got away, so it's nothing to worry about."
Cliff's brow furrowed deeply, looking from the intricate scars on her face to the fresh wound on her arm. "What the hell is wrong with these people? It's like they're trying to kill you."
"If they wanted to kill me, they would have hit me with worse," she said, smoothing a hand down her bandage. "I know what some of the guards can do, and this was them holding back. They wanted to get me back to the village, but they're willing to hurt me if it means keeping everyone else safe." She raised her eyes, looking between the two of them. "You're dangerous to them, and now, so am I."
Cliff shook his head, visibly disturbed. "That's messed up. You never hurt a soul."
Sylvia cocked her head to the side. "Have you two seen yourselves? I didn't have to do much to make them worried."
Jon lowered his eyes to his lap, while Cliff could only give Sylvia a sorrowful look.
"Any chance they'll forgive and forget about all this?" Cliff questioned tentatively.
Sylvia squared her jaw, shrugging as she played with the frayed edges of the bandage. "I wouldn't count on it."
The simple statement seemed to bear the weight of the world upon Cliff's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Sylvia."
The fairy looked up at him sharply. "This isn't because of you. It's because I healed Jon and ran away." Turning to Jon, she raised her eyebrows pointedly. "That doesn't make it your fault either, so don't even think about starting." Looking back at Cliff, she frowned. "Yeah, you made my wing hurt like hell and you took me, but I had the perfectly good opportunity to get away from the both of you when I went after the healing book. I made my choice. And if the Council thinks this is what I deserve for helping someone," she said, running her fingers along the traitor brand on her cheek, "I would run away a million times before living by their rules again."
Cliff brushed his thumb over top her hand, gently tracing the space where the traitor brand was hidden. "For five inches tall, you're one tough chick."
"Are you only saying that because I've had more near-death experiences in the past week than in the rest of my life combined?" Her defiant expression softened into a smirk. "Really, I should be thanking you two. I know it took a bad turn at the river with the backfire, but during the spell it felt so right. It was amazing. Ice magic has been hardwired into me since I was born, and I was ready to ignore it for the rest of my life. You've given me a real reason to use it again."
"And all it took was a fifteen foot alligator to get you going," Jon quipped under his breath.
Sylvia twisted around to shoot him an affronted look. He cracked a well-meaning grin, and she was quick follow, bringing a hand to her face as she heated up.
"Hey, what happened to the tiny one?" Cliff perked up again, looking Jon over for any other little stowaways on his person.
Jon arched an eyebrow, sizing up Sylvia briefly. He mused on what a strange twist their lives had taken to where a five-inch fairy was no longer considered the tiny one.
"You mean Hazel?"
"Yeah."
"We took her home, back to the willows by Lake Gerard."
"Looks like Mama Bear let you off the hook," Cliff remarked, scanning him up and down for singe marks.
"Took some convincing, but I came out burn-free." Jon waggled his eyebrows half-heartedly.
Cliff took the bait. "She's still under the impression we're going to eat her little girl, huh?"
"Something like that."
Sylvia frowned, shifting to sit cross-legged. "It's strange. I thought she would completely lose it when I told her about the gator and the spell backfiring. She's definitely freaked out over less. At first, it looked like she was going to, but then she just started giving me this really weird look. Like I was crazy or something." She glanced to the side, shooting a questioning look at Jon as she added, "And out of nowhere, she wanted to talk to you. Alone."
There was a long pause, and Jon froze into a poker face, eyes unwavering on Sylvia. He was racing for excuses when suddenly, she gave him a sympathetic look.
"Guess she really took it all out on you, huh?" she said.
Jon nearly collapsed into nervous laughter. He wiped his sweaty palms on his knees, averting his gaze to hide his racing relief that his oath to Melanie wasn't about to be shattered prematurely. Sylvia didn't have an inkling about the notion of a bond between them. Not yet.
"Well, I did steal away her daughter, in a manner of speaking," Jon admitted, something of a crooked smile on his lips. "And she's not as bad without the threat of fireballs. Thanks for that, by the way."
Breaking into a wide grin, the fairy laughed. "Oh, she told you about that? Well, when she started acting weird, I thought it was because she had snapped and was seriously planning to murder you. Which would have made me a little sad, so I had to do something to make sure she didn't. She was pretty mad about you taking Hazel." She glanced up at Cliff with narrowed eyes. "Speaking of… what on earth did you do to my sister? When I was flying her back to the village, she kept asking questions about you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she has a little crush."
