Would I? I still couldn't have told her about being a Moondreamer or any of the Fae things I'd learned. I wanted to have that conversation in person. “No. I'd have said the same things until I saw you in person.”
“There you go.” She waves a hand dismissively. “If this is the type of stuff you've been busy doing, no wonder you haven't had time to stop for a girlie chat.”
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Though her bruises are gone, it takes no effort to recall how she looked, bruised and bloody, just a short time ago.
“Syxx, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
She gestures to her face. “I'm fine. Maybe you can fool them, but you can't hide anything from me. Your poker face suuuucks.”
I'd almost forgotten how easy it is for her to read me. “I missed you.”
“I know. I'm awesome.” She fluffs her hair.
“You are.”
“How have you been holding up with all this?”
“Honestly? I'm bricking it. Mostly I go from one fucked up thing to the next trying not to get myself or anyone else killed, but mostly because it stops me from having to actually stop and deal with any of it.” Tears spring to my eyes. “Obviously that’s not working because you got sucked into this shitstorm too, and I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t have a rack attack. I’m okay.”
“You might not have been. I mean, who the fuck am I to be doing this? I can’t save anyone, I have no business wading in like I know what the fuck I’m doing when I don’t! Everything’s so fucking vitally important that if I do one thing wrong, it’s not just a mistake, there’s a ripple effect of shit that radiates out and screws up people’s lives. I’m supposed to be the hero and fix this, and I don’t think I’m strong enough.” The tears scald my cheeks and shame fills me at dumping all this on Trina right now, but I can’t stop the words. “I’m trying to learn how to use these powers and learn combat when I haven’t even had time to stop and breathe and deal with the fact I’m not even completely human. I’m going to fuck it up. You don’t give the new girl all this power and expect her to save the world. It’s too much.”
She surprises me by taking my hand. “It’s not on you to save everyone. You’re one freaking person, Syxx. And yeah, you’ve got powers but that doesn’t make you a superhero. It makes you a little more extraordinary than you already were. It means you’re, I don’t know, Buffy. Special, but even she needed help from her friends. And you know why?”
“Because Willow was cooler?” I joke, knowing Trina always favored her.
“Because no one can do everything, save everyone, fix everything without eventually breaking from the pressure. It’s impossible. So we do the best we can because that’s the limit. Even Buffy needed to take a break once in a while and let the rest of the Scoobies handle things.”
I tacklehug Trina. “Have I said I missed you yet? Why didn’t I bring you here right away?”
She pats my back. “You know I like to make a grand entrance.”
“I do need to breathe more. You’re right; I’m not alone in this.” I pull away.
She nods. “It still could go to shit despite everyone’s best efforts. On the bright side, if that happens, we'll all be dead, right?” Her bright smile draws a laugh from me.
“That is very true. Are you really okay?”
“I am. I don't even hurt at all anymore. I think the marks looked worse than they felt—judging by your face anyways.”
“I could kill them for what they did to you.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Could you do that? I mean, do you have the power to?”
“I think so. There'd be retaliation from their people, but as for the actual ability to do it? Yes. I’m definitely able to do it.” The spot below my left eye twitches. And I want to.
“Promise me you won't.”
“Trin, I—”
“No! I don't ever want you to do that for me or because of me. I'm fine now. You need to put that behind you and focus on whatever you need to, to save the day.”
“I agree with that.”
I jump at Draven’s voice right behind me. “Are you part cat?” He entered silently with a tray of food.
He shrugs. “She’s right.”
“Promise me,” Trina demands as he sets the tray on her lap. “Hunger strike until you promise.” Her stomach loudly rumbles as if to make a point.
Damn it. The worst part is she’s right. A piece of me had been plotting revenge against Mare underneath it all, like a computer running a program in the background. All of my focus hasn’t been on winning—it can’t be while I’m dreaming of revenge. “I promise.”
She seizes her spoon. “Clever girl.” She dives in to the soup and fruit tray that Draven's made up for her. “Tell me more about this war you're fighting.”
“We're really trying to prevent one,” I begin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Trina sleeps for eighteen hours. The only time I leave her side is to go to the bathroom—and only when Draven takes my place. I healed her but bodies aren't like broken pottery that you glue back together like nothing happened. Humans especially need time to integrate the changes and rest. Fae are way more receptive to magical healing.
When she wakes, she thanks me and insists on moving into her own bedroom down the hall, wanting to give me my room back. I also think she wants a place of her own to get away from everything and process what she’s been through. She's taking it all in stride so far, or at least she appears to be. She went from my room to hers and hasn’t interacted with anyone yet.
Times like this I wish I could have hung on to the Vampiric telepathy, but that would be a violation even if my intentions are pure.
I'm mostly sure she's fine, but it's that small percent of doubt that throws everything off. Janska's suicide attempt was in that small percentage. Then again, I don't think Trina would ever do anything like that. Still. She’s in a house filled with Fae—and the Vampires may have cast a cold shadow over her opinion of non-humans. I want to show her some of the good.
I knock on her door.
“Who is it?” Her voice is quiet.
“It's me. Can I come in?”
“Yup.”
