by Mary Dublin
At this, he shot Jon an icy glare, something that spoke of both grief and caution. Sylvia watched with rigid attention as this look seemed to cement a sort of shame into Jon's posture. His bloodied fingers drew back into a fist, swinging down to his side as he stood up.
She knew it was coming, but the moment Cliff took a step forward, Sylvia was digging her fingers into the fabric of the thick shirt stretching up behind her to keep from losing her balance in his grasp.
"Lay low until we get there, Sylv," Cliff rumbled. "We'll have this sorted out soon, God-willing."
***
Sylvia sat in silence, opening and closing her wings until they felt ready for flight again. She sat in the cup-holder between the hunters, able to feel every bump on the road within the hard plastic alcove. She didn't dare to look up either of the humans. There was little she could say after the awful accusations she had hurled at them.
The silence left her to think about her mindset the past few days. She couldn't deny that the bond had a firm hold on her that morning. She recalled desperation conducting her actions, the way she had thrown herself at Jon, begging for him to take her on hunts with him. Even the night before, the instinct to heal him had kept her from sleeping once she knew he was in pain.
She shuddered and covered her mouth, shoulders shaking.
She had felt so brave for taking on the alligator, but it could have easily all been for Jon. The bond had certainly gotten worse over time, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started dictating her every move.
Perhaps from the moment she had abandoned her family to join the hunters.
"Stop," she whispered to herself, covering her face. "No, no, no, no."
The plastic she leaned against grew cold enough to make her flinch away. She lifted her head, horrified to find that she could see her breath puff in the chilly air. Her wings buzzed to life, and she flew right past Jon without looking at him to perch by his window. Light frost spiraled onto the glass in small, erratic patterns.
"I need to get out of here," she said urgently, not turning around. "I recognize the area, I won't get lost, I need to—I need to be a-alone before I…" She took a gulp of frigid air, and the frost spread. "I just feel so… please, let me out before I make this even worse."
"We're not much further," Cliff pointed out.
"Cliff, just do what she says," Jon said sharply.
In the reflection of the pane of glass, she caught sight of Cliff glancing her way—toward the frost and the chill and her no doubt pathetic posture there on the sill. His eyes widened, his mouth clamped shut. Shortly after, the car took a steep right, pulling off the dirt road and onto the soggy grass bordering the grove of trees. The engine quieted.
Jon opened the passenger's side door, and Sylvia rocketed outside before his hand had left the handle. The fresh air was a relief, that familiar aroma of earth and moss and greenery. She could just see the sparkling edge of Fog Lake through the crowded branches.
"Sylvia." Jon's pleading voice made her pause. She turned in midair, every inch of her on edge. He wasn't trying to chase her or make a grab for her. He just stood there beside the open door, staring up at her with glistening eyes. "I am so sorry."
A sob threatened to rise in her throat, but she silenced it. "Me too," she said quietly, backing away. The cold built up again, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in for much longer. "You should go. I mean— if anyone sees you, they'll…" She trailed off, her hover faltering along with her words.
Will you come back for me?
But one look at Jon's scratched face, and she knew it was ridiculous to ask them such a thing. She didn't belong with them, didn't belong with him, no matter what the bond had let her believe for the sake of protecting him.
No matter how wonderful it had felt for a time.
Gasping in pain from the effort of reeling her magic back, she turned away from the car and made a beeline for the lake in the distance, not daring to look back.
Twenty
Eight
Melanie's heart hammered so viciously that she thought it would burst any moment. She tore past leaves and scraggly branches, functioning on pure adrenaline as she flew within the treeline along the road, listening for any sign of the vehicle that had zoomed by mere minutes ago.
Two days. It had been two days without a sign of the hunters, and now that they had finally shown up, she hadn't been quick enough to stop them from heading toward the village.
Relief surged through her when he heard the rumbling of the machine growing louder. Maybe she had caught up in time to stop them.
I can still save her.
Then she realized she wasn't hearing the vehicle because she had caught up with it; it was headed her way. Leaving the direction of the village. Sure enough, the glow of distant headlights came into view from between the low boughs surrounding her.
For a few seconds, Melanie went absolutely numb. As the car became more visible, she returned to her senses, knowing she needed to act fast. She darted out from the safety of the trees, flames licking her palms. Once she reached the middle of the road, she flared the fire straight up from her hands like a beacon. Panting, she held the spell and waited for the oncoming metal machine to stop.
***
The light appeared out of thin air—two dots of amber so small, it looked to be a pair of headlights awaiting them down the road. Two seconds later, the light erupted into a narrow pillar of flame, like a needle of fire piercing the air.
Not a car.
Cursing in alarm, Cliff slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked against the worn asphalt to comply, and a burning smell settled amidst threads of acrid smoke that sifted from underneath the tires.
The flare of fire waned, but the illumination was enough to reveal the bobbing outline of a tiny female figure.
With a flicker of recognition, Cliff slumped back in his seat. "Oh shit, it's her again."
