Hollow Back Girl

by Olivia R. Burton

  She lowered her gaze back to the earth and I heard a wooden snap crack loudly through the air before she drooped to the side.

  “We have to help her,” I said.

  “That’s the plan,” Owen said, crouching down to grab the stick. Apparently satisfied that his initial toss had thwarted the worst of the danger, he moved in careful circles, closing in on the cage incrementally, poking the ground at equidistant intervals, before tossing the stick against the metal. Nothing happened over the ten or fifteen minutes he worked, and Chloe stuck by my side, rubbing my arm gently.

  “You’re up,” he said to Chloe once he was done. She just shrugged.

  “It’s fine.” Owen lifted a brow, doubt flitting through him. Chloe pointed to the sky. “We’re outside. Soon as it rains, most magical alarms would be neutralized. No point in setting them up.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Think about it,” Chloe said, shifting into presentation mode. I caught something in her that relished the moment, the opportunity to shine and it made me wonder ever more about her history. “Baldachin clearly has magical aspirations, but if they had any real talent on their side they’d know you can’t hold a Lofriska captive separated from her trunk, especially not in this monstrosity.” Pointing to the cage as if it were offensive for reasons beyond being a tool of enslavement, Chloe sneered, the disgust in her running deep, echoing like it had roots of steel.

  “Ah right,” Owen nodded, shook his head. “This flu is still kicking my ass.” Hunkering down, he pulled a slim tool set out of his pocket, got to work on the cage lock. Chloe and I stayed back, watching in silence, but the Lofriska’s pain was like a beacon, calling me in closer in a way that I wasn’t used to. It even drowned out the werewolf’s still festering outrage. Normally I run from pain, or try to mask it desperately with things that give me pleasure like cake or candy or Owen’s abs. This time, though, I wanted to reach in, to touch the creature, to pull in her sadness like I’d done with Robin’s anxiety.

  I could, I knew, though I still wasn’t entirely sure the mechanism behind how I’d done it.

  Owen flicked his gaze to me as I moved closer. Chloe didn’t follow or ask what I was up to when I crouched down, leaning close to the bars. The Lofriska didn’t look my way or acknowledge my presence until I moved to wrap my fingers around the bars of the cage and instantly felt my skin sear.

  “Shit!” I yelped, calling everyone’s attention. Owen swore lightly at the jolt of alarm my cry sent through him, but his muscles remained trained and still. “What the hell is on these bars?”

  “Iron,” Owen said mildly, before jerking his chin to my reddened palms. “Pure, from the looks of it.”

  “Iron?” I asked, frowning. “Like, a hot iron? That didn’t feel hot.”

  “No,” Chloe corrected, crouching down next to me. “Your fae blood, it’s allergic. My guess is they beefed the metal up with something to make it more caustic to fae, but this can’t be the first time you’ve gotten hurt on metal?”

  “Uh,” was all I could say. I’d never really liked the stuff, but not for any conscious reason I could remember. I’d tried getting my ears pierced as a kid, but it hadn’t stuck. Past that, I couldn’t recall any real interaction with a bannister or dog bowl that had bothered me all that much.

  “We’ll come back to that,” was all I could say, before I leaned in, carefully sliding my hand between the bars and reaching in to press my fingers against the Lofriska.

  Her bark was dry, splitting and cracked, unpleasant to touch, and not just because of my sensitive palms, but the outside of her was nothing compared to what lay inside. Much like when I’d touched her trunk, despair flowed outward, icy and rough, like being engulfed by frigid salt water. I gasped, twitching at first, most everything in me wanting to pull back, to turn tail and run back to the car. The goodness in me, the guilty part of me that knew she wouldn’t have been in this awful position if it wasn’t for humans, made me stick it out, however, and I found myself gripping her loosely.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, turning to catch her cratered gaze. She moaned, the sound hollow, and I echoed her pain as I took it into myself.

