by S L Mason
The obvious answer for the entrance to his secret room would’ve been in his basement, but that was too obvious. The entrance to the basement would be easy to find? Me, myself, if I were going to put a secret entrance somewhere, I’d have it right next to an exit. That left a couple of options, front door, back door, or the windows. I wouldn’t put my secret exit next to the front door. Most people barged in that way and also when you leave, they’d see you. Windows and doors on the backside of the house. I didn’t even know if that was smart, but it was what I’d do.
I went through the bedrooms, but nothing looked even remotely close to a secret entrance. The only thing I found the least bit interesting was the china cabinet in the kitchen. It was one of those nice, old-style china cabinets. You know, like at your grandma’s house. Filled with the stuff you weren’t allowed to use; it was just there and you looked at it. Then somebody really important would come over, and they’d use a couple of things, which you weren’t allowed to use because you were a kid. It had two sets of heavy wood French glass doors and drawers. The cabinet was six feet tall and five feet wide dark mahogany, and right next to the back door. The back door swung to the left, and the cabinet was on the right, which was strange. Usually, when you have a door next to a wall, the door would swing into the wall, not into the rest of the room because it cuts off room usage. The door had been rehung on the other side. He’d tried to hide the cutout by filling in the hole in the entire frame, and then he’d repainted it. The handle of the exterior door had actually been switched around along with the deadbolt.
None of that would do you any good if you couldn’t close the door and lock it. All of Sorenson’s plans were nothing but a big fucking waste of his time. I saw the dirt smudge on the wall right by the edge of the hutch. Of course, it was like Anne Frank. They hid their door behind a bookshelf; it was the entrance to the secret annex. Sorenson was smart, but he was unimaginative. The wall was smudged with three lines. They could’ve been fingers or knuckles, but it didn’t matter. Somebody should’ve washed it off.
I reached over to where the smudge was, and I stuck my fingers behind the cabinet. It was pretty snug against the wall. There was enough room for my little fingers. So, I pulled. It swung away like it was on casters or ball bearings. It revealed a stairwell down into blackness.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a flashlight. I shined it down into the blackness.
The words came to my lips unbidden. I didn’t want to say them, but they were there nonetheless. I couldn’t stop myself; I wasn’t in control.
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” I heard my voice ringing in my ears. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I’d heard Janice say the same thing right before he came to attack me and my family.
The slow cocking of a gun, a little click at the end as he locked the grip back into place.
“It’s me, it’s Sarah! Don’t shoot me, please.” Adrenaline jetted through my veins as my voice trailed off.
“What was the last thing Sarah’s father said to her?” My father demanded.
A whimper filled in the background.
I coughed to clear the lump there. It was him; it was my father. “‘I’ll go get your mother. Stay with Arty; he’ll protect you. Don’t come back to this house no matter what.’ Then you told Arty to take care of your girl and shut the door on us.” Muffled steps came as someone crept up the stairwell.
“It is Sarah, isn’t it?” He marveled.
I shook my head a little, up and down, hoping it would loosen my hair to make sure it wasn’t showing my ears. My throat tightened. What if he rejected me? What if it was just him and Mom was gone?
My eyes burned with ideas and worry. The trembling started in my hands and worked its way up to my lips.
“Yes, Dad! It’s me!” I choked on my words. They were alive.
The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead crinkled. He reached out and pulled me into the darkness, smothering me to his chest. I heard my mother’s whimpering down at the bottom of the stairs.
“Get inside. Close the cupboard.” Her words were desperate and pleading.
My father pulled back, and I looked up at him. The smile on his face reflected my own. I could’ve jumped for joy. He pulled me in, crushing me. His heart beat like Big Ben at high noon. I breathed in the moment. Dad always smelled of Old Spice aftershave. It was his everyday go-to, and I drank it up. The weight I’d been carrying, it lifted as if the act of embracing my parent had transferred it to him. For a moment, I was safe and loved. It was a child’s dream.
“How did you make it out?” I whispered, into his shirt.