I walk in with Kaya on my shoulder in Corvidae form. I decided he'd be a good introduction to the Fae. He's less scary than the soldiers, who are a bit peaked and intense, and Skortia's all about combat, so that wouldn't foster relaxation. Sakarias would be good, but he's out and about, and might be a tad boisterous for a first interaction. Kaya is perfect.
Trina’s room is the brightest one we have. The double bed and rocking chair in the corner are painted white while the walls are a pale yellow, and I made a window seat for Trina since she’d always wanted one. Renovations are a snap with magic powers. Maybe there’s a future in that—if we come out to the humans.
One battle at a time, Syxx.
Trina's room is comfortable and cozy, not super big. We’ve got no televisions in the safe house—the concealment spell kills the reception—but there’s a bookshelf with classics and some contemporaries in each room.
Trina’s made a little nest on the window seat and burrowed into the down duvet with a book.
She'd taken a shower, and I gave her free rein over my closet; she'd been wearing the clothes she was in for a couple weeks, and I think the revulsion for them wasn't only because they'd been unwashed the entire time. I didn't even ask if she wanted them cleaned and returned, I just burned them in front of her with my powers. She was silent, watching them turn to ash, then to nothing, with solemn eyes. She nodded then hugged me.
I sit at her feet on the bed. Kaya's talons dig into my shoulder as his little Magpie claws flex and grip me. He leans forward and coos, looking at Trina.
Her eyes light up. “Wow, it's beautiful. Is this your new pet?” She sets the book down. “Can I touch it? Is it friendly?”
“He. His name is Kaya. Kaya is a sha—” Kaya gently pecks my ear and hops down to Trina's
outstretched hand.
Pretty sure the Magpie just told me to shush.
Trina gently strokes his cheek and the top of his head with a fingertip. He makes happy chirping sounds, closes his eyes and leans into her hand. She laughs when he hops onto her lap and nestles down, cooing.
“Kaya!” I admonish.
Trina carefully trails a hand down his back. “Isn't he kind of big for a magpie?”
I pick at my nails. “That's what I was saying. He's not just a magpie.”
Trina’s hand stills and she removes it from his back. “What?”
I make eye contact with Kaya. “Show her.”
Kaya flaps his wings and makes his way to the edge of the bed. Quicker than a blink, he's changed back to his human form, sitting on the bed in a black t-shirt and jeans, with his head cocked to the side. Trina's eyes widen, taking in his huge dark eyes and pompadour hair, streaked with natural iridescent blue and green highlights.
What’s her reaction going to be? She was just petting a guy, not a bird. I’m pretty sure I would die of embarrassment.
She squints at him. “Why aren't you naked?”
“Um.” He stops there, clearly not knowing what to say.
I burst out laughing.
“What?” Trina blushes. “Oh my god, no! I didn't mean...I meant, you didn't have clothes when you came in here as a bird, but they were back when you changed.”
“Ah.” He smiles. “That's just one of those things.”
“Fair enough. I guess,” she adds quietly, biting her lip.
Oh my god. I know that look! She thinks he’s hot.
We are so going to have a talk.
I stand. “I have to go talk to Misty. I'll see you guys later.”
Trina shoots me a look that's half murder and half gratitude. Kaya doesn't notice me stand and walk away—he’s too busy focusing on my very sparkly best friend. I hadn’t meant to make a match, yet this one feels right.
If I had a moustache I'd twirl it.
Now that I'm not consumed by worry for Trina, memories of how I basically told everyone to get the fuck out of my room earlier wash over me and I could cheerfully kick my own ass.
Some leader.
The soldiers know too much about being unwanted—even when they were vital to the High Council, it was only as mindless killing machines. They finally got out to a place where all they have is themselves and hope for something better and I came in and didn’t even bother to pretend I wanted to see them. Sure, it was because I was focused on Trina, but I shouldn't have added to that, no matter what was going on.
While I’d rather go have a shower and catch up on sleep, it's better to fix the situation than let the guilt eat at my insides, so I head to where I hear voices. It's always from the kitchen; they were kept so hungry, it's got to be a comfort. The kitchen was one place that was always off-limits for them. Even being in ours must be a bit of a middle finger to the memory of what they went through, a small act of defiance. Eating what they want when they want.
The room falls silent as I lean against the doorjamb. “First off, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was...I was an asshole and I'm sorry.”
The taller male looks at me incredulously. “You're apologizing?” I nod. “It's your home. And you've got to be the most powerful of all of us. Why would you apologize to us?”
“Because what I did wasn't called for. It doesn't matter that it's my house—that isn't even right. It's not mine, it's ours. It's a safe house, a haven for all of us, and is yours now, too. Even if it were mine, ownership doesn't mean I’d get to strut around being a dictator and trample on everyone's feelings.”
The three unfamiliar faces are thunderstruck. Ibor smiles.
Misty’s expression is somewhat smug. “What did I tell you?”
I feel like I've passed some sort of invisible test. I put on some water for tea and sit at the table. “So I know Misty and Ibor. I'm Syxx, as you've figured out. What are your names?”
