by Dee Garcia
“I know, but she can’t be going into innocent minds just because she has the ability to do so.”
“But, you do it,” Marlena chimes in almost immediately. “So what does that tell her?”
Persia’s jaw drops. It’s clear she’s about to defend that claim when the fairy interjects with, “She has a point.”
Every single eye in the room falls on Beatrix, keenly enough that her entire demeanor withers anxiously. “She does, but that’s not what I mean…” Realizing that doesn’t ring any better, she inhales a steadying breath and sets her palms onto the tabletop. “I need to say something.”
No one speaks, but she doesn’t proceed, looking to me for approval.
“The floor is yours,” I assure her.
Beatrix nods and drags her gaze between us all. “Now, let it be known that I’m so thankful for this position, and for this opportunity to give my people a voice, so I truly hope you all can at least try to see this from a mother’s point of view.” Her voice trembles, hands falling restless in her lap beneath the table. “I was all for the plan, am for the plan, but watching my daughter fall for that boy...it was harder than I was anticipating. He’s a mystery, full of red flags and uncertainty. I didn’t want to see her get her heart broken.”
I already knew this, but I let her continue. The council needs to hear this. Aside from the obvious—her husband—and Persia, who might still not have known either, the others had no idea she sat here every month vowing to see this plan through, yet went home and fought with her daughter about being with the man in question. Still part of the plan, but she’s taken it to an extreme.
It’s time they know the truth.
Beatrix takes a breath, eyes searching for some sort of a reaction around the table. “So I fought with her relentlessly about Peter. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until after she’d storm off. It was sheer impulse, spur of the moment. I’d feel so awful about it later, like I was betraying you all, and still, I made it nearly impossible for her to see him. But then I learned she was sneaking him in, going to such lengths because I was that parent, and Phillipe here learned they are most definitely sleeping together.” She reaches for her husband's hand. “Everything snowballed together at the same time, and that’s when it finally sank in. I was doing to her what my parents did to me...”
Ah, yes.
Young Beatrix Voclain and the famous Rosewood tale of forbidden love. Quite the scandal several decades ago; a pure little fairy who fell in love with the baneful heir to the Fae throne. Their kinds may be somewhat similar, but they are most certainly not the same.
“I didn’t want her to live my life. Didn’t want her to live with that fear, that animosity. So while it kills me to let her go and live, to be an adult, I have to. Not only to ensure I’m doing my part to see through our common goal, but to ensure her happiness remains intact.”
“Heartbreak is part of life, unfortunately,” Marlena comments, flicking her gaze my way for a fleeting second before turning back to the fairy. “As a woman who’s been through it, I can understand not wanting your daughter to feel that pain.”
Here we go.
Sighing, I roll my eyes and recline in my seat.
“Must have been a brave man to deal with you,” Chief Natano comments.
Persia and Phillipe chuckle, setting Marlena’s lips in a thin line.
“Trust me, I was,” I chime. She wants a reaction? Okay. Let’s do this. “Marlena and I just weren’t on the same page. She wanted more than I could give her from the waters edge.”
The sirens face screws up in acrimony, a triggered retort building on the tip of her tongue, when Persia cuts in, holding up a warning hand up. “Off topic and irrelevant. Let Beatrix continue.” Her eyes meet mine to which I tip my head, thanking her for her assistance.
As I said, I quite like her.
Beatrix silently thanks the witch as well and takes another deep breath. “I’ve spoken with Tinksley just yesterday and told her that, although I’m still not fond of them as an item, I have to trust her. She may not know of her task, but she’ll see it through. I can assure you all that.”
“Are you sure about that?” the Chief queries evenly.
Marlena is first to react, scoffing profoundly with a twirl of her eyes. “If he breaks her heart enough, trust me—she will.”
“She will,” Beatrix agrees, expression sheepish...and somewhat uneasy. “A single heaping dose of rage and she’ll trigger her other side.”
Her side. The beast.
One I know Tinksley loathes, and yet, in the end, it’s exactly what she’ll need to breach the spell and end Pan. Sometimes I wish she wasn’t the only one with the ability to see this through, but wishing things for different doesn’t change a damned thing.
“She’s right.” Phillipe tightens his hold on his wife’s hand and nods. “All it takes is one time in which she can’t control it, and it’s over for him.”
“So then I’d say we’re rolling right into phase three, yes?” I ask, leaning forward onto the table. “What if we propel things a bit faster?”
The Fae Lord’s eyes flash in concern at the topic but I reassure him it’s not what he thinks.
“How will we do that?” the witch queries.
Knock, knock!
Silence falls amongst us.
“Come in!” I order.
Samuel gingerly pokes his head in, though by the look on his face, I know it’s urgent. A single wave and he’s slithering inside, shutting the door behind himself. Excusing his presence to the council with a brisk bow, he flashes to my side.
“This better be important,” I murmur.
Sam nods and drops to my level. “Leandre and Armand just returned from sweeps.”
“And?” I motion for him to continue, noting all eyes are on us.