“We got lucky. Some gang must have been out looting and drew them away.” My father smiled with his reply.
“But I heard an AR.”
“I haven’t shot my gun once yet. It was someone else’s. We stayed in the wardrobe till sun up. I checked Vougher’s house but you were gone. I checked every house on the street. I saw the shoes box with the dead cat. That was you right?” He kissed my forehead.
“Yeah, the Fae killed him. I should have gone back to the house. I should have looked for you. We should have looked for you. Arty would still be here.”
“Come downstairs and get a shower and some food. You should rest. It will be dark soon. Where is Arthur?” The happiness of the moment was over and reality set in. Arty.
My lips began to tremble again as the vice on my chest squeezed every drop of joy from this moment. The heavyweight was back, bowing my shoulders down. It was mine, and I couldn’t give it away. My father couldn’t fix everything. He couldn’t save Arty. But I could. “I have to go back. I left Arty there. I can’t leave him there. We have to go.” I wanted Arty to have this moment too, to feel safe and not be alone, to be loved.
I didn’t know where it came from. I wasn’t a hero. I liked a challenge, and I want to win, but I wasn’t a hero. I didn’t stick my neck out. That was how heroes worked. That was what my dad did, not me. I wasn’t the one who ran around defending kids at school; that was somebody else. But Arty was gone; a Fae zombie.
Why did I say that?
“Sarah, I don’t know how you got here or what happened to you. But wherever Arty is, you cannot go back there.”
I stepped away from him. Fresh tears streamed down my face. I wasn’t a child anymore. This wasn’t my home. The bittersweet taste in my mouth robbed me of whatever happiness I could’ve had.
I heard a sharp intake of breath down the stairs. “Oh my god, look at her eyes!” I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know what she meant; they were glowing. They had to glow. All Fae eyes glowed.
I clenched my jaw, none of that mattered. I pushed the pain of those words away. “No matter what I look like or what you think, I have to go back and save Arty. I don’t care about anything else. I can’t leave him there. The only reason he didn’t make it was because he saved a little girl. I don’t even know how he woke up to do it. But he did wake up, and I can’t let him die down there, Dad.” I was rambling. My eyes searched everywhere for the answers as my hands gripped the sleeves of my Dad’s shirt.
Please let them understand.
“You can’t go anywhere without a plan. Come downstairs, and we will think of a plan.”
I pulled away, working my arms out of his grasp. My eyes found my mother down in the darkness at the bottom of the stairwell. If I went down there, I would never leave to save Arty. I would be cocooned in love, and my parents would talk me out of it.
That is my old life. The old Sarah, she’s gone. I have to leave her life behind.
I swallowed back the rock lodged in my throat and pulled out of my father’s arms. I turned so I could face them both.
I thought this moment would come at my dorm when they left me for college, that big moment when you both realize you’re all grown up and on your own. I knew there would be tears. I never imagined the pain in my chest. My heart was being torn into a million pieces.
“There are thirty-seven kids u
p on the street that I brought out of the Hallowed Hills. We can’t go downstairs and hide in the ground and try to make a plan. I have to find somewhere for everyone. All of those kids are scared. They don’t know where they’ve been or how they got there. Some are injured, they’ve got cuts and bruises, and they’re hungry.” My father raised his hand and rubbed his forehead.
“There isn’t enough room down here for twenty people, let alone thirty-seven kids,” my dad said. “We only have a couple of hours till the sun goes down, and it’s already curfew. We need to save ourselves. We will make a plan and save Arty. Tell your friends to hide in some of the houses around here.”
I knew what Dad was saying. It was the right thing. You couldn’t save everybody, but I’d just saved all those kids. I wasn’t going to watch the Fae come and cull them all back. I shook my head and pulled away, stepping into the lingering light of the doorway. I wanted to hug my mom and feel her butterfly kisses on my cheek, but she faded back into the darkness. I couldn’t drag her out of here. She needed the safety of this place. I didn’t.
