by L. V Russell
“She’ll miss you too.”
“Who?”
My hand lingered on the doorframe, my fingers brushing against little notches in the wood. Height markers.
“Our daughter.”
I snatched my hand away from the door, backing away, shaking my head at the impossibility of it. The unfairness of it.
“How old is she?” I asked, my heart stuttering against my chest at the thought of a real family…unbroken. Where there were no ghostly place settings at the table, no empty chairs, no missing children, and dead fathers.
Laphaniel shrugged. “Four.”
So young.
“Where is she?” I dared to ask, a sudden need to see her taking over everything else within me.
“Playing in the woods.”
“You let a four-year-old play in the woods alone?”
I darted down the stairs and back outside, running to the back of the house and through the rose garden to the woodland beyond. I came to a staggering stop at the sight of a mud-stained little girl doing handstands to the delight of a swarm of tiny sprites.
“Mama! Look!”
“I’m looking,” I said, unable to move any closer. She beamed at me from upside down, her dark hair falling in her eyes, almost obscuring the bright violet of her irises. Her bare feet were caked to the ankle in mud, her dress torn.
“She’s as feral as you are,” I said to Laphaniel, who had followed behind. The little girl did a daring flip in the air, slipped and tumbled to the floor.
“And with all of your grace,” Laphaniel replied with a wince, as screams broke through the tranquillity.
“Mama!” The girl cried, lifting her hands out for me, and I instantly made to go to her…and paused. “Mama?”
Laphaniel stepped forwards, scooping the girl into his arms as she continued to reach out for me, her eyes wide and tear-stained.
“Teya?”
“No,” I blinked, shaking my head, even as my body urged me to reach for the little girl, my own heart hurting with her. “This isn’t real.”
“Does it matter?”
“I think it does,” I replied, stepping back. “I can’t stay here.”
“Please?” Laphaniel begged, closing the gap between us, shifting the girl, so she rested against his hip. “Don’t leave us here. Stay. Be happy.”
“I am happy,” I said, tears sliding down my face. “I am happy.”
“No, you’re not.”
It took all my strength to shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut to drown out the promises he was feeding me. I held my hand over my aching chest, feeling something spike my hand.
Looking down, I clutched at the star on my necklace and imagined Laphaniel…my Laphaniel… alone on the riverbank. If I never went back, he would know I left him for a dream, and that I would rather die for an illusion than face reality with him.
“Stay,” Laphaniel urged.
I backed away. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever dream this is, died a long time ago,” I said, allowing the grief of it all to wash over me. “This dream is out of my reach now, and that hurts more than you will ever know, but I will not give up what I have to get it back. I will be happy again, but not here, not with you. My Laphaniel is hurting, and he needs me. Whatever part of him you represent is long gone, and he’s a better person for it.”
Laphaniel screamed at me, reaching out as water began to spill from his mouth. The girl in his arms turned to white foam and crashed to the floor in a wave. I staggered back as Laphaniel collapsed into a torrent of furious water that rushed up against my legs.
Around me, the trees, the rocks, and grassy mounds exploded into murky waters. The gleaming stone from the house crumbled into the swirl, the waves swallowing it up until there was nothing left.
The waters rose to my waist, up and up until it dragged me under. The strong current snatched at my body like hungry arms, all fixed on keeping me from the surface.
I could see nothing in the darkness. With every bit of my flagging strength, I fought for the surface and finally broke free. I sucked in air, only to be thrown back under as wave after wave crashed against me.
“Laphaniel!” I shouted his name over the thundering waters. “Laphaniel!”
Strong arms wrapped around my middle as I was sucked under again, hauling me up so I could breathe.
“Stop thrashing about!” Laphaniel gasped, struggling against the current. “We need to get out of the water, now.”
He looped an arm around my waist and dragged me towards the riverbank. I kicked through the current with him, straining to keep my head above the water. My legs cramped, the wild waters growing cold.
The river refused to release us without a fight, launching us up over the rapids and down into the foam, forcing us closer and closer to the rocks at the edge.
Laphaniel was thrown backwards, his head striking the rock. I yelled his name when he slipped beneath the waters and didn’t surface. Clinging to the rocks, I grabbed his hand again, hauling him up to me. He sucked in a breath, coughing up a mouthful of gritty water. Blood seeped from the back of his head, running over his neck into the water.
Shadows moved beneath the waters, monstrous black shapes the size of buses, swept through the swirling tide, long tails sweeping through the current with ease.
“Get up onto the rocks.” Laphaniel hissed, shoving me up. “Move.”
I turned to help him up, grabbing him by his sodden shirt, as an enormous head reared up through the water, its mouth a gaping maw of teeth. The eel-like creature lunged forward, striking the spot where Laphaniel had been just moments before.
It roared its fury, flicking out a forked black tongue to suckle at the stone, lapping up the blood that had dripped down into the water.
“Go, go, go!” Laphaniel urged.
Another head sprang from the water, biting down on a chunk of stone, narrowly missing my leg. I cried out, and it turned, whipping its tongue at me.