"No kidding?" Cliff's eyes lit up, grinning shamelessly from ear to ear. "What can I say, the kid's got good taste." He chuckled at the expense of Sylvia's exasperated look, then added, "Maybe we'll drop by for a visit sometime. I'm sure everyone will love to see us again."
Jon's smile faded. His hand twinged in recollection of his oath and his promise to bring Sylvia back when it was all over.
"Well, yeah, I do plan to see my family again at some point," Sylvia said, sobering up. "With the Council after me, we just have to be a lot more sneaky about it. Shouldn't be too much of a problem." She grinned teasingly at Cliff. "Hazel definitely wouldn't min
d it." Straightening up, she looked around the room and made a sympathetic noise. "This place looks so boring! Any idea when you're gonna get out of here?"
"Just a few hours now, waiting on approval," Cliff replied cheerfully. "I tell ya… the first thing I'm gonna do is get a Philly Cheesesteak. Nice, toasted bread, a hint of extra sauce with jalapenos on the side…"
"You gonna eat this sandwich or propose to it?" Jon teased.
"Come on, this rabbit food is driving me nuts!”
"Well, wherever it is we end up going, make sure there's some 'rabbit food' for me," Sylvia said, elbowing Cliff's ring finger playfully.
He quirked a light brow at her. ”Still no chance of getting you to try a burger or something?"
Sylvia swung her legs over the side of his hand, shaking her head at him. "Not in this life."
Twenty
Six
It was the middle of the night, and Sylvia was sleeping in an empty bed. The sheets were rumpled beside her, the covers tossed aside. She sighed in her sleep, turning over on the pillow. Noticing the lack of Jon's warmth, she slid her hand out on a blind search for some part of him. When she felt nothing, her eyes cracked open blearily. The moon's light filtered faintly through the window, alerting her of the empty sheets.
Raising her head in alarm, she relaxed again when she saw light coming from underneath the bathroom door. As she nestled her head into her arms, a gasp of pain caught her attention. Sitting bolt upright, she heard it again and knew it was Jon's voice. The noise was raw, like he was dry heaving. He sounded like he could barely breathe.
Watching for his shadow beneath the door, she slid off the pillow to stand on the bed. After stumbling amongst the sheets to reach the end of the mattress, she strained her ears. The bathroom had gone quiet, and she couldn't fight down the urge to call out to him much longer.
The words died in her throat as the doorknob juddered sharply. The light within vanished and the door swung inward. Jon staggered out, his usual strong stride reduced to a shuffle as he made his way for the hallway. Sylvia paused for only a split second before making to follow him. Something was wrong with him. She wouldn't let him suffer alone.
After glancing at Cliff's sleeping form, Sylvia swung her legs over the side of Jon's bed and spread her wings. The blonde hunter didn't so much as stir as she flew right over him, down the dark hallway. She spotted Jon from afar, his back to her as he filled a glass full of water from the kitchen sink. She thought for sure he would have heard her wings beating in the nightly silence, but he seemed to be preoccupied in deep thought.
Sylvia landed on the floor in the room's opening, stretching out the stiffness from her tired wings. She peered around the archway of the kitchen, past the enormous wooden chairs that bookended their table. Jon was staring at his hand. More troubling than that however, was how he was leaned up against the counter to support his weight. Sylvia felt a brief flicker of panic that he might collapse right where he stood, and she wouldn't be able to catch him.
"Jon?" Her voice was still groggy, but she knew she was loud enough to be heard. She approached from the floor, scrutinizing his enormous form with concern. "What's wro—"
Jon spun to face her fully, but he didn't look happy to see her. He whipped his hands back to grip the counter with white knuckles, a reprimanding scowl on his face while his heart practically beat right out of his chest.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped. "Sneaking around on the floor?"
Sylvia stopped in her tracks. "Y-you were sick. I heard you—"
"I could have stepped on you! As if I don't worry enough about you during the day."
Her attempts to stammer out her explanation of concern came to a halt. She stared back at him, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. His reaction seemed unnecessary, defensive. It was impossible for her to remember even one instance when he'd spoken to her like that. Never.
For the quickest of moments, she felt a flash of hot anger. How could he be so ready to reprimand her for being worried about him?
But her irritation didn't last, drowned away before she could bring herself to show him her anger. It was the strangest feeling. She wanted to snap right back at him, but a sharp ache spiked in her chest at the thought.
It never crossed her mind to question the feeling. It simply was.
The odd twist of emotions lasted for no more than a few seconds. She flew up to the countertop, her shoulders slumped in shame. Her brow furrowed as she turned her gaze from him and set it on a random point on the wall.