  This went no more smoothly than it had with Robin, my empathy grasping and tugging, losing grip here and there as I struggled to pull it all inside. My capacity for sadness astounded me, my guts a deep, bottomless well that couldn’t seem to fill, no matter how much I pulled from her. Despair waned as I slurped, turning to nostalgia, and finally thinning down to a wistful version of the blues, like a kid whose weekend campout is ruined by heavy rain.

  I was crying when I felt my grip loosen and my hand drop into the dirt, sobbing like I’d lost a loved one, and Chloe had wrapped herself over my back, squeezing my shoulders and murmuring that things were going to be okay.

  Owen swore quietly, pausing in his efforts to look up and consider me in my useless grief.

  “Hey!” I heard a familiar voice say from our left, drawing everyone’s attention. I pulled back, careful not to brush the metal with bare skin, watching Izzy move closer, my weeping tapering off as I tried to figure out if I was really seeing him or if the depression I’d taken on had made me crazy. I wiped away tears and noted, with confused shock, that my hands were healed, all traces of burnt flesh gone.

  “Apple-butt!” Chloe cried, rubbing my back once before getting to her feet and moving in to give him a light squeeze. “We found the girl.”

  “Yeah, she looks pretty okay. Good job, Gwen.”

  “What?” I asked, wiping my face on my puffy sleeves, knowing the smoothness of the fabric would just smear, rather than absorb, but not having much choice. Izzy took a sip from the little china cup he held and I felt a wobble of tottering love force its way to the front of his psyche as Chloe kissed his cheek gently and whispered something in his ear.

  After a moment, Izzy moved closer, leaning down to look the Lofriska over. He spoke low, in words that weren’t really words, and then hooked an arm under my armpit and yanked me to my feet. Tugging me back, well out of the sunken pit in the center of the clearing, he called to Owen.

  “Hey, Bond, you can stop.” Izzy tipped his head back, downed the rest of the tea, making a come-here gesture with his free hand. “Quick, come on.”

  Getting to his feet, Owen surveyed the scene again for a moment, taking one step to the left as if he’d come around to our side. Then, pausing, he lifted a brow at Izzy.

  “Are you going to open it?”

  “No, but it’s no use at this point. Come on, before—Oh, there she goes.”

  I jolted as I felt a torrent of emotions flow forward, threatening to drown me. Perhaps because of the fact that I could feel her every negative emotion in my gut, still sloshing about and making me feel heavy, only good rushed out of her. Relief, eager glee, joy, and finally an almost orgasmic delight pushed against my body, nearly taking my legs out from under me. I stumbled, felt Chloe wrap her arms around my middle and hold me up before I could acquire yet another bruise by crashing to the ground.

  Greenery appeared, rolled out from the dry bark in all directions. It ran up Owen’s body before he could react, coating one side of him in a bright emerald moss. Tiny flowers bloomed up his leg, along his arm, even along the bare skin of his neck.

  Confusion and unhappiness bobbed about within him for a moment as he surveyed the damage done by the death of the tree lady. After a moment, he swore again, doing his best to peel the flora away from his clothing. It had sunk in, grabbed hold of the cloth and made it its own. He sighed and Izzy pointed his way, letting out a snorting laugh.

  “Told you.”

  Chloe helped me get my feet steady before she turned back to the tree. “She’s dead?”

  “I think so,” I said, though the idea didn’t make me as sad as I knew it should have. Something about the way she’d gone off into the ether hadn’t seemed too unpleasant. If that was what I’d feel when I kicked the bucket, I wasn’t all that worried about the prospect.


  Izzy shook his head, moved around to Owen’s side of the cage and yanked open the door as if it had never been locked in the first place.

  “No, no,” he said, crouching down next to the dead, twisted bark. I moved forward, my feet nearly sinking fully into the mossy ground. My empathy whispered gently as I tiptoed closer, calling me toward the tree in an entirely different way than it had before. There was something there, but it was different, familiar in a way I couldn’t peg.

  Izzy reached his teacup into the gnarled branches wrapped around the curving stump. Arm wiggling, he grunted once before pulling back. In his cup was a hunk of dirt, a lanky stalk no thicker than a cocktail straw and five leaves that even the tiniest herbivore would have found lacking as a meal. The whole thing was barely taller than the teacup, and as I leaned in to get a better look in the dark, I felt an adorable sense of excited pride, like a child standing up for the first time. I laughed, the last of the Lofriska’s sadness dissipating out of my gut in an instant.

