by E. M. Fitch
“It would have to be iron,” Laney responded, locking eyes with Cassie. “And it would have to be you.”
Me. Of course it would have to be Cassie. Of course. There weren’t many others who could see the faeries. Cassie could. The rest of the town was still convinced there was a satanic cult to blame for all the disappearances. And because Laney was Fae, she couldn’t hold the iron. It would burn her flesh. Laney had told her that not so many nights ago, when she had been describing her new life and hierarchy to Cassie.
Suddenly, something niggled in the back of Cassie’s brain. She couldn’t quite put it into words, the sudden unsettling feeling that had invaded her, but nonetheless, she asked, “Laney, how did Corra become the ruler?”
“The king died,” Laney answered simply. Cassie’s brow furrowed, and she hummed in acknowledgment.
“Okay,” Cassie pressed on, “so, when do we kill him? Why hasn’t Aidan come for me yet?”
“I’m not sure,” Laney admitted. The trees above them paused, settling as Laney thought. An errant leaf fell from above, too jostled to keep hold of its branch. It floated past Cassie’s face, tickling her cheek before settling in her hair. She swept it away with a brush of her fingers. “I thought he would, truthfully. I’ve been watching for it. But he said—”
“What did he say?” Cassie asked in a breathless rush. A tremor had started somewhere in her core, and she felt it spreading throughout. The woods felt dangerous to her. She didn’t want to be treading here. She felt as though her feet would get pulled out from under her at any minute, and already she could taste the soil that had once flooded her mouth.
“He said he didn’t plan on stealing you away, that you’d come to him, in the end,” Laney said. Cassie felt a hysterical little giggle come alive in her throat and burst past her lips. She clamped shaking fingers over her mouth.
“I’d never … ” she said, but even as the words trailed off, she knew. There was a way Aidan could make her come to him. She had before. Not because she wanted to join him, but because he had been threatening everything she loved, and she wanted to confront him. So, he could make her come to him, and if the stakes were high enough, would she offer herself to him? Could he threaten those she loved with such danger that she’d be tempted to go to him to save them?
All the tension left her body at the realization, as though her muscles couldn’t stand to hold it any longer. She felt weak and exhausted, and as much as she didn’t want to be in the forest any longer, she felt her body sink to the ground. The ferns made way for her, and moss grew beneath, like the softest comforter. She turned on her side and brought her knees up, curling into a ball on the forest floor. Tears dripped over the bridge of her nose.
“Thanks,” she murmured to Laney, knowing her friend had instructed the forest floor to catch her. Laney whispered, “You’re welcome,” as she sat beside Cassie. Cool fingers swept the hair from her face and brushed tears from her cheeks.
“I want to say it’s all gonna be okay,” Laney said.
Cassie laughed brokenly. “But we both know you can’t promise that,” she said.
Laney’s cool fingers lingered in her hair. Cassie glanced up at her friend. Laney smiled softly.
“But this time, Cass,” she whispered, “I’m on your side.”
Laney would be beside her. Walking back through the forest to the car she parked down the road from the Gerricks’ home, this had been a comforting thought. Now, snuggled into her comforter in her bedroom, the windows shut tightly, the air conditioning hissing through the vent in the ceiling, it felt much less comforting.
Laney was only one of many Fae. There were dozens of beings who would try and stop her. And Cassie was alone, as well. There were humans who wanted to rise up against the force of nature that was saturating their town, but they didn’t know how. They didn’t see the creatures. Cassie did. Cassie would have to stand alone.
There were the few who could sense them, that was true. Samantha understood, and there were others in town who had felt bewildered enough after the many incidents, enough that Cassie felt they were on the brink, the very precipice of understanding. But she couldn’t pull any of those people into this mess. They didn’t create this; it wasn’t their fault that Aidan lingered. He was here—he had killed—for Cassie.
And of all those people, other than Samantha, there wasn’t one she truly trusted. Her parents, Officer Gibbons, Rebecca, Ryan, even Jon—those were her friends, those were the people she cared about. Those were the people she would have wanted to trust this with, and they were the ones she had to protect the most.
So they were alone, just her and Laney, once more against the world.
The only real question left was: how were they going to do it?
“You look terrible!” Ryan said as soon as Cassie opened the front door. She raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend, and he blinked in shock. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he blurted, raising his hands.
She looked down at the sweatpants she was wearing, and when she looked back up, he smiled at her, his head tilted in consideration. “What’s going on?”
For a split second, Cassie considered telling him. She changed her mind immediately. He’d never understand; he wouldn’t be able to. He’d turn his back on her, thinking she was a freak.
“What are you doing here?” she asked instead. Ryan frowned.
“We had plans. Lunch, remember?”
Cassie had not remembered. She blinked. “Oh, yeah, right,” she said. “Let me just—” She reached for her purse, hung by the front door, but Ryan’s hand closed around her wrist. She paused, looking to him.
“Have you even showered?” he asked.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You look like you just rolled outta bed,” Ryan continued, releasing the hand Cassie jerked back toward herself. He stared at her, no longer looking apologetic.
“You never seemed to mind on the trail,” Cassie shot at him. In truth, she had just rolled out of bed. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before. Every creak, every whispery brush of branch against branch, leaf against leaf, caused her muscles to tighten, her breath to strangle in her throat. She passed out from sheer exhaustion sometime after five AM, and her parents must have left the house early. They wouldn’t have even realized that Cassie had slept the morning away.
She cleared her throat in the quiet that followed. Ryan seemed to be gathering himself. She saw the muscle in his jaw jump.