“You go ahead, Dad. You and Mom stay down there. Stay safe. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll be back.” I assured them, as much as myself.
He shook his head.
I saw him reach for me. My mother called, “George.”
“Don’t try to stop me. I’ll be back in the morning,” I said. Before my father could say anything, I pulled back and then shut the cupboard door with shaking hands.
I went over to the drainboard and pulled up a washcloth. I dabbed some water on it and retraced my steps to the wall. I scrubbed the smudge marks off. I hurled the rag back into the sink, tears dripping from my jawline.
Dad was probably still standing there, hoping I’d open the door. That wasn’t going to happen. He needed to take care of Mom. I knew he wanted to take care of me, but those kids needed me. I took a deep breath to settle the churning in my belly.
You can do this.
I’d brought them all out of Fae. They could suddenly die on the street or be recaptured and put back into that subterranean hellhole. I hesitated. I wanted to turn around, open that cupboard, and run down the stairs into their arms. I lifted my foot, unsure which way I would go. The image of Arty falling flashed through my mind.
I stormed to the front door, snatching Sorenson’s truck keys off the wall as I went. He had a king cab, long bed. If we got really cozy, maybe everybody could fit. Maybe ten in the cab and then we could get at least twenty in the bed.
Just before I stepped out the front door, my mother called to me. “Sarah, you will come back to us, won’t you?”
I turned back to face her. She was frightened with her face tear-stained and messy hair.
“Of course, Mom. It’s just a game, right? I always was a great competitor. I’ll come home with the medal for you. I promise.” I replied, shaking my head.
She smiled tentatively and put her hand over her mouth. I saw the tears running down her face as she nodded her head. We moved to each other, and I clung to her. She sniffled and smothered me in tears. I snuggled deep into her arms, enjoying the peace it brought.
“It’s not a game. Fae play for keeps.” She said, her voice wavered, then her hands thrust me away, and she disappeared through the cupboard. I didn’t think my mother was brave enough to leave the basement. She must’ve been really scared if she’d come out to ask me to come back. I stepped out onto the street and walked up to the black Ford pickup in front of Sorensen’s house.
Why’d it have to be a Ford? Oh well, I just needed it to last long enough to get me to where I was going. I hopped into the truck, adjusting the driver seat so my feet could reach the pedals. I fired it up and rolled down all the windows to let the stuffy air out. After, I unlocked the doors. All the kids came streaming out from Mrs. Levine’s house.
“Zoe, get them in the truck. We’re leaving.” I yelled out the window. I hadn’t even asked Dad for a gun. It didn’t matter. I felt the shifting of the vehicle as bodies climbed in from all sides.
Zoe squished next to me with Olive on her lap and some big jock on the far end. “Where we going now?” Zoe inquired with a light voice. It filled me with hope and dread.
“Somewhere to regroup. I’m Nick.” the deep voice of the jock informed us.
I bobbed my head in agreement while casting a glance over my shoulder at Nick. He nodded his head in return. “We need a plan,” I replied, then put my foot on the gas and turned right at the end of the street. We were headed to the industrial district. I knew it wasn’t over. I still had to get Arty.
The end
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TEST OF FAE
CHAPTER 1
No one here had seen me before. They don’t know what I really look like. They don’t know that my hair isn’t black and my eyes aren’t green. Every single one of them thinks this is me. That I look this way. Admitting to myself I’d been changed probably is the most difficult thing I have ever had to face.
Inside, I feel the same. I don’t feel any different. I still feel human. But every trip to the bathroom, every glance at my reflection in the mirror, the window, or the shiny side of the car—all I see is me but alien me. I know what’s causing the change, and I can’t reverse it.
I can’t go back to my parents’ hidey hole. There isn’t room for everyone. I have thirty-seven kids all looking at me—the new me, not the old me.
I dart my eyes around the warehouse, searching for Arty and hoping to spot his hair or his hunched shoulders. I catch myself looking at tables and different surfaces, seeing if he left his eyeglasses behind.
