by Mary Dublin
His face lowered down into view, familiar and handsome enough to make her headache worsen. Spotting scars on his face from her attack a month ago, she had no choice but to look down, fidgeting. Stop it. She forced herself to look up again. Forced herself to get a good look at what she'd done.
"I'm fine," she answered reflexively. Straightening her shoulders, Sylvia sat cross-legged and cocked her head. "Do you have any alcohol?"
Her frown was innocent and curious, but she was gauging Jon's reaction. He didn't disappoint. His eyebrows shot up, and she couldn't blame him. After all, when he left her behind she hadn't an inkling what alcohol was.
"Uh… we have some whiskey. There might be a few beers left in the fridge."
"Whiskey," Sylvia said. But after pausing to consider it, she waved a hand at him. "On second thought, beer will do."
The mildly shocked look on his face almost made her chuckle. She couldn't begin to imagine what was going through his head, the theories of how on earth she understood that whiskey was stronger than beer. To his credit, he recovered swiftly and managed to keep himself from throwing a barrage of questions her way.
"Can do." He stood up, towering high in a matter of moments.
She didn't have to wait long before Jon's footsteps thudded back into the room. He held a bottle of beer in one hand and something so small pinched between his other finger and thumb that she couldn't quite make it out until he crouched down and presented it to her.
"Here," he said briskly.
She could only stare in astonishment for a moment. He held a tiny plastic glass of beer out for her. Had he gotten that after she left? Her gaze flicked up to him questioningly, and she could see the faintest shade of pink touching his cheeks. There was no way she could ask why he had a doll cup without starting an undesirable conversation.
Blinking away from him, Sylvia accepted the glass, mumbling, "Thanks." It was the perfect size for her, yet somehow that felt more unnerving than having to drink from a giant teaspoon.
The flavor was smooth and refreshing from the moment the foam touched her lips. Gulping deeply, Sylvia drained the glass of its contents. For the moment, she couldn't care less about Jon's bewildered stare.
"Since when do you booze up first thing in the morning?" he asked, holding out a hand for the empty glass.
"Trust me," she said, pushing the cup between his finger and thumb. "The occasion calls for it."
Fighting dizziness, Sylvia unfolded her legs and stood up on the mattress. She stumbled toward the door and spread her wings. They buzzed for only a second before going rigid with pain. It wasn't the type of soreness she could work out with a few laps around the room.
"Damn," she sighed, rolling her shoulders. "That's not good." She glanced back at the bullet scar on her upper wings before meeting Jon's gaze with a tight-lipped smile. "I'll be screaming my way across the apartment if I fly right now. I think I need a lift."
He furrowed his brow in thought, and it occurred to her that he was studying her as much as she was studying him.
Dropped completely to one knee, Jon set his hand palm-up in front of her. It used to be such a casual gesture. Thoughtless, even. Because they both that knew within moments she would clamber aboard and settle close to him. Now, her hesitation was obvious, and neither of them could do anything about it.
"We were worried when we saw you alone," he admitted. "I can't believe you flew all the way here."
She swallowed hard and walked forward like there was nothing to it. "I've been flying a lot."
At least climbing onto Jon's hand gave her an excuse to avert her eyes from his face. She took a step onto the edge of his hand. Then another, ignoring the faint twitch of his fingers and the warmth of his skin. When she reached his palm, she knelt for stability and had to look up again.
"Rebecca did what she could for my wing," she went on. "She went through books for hours, but the fact is that she's only a healer in training, and I don't trust any of the full-fledged healers to keep the secret about me being alive. Time is the best cure for the damage, but she made it so I can last a lot longer in the air before it starts acting up."
Even after she was settled, it took Jon a moment to get moving.
"It's a shame you can't steal time, then."
Sylvia glanced upward as subtly as possibly, glimpsing the sun flashing over the underside of his chin as he moved across the apartment.
"Yeah," she murmured. "It is."
