Demon Dawn

by M. J. Haag

  I shook my head, feeling the weight of panic settling on my chest.

  “No, Mom. I’m not. I won’t.”

  A noise in the hall drew her attention. Zach stood there, flushed, but not angrily so.

  “It’s Brenna’s choice, Mom. Don’t guilt her into anything. She’s done enough.” Our gazes met and held. Guilt reflected in his eyes. He swallowed hard and started to turn away.

  I sprang off the bed, grabbed him, and spun him around for a fierce hug.

  “Don’t,” I whispered as he held me just as tightly. “Don’t even think about it. The past is behind us. We both need to look forward. We watch out for each other. Always. No regrets. Got it?”

  He nodded even as he trembled. I continued to hold him until the shaking stopped and he moved to let me know he was done. When he met my gaze, his lashes were wet and his eyes red.

  “Find a fey to teach you any moves today?” I asked.

  He grinned.

  “No, but I found one making a bow. I helped him for a while. He didn’t talk much but showed me how to make arrows.”

  “That’s great. If we stockpile them, I can start placing caches along the wall.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too.” Some of the regret and sorrow left his gaze, replaced by excitement.

  “Why don’t you start lunch?” I asked. “Mom and I will join you in a bit.”

  He nodded, glanced at Mom, then left.

  When I turned, Mom was watching me.

  “It’s always your choice,” she said. “Never doubt that. I will castrate any man or fey who believes otherwise.”

  “I know.”

  She nodded, set the binoculars on the bed, and started wheeling toward the door.

  “Take a peek,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “That way you’ll know what you’re getting into before you decide.”

  I stayed in the room and sat on the bed, but I had no intention of peeking at our neighbors. Big or small, I knew what I’d be getting myself into with one of the fey. They didn’t date. They obsessed. Some of the women here had found real happiness with the level of devotion from their chosen fey partners. And, I couldn’t deny that Drav was amazing with Mya. But the way he told her what to do…the way they all liked giving orders at certain times…none of it sat well with me.

  A memory pulled me in before I could fight it. That first night at the bunker, Zach sat at the table beside me. Strangers were filing past us with their plates to get their portion of the food. I’d nudged Zach. He’d stood with me, and we’d done what the others had. However, when we got to the front of the line, the old guy had shaken his head.

  “You work to get fed. You haven’t worked yet, so you don’t get a portion.”

  “You took us but don’t plan on feeding us? Why?”

  He had nodded his head for someone to take the plate from my hand.

  “We plan on feeding you,” the younger guy had said. “You just need to work first.”

  The memory of the man’s blue eyes burrowed deeper, switching from the first day to the second when he’d lingered in the kitchen after I’d begged to do the dishes. I’d been begging for something to do to guarantee a portion of the evening meal for Zach. At fifteen, he’d been hungry all the time before the quakes. Afterward, when food was scarce, he appeared almost skeletal.

  “There are other ways to work, you know,” Van, the man with the blue eyes, had said while he watched me.

  “What?” I’d asked. “I’ll do anything.”

  The slow smile he’d given me still haunted my dreams.

  “Have you ever given a thought to the future? With so many of us dying, who will be left if we don’t start doing our part?”

  I’d understood what he’d meant.

  “No one is going to force you. But every time you let me do it, I’ll give up my portion of food for you.”

  For Zach, I’d lain still under Van in a bunker filled with people. Some had pretended to sleep. Most of the men had watched. Van had acted like I was the love of his life. He’d petted me and promised to make sure I was ready so I’d enjoy it.

  Van hadn’t physically hurt me. I’d been embarrassed, ashamed, resentful, and angry. But Zach had eaten the next day. Me too.

  My stomach twisted as the memory faded, and the familiar weight of panic settled heavier on my chest. I picked up the binoculars and turned them in my hands while taking my slow breaths.

  Van and his father had called it a choice, but it hadn’t been. Not really. In a system where the men with guns didn’t work but made up the rules for those of us who hadn’t had guns, what choice was there between starvation and letting someone use my body?

  I was never going back to that way of living.

  Setting the binoculars down, I joined Mom and Zach in the kitchen.

  “What do you think?” Mom asked.

  “I think that you’re making a decision based on fear and that you should stop and consider the long-term consequences carefully.”

  Zach stopped stirring whatever he had cooking on the stove to look back and forth between Mom and me.

  “What are we talking about?”

  “Mom wants to hook up with one of the fey so she doesn’t have to worry about being turned.”

  “And,” Mom added while shooting me a look, “so I know, should anything happen to me, that someone will be here to look after you two.”

  Zach remained quiet for a moment, studying me then Mom.

  “I want to be mad,” he said. “The resentment is right there. But I remember how scared I was when the infected were running around. How useless I am to keep either of you safe.”

  “Zach,” Mom said in a tone that promised she had a million reassurances ready, but he quickly held up his hand.

  “Dad was the bravest man I knew. One of the strongest, too. He died keeping us safe. The fey who rescued us from the bunker didn’t die. They were shot and attacked by hellhounds, but they lived. Well, almost all of them. They’re stronger, faster, and immune.