I could really use him. Arty isn’t just my best friend; he’s the perfect right-hand man: smart, strong, and always willing to do whatever I ask of him. The best part is that I never have to question whether Arty is on my side.
It doesn’t matter what I do. If Arty wants to fight about it, he would later when we were alone. He wouldn’t make me look like a fool in front of people. But Arty isn’t here. Instead, I found somebody else to rely upon.
The juiced-up quarterback who jumped in the truck cab with Zoe and me. It’s Nick. He’s reliable, he steps up to the plate, and so far, he hasn’t done anything to piss me off. He’s big and beefy, and he’s used to people doing what he tells them to do.
After the maze, the only person who knows what’s going on, is me. Somehow, Nick got the idea I’m in charge. In his mind, I’m the top dog, and that makes him my right-hand man.
I don’t know if Nick is loyal like Arty. What Arty and I had, took a lifetime to build, but Nick keeps everyone in line, keeps us moving and motivated. The Nicks of the world have their uses.
I hadn’t sung anything since the moment I snapped everyone out of the enchantment in the middle of the street. To be honest, I’m afraid to sing now that I know I can create magic with it.
I sit in this dingy, filthy, grease-filled warehouse with closed eyes. I can hear its song. The rocks, every piece of metal, even the glass in the windows. They all have a rhythm, a vibration, or a tune, and they sing to me. Every now and again I feel the desire to sing back.
It has been two weeks since the maze, and we hadn’t seen even one Fae. But I can feel them lurking in the background, one step behind our every move. My greatest worry now isn’t just the Fae. I saw how easy it was for Janice to tame that dog, and I have seen pawprints all around the homes in my parents’ neighborhood. My greatest fear is that the Fae might be using animals to hunt us. It means going out onto the street is dangerous. Even in the daylight, birds, dogs, cats, and squirrels are a threat, all enlisted to the Fae.
We don’t want to draw the gangs’ attention either since there are still gangs running around. I don’t allow guns anymore; guns draw attention. The report of a gun carries, and the sound is even easier to hear if you’re an animal. The last thing we need is a dog to follow the crack of a bullet back to us—no guns. Instead, we practice every day for an hour using bow and arrows, makeshift crossbows, and BB guns. A BB gun isn’t going to kill anything, but if you can scare an animal off, it’ll make it easier to get away. The animals are our real daylight enemy. They track you and then lie in wait until twilight to bring the Fae down on all of us.
I don’t want to kill somebody’s pet, but if it’s a choice between me or somebody else’s Mr. Wiggles. I’m sorry, Mr. Wiggles is dead.
“So, what are we doing today, boss?” Nick’s inquiry pulls me out of my head.
“Same as we do every day. Go out. Look for food. Take only what you can carry. Meet back at the appointed place. Stick to the plan.” I cocked an eyebrow at him.
He nods his head. It’s plain he has something to say, especially when his nose snarls up to the side.
“Is this all we do? You know, scrounge for food and hope we don’t get spotted by some Fae pet?” The toe of his boot kicks at a dirt clod.
I don’t like his tone of voice, but he clearly has a burr up his ass. Rather than start an argument, I cross my arms and sit back, throwing my feet up on the table.
“All right, then. What’s your idea?” I ask.
“We made a plan, it’s a war, humanity against the fairies. We could go to the government and tell them what happened. We could take a whole division back with us.” He’s right to do all those things. Everything single one of them relies upon me. It means that I have to get us back into the Fae realm if the government doesn’t decide to study me like a lab rat first.
“I got us out the first time. I’m not sure I can get back in. You don’t even remember anything. The last thing you remember is some crazy, pointy-ear fucker was singing to you. Then your eyes went all milky-white, and you became a member of the Fae zombie clan. We aren’t going to the government. I don’t want to disappear into a black bag. And if you go to them, so help me. I will hunt you down to the end of my days. Stick to the plan, Nick!” In a flash, I’m up and leaning over the table with both hands planted into the surface.