Leaning in closer, he cups a hand around his mouth and whispers, “And it appears Pan has disappeared.”
♫ Still Here - Digital Daggers ♫
Three weeks later...
“Tinksley Bell, I’m not going to ask you again. Get out of bed!” My mom yells through my door, banging on its wooden surface with an infuriated fist.
That’s the third time today.
I’ve given up answering her. She doesn’t seem to realize I have no desire, or any use, to get out of this bed.
Peter’s gone.
More tears.
More grief-stricken tears that haven’t stopped since I woke up that morning. The note he left has taken permanent residence in my palm, crumbled into a ball to avoid catching a trace of his words.
Words that will now haunt me forever.
He left me.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Enough is enough, Tinksley, I’m serious! Get out of bed, or I’m sending for your father!”
Her threats mean nothing to me. I don’t care. Let him come. I’ll ignore him as steadily as I’ve done the world for the last twenty-one days.
“Actually, you know what? I just realized the date,” she shouts in a rage. “You gave Persia your word on attending to N’Isabelle while she’s gone. She’s leaving today, which means you need to get yourself out of bed and into the shower, then over to pick that little girl up.”
She’s lying, is the first thing I think to myself, but a quick backtrack of my hazy memory confirms she’s right. From what I remember of our conversation, she was leaving early in the morning and would be leaving Izzy in Aester’s care until I arrived.
Aester who has a schedule and is expected back at the sanctuary for a lesson before evening comes.
Why did I agree to this?
Because Peter was supposed to be here.
I wasn’t supposed to be alone.
“Tinksley!” My mother starts again, all but knocking my door off its hinges from the force of her banging. “Let’s go, get up! You’re not going to—”
“I’m going!” I snap back, forcing myself up from the comfort and safety of my pillows and sheets.
; “Jesus Christ, finally,” she mumbles before disappearing down the hall.
Just sitting up proves I’ve been glued to this bed for far too long. Everything aches in protest, muscles sore and tight in places I didn’t even know existed. I’ve only gotten up to relieve myself, to grab the occasional glass of water and a piece of fruit when my stomach constricted from lack of nutrition.
But why, Tinksley? How could you allow this? How could you spiral this fast, this deep? Over a boy?
Because waking up to that note, after what I thought was a turning point for us—a positive one nonetheless—broke me. It broke me into pieces, cemented the fact that everyone and everything was right all along. That Peter was never meant to be my everything, and yet, my heart had lead me to believe he was.
I was all in, and he didn’t even have half his leg in the door. Always ready to skip out. Apparently, waiting for the right moment, too.
Ends up taking me almost two hours to make myself look presentable enough to venture out into the public. Mama fusses over me, relentlessly reminding me I’m a strong, young woman who doesn’t need a man to carry on, but I ignore her.
I’m not strong, not by any means. In fact, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been.
Despaired.
Useless.
Damaged.
Broken.
Peter’s gone—the same two words that have haunted me day in and day out, scream my reality louder as I walk blindly through the forest. It’s beautifully sunny out, I’ll admit that much, but it’s such a drastic contrast to the torment radiating through my body that it’s nothing more than an idle observation.
One that comes and goes before I myself can dismiss it.
I’m too busy taking note of every spot Peter and I crossed together. An awful idea because as the memories flood me, I shatter that much more, adding another handful of jagged, fragmented pieces of my heart to the now gaping hole in my chest.
Tearing through me, filling the flood gates to what feels like capacity.
This is why I didn’t want to leave my home. To leave the refuge of my bed. Because everything is a reminder of him. Rosewood is a reminder of him, period. At least in my bed, though we shared memories there too, I can close my eyes and escape it all.
Distant yelling suddenly draws my attention out of my thoughts. Like a tunnel, I’m sucked out from its depths and placed firmly into the here and now. Just several feet away stands the sign for Silver Sanctuary—the lush, magical acreage of the witches domain. The sanctuary itself is where they practice, a beautiful temple-like structure nestled within this lavish, abundant garden, and the huddle is where they all reside; huts and cabins alike situated within close range.
The commotion seems to be coming from the huddle, drawing me toward it with careful steps.
What is happening?
“Not here!” A woman bellows.
“Not here, either!” Another adds.
It’s semi-controlled chaos, bodies rushing around, searching high and low. What are they—
“Tinksley!” a voice I recognize erupts from the ruckus.
Snapping my head toward the sound, I catch Brielle rushing toward me. She throws her arms around me and takes a shaky breath. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you! Please tell me Izzy’s at your house.”
My head rears back slowly as she eases away and looks me in the eye. “Uh...no? I was just coming to pick her up. Persia told me she’d be with Aester until I arrived.”
Brielle’s face pales to a frightening degree. I literally witness all the blood, every drop of color drain from her face like a rainstorm washing away a painting. “Ae...Aester’s not here,” she croaks, hazel eyes wide.
My stomach shoots up to my throat. “What do you mean she’s not here?”
“Not here, as in gone. The door to Persia’s is wide open. Her neighbor noticed this morning when she left to drop off her daughter at the sanctuary and head into town. When she returned, it was still the same, nothing had changed. Says that when she peeked inside and called out, no one answered.”