The girl I suspect is Maly the Sprite confirms my assumption in a quiet, gentle voice. She's about five feet tall with black hair and tawny skin. She's the one who was tormented for being weak? She seems well-built to me. The Fae soldiers must have different standards than the rest of us.
The tall brunette Succubus’ eyes reveal her heritage; they’re the same blue-green shade as Draven’s. She tells me her name is Ajda, and I remember that she's the one who was abused by one of their guardians like Ibor was.
What these poor kids went through makes me sick. Kids.
They're probably older than I am.
“And you?” I ask the male who was astounded at my apology.
“I'm Kena.”
“What's your story? Misty mentioned these two, but you're a surprise.”
Misty nods as if giving permission for him to answer. “I was with them when they went out on an assimilation. They asked if I'd come. I came.”
“What are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“A Warlock.”
Geez, we're a little of everything around these parts. “And you're on board with it all?”
“Women are our future and the more important sex as you bear the children that will help populate the world and carry on the Fae bloodlines. You specifically are supposed to be the enemy, but you're the strongest woman I've heard of—other than Ashria. As an amazingly powerful woman, I have to respect you.”
“Is that the only reason, Kena? Because no offence, I don't want someone fighting beside me just because they think I'm the toughest out there. Here everyone matters, not just the strongest. You need to believe, not in me, but in what we’re fighting for. And I don't need you turning on us and killing my people if something happens to me.”
Misty puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to tell her the truth, Kena. You won’t get in trouble.”
“I believe humans are as important as the Fae.” The words leave him in a whoosh, and he relaxes once they’re out. “The things we were trained to believe are wrong. I've known it since I was a child but never dreamed there was a way to escape, not until Misty and Ibor approached us. I'm still half expecting it all to be a dream or a trick. That I'll wake up back there.”
I stare deeply into his eyes. “No one will take you back there. Not on my watch. You're one of us now, and we're here to protect you.”
He bows his head solemnly.
“I’ve been busy seeing to my friend. Are you all comfortable? Do you need anything else?”
They look at each other and back to me, shaking their heads.
“If that changes, let me know. I want you to be comfortable here, as well as the circumstances allow.” The kettle’s boiled, so I move to fix a pot of tea.
Ibor passes me a cup. “How did it go, Syxx? With Ashria and the Sprites?”
I pour hot water into the teapot to avoid looking them in the eyes and showing my inner conflict. “Two down.”
Maly gasps. “You killed another one of them?”
“The Sprites took care of that. It was brutal, but they needed it after the way they were treated.”
“I told you guys.” Misty's voice is triumphant. “The High Council can be defeated.”
“Who was it?” Maly asks.
“Coren. The Warlock. Leaving Graire's brother and Kaya's sister.”
“Nakayla is Kaya's sister?” Shock spikes Maly’s voice.
“Yes. He's the reason we knew she was a member of the High Council. We didn't have your intel then.”
“He gave her up? They're family.” Ajda shakes her head. “We were taught that among you family was a weakness. That it was something you wouldn't ever betray.”
I lean against the counter. “Not the only thing they lied to you about.” That sounds bad. “Family is extremely important to some people—humans, and to those of us in The Resistance. But it's important to fight on the side of right. Not what's subjectively right or will get you what you want. Sometimes you have to go against those you love in ord
er to do the right thing and that makes Kaya one of the strongest allies we have. It must have hurt him deeply, yet he did it. Not everyone has that kind of strength.”
“It's just such a betrayal.” Kena holds his head in his hands.
He doesn't get it. “It's about what's right—”
“No,” he interrupts. “Not Kaya. Our leaders. It's a lot to take in. It feels like everything they ever told us was a lie.”
“It very well might have been,” I say softly. “The thing is, they taught you what to think, not how to think. They fed you information, some of it true, most of it false, and you were to believe it as it was given. They never showed you how to sift through information given to you and draw your own conclusions because that wouldn’t have furthered their lies. Critical thinking is so important and you've all been raised without it. You may still be soldiers, but you're no longer anyone's puppets. You're free and independent. And you've got our support.” My chest aches at the hurt in the new soldiers' eyes.
Misty and Ibor, who went through the same thing, are already way stronger in themselves, so there’s hope. Helping these three has helped them begin healing. Focusing on others can heal your own emotional wounds, but I think it's more about time. While helping someone else, time passes and you can look at what happened when the wound isn't as fresh. It goes a long way toward making it easier to deal with. In their cases, a lifetime of lies to get over.
It's not going to be fixed any time soon, but the foundation is there and it's a start.
That, and the obliteration of the High Fae Council.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next morning I sleep late. My head’s throbbing so hard I expect to be able to see it moving in my reflection. All I see are bloodshot eyes and bedhead. We stayed up talking, not drinking, why the hell do I feel like I swam in a vat of alcohol?
Ashria’s still not back, so I linger in the shower. It's almost noon when I shuffle downstairs to get a cup of something caffeinated and something to eat. Skortia’s shaking something green and gross in her water bottle. One of her ‘swampies.’ I call them that because her ‘smoothies’ look—and taste—like what you’d get if you dredged a swamp. “You look like shit.”
The Reaping (The Moondreamer Chronicles Book 2) Page 17