Pain exploded along my arm, sharp suckers biting into my skin. My shoulder wrenched back as Laphaniel grabbed for me, the skin on my arm, tearing away from the barbed tongue.
The creature pulled back its slick head, my blood dripping from its mouth and lunged again.
Laphaniel slammed into me, shoving me over the rocks and down the riverbank. Rocks tumbled after us as teeth collided with stone. Black heads lifted from the river, coiling bodies thrashing against the current. They opened their mouths, rows, and rows of jagged teeth glinting in the sunlight, and screeched at us.
With barely a ripple, they slipped back under the inky waters.
“My arm,” I panted, cradling it to my body
“Let me see it,” Laphaniel said, kneeling beside me. “I need to remove the barbs. Stay still.”
He turned my arm over, running a finger down the ruined flesh. Pain spiked up over my shoulder, and I swore.
“The barbs are poisonous,” Laphaniel said, his careful fingers prising them from my skin. “If you feel faint, lie back.”
I watched as he slid one free, the jagged edges catching my skin. Blood swelled from the tiny hole, along with a blob of white pus.
“I’m not going to faint,” I answered, even as the world began to spin.
“Just lie back before you hit your head.”
Everything tilted, and I braced myself against him until the dizziness passed. “I’m fine…”
He caught me as I pitched forwards, the pain in my arm fading with everything else around me.
Chapter Fourteen
The worried look on Laphaniel’s face melted away into relief when I opened my eyes and blinked up at him. He helped me sit up on the damp grass, his fingers tightening the makeshift bandage around my arm. The pain had gone, leaving behind an odd tingling ending at my fingertips.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stroking the hair from my face. He had moved me away from the riverbank, but I could still hear the roar of the water. Above us, the sky was tin
ged with a strange indigo, pale sunlight beamed down and bathed everything in an eerie twilight.
“I’m okay,” I answered, noting the dried blood on Laphaniel’s neck. “How’s your head?”
“I’ll live.”
“What did you see in the water?” I breathed in the familiar scent of him. Under the smell of murky river water lingered the scent of spice and warmth, of dirt and shadows and everything that made him mine.
Laphaniel buried his head into my shoulder, one hand tangling in my hair. “I saw you,” he breathed, “and you were drowning over and over again. I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I kept finding you face down, and it didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t real, because it almost was.”
I pulled back, meeting his eyes. I could never forget how he had pulled me from the mermaids, what it had felt like to drown beneath the cold water. How could I forget the feel of his mouth on mine, warm breath over frozen lips. My name echoing as he called for me. I just hadn’t realised how much it still haunted him.
“You did get to me in time,” I began, resting my head against his. “You seem to have a knack for saving me.”
He huffed a small laugh. “What did you see?”
“A memory,” I said. “Nothing but an echo.”
“Of what?”
I smiled, pushing myself to my feet. “Of everything you once offered me.”
Laphaniel rose beside me with fluid grace. “Did you want to stay?”
“I wanted to say goodbye,” I answered. “And I did.”
I stepped away from the sounds of the river, staring up at the twisting woodland stretching out before us. Towering trees stood so close together they knotted around each other. The branches still clung to the fragments of leaves, some were still tinged with gold, winter not yet having found them.
The Unseelie trees did not sing, but I could sense them listening.
“What monsters live beyond those trees?” I asked, peering into the thicket. Brambles and vines had swallowed up the path, and the shadows themselves seem to devour everything.
“Ones I hope to avoid,” Laphaniel answered, his entire body tense. “There are creatures in the Unseelie I have only heard about in stories. It would be unwise to venture in there after dark. I think we should make camp here tonight.”
He looked like he would rather walk straight into Hell itself than the shadows of the Unseelie.
I peered up at the strange sky, the light of the suns’ sinking low. “I’ll gather some wood.”
“Don’t go far.” Laphaniel shot out a hand, startling me.
“I won’t,” I promised him, pointing to the sticks dotted over the ground around us. “I’ve learnt not to go wandering the woods on my own.”
Laphaniel dropped his hand, still looking uneasy. “I sincerely doubt that. You’re too curious for your own good.”
I smirked as I gathered firewood, piling it up for Laphaniel to ignite. The air was cold, and our clothes were wet. The warmth of the fire was a welcome relief, a little light against the surrounding darkness. A beacon, too—we both knew that.
Everything Grace had packed for us was lost to the River of Tears, leaving us once again with nothing. Laphaniel slipped into the shadows, silent, coming back shortly after with the body of a thin rabbit dangling from his hand.
He skinned it with a piece of sharp flint, the firelight catching the red on his hands, making it shine against his pale skin. I made a wobbly spit using sticks and strands of thick vine, and together we sat and waited for the meat to cook…or flop into the fire.
“Who taught you to hunt?” I asked over the crackling and spitting of the fire.
Carefully, Laphaniel turned the rabbit and browned the other side. He could have easily made a better spit, though kept mine in a gesture I found oddly endearing, “My mother.”
“With Nefina too?”
“No. Nefina doesn’t know how to hunt.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about your mother before,” I said, drawing my knees up to keep warm. “What was she like?”