The living room of the apartment was just as unchanged as the bedroom, almost comforting with the memories of sharing the couch with the hunters. She tried to think instead about the very first time when she had been brought there, injured and frightened. It was easier if those warm feelings didn't threaten to cloud her.
The TV's volume was lowered to background noise as Jon entered the room with Sylvia in hand. Cliff straightened on the couch, eyes lighting up as he got a better look at her.
"Hey, you're up!" His voice was loud, the way it used to be before he had learned to keep it down around her. She was sure she wouldn't be around the apartment long enough for him to learn again.
Jon laid his hand on the coffee table, and Sylvia promptly clambered off. She shifted foot to foot as the hunters adjusted themselves around her, leaning in closer.
"It's good to see you in one piece, kiddo," Cliff said. Although he smiled toothily, he wasn't subtle about scanning her up and down. He had that same look in his eyes as Jon, brimming with questions and unsure what to make of her sudden arrival.
Before she could stop herself, she grinned at him in reply. He seemed far more happy than Jon to see her, that was for sure. It was enough to breach her defensive walls, if only for a moment.
"I won't be down and out anytime soon," she said, putting her hands on her hips.
Catching herself, she toned down her smile. She needed to be careful, test the waters before she allowed herself to relax, if at all. They had moved on, and so had she. Even if it had been far from easy. Looking at Cliff, she had no choice but to remember the awful things she'd shouted at him when Jon had broken the bond.
Jon took a seat next to Cliff, folding his arms over his knees.
"Before you blacked out, you were talking about a werewolf attack. You want to fill in the blanks for us?" he prompted, eyebrows knitting together. "You didn't know this guy, did you? The victim?"
All business and necessity. His tone made that clear that this wasn't to be a social visit.
Sylvia's lips parted hesitantly, but she shut her mouth again when the gruesome memories demanded her attention. It wasn't just the screams of pain. She could hear the victim being torn apart.
"Never seen him before," she said finally. "There was no one around for a few blocks. I sensed the werewolf. I… I was going to get away from there, but then I heard screaming in an alley. I watched from one of the higher window sills, and I thought I could—" She halted and pursed her lips. After the bond, how could she admit that a strong part of her had wanted to go down and heal the victim if he somehow survived the werewolf? "The werewolf looked up. I got away before it could see me, and I came straight here."
"It was only a matter of time," Jon murmured, exchanging a disheartened glance with Cliff. "Do you remember exactly where it happened?"
"An alley between an old bookstore and a dress shop," she said.
The words hung in the air a moment, and the hunters exchanged a look. "You flew all the way from there?" Cliff asked with a frown.
A chuckle escaped her lips. "I didn't pass out for no reason."
Cliff looked mildly impressed, but that didn't stop him from smirking. "Probably shouldn't risk making the flight again, then. We can go now, if you're up for tagging along incognito."
She wanted to make herself say no. Barely a month ago, she had been a pathetic sight, begging to let them take her. After what she had seen last night, she shouldn't have wanted to go anywhere near a hunt.
But there was no way she could sleep at night knowing
that thing was prowling the streets.
"I want to do more than tag along," Sylvia tacked on. "I want to go every step of the way with this one. I want to make sure it's dead and gone for good."
The hunters exchanged a look at length. Another one of their silent conversations.
"You sure about this?" Jon asked, turning back to her. It was getting harder not to stare at the scars on his cheek.
She squared her jaw, sucking in a breath that filled her lungs, and let it out again. "I'm positive. I need to see this one through to the last moment."
Cliff flicked his eyes over her again, then pushed himself out of his seat. "Not gonna waste time arguing with you. Sit tight. We'll get ready and be back in a few."
Alone, she was left an opportunity to take a quiet look around the living room. It felt like much longer than a month than she'd been in there. Another life. She wondered what it would have been like for her if the bond had never been discovered. Would she have been happier, or tortured with worry for Jon with every move he made?