  “Since the beginning, Dad told us we needed to stick together to survive. But we know we wouldn’t have lasted out there without him, and he wouldn’t have wanted us to take that risk. That’s why we’re here.” He focused on Mom. “If you want to give one of the fey a reason to care, a reason to stick by us no matter what, I understand. But, you need to care about whoever you pick in return. They’re good people and don’t deserve to be used more than they already have been.”

  I looked at Mom. Her scowl might fool some people, but not us. She was doing her best not to cry.

  “Your dad would be so proud of you,” she said, her voice husky. “Both of you.”

  Zach went to give her a hug. I took over stirring the stew on the stove. It looked like a can of soup, a can of peas, and a can of dog food. I cringed, knowing that we had to be getting to the bottom of the supplies to be cracking into the dog food.

  “No making faces,” Mom said, smacking my hip. “Food is food. Go get the bowls.”

  We ate lunch together, and when Zach and I started bundling up to go out, Mom pulled me aside.

  “I’m set on my decision,” she said. “But I’ll need your help.”

  “Name it.”

  “When you’re out there, talk to the fey. Find a few who’d be willing to come over for dinner. Make it clear it’s not a promise for anything more than conversation and food. Zach is right; I need to feel some affection for whoever I choose. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

  “Wait, are you asking me to be your—”

  “If you say pimp, I’m serving dog food soup for the next week.”

  I snorted.

  “We’ll probably be eating dog food for the next week no matter what I say.”

  “When you mix it with the chicken noodle soup, it’s not so bad. Tastes like stew,” she said with a grin.

  But behind her humor, I saw her worry. She didn’t like feeding us dog food. She didn’t like depending on others to bring us supplies. Ther
e was a lot in life not to like now. I hoped she wasn’t adding to the list by looking for a fey.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. And I’ll be picky. I promise. But I refuse to do physical inspections for you. You’re on your own there.”

  Chapter Two

  The brisk winter wind smacked me in the face as I left the house. It robbed me of my breath, and I ducked down into the brown scarf I wore. Winter was easily my least favorite season. It made my fingers cold, which didn’t mix well with my love of archery.

  “Hey, Brenna,” a voice called.

  I looked up at the passing fey’s welcome. Usually, I nodded and continued on my way. Sometimes I said hey back. This time, I reluctantly stopped.

  “Hey. How’s it going, um…I forgot your name.”

  The fey froze like a deer in the headlights. His gaze swept the area around us then landed on me.

  “My name is Newaz.”

  “Newaz. Right. Sorry.”

  “There is no need for an apology. There are many of us.”

  I smiled. The fey really were nice. Well, most of them.

  “And I’m glad for it. Without all of you, none of us would still be here. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? My mom’s hoping for some conversation. It’s not to hook up or anything. Just to talk and get to know each other.”

  He frowned, and his gaze swept the area again. I looked around as well, wondering if there was something weird going on outside the walls again.

  “I cannot come over for dinner tonight. Perhaps you should ask Thallirin.”

  My gaze whipped back to Newaz.

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  Only two days ago, Thallirin, the biggest, scariest fey I’d ever seen, had gotten in my face and yelled at me for putting myself in danger. Then, he’d ordered me inside Mya’s home like some errant pet that’d peed on his floor. He was the exception to the fey niceness rule.

  Newaz’s face darkened.

  “No reason. I must go speak with someone else.”

  He hurried off, leaving me staring after him in confusion. That had to qualify as the shortest conversation with one of the fey, ever. Well, shortest where I didn’t walk away first. And weird. Why in the hell would he bring up Thallirin? That was the last fey I wanted over for dinner.

  Shrugging off Newaz’s oddness, I resumed my walk to the wall, not going far before I ran into another possible dinner invitee.

  “Hi,” I said, slowing.

  “Hello, Brenna.”

  I repeated the same invitation. Like Newaz, this fey started acting weird, looking around, flushing, and hurrying off after giving some lame excuse.

  It happened three more times before I gave up and went to my spot on the wall. Uan, a fey who often guarded the wall near me, was there and nodded when he saw me coming up the ladder.

  “Hey, Uan,” I said. “Do I have something on my face?”

  He tilted his head to look at me.

  “Your nose, mouth, and eyes.”

  I rolled said eyes and laughed.

  “Thanks. I thought maybe I had lunch on my face.”

  “Why would you think you have lunch on your face?”

  “Because I invited five different fey over to dinner, and they all acted like I nutted them with my bow.” I flicked the bow playfully at Uan’s midsection, and he backed up hastily.

  “Yep. Like that. I thought you guys liked conversation and food.” I paused for a beat. “Is it because my mom’s in a wheelchair? I thought that didn’t matter.”

  His expression turned from wary to serious.

  “Brenna, your mother is a strong and beautiful woman. Her wheelchair does not matter. It’s you.”

  I sputtered in indignation.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He looked around, just like the other guys had.

  “I swear if you tell me that you have to go talk to someone else, I’m going to beat you with my bow then make you find me a new one.”

  He chuckled at my threat, this not being the first time he’d heard it, and met my gaze.

  “You are too young to ask anyone to dinner.”

