by L. V Russell
I ran a hand over Alice’s cheek, feeling it hot against my fingers. “I know. We can’t take her with us. She has a fever—she needs somewhere to rest.”
Laphaniel closed his eyes and sighed. “Get some firewood.”
“We’re camping here?” I asked, hopeful.
“For tonight,” he answered, lowering Alice to the ground. He stepped beside me, pulling me close as he whispered, “I can’t save her, Teya. You know that, right?”
Tears pricked at my eyes, slipping pointlessly down my face. Laphaniel wiped them away, but they kept coming.
I nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
“Because of you, she will not die alone,” Laphaniel said softly. “And I will do what I can to make it easier.”
A sob hitched in my throat. Words failed me. I just nodded again.
“Find some firewood before it gets too dark. Look to see if you can gather any mistweed.”
“What’s mistweed?” I asked, swiping a hand over my face.
“A plant that grows in the shadows. Look for thin, trailing stalks bursting with tiny white flowers. It has some healing properties; it may help with her fever”
Set with a task, I took a deep breath and searched the ivy-covered ground for the mistweed, setting aside dry logs for the fire. Beneath a sprawling old tree, I spotted the plant winding its way around the trunk. White flowers adorned the deep green stalks, little buds with peaked petals that were sharp to the touch. I pulled a handful, placing it with care upon the stack of firewood I had gathered.
I built the fire, with Laphaniel igniting it. The flames licked at the wood, hot and hungry. Alice lay beside it, settling down with her head in my lap; quiet sobs shook her body. My heart twisted, aching with something I hadn’t felt before. A new longing that had slowly crept over me, unbidden.
A vision of a young girl playing in the woods flashed before my eyes, the squeal of laughter so real, I turned to look. I could see the wild dark hair, the flash of violet eyes brimming with mischief.
Even though it had never been real, I missed my child, our daughter.
Holding Alice tighter, I watched while Laphaniel carefully unbound her fingers. He chewed the little flowers, smearing the white paste over the livid wounds. Alice flinched as he worked but didn’t pull her hand away.
Crows settled on the branches above us, a swarm of shining black, all regarding us in silence, eyes gleaming with too much intelligence. They cocked their heads, all watching. I hated to think they were simply waiting for Alice to pass.
Laphaniel glanced up, eyes narrowing. “I never thought I would bring you here,” he said, turning his head as more crows settled nearby. “I really didn’t think I would take you to Luthien. I never wanted anything like this for you.”
“Both our choices brought us here,” I said, gently stroking Alice’s hair. “It’s so far removed from what we both wanted, but we’re together. We’re still together.”
His lips quirked up in a tired smile, though the black of his eyes didn’t lift. Alice coughed wetly and groaned, shifting in my arms.
“I don’t feel very well,” she murmured.
“I know, sweetheart,” I said, “Try and get some sleep.”
Laphaniel shuffled closer. “Close your eyes.”
He whispered something to Alice under his breath. I couldn’t make out the words, but I recognised the way they lilted, the softness behind them, the ever so gentle tug that was just too tempting to ignore. Laphaniel threaded Glamour into his voice until little Alice lay limp and heavy in my arms, her mouth parted as she snored softly.
“Will she wake up again?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I had just as good as asked Laphaniel if he had killed her.
He stared at the girl in my arms. “I don’t know.”
I gripped his hand. “Thank you for going back for her.”
“You would have run off if I hadn’t,” he answered, running a hand over his eyes. He tilted his head up again to look at the crows.
“That’s not why you did it.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Why do you keep looking at the birds?” I asked, peering into the treetops. Countless black eyes stared back. “What do they want?”
“Maybe nothing,” Laphaniel began, running a finger along a piece of flint until a bead of blood bloomed at his skin. “Maybe they are messengers.”
“For whom?”
He lifted his hand, not moving when one of the inky birds alighted upon it. With a quick dip of its head, it coated its beak with the droplet of blood and took to the skies. “We may have somewhere to take Alice.”