Maybe the bond would have convinced her that she was happy being tortured.
She came back to reality when the hunters entered the room again to retrieve her. Cliff took the initiative in approaching her. She couldn't help the relief that hit her. Riding in Jon's hands had already been more than enough of a challenge for that day.
"I hate to ask, but you mind riding in my pocket till we get to the car?" Cliff asked, taking a knee.
His voice was softer already. Perhaps she could count on him to re-learn how to behave around a fairy. Sylvia stepped forward and nodded. It was difficult to resist teasing him. Oh, you're actually asking instead of just grabbing me? She kept the comment at bay.
"Thanks," she said simply. "I need to stay off my wings for a while anyway."
"I figured that."
She felt Jon's eyes on her as Cliff gingerly laced his fingers around her and stood up. He slipped her into his pocket, and they were on their way.
***
By the time the car pulled up at the mouth of the alley, the crime scene was only patrolled by single police car. The rest of the evidence and body's remains had already been cleared from the area, bright yellow tape warning others from entering the area.
Though she never heard the hunters discuss a plan, the men moved with confidence. Cliff detoured through the old bookshop on the left. Sylvia didn't hear Jon follow, his deep voice engaged with a man she could only assume was the officer standing guard outside.
Cliff's stride sounded more rattling than usual on the bookstore's thin carpet. Sylvia wondered for a split second if he would fall right through. She doubted he understood the immensity of his own weight, even after encountering someone as small as her.
Such fears were laid to rest when he exited out a different door to the right, and crisp outside air rushed against the lip of the pocket. Sylvia leaped for the top and peeked out. They were on the other side of the alley now, in the back. She could see Jon and the officer engaged in heavy debate over a tree's length away.
"He's distracting him," she murmured on realization.
Cliff patted his pocket. "Bingo."
Gentle or not, his touch sent Sylvia tumbling back to the bottom of the pocket. It was with a little growl of annoyance that she pulled herself up to the top again, determined to get a look at the scene in daylight—even if it terrified her. She felt a strange mix of relief and distress that the body was gone, and likely along with anything that could lead them to the werewolf.
"They took everything away," she dismayed, scanning the bare asphalt.
"Cops always miss something when it comes to these cases," Cliff murmured.
Her breathing quickened at the sight of the crime scene. Even if the body was gone, there was plenty of signs of what had happened. A white outline was painted on the ground, the chalky lines cutting through dried blood. Sylvia sucked in a shaky breath when she got a second look at how much blood had been spilt.
Revealing as little of herself as possible, she clung to the top of the pocket, eyes peeking just over the side. As her gaze locked onto the white outline, a vivid image of the clawed body blared through her mind. Pressing her lips tightly together to bite back a shudder, she lowered her forehead to the back of her hand and tried to keep from shaking. But she could see it all happening behind her eyes—the brutality, an innocent person being torn apart. The screams floated on the edge of her memory, calling for help that would never come.
Keep it together.
Something caught Cliff's eye amongst the growing weeds, and Sylvia held tighter as he bent down to pick it up. Cocking her head, she saw it was a shattered watch face, detached from its band. Blood was caked over the sheen of the metal, but Sylvia could tell it was finely made. Something like that would be nearly priceless if it had been presented in a village like hers.
Trying to compose herself, Sylvia glanced around at the sets of claw marks on the walls. Her heart sank at the thought that humans would chalk the tragedy up to something that fit their idea of normal. No one would really know what happened to him.
"They think it was an animal attack, d-don't they?"
"Probably." Cliff tucked the metal piece into a lower pocket and stood up. After he gave the place one last sweep with his eyes, he glanced down at Sylvia as he hastened back toward the bookstore. Jon was struggling to keep the officer entertained.
Cliff tugged at the door knob. It was stiff. Locked.
"Shit!" He glanced worriedly down toward the cop, barely concealed behind a great metal box brimming with garbage.
"What is it?"
"The door locked behind me. We're stuck."