This time, my stomach plummets. My mind starts running wild, not knowing which way to go. Where is Aester? Is N’Isabelle with her? All the while, Brielle continues rambling, but I’m not clocking in any of it. Not when worriment and a heaping dose of dread start trickling in, churning my insides as one would wring a towel.
Guilt sets in, too, just as the witch’s voice resounds clearly again. “My first thought was that you’d already picked her up, but we can’t find Aester anywhere. She’s not in town or down at the beach. We even ventured out to the Woodlands, but there’s not a single trace of her. The Natives haven’t seen her, either.”
This can’t be happening.
Where is Aester?
Where is Izzy?
“Where could they have gone?” I’m more so asking myself that question and somehow, it made it out of my mouth, which has Brielle shrugging and shaking her dark head.
“There’s only so many places they could be. Unless Izzy was lured into The Hollow…”
No.
Every hair on my body rises in trepidation. “There’s no way. There’s just no way. I’ve warned Izzy too many times about that place.” She’s a child, curious regardless of how intelligent she may be. Like I once was.
“Go get help, Tinksley. Please. We’re never going to find them on our own. What if they’re in danger…”
That’s the last thing I remember before I find myself in the forest once more, the sun setting from its highest point, splashing the sky with pinks and golds. I don’t even know where I’m going, much less who I’m going to ask for help. All I can think about is how this is my fault. Had I been at the sanctuary early, it’s likely whatever happened wouldn’t have occured. N’Isabelle would’ve been with me and Aester could’ve been on her way.
And where was I?
Wallowing, hiding. Selfishly ignoring everyone and all obligations in my devastation. Now they’ve disappeared—could possibly be in life-threatening danger—and not a soul knows how. No one knows when.
A fact that now arises a new question.
Did Persia even make it out of Rosewood? Is she in danger, too?
I almost stumble over and wretch at the thought. What is happening? Why is this happening? Who’s behind it? The world around me spins, faster and faster as every question imaginable paralyzes me, gutting me more than should be possible considering how empty I am already.
This is my fault. All my fault.
“All my fault,” I choke, the tears I’ve been holding since walking out of the house breaking free once more. “It’s all my fault.”
It wasn’t, and I wouldn’t know it then, but it’s with that very thought in mind that I came to decide my fate. A decision so impulsive and so much more selfish than simply holing myself away, that it’d shine the spotlight on my parents for quite some time after the fact—in a way no parent ever wants to experience.
♫ My Immortal - Evanescence ♫
I know what I have to do.
I’ve thought about it several times since Peter left, impermanently more than anything else, but I’m that desperate for peace now.
It’s too much.
It’s all too much, more than I can handle in my current state.
I can’t deal with the loss of him, and two—perhaps even three of the Sacred Six. Izzy may not be considered one of them yet, but she is to me. She’s an essential part of Persia and I failed her, epically so.
Even if Persia isn’t in any danger and she made it to Lapiz, what’s going to happen when she gets word of the calamity happening here? Because this isn’t just a simple misunderstanding. Aester and N’Isabelle are missing, and Persia will hear of it. There’s no way both her daughter and one of her coven sisters goes missing and not one person sends a message.
They will, and then she’ll come for me—with Izzy’s father in tow.
Doesn’t matter that we’re friends, that we grew up together and she took care of m
e whenever my mother needed her. I was supposed to do the same for her daughter. She confided in me to keep N’Isabelle safe, and I’ve done the complete opposite.
I chose selfishness over priorities, and I’m about to choose selfishness again.
The coward’s way out to some, and who knows, maybe it is, but it’s better this way. Better I remove myself from the situation and spare Persia from having to stain her hands because I was a stupid, irresponsible mess.
A mess my poor mother couldn’t control, either.
Yes, this is definitely better for everyone...
My wings carry me effortlessly through the air over the vast expanse of the island. The wind flapping across my face feels so freeing, and yet, I’m anything but free. I’m suffocating, a captive to my torment, trapped within its desolate barriers. Barriers that continue to close in on me as the hours tick by.
From the hollow depths of my shattered heart, I know I’m being irrational. That I’m not thinking clearly. Deplorable labels will undoubtedly precede me—labels that will in turn precede my parents as well—and still...I don’t care.
The pain that’s festered within me, the sorrow—it’s excruciating, and I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t live like this anymore. Peter was my whole entire world, and he took every last piece of me with him when he left.
Every. Last. Damned. Piece.
And the girls disappearing—girls who I care for fiercely—is the final thread giving way.
Less than half a mile more and my first destination comes into view.
A pang of guilt instantly hits me.
I hate to do this to him, hate to get him involved in this fashion. He’s always been nothing but nice to me, a true gentleman regardless of how much he intimidates me. But aside from my father, he’s the only person I know who will have what I need.
I briefly considered knocking at his door and simply begging for his help.
But he won’t, not when he learns why. I can all but see him laughing in my face, reminding me of how I’m better than Peter. Better than this.