Chapter Sixteen
Laphaniel continued to watch the skies; the crows surrounding us remained stoic in the branches, still as the night.
“What are you waiting for?” I whispered, unease prickling at my body.
“To see if the bird will come back,” Laphaniel answered, not looking away from the darkening sky. “These crows belong to a Scara, an Unseelie tree spirit.”
“Why would it want to help Alice?”
“It covets children,” he replied, and my unease turned to dread. He noticed, and his eyes hardened. “Do you have a better idea?”
I shook my head, holding Alice tighter.
The crow returned as the last rays of silvery light drifted over the treetops. It landed at our feet, opening its beak to drop a round stone onto the ground, rune-like etchings carved into its shining surface.
“What does this mean?” I asked, turning the stone over in my hand.
“It means we follow the crows.” Laphaniel scooped the still-slumbering girl into his arms.
The birds flew from the trees in a swirl of cawing black, scattering ahead of us so we had to run to keep up. I kept the stone tight in my hand, unable to think what a tree spirit could want with a child. We had no way of knowing if it were a worse fate than the harpies.
The crows stopped deep in the woods, the night sky blotted out by the thick branches of the massive trees around us. Specks flittered in the shadows, casting dancing bursts of light along the ground. The lazy flittering grew manic as the crows descended upon them, gorging themselves until there was nothing but darkness.
The Scara’s dwelling nested beneath a sprawling ancient oak that stood hollow with rot and decay. More crows surrounded the creaking branches, dark beaks clicking against the eerie silence as they watched.
Skeletal leaves fell to the earth, turning to dust the moment they hit the ground. Black sap oozed from cracks in the trunk, seeping down the dying wood to congeal at the base like old blood.
It was a horrible, desolate place, and even Laphaniel gave pause as we stood before it.
“There must be somewhere else.” I grabbed Laphaniel’s shoulder. “We can’t leave her here.”
We both jumped as the door swung open, disturbing the crows above us, so they took off, screeching into the twilight sky.
“My darlings told me you were coming,” sang a voice from the darkness. “Show me what you have brought me.”
“Laphaniel! Don’t…please.” Laphaniel ignored me, shrugging me off.
“Ah, I see,” the Scara said, delight ringing loud in her voice. I could do nothing but follow Laphaniel into her home, my heart sick. “Come, come in.”
I blinked in the darkness, my eyes slowly adjusting to the soft candlelight struggling in the corners. The Scara waved a hand to ignite more, flaring up the waxy stubs on the table and shelves and bringing to life the dying embers of the fire.
A sheer gown of black silk hung from her lithe body, her legs bone-white beneath the gauzy fabric. Long delicate fingers reached for Laphaniel, desperate to touch the young girl he held. He stepped back, eyes wary, as she turned her sleek raven head to the side, her long black beak clicking in warning.
“She’s near death,” the Scara said, one black eye fixed on me. Her voice held the melody of rustling leaves and dying storms. “What will you give me for the burden you carry?”
>
“You want us to pay you?” I blurted, disgusted. “Maybe we don’t even want you to have her.”
The Scara laughed, a soft cawing that set the few crows lingering by her doorway to join in. “Better me than anything else out there.”
“What is it you want?” Laphaniel demanded, keeping his back to the door.
“Seelie, aren’t you, boy?” she asked, smoothing down the inky feathers on top of her head, which were longer than the others on her body, trailing down her back like hair. “I could smell you a mile off. I could use more Seelie blood. Do you think a pint would be fair price?”
Laphaniel glanced at me. “I think blood is the going rate for dying girls.”
“What will you do with her?” I asked, taking in where we were to abandon Alice. Roots dangled above us, curling to pool upon the dirt-covered floor. A bed sat in one corner, low and crooked. Threadbare covers dripped over the edge, deep green moss spreading up from the fabric. Everything reeked of damp. The only window let in no light, nothing more than a slit in the rotting wood.
The Scara watched me take in her home, her head tilting, her bird eyes black and unreadable. Without turning from me, she took a long blade from a shelf and placed it beside an empty glass jar.