Sylvia suddenly understood the same fear in his voice. These men in uniforms were like guards at her village. Though they did not have magic to make humans comply, there were other ways to punish those who stepped out of line. Guns, she remembered with a thick swallow.
"Hold steady," she called up, wriggling her arms free. Sylvia recited a familiar spell, letting the pleasant shivers culminate in a burst of frost that streamed from both palms. She gritted her teeth, squeezing her hands together to concentrate the burst onto the doorknob.
A white, frozen knob was left when she ended her spell. She slipped down with a cry as Cliff immediately reared back to slam a powerful kick into the hardened surface. With a sharp crack that made her ears ring, the door swung inwards. He ducked inside, bolting for the exit.
"Hey, stop!" a stranger's voice bellowed with authority.
Cliff picked up speed, forcing Sylvia to grab fistfuls of fabric for even a shred of stability. While the ride became unbearably bumpy for her, she felt a pang of admiration as his long strides bit by bit left that frightening voice in the distance. He was fast.
She could only imagine how fast he'd be if he had wings.
***
Half an hour later, Sylvia had sufficiently caught her breath enough to climb up and take another glimpse outside the pocket. The car was a welcomed sight, and she could see Jon already waiting in the passenger seat. When Cliff pulled his door open, it was clear by Jon's relaxed state that he hadn't needed to end his role in the investigation with a sprint.
"Find anything worth that run?" Jon raised his eyebrows, smirking.
"Hardly. Let's get out of Officer Asshole's area before putting it under a magnifying glass."
Cliff climbed into the car, inadvertently forcing Sylvia to let go and sink back to the bottom of the pocket from the jostling movement. Huffing in annoyance, she prepared to make the climb once more. Before she could gain her footing on the unstable ground beneath her, Cliff's hand blocked the light overhead and filled her vision rapidly. She swallowed a gasp and went rigid, but there was nothing she could do to stop the fingers from pinching around her waist. Well, she could do something, but a magic strike was hardly an appropriate response for being relieved of the cramped pocket space, even if she had been given no warning.
Sylvia was prepared to scold him, but fres
h air kissed her skin and made the words die in her throat. When Cliff released her onto his palm, she sat up and pushed her hair back. Sweat was beading at the roots despite the growing chill in the approaching autumn wind.
She looked up to find Cliff observing her with concern. "I'm going to hand you to Jon for the way back," he explained as he extended his hand toward the passenger's seat. "It'll give you a break of riding around on me."
Her eyebrows shot up, but she stopped herself before she could protest. The blatant hesitance didn't go unnoticed, however. Jon averted his gaze from her even as he bridged his hand to Cliff's. She felt a pang of guilt, but offered no explanations or apologies, simply crawling over to Jon's broad palm and settling in. She fanned her wings, careful not to let them bump into his fingers. It wouldn't be much more than a tickle to him, anyway.
Once she car was in motion, she cleared her throat. "Thanks for doing this." She spoke loudly to extend the gratefulness to both hunters, but the sentence hung off awkwardly. It occurred to her they would have taken up the case anyway once they heard about mysterious death on the news.
"You kidding? We've been trying to catch this thing for months," Cliff retorted. "Three lunar cycles."
Sylvia nodded, glad she could be of use even if only made a few hours' difference. The car lapsed again into silence. This time, they didn't have the distraction of reaching the crime scene and wondering what they would find. And this time, Jon held her. There was uncertainty in his hand that hadn't been present even when they first met, and she couldn't bring herself to check his face to gauge what he was thinking. He couldn't possibly be comfortable holding her, and she wrestled over whether she should risk bringing attention to that.
She wanted to suggest that she be moved to the cupholder or dashboard. What came out instead was, "How have you two been?" She almost wanted to take it back. They weren't a group a friends catching up over tea. The only reason she even reconnected with them was because of a brutal murder.
When her question was met with silence, she wondered if they had even heard her.