  “Hey little one,” Izzy said. Turning back to Chloe, he wandered over, taking his time. I followed, though I waited to make sure Owen wasn’t permanently affixed to the ground before doing so. Reluctantly, he followed, trying again to free himself of the foliage once Chloe and I were hovering over the teacup.

  “Do we leave her—the other her, I mean?” Chloe asked. Izzy nodded.

  “Yep, that’s not her anymore. We’re almost out of time, though!” Izzy turned, headed back into the forest the way we’d come. Chloe followed, but Owen stepped up next to me, his emotions warring between embarrassment and frustration. I fought the urge for a few seconds before giving in and speaking.

  “It’s not easy being green.”

  “Hello!” Izzy called out. “We’re back!”

  We hadn’t even spotted Evergreen yet, but he was already running excitedly ahead of us. One hand still held the sapling, while the other lifted in a spastic wave toward a tree that had, so far, refused to show any signs of life.

  As I managed to pick Evergreen out of the bunch, Izzy tripped on his own foot, nearly went sprawling face first into the dirt. He let out an embarrassed squeak, managed to catch himself before he lost the sapling, and kept moving.

  “We are here!” he announced as he came to a stop next to Evergreen. Strangely, she stayed silent. Chloe, Owen, and I caught up, though I kept my distance. While we’d just brought her what Izzy promised on the ride over would solve our problems, I was still wary of the creature who could toss me around like kibble.

  “Why didn’t he just bamf us all back here? Why did we have to drive?” I asked as Izzy continued to hoot at Evergreen, trying to get her attention. I was getting sleepy and cranky. Chloe shrugged a shoulder.

  “He doesn’t always end up where he means to,” she explained. “We could have all ended up in the middle of the ocean.”

  “Probably the closest thing he gets to a bath,” I said, wondering sometimes on the state of Izzy’s hygiene. Chloe made a low sound, catching my eye and winking.

  “I get him to shower often enough.”

  “Oh jeez,” I grumbled, which made her laugh.

  As Izzy knocked a knuckle against the trunk of the tree, I saw the resin of Evergreen’s eyes shift. She took in each of us, before her gaze moved to Izzy. I felt a tiny seed of what might have been annoyance before the crackling sounds of her breaking away from her trunk took over. When she was completely separate, Izzy grinned at her, held out the cup.

  “Here you go.”

  She lowered her head, inspected the sapling. I felt a flash of anger in her, before she looked back to us.

  “This is not what I asked for.”

  “It’s all we can deliver. Here,” Izzy thrust the teacup into her hand. “Say hello.”

  The Lofriska shifted slightly as Izzy pressed the cup into the curves of her wooden fingers. Tipping her head, she frowned at it; when she brought her other hand across to touch the leaves, they strained toward her. I felt hope, excitement and even possibly love from both of them. Evergreen smiled, her gaze going to me. Initially I tensed, but almost immediately realized this wasn’t her usual disdain. It felt familiar—familial, even, like she could see me as something more dear than just some idiot who’d wandered into her territory and pissed her off. I’d pissed her off, sure, but there was forgiveness there, affection for my existence.

  “You eased her passage,” she said, as the leaf of the sapling curled as much as it was able around one of her fingers. “She felt only joy in the end. For that, you have my gratitude.”

  “Oh,” I said, realizing she meant what I’d done with my empathy. “Of course, yeah. I didn’t want … She was so sad.”

  “She will be at peace now,” Evergreen said, before chuckling, and turning to move through the forest once again. “Though, she will need to grow into her own again.”

  Izzy bounced like an excited child, gesturing wildly for us to follow, as if Evergreen’s glacial pace might leave us in the dust. We followed dutifully, but Izzy reached the dying tree before any of us, throwing his arms around it in a hug that squished his cheek and left bark imprints on his forehead. Evergreen approached next, set the cup down next to the trunk. Izzy plopped down on his butt, tucked his fingers into the cup and scooped out the little sapling. He dug a small hole at the base of the tree, which looked tough with bare, blunt fingers, and tucked the sapling in, before making sure the hole was filled around her.