“If she lives,” the Scara answered at last, “I need an apprentice, and I will love her until my soul aches. If she dies, I will feed her to my crows.”
“We want your word you won’t harm her.”
She twisted her head to Laphaniel, bending it around without moving her body. “Dear boy, she will be mine. Nothing on this earth would dare to touch her. She will be beloved of mine, and all that is mine, she will control the flocks and the dying trees. She will bring death upon those who have wronged her, and it will not be swift. It will not be with mercy.”
A dank home within a world of nightmares was so far beyond the childhood that anyone could have dreamt for Alice. The ache deep within me turned hollow, leaving a void I wasn’t sure I could fill.
I feared what a life raised by shadows would do to a child, how quickly it would suck the innocence out of someone like Alice if any innocence remained after what the harpies had done to her.
“Place the child onto the bed, then hold out your arm,” the Scara instructed Laphaniel. “Your blood will go towards paying for the healing herbs I need to save her life.”
Alice didn’t stir as he lowered her onto the moss-covered bed, but her breathing hitched. I just prayed we were not too late.
“Will she live?” I dared ask.
The Scara kept her attention on Laphaniel, drawing a blade without hesitation over his arm. “She will either live or die—I know no more than that.”
Blood dripped into the jar in a steady flow, filling to the top before the Scara drew it away. She pressed a wad of moss to the wound, then licked her fingers clean. Laphaniel swayed when she released him, reaching for the wall to steady himself.
“Keep your hands off me,” he hissed as the Scara caught his elbow before I could. Her eyes flashed, not with ire, but with mirth.
“Be mindful, Seelie boy,” she sang, placing her jar of blood high upon a shelf. “Do not give more than you can afford.”
“Come on, Teya,” Laphaniel said, swiping the moss from his arm. The bleeding had stopped. “There’s nothing more to be done here.”
The Scara gestured for us to leave, her beak slightly open in what appeared to be a chilling smile. We made it to the door before Alice flung herself at Laphaniel.
Her screams were devastating, her grip relentless, suddenly realising she was being left. Tears of utter terror flooded down her face, both hands grappling at Laphaniel. I could only imagine the agony it was causing her.
The Scara waited in silence, watching. Tears of my own slipped down while I helped prise her away, her little body weighing barely anything as I forced her into the Scara’s arms.
I shoved Laphaniel through the open door as the Scara dragged Alice back to the bed. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare look back.
Alice’s cries followed us beyond the rotting tree, the sound shredding through me so thoroughly, I knew I would never unhear them.
Laphaniel staggered ahead of me, doubling over to retch into the bushes. He pushed my hand away. “I’m dizzy from the loss of blood, Teya, that’s all.”
“You’ve given three times that amount and barely wobbled,” I reminded him, sitting beside him when he sunk to the ground. “Put your head between your knees. You look like you’re going to faint.”
He did as I told him, which surprised me, leaning forwards to suck in long deep breaths. Then he pitched against me, eyes rolling back.
“Laphaniel?” I tapped his cheek, and his eyes flickered open. “Look at me. No, don’t get up yet. Just stay there a moment.” I placed a hand on his chest before he could sit up, relieved to see more colour seeping back into his face.
“The other girls used to scream like that when I left them behind,” he said, voice soft. “When I left them to rot in the Seelie castle.”
“Under Luthien’s command,” I replied, helping him sit up. His eyes were glazed, lost in some dark memory brought on by Alice.
He shrugged. “I still did it.”
“Stop.”
“Niven didn’t scream, not right away.”
I placed a finger to his lips before bringing my head to his. We sat like that for a moment, sharing breath, listening as the echoes of Alice’s screams grew silent. I hoped the Scara had found a way to calm her, or that she finally slept. I wouldn’t think of the alternative to the sudden quiet.
I would hope.
And keep hoping, until nothing else remained. I had little else.
The sound of snapping twigs had Laphaniel instantly alert and on his feet, the movement so swift I hadn’t seen him move.