  “Oh.” Robbed of my indignation, I had nothing else to say.

  “When you are eighteen, you may ask someone to dinner.”

  “I’m not asking you to dinner for me. I’m asking for my mom. She’s lonely and just wants someone to talk to.”

  Interest lit his gaze.

  “Just talk,” I reiterated. “Zach and I will be there, too.”

  “A family dinner,” Uan said. “Yes, I would like one of those.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him just then. Locked underground before the quakes, without any women of their own and no chance for families, the existence of human women offered something the fey had never known to want. Now that they did know, they wanted families of their own very badly. But their wanting was like Mom’s, not Van’s.

  I stopped my line of thinking and smiled at Uan.

  “I can tell my mom you’ll come to dinner, then?”

  “Yes. I will come to your family dinner when the sun sets. I must share this news with Thallirin.”

  My mind shuddered at hearing that name again as Uan turned and waved to a fey farther down the wall to come guard his section of wall.

  Before Uan could jump down, I grabbed his arm.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but Thallirin’s not invited.”

  Uan grinned widely, showing his sharp teeth.

  “Of course not. You’re too young for dinner with Thallirin.”

  My grip tightened on my bow.

  “Uan, you’re making my head hurt. Why are you telling Thallirin that you’re having dinner at our house?”

  “He must know you were asking on behalf of your mother instead of yourself. Some will be disappointed you were not interested, but they will be glad to hear they did not steal your attention from our brother. Thallirin will be pleased as well.”

  It took a second for his words to click. He thought I was interested in Thallirin? Worse, it was sounding like they all thought Thallirin was interested in me.

  “Eh?” Uan’s replacement asked as he came up to us. “She is not interested in the others?”

  “I’m tempted to push you both off this wall.”

  The new guy glanced at the other side.

  “But there are no infected to kill.”

  Uan swept his arm out, forcing his companion to take a step back with him.

  “Do not provoke her,” Uan warned. “She will poke our testicles with her bow.”

  The other man made a pained noise and turned slightly sideways.

  “That is not how I want my testicles to be touched someday.”

  Uan grunted in agreement.

  I struggled with my frustration at how easily our conversation had spiraled out of control.

  “Uan, I’m going to say this very plainly. I am not interested in any male, be he fey or human.”

  “Yes. That is good. When you are eighteen, then you can be interested. Thallirin is patient.”

  I pivoted and started for the ladder, unable to deal with another minute of their naïve fey bullshit. I wasn’t mad. They didn’t know any better. But, communicating with the fey was often like talking to toddlers, and I didn’t know toddler-speak for “leave me the fuck alone.” I needed expert help.

  “I will see you at dinner,” Uan called as I jogged away from the wall.

  I debated between going to Mya or going to Eden. Mya was sick, and I hated to ask for her help when she wasn’t feeling well. But, I didn’t want Eden thinking my request for help to set the fey straight had anything to do with what had happened in the bunker. Because it didn’t. Well, not the way she would probably think.

  Turning the corner, I saw more than the usual number of fey lingering on Mya’s street. They watched me approach her door and knock. A moment later, Drav answered.

  “Hi, Drav. Can I talk to Mya?”

  He grun
ted and moved aside. He was a good guy. Easy to like. Which was a good thing since he was in charge during Molev’s continued absence.

  Stepping through the door, I saw Mya and Drav weren’t alone. Matt Davis, the man in charge of Tenacity, sat in the living room along with Eden and Ghua.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, already retreating. “I’ll just come back—”

  The door closed behind me.

  “Stay,” Mya said. “These aren’t closed meetings unless you ask to see my baby. Then, I’m kicking you out.”

  I grinned and shook my head.

  Since announcing her pregnancy, Mya’s fame among the fey had gone from protective-sister-they’d-always-wanted to baby-bearing-rockstar.

  She gestured to a chair and focused on Matt.

  “The fey are helping,” Mya said. “Without their escort, Tenacity would have no supplies.”

  “You’re right. And I’m not asking for more fey help. You and I agreed that after the walls were up, humans would be responsible for standing guard. That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for human volunteers who would be willing to take on a few guard shifts at Tenacity so I can send more people out for supplies.”

  I unzipped my jacket and took a seat as I listened.

  “If everyone were able-bodied, I’d have the numbers I need for guarding and supply runs. But I have kids. Elderly. Injured. And, I’m not asking for volunteers permanently. Cassie’s trip to find her son proved there are still survivors out there. With the planes still on base and some fey help,” he added with a cringe, “we can start looking for more people. Bolster our numbers.”

  Mya remained quiet for a moment, glancing at Drav then Eden. Eden shrugged, but I could see she wasn’t overly interested in helping Matt.

  “Any trouble since settling in?” Mya asked him.

  “None. I established a seventy/thirty system for supplies. Anyone who goes out keeps seventy percent of what they bring back, and thirty percent goes toward the community storage, which feeds those who can’t go out. But, I have more who can’t work than those who can.”

  Eden snorted.

  “Don’t forget those people lived here with us. I think you mean won’t work, not can’t.”

  Matt said nothing. He didn’t need to. The weary droop of his shoulder said enough.