Jon paled in absolute horror. If Melanie was here, then who would intercept Sylvia en route to the willows? He remembered bandaging up Sylvia's arm. She'd been injured by attackers the last time she had been spotted near the village. They thought she was a traitor. With an urgent pit of dread pooling in his gut, he leapt out of the car and charged toward the fire-wielding fairy.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
He stopped in his tracks when Melanie pulled down to a hover in front of his face.
"Where is she?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Even in the dark, he could see how her chest rose and fell rapidly. She grimaced openly at the scratches on his face, realization flashing in her eyes. "Where is she?!" she screamed again, cutting him off before he could even answer the first time.
Flames burst from her hands, but just as quickly, the magic disappeared as she cried out in pain. A flash of blue shined on her palm and faded when she flexed her fingers, one Jon recognized instantly: her oath to Sylvia to not attack him was still intact. She dropped her hands and returned her glare to him, silently demanding an explanation.
"W-we dropped her off a quarter mile out." Jon fumbled to get the words out fast enough. "What are you doing this far from the village?"
"I was looking for you." She dragged a hand down her face, fingers leaving angry streaks on her pale skin. "Jon, we have to get back to her."
He tore his gaze from her, looking over his shoulder down the dark, winding road. The piercing knowledge that Sylvia was in danger brought him to a split second decision.
"We'll take you there," Jon declared.
He plucked Melanie out of the air, wincing at her incredulous cry of alarm. Her body grew warm, turning his palm sweaty as he contemplated the thin wall of magic standing between him and a first-degree burn. He swung himself back into the car, releasing Melanie gently as possible into the palm of his other hand. The moment he went to shut the door, however, she had distanced herself to the armrest with a quick flit of her wings.
"Never do that again," she hissed.
Jon w
as already looking toward Cliff, sitting there on the edge of his seat.
"Turn the car around," Jon barked. "It's Sylvia. We have to go back for her."
He was grateful beyond words that Cliff demanded no further explanation for the moment. He shifted the car back into drive, tires grating against the streaked asphalt as he slammed his heel onto the gas. The jostling motions sent Melanie flying into Jon's arm. Before he could offer a steadying hand, she oriented herself and darted away from him to perch behind the glass of the windshield, looking around frantically.
"Sylvia's on her own back there," Jon went on, unsure whether he was explaining for Cliff's benefit or reaffirming his own resolve. "She's going to be ambushed if we don't get to her in time."
A small bump on the road made Melanie fall to a crouch on the dash. Her shoulders slumped and she brought a hand over her eyes.
"Not just that. It might already be done," she murmured, her voice catching with a stifled sob. She looked over her shoulder, eyes glistening. "T-they think she's a danger to the village. When she was seen here the other day, the way she resisted and made a quick escape was too suspicious to be overlooked. They think she's planning to reveal the village to humans and kill us all. So the High Council commanded that she should be brought to the village for execution."
"They're going to kill her," Jon breathed.
No matter how he tried to quash the awful images, they kept coming anyway. Fresh, nightmarish images of Sylvia staring up at him from the ground, her eyes wide as he pulled his gun into the light. Aimed it at her. Made her feel like she was nothing more than some monster. Was the nightmare he'd created to become her last tormented thoughts before she died?
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, the guilt twisting around his heart like a python. He was the last person on earth she would want to rescue her. But even if Sylvia didn't want his help, he didn't have it in him to just stand by while her head was on the chopping block.
"Did you do it?" Melanie's voice was soft. Jon opened his eyes to find her peering up at him with a broken look he'd never seen before. "Did you break the bond?"
Jon set his eyes downcast in shame. "You'd be a better judge than me."
Cliff pulled the car to a stop off-road, tucked on the edge of meadow that bordered the willow grove. It was closer to the hidden village than they had dared to bring the car in the past, but this time they weren't going for discretion. What did it matter if more fairies caught sight of them when Sylvia was already marked for execution?
Jon was the first to bolt from the car, plunging into the thicket of trees. In a quick hum of beating wings, Melanie leveled herself to his right, bobbing in pace with him as he stormed forward.
"You don't know where you're going," she panted.
"We're not going to find her back there," Jon huffed back, eyes set ahead of him. He may as well have been stumbling through with his eyes closed. He couldn't see a damn thing.
Melanie was persistent, veering closer to his stumbling strides. "Hold on for one second!"
Jon couldn't withhold a slight growl of impatience, but he did as she asked. He slowed to a reluctant halt—if only to avoid barreling right into her tiny frame. Melanie circled up to eye level, holding up her hands in caution as Cliff jogged to catch up.
"She might have returned to the village. It isn't far, but it's underground. Unless you have the tools to uproot a centuries-old tree, you won't be able to reach it."
She turned and began to head deeper into the woods. Jon went to follow, only for Melanie to whirl and stop him again.
"Stay here," she told them, no room for argument in her voice. "It's almost curfew. Very few people would be out and about at this hour. If there's a chance that no one's heard you, you'll ruin it if you come any closer. Besides, if you get within the reach of the wards and glamour around the village, I'm not exactly sure what it will do to you. So stay. If there's no word in the village about her, then we'll know she's still out there. If… if anything happens, don't attack unless it's absolutely necessary. The priority is to get her away, not give them a real reason to kill her."