“What is it?”
He scanned the trees, listening, eyes wide. “Keep walking.”
Laphaniel took my hand, leading me through the forest as quickly as we could without running. He kept looking behind him, choosing paths that twisted and turned until we doubled back on ourselves.
Something followed in the shadows, bending branches just out of sight, and as much as Laphaniel tried, we couldn’t seem to lose whatever was stalking us.
We quickened our pace, me practically jogging to keep up with him, my hand locked firmly in his. He didn’t run, so I knew whatever followed was too close, and that if we fled, we would be hunted down.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, stopping suddenly to run his hands over my body. “Are you bleeding from any wounds you haven’t told me about?”
“What? No,” I said, startled by the panic in his eyes. “Could it be the blood on your arm?”
Laphaniel ran a hand over me, lifting my sleeves to check for himself. “They’re not scenting me; I don’t know how they’re tracking you if you’re not bleeding.”
“Oh.” Realisation hit. “I am, just not from any injury.”
Laphaniel scrubbed a frantic hand through his hair. “They think you’re in heat.”
“Who?”
“A herd of satyrs.” He grabbed me by the shoulders, his eyes blazing. “I need you to run.”
“They’re going to chase me,” I began, panic threatening to swallow me whole.
“I’ll stop them.”
“You can’t, no!” My voice hitched. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are,” he snapped. “As fast as you can, head north.”
My eyes darted to the thick woods looming around us. “I don’t know which way north is.”
“Keep going through those trees, stay on the path…”
“I can’t see the path without you!”
He gave a strangled sound, and instinctively I reached for him, shocked when he shoved me away, forcing me to stumble.
“Go!”
Whatever was out there, I wanted to face it together. Leaving him behind was incomprehensible.
Laphaniel drew me close for one quick emb
race. “I will find you, I promise.”
I ran.
Even though I didn’t know what I was running from or running towards. Even though I had run from faeries before and knew it was always futile, that no matter how fast I ran, they were faster.
Always.
My breath became agony in my chest. My gasps fogged before me as I sprinted through the forest, tripping over low branches and jagged rocks that jutted up from the ivy strewn ground. I had no idea what direction I ran in—I simply ran.
Sprawling natural bridges twisted overhead, and I tried to get to them, clambering over the thick tree trunks. The lower branches snapped with my weight, the stronger ones too high for me to reach.
Laphaniel would have leapt up with ease.
So, I ran and ran until I lost all sense of where I was. No light trickled down, the woods lit only by dancing lights skimming over the ground.
It didn’t matter how quickly I fled, I could still hear the heavy pounding of feet close behind, hunting me down. With a cry of despair, I sagged to my knees as they finally surrounded me.
A group of massive beasts emerged from the shadows, curved horns stretching out along their heads, cutting through the mist coiling around us. Yellow goat-like eyes fixed on me, wide nostrils flaring out puffs of breath into the cold air. I cringed in the dirt as one stepped closer, hooves gouging out rivets as it stomped.
Pain exploded in my head when it shoved me back with a heavy paw, my skull smacking against rock. The world blurred around me, and for a moment I thought I might black out and it would all be over.
I wanted it to be over.
A paw grappled at my hair, coiling around to drag me back to the others. I kicked and lashed out. I screamed, all for nothing.
I was thrown near Laphaniel’s feet, skidding over the hard ground. Thick hands held him down, a filthy gag shoved into his mouth, tied so tight I feared he couldn’t breathe. I fought to get to him, a shout lodging in my throat as they clouted him around the face.
A cloven hoof came down upon his newly healed ribs, and he roared around the gag, curling into himself.
I didn’t move again.
The reek of rot surged over me, and I recoiled as a massive paw came out to touch my face. Grease coated its ruddy coat, twigs, and decaying leaves buried deep within the fur. Creatures moved between the coarse hair, fat squirming things that slipped down to burrow beneath my clothes. To tangle in my hair. To writhe on my skin.