  I felt a snap of something all around us. It startled me but it didn’t scare me. This wasn’t a Lofriska waking up and deciding I would look better without a spine; this was something else, something beautiful. It was as if the entire forest gasped in surprised gratification. I glanced at Chloe, wondered if she knew something had just happened. She looked touched, a little teary, and I could feel a small pit inside her, sucking at her happiness in a way I recognized as wistful regret.

  Before I could as if she was okay, the sapling moved, leaning its tiny leaves toward her trunk minutely. Evergreen’s smile widened, her arms lengthening to caress the sapling delicately, as she turned back to me.

  “Consider your debt repaid.”

  “The disease?” Owen asked. Evergreen didn’t look to him as she spoke, her eyes still on me as if trying to communicate more than I could understand.

  “Banished soon enough, at a reasonable pace. Your hikers, as well.”

  “They’re alive?” Owen asked. “I wouldn’t have figured.”

  “We are not as blood-thirsty as your kind would believe,” Evergreen said, turning to Owen, her carved brows drawing down in disappointment. “They will be free in due time, though perhaps not together.”

  “No further action is needed?” Owen asked.

  “You have done enough,” Evergreen said, before making a shooing gesture with her free hand. Without hesitating, Owen jerked his head, suggesting we all make our way back to the car.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sometime around two, I was half-asleep, stretched sideways along the bed, when Owen stepped out of the shower. I opened my eyes, looked him over, and smiled. He’d dried himself off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and brushed his damp hair back. He smiled at me and I felt lust curl within him. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to match it but I appreciated the feeling.

  We’d come back to the hotel, separated from Chloe and Izzy on the elevator and, before I’d even gotten the door to his room shut, he’d stripped and gone straight to the shower. I was sure he was going to have to get rid of the clothes but he was sure he knew a dry cleaner that could handle the problem. Somewhere along the way, possibly when I’d been dropped on my ass, my underwear had picked up a spur and a fair amount of mud. Knowing Owen wouldn’t mind, I’d stripped out of my clothes, left them in a pile with his, and stolen one of his shirts to wear.

  My initial plan had been not to wear it for very long before he pulled it off of me but the bed was comfortable and I was suddenly so very tired.

  “This will be the second time
we’ve slept together with neither one of us getting lucky,” Owen observed, sitting on the edge of the bed next to my head. I looked up at him, gave a sleepy smile.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had sort of a rough few days.”

  “I wasn’t complaining,” he said. After a moment, he leaned over, pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, and pulled out a small box. “Happy birthday.”

  I stared up at him, my brows shooting into my hair. I didn’t remember reminding him it was my birthday—hell, I hadn’t even realized that it was officially the big day myself—and I didn’t think ours was the type of relationship that required the exchange of gifts. He smiled, set it on the bed next to me, and then crossed the room to his suitcase. Despite the fact that he was stripping off the towel right in full view of me, I stared at the gift.

  I was worried it was jewelry. I pushed into a sitting position, picked up the box. Owen came back to the bed wearing sleep pants, sat down next to me.

  “It’s not jewelry,” he said. I gave him a cynical smile, pulling the lid off.

  “It’s my cell phone.” I frowned down at it, confused. He breathed out a laugh and nodded.

  “Yep.”

  “You’re giving me my own cell phone for my birthday?” I picked it up and he set the box aside. I turned it over, expected to find some fancy spy modification or maybe a new case. It was exactly as I’d left it.

  “I put a permanent contact number for me in your address book.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking up to meet his gaze. I gave a half-smile, lowered the phone into my lap. He’d given me his number before, but it had never worked longer than he’d been in town. “I thought you said you didn’t do that.”

  “I figure you’ve earned it.”

  “Not on this trip,” I sighed. He laughed, though I knew he hadn’t meant sex. “So I can just call you whenever? We can talk about movies or I can order you to bring me pizza?”