Laphaniel shuffled closer to me, his leg touching mine. “I don’t really remember her,” he said, poking the fire, so the flames danced. “I remember this game she used to play, though. She would blindfold me when I was very young and lead me into the woods after nightfall. For three days, she would leave me to see if I could survive on my own.”
“That’s awful, Laphaniel,” I said, failing to keep the shock from my tone. “How old were you?”
He shrugged. “I think I had seen my fourth midwinter, maybe.”
I swallowed, for a moment utterly lost for words. I couldn’t begin to understand how anyone could leave their child alone, to abandon them in a sick game to see whether they were gobbled up.
“I burned my hands to begin with,” Laphaniel continued, lifting the rabbit from the flames and passing me a strip of meat. “I wasn’t good at lighting fires, but I didn’t want to be alone in the dark, so I kept practising until I could summon a flame without thinking. I could use a small knife, but the bow I was given was too big. After the three days had passed, my mother would find me, and we went home.”
My heart twisted at the thought of him as a frightened child, but he spoke as if it wasn’t cruel. Perhaps all fey children were raised in fear and darkness.
“Did you ever get lost? Or hurt?” I asked, and he smiled.
“Not until the dragon came along.”
“Dragon?” I echoed, and his smile turned into something wicked and wonderful.
“It was young,” he continued, picking off flakes of rabbit meat. “And sickly, hardly bigger than a bear. You could see its ribs, it was so scrawny and had these tattered wings that dragged along the ground, a pathetic thing really. Oh, but its teeth were still sharp, and it was faster than me. Stupidly, I ran, regretting my decision the moment my feet began to pound the floor. It lunged, and I felt its teeth and claws scrape along my back. Then it stopped, dropping down dead with one of my mother’s arrows through its skull.”
A laugh trembled past my lips. “She never left you.”
Laphaniel nodded. “I was so angry with her. I refused to go hunting with her again; she continued to ask, but I wouldn’t go. I thought I had done it on my own, scared off the beasts in the shadows with my ridiculous little knife, when all along she had been there, keeping me safe. I hated her for it.”
“I can imagine you as a stubborn child,” I said, grinning as I stripped juicy meat from the bone. “You really never went out with her again?”
“Not long after, she found out she was carrying Nefina.”
“Couldn’t you have gone out after she was born?”
Laphaniel set aside his half-eaten food. “No.”
I watched as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. He didn’t touch his food again.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I hit my head harder than I thought,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. I moved my hand to the back of his head, my fingers finding a small bump.
“You sure that’s all it is?”
Laphaniel sighed and lay back against the cold grass, tugging me down too, so I fitted snugly against him. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“At least we can both agree on that,” I said, noting the odd warmth coming from him. He closed his eyes and didn’t move. Something he hadn’t done in months.
I wondered if he was still feeling the effects of the iron, first from the car journey, and then from the warehouse. I had seen how lethal iron was to faeries, so it made sense for it to take time, leaving his system entirely.
Sleep didn’t find me so easily. The surrounding woods were alive with the baying of creatures I had no name for, the whispers I couldn’t understand, the echoes of distant screaming.
The strange sunlight bled over the horizon, the moody sky darkening like an oil spill. Shadows stretched along the ground, wavering with the wind, thick fingers of black that jutted ou
t from the spindly armed branches.
I moved closer to the flames, tugging Laphaniel with me and prayed it didn’t go out.
Dawn came slowly, lazily. It brought with it a thin layer of frost, a hint of winter, and nothing more. The dusting of white gave a softness to the surrounding land, concealing the darkness lingering below the surface. It may have fooled someone else with its veiled wonderland. It would have fooled me once.
Laphaniel stirred as the sun crept higher and melted the frost away, shattering the illusion. Beads of sweat slipped down his temple.
“You’re like a fussing nursemaid,” he said, knocking my hand away. He sat up and glanced around, eyes blank for a moment.
I rolled my eyes, “How’s your head?”
He picked at the dried blood on his neck. “It’s fine, how’s your arm?”
“It’s itchy,” I replied, noting the change of subject.
“Well, don’t scratch it.”
I stood and stretched hard enough for my bones to click, my clothes crunching as I moved. I gave them a quick sniff and winced.
Laphaniel kicked dirt over the remains of the fire, looking just as filthy and bruised as I did. It was becoming harder to remember how he looked when clean and rested and unbloodied. I wished to see him less haunted, missing the quick smiles and wicked glances that were already becoming less frequent.
Slipping my hand in his, we entered the twisting woodland of the Unseelie. Strange light dappled down over the thick roots, striking the ivy creeping over the ground. Violet tinged everything, the few clouds overhead the colours of bruises. Endless twilight surrounded us, casting everything with long winding shadows.
The bones in my hand creaked as Laphaniel tightened his grip. His footsteps over the ground were silent.
“I may need this hand in the future, Laphaniel.”
“What? Oh, sorry.” He dropped my hand, and I flexed my fingers. “Stay close.”
“I’m not going to wander off,” I said, straining my head to take in the trees towering above us. Some stood so wide and tall they blocked out all light. Branches wound up and around the trunks, looping from tree to tree like moss-covered bridges. I caught sight of movement above us, lightning-quick and utterly silent.