They nodded, understanding. But it was written all over their faces that they were uncomfortable with the idea that they couldn't follow.
Once Melanie was gone, Jon dragged a hand down his face. He paced anxiously around the surrounding area, keeping watchful eyes and ears tuned for the slightest rustle of leaves.
***
Damian pushed aside a yellowing leaf, scarcely daring to breathe as he peered down between the branches. They were half obscured by lower hanging branches, but there was no missing them: two humans. Grown men, both of them. He'd feared as much when the ground had rumbled with that strange rattling machine, but seeing them escorted right into the woods by Melanie herself? He hadn't a clue what to make of that.
He wished dearly now he'd been more persistent about getting Rebecca to wait with him. She'd flown ahead to seek out the source of the noise before curfew fell, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of Sylvia. Little did she know that the humans were on the same search.
Damian shifted along the branch, adjusting his perch so his cotton trousers didn't keep riding up. The branch bounced under his slight weight, causing leaves to clap together in a little rustle. Instantly, the blonde human snapped his head up, massive eyes suddenly fixed on his very tree. Without taking his eyes off the tree, the man slowly reached around and pulled out a metal weapon from his jacket. Peering through the leaves with wide eyes, Damian kept a hand over his mouth, as if the human looking up would be able to hear him breathing. Crap.
He had no way of getting out of the humans' proximity without alerting them of his presence. So, he was marooned in the tree unless he wanted a firsthand experience of the massive weapons the giants held. Then again, he was still trying to process what he had just overhead Melanie say to them… but if what had happened to Sylvia's wing was any indication, he couldn't be sure they were the negotiating types. That wasn't a theory he was planning to test. All he could do was wait and watch.
"Damian!"
Or not.
He spotted Rebecca flying toward the village at a rapid speed, smoothly weaving around thick tree trunks and scraggly branches. "Damian!" she called again. There was a light sing-song triumph tone to her voice. "Where are you? I told you it was a human machine! Took me a while to find it, and it's empty, but it's there alright. You should see it, it's so—"
Before Damian to cry out to warn her, the young dark-haired fairy crashed right into the arm of the blonde human. Crying out in surprise, she pulled back slightly and rubbed the side of her head. She froze in the darkness as she looked up, disbelief and horror making her fair skin go ghostly white. She was at chest-level with a blonde human.
" …big," she finished meekly.
It was too much to hope that she would remain of little interest to the intruders. Both humans turned to face her, honing their vast stares on Rebecca. The one had barely flinched from the sudden impact. They looked less surprised and more interested.
"Geez, you see one fairy and suddenly the place is crawling with them." The man nudged the barrel of his weapon under Rebecca's dangling feet. She shrieked. Her knees buckled, landing her sprawled on her back along the barrel as the man lifted her closer to eye-level. "And look at you. I guess all fairies are babes."
The sound of the giant's voice made a chill run down Damian's spine. He inched forward on the spindly branch, trying desperately to let her know she wasn't alone.
"I-I-I…" Rebecca's gray eyes briefly darted upwards, and for the briefest of moments caught Damian's gaze. He shot her an urgent look, making a gesture for her to keep talking, keep them distracted. The men's backs were turned to him while they were focused on Rebecca. If he could just take them by surprise…
"You're funny," Rebecca blurted, locking her gaze on the blonde human in front of her. She feigned an alluring smile. "Did you flirt with Sylvia too before you tried to kill her, or do I get special treatment for b
eing prettier?"
Though Damian couldn't see his face, the man's posture stiffened dangerously. "I do have a thing for brunettes… but that's not why I'm here. We're looking for Sylvia. You seen her?"
Rebecca squared her jaw bravely. "You can't have her."
The other human—the taller one—leaned down to her level. "We're not going to take her, we're trying to save her."
Damian began to whisper the first lines of the spell he knew by heart. Sparks prickled at his fingertips in short bursts.
"Save her? Save her from what?" Rebecca looked indignantly from one man to the other as she backed up along the metal barrel, fighting to get her feet underneath her.
"Like you don't already know," the blonde hunter snapped.
"Excuse me?"
"She's going to be killed if we don't do something!"
Rebecca was quiet for a second, and her voice was softer when she spoke up again. "Killed by who?" Her eyes darted up and locked onto Damian. She waved her hands in alarm. "Oh! Damian, wait!"
Damian froze, his arm half-raised and his hand primed with raw lightning. His heart skipped a beat when he felt two pairs of giant eyes turn to him. He hastily extinguished the spell and ran his newly-freed hand through his light brown hair innocently.
He let out a nervous laugh and cursed Rebecca silently. "I, uh… I-I wasn't going to, you know…"
"Hey." Rebecca mercifully took the attention off Damian and flew up to eye-level with the blonde human. "Who's trying to kill Sylvia?"
When both humans turned to focus back on Rebecca, Damian's annoyance toward her melted into admiration that she would willingly have those sharp, intimidating gazes pointed at her. As for him, he could hardly bring himself to budge from the safety of the branches, but he was prepared to strike if the humans tried anything.
"You… don't know?" the brown-haired human asked slowly. "She's going to be executed by your own Council."