"I'm sorry," she uttered, almost inaudible. "You sounded like you were in so much pain. I was worried."
He rattled off a sigh. Not long after, he lowered himself closer to her level, an apologetic frown having replaced his anger. "I didn't mean it to come out like that," he apologized in a hushed voice. "I just… I don't want to hurt you."
"I'll be more careful," she assured, approaching the edge of the counter. "Don't worry. I think I'm smart enough to not get stepped on."
Jon dipped his head a little closer as she approached, close enough that she could stretch out a hand along his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned ever so slightly into her touch. Warmth swelled inside her, eliminating the chill that had arrived with his harsh words. He wanted her near, she could feel it.
"It's okay," she found the words exiting on instinct, so desperate to keep that soft look on his face. She smoothed her palm comfortingly, feeling how his skin became coarse with a prickling of stubble as she got closer to his jawline.
"It's not," Jon muttered, his voice like an old man's sigh.
Sylvia cocked her head to the side, sympathy flooding through her.
"Are you still in pain?" she asked insistently. "We could get the book. Maybe… maybe it's something that can be healed."
His eyes flickered open, focused on her. Jon smiled at her, somehow looking sadder as he did. "I don't think you can help this time, Sylv."
Sylvia closed her eyes, hand braced more purposefully on Jon's face. Her healing instincts were raw and largely untrained. She couldn't manage more than a vague read on the human's overall well-being. With the exception of an open wound, trying to feel out a specific source of discomfort was like searching for a particular shade of blue whilst being color-blind.
Disappointment weighed on her heavily as her green eyes opened and strayed high to meet his dark ones. "I can't sense the source… is it a human illness?"
"Something like that."
The searching look on her face lingered for a bit, but she conceded with a small nod. She bit down the urge to argue any further, not wanting to upset him again.
"Then you should rest," Sylvia announced firmly. She gave his chin a small push, stumbling when Jon's straightened back immediately. She threw her hands on her hips, shooting him a teasing look laced with drowsiness. "It's after the moon's peak, for goodness' sake!"
"Moon's peak?" Jon quirked an eyebrow at her quizzically.
Sylvia blushed, recalling the clocks on Jon and Cliff's nightstand tables that blinked with different numbers throughout the day. She hated bringing additional attention to how different she was compared to them, as if they might change their minds about keeping her around.
"Er… I'm not sure what number you would call it."
"Why don't we settle on too damn late?"
Jon prompted her with a tired smile and an open hand. Without hesitation, Sylvia strode aboard as if it was an extension of the solid countertop. She sank down in his palm and lay on her side, curling her legs. Even as she lowered her head to her folded arms, she kept her sleepy gaze pointed at him, a fond smile on her lips.
"I'll stay with you, Jon," she promised.
The swaying of his massive steps threatened to lull her to sleep right there in the palm of his hand. Through heavy eyes, she glimpsed a haunted look pass over his tired face.
"I'm counting on it."
Twenty
Seven
“Careful with that," Cliff
cautioned. His huge fingertips seemed reluctant to release the little portion of the steaming beverage into her possession.
Sylvia scoffed. "It's not my first cup of coffee."
"Right. It's your third."
"What, does that mean I'm close to making your supply run dry?" Not wanting to splash the burning liquid on herself, she didn't try to tug it away. When he finally let go, she sent him a pleased smile and settled close beside Jon's hand. It was nice having Cliff back, but she couldn't help but miss spending time alone with Jon in the apartment.
Taking a cautious sip of the coffee, she anticipated its rejuvenating magic. Her eyelids were still heavy, seeing as she hadn't slept a wink once she and Jon returned to bed in the middle of the night. She had fought sleep until morning, happier to lay on his chest and feel him breathe. The steady up and down motion was a comforting reminder that he was alright. If he had another pain attack, she could have offered assistance right away.
Alone with Jon or not, it was good to know that they were finished hunting down that monster alligator. But her delight was dashed when she took into account that they weren't finished with the case altogether. They had taken down a werewolf-infected dog, a werewolf-infected gator, but still no werewolf.
She bit back a shudder. What a life, hopping from one monster to the next and knowing that there would always be something else out there to hunt.
"How did you start doing this?" she wondered, lowering the teaspoon and twisting around to look between the humans. "Hunting, I mean. It's not like you just woke up one day and decided this was what you were gonna do."
Cliff shared a brief look with Jon over her head. Sylvia's heart sank from the way Jon's gaze turned steely.
"We had to," Cliff said, his jade-colored attention returning to her. "Back when we were seventeen or so, growing up in the same town… there was a spirit in my house. A nasty one, out for blood."