“On the trail, when we were hiking? Yeah, I didn’t say anything then, when we were both unshowered at noon. We’re home now,” he pressed. “What’s going on with you?”
“Why does anything have to be going on with me?” Cassie challenged. She could hear her voice rising, and it seemed out of her control. “I can’t forget a lunch date and spend a morning relaxing without you jumping down my throat?”
For a moment, she saw the confusion fill Ryan’s eyes, the hesitation. Then he shook his head and steeled himself. “That’s not it. I know it’s not. There’s something going on. Something is freaking you out. Again. And again you won’t tell me.”
Cassie drew in a breath sharply. Her temper flared. “That’s not it at all. I guess you just can’t handle me not dressing up for you. Though I’m sure some college girl would.”
Ryan stepped back as though he had been slapped. Internally, Cassie winced, but on the surface her jaw clenched shut tightly, and her tight fists trembled at her side. Ryan turned toward the yard, looking toward his rust-colored car before facing her again, anger blazing in his eyes.
“That’s not it,” he repeated. “I know it’s not. And you can act as bitchy as you like. But I won’t do this with you.”
“Ryan,” Cassie murmured, knowing she had gone too far. He held up his hand, and she stopped.
“There’s something going on. I can’t explain how I know, but I just do. It’s there, behind your eyes—some worry or fear. I coul
d tell all this past year that something was there. Is it the men again? Did someone contact you?”
Yes. That was the honest answer. But Cassie couldn’t give the honest answer. In that moment, she couldn’t examine herself closely enough to discover why she needed to keep it hidden. She only knew that she did. How could she convince him otherwise without sounding totally insane?
“No one contacted me,” Cassie lied. Ryan drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, raising one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, then?” he asked, unable to look at her.
Two sentences warred for importance in Cassie’s mind. She could tell Ryan that she couldn’t tell him, that he wouldn’t understand, but then he would know that something was going on. He wouldn’t let her rest until she shared that burden with him. In this way, he was so like Laney. So it was the second sentence that she eventually let loose from her lips.
“Nothing’s going on,” she whispered, lying again.
“Cassie,” Ryan murmured, looking up to the popcorn finish of her parents’ hallway ceiling. He brought his hands to his hips. Rather than judgment, his pose seemed to be one of resignation. “If we’re gonna do this—” he paused and, still not looking directly at her, pointed between the two of them “—if you’re serious about us, then we have to be honest with each other. You know, and I know, that it’s the only way we’re gonna make it.”
He looked at her then, directly at her, his brown eyes shining with moisture. Cassie’s insides collapsed at that look, one of longing and of frustration, devotion and love. Ryan was here for her, but he couldn’t guarantee forever, not if truthfulness was lost between them.
“Ry,” Cassie started, “I overslept, and I’m acting bitchy. I’m sorry. But there’s nothing else going on.”
He sighed and dropped his gaze. “If you say so,” he murmured.
“Wait for me while I go get ready?” Cassie asked. He jerked his gaze to hers once more, and she sucked a quick breath in. Something simmered behind those eyes. Cassie could feel it. He nodded, and she turned and darted up the stairs.
Cassie spent that afternoon in a daze, and Ryan didn’t bring up their argument again. Things were awkward between them, as though whatever bond they had forged in the forest was snapped. They went to lunch, and then Ryan suggested a movie. Cassie leaped at the idea; it was perfect. They could be together without having to force conversation. The darkness of the movie theater, the magic of the flickering screen and overly-buttered popcorn would soothe her jangled nerves.
They watched some action movie. Guns blazed and bosoms heaved, and in the end, the good guy saved the world. Neat and simple.
Ryan reached for her hand in the darkness of that theater, and Cassie tangled her fingers with his. She felt tethered by the innocent touch of his grasp. Her body felt safe at his side, though her mind was wandering dangerously.
She would have to kill Aidan. When and where felt of little consequence. It was the how that nagged at her. She had approached the others with iron in her hand once before, and that mist had knocked her off her feet before she could even swing. And it would have to be a shot straight to his heart, as nothing else would do the trick.
She wished she was skilled at bow and arrow. Or that she could throw some kind of spear. She had a million and one visions of post-apocalyptic battles and dystopian settings where the heroines could master the ancient arts of ninja stars or slingshots through a cleverly placed montage. She even wondered fleetingly if bullets were made of iron and dismissed the thought almost immediately. She had sat with her father, watching old horror movies, Westerns, and gangster flicks, and even she knew that the slang word for bullets was lead. Pump ’em full of lead, Johnny! No, normal bullets weren’t iron. And she had no idea how one would go about making a bullet …
“You’re a million miles away, Cass,” Ryan murmured, his mouth hovering just over the shell of her ear. She sighed and turned toward him. In the darkness, his eyes took on a glimmer. His lips crooked in a sad smile.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just not a good day today.”
This, at last, was the truth. Ryan seemed to sense it. He brought his fingers to her jawline and angled her into his kiss. His lips were warm, though the tip of his tongue was cold. If Cassie were to think about it, she’d have known it was due to the ice cube he’d just crushed between his teeth. But she didn’t think about it at all, just reveled in the warm and cold sensation of his mouth pressed against hers, and in how easy it was to be transported from her thoughts, the theater, the world around her, when Ryan brought his lips to hers.
In that moment, something shifted inside Cassie. She didn’t know it then, but she would soon. It was in that moment that the idea rooted and began to grow, and she began to understand how to destroy the faery king.
Gaia lounged upside down on a fallen tree, her dark hair swinging wild and loose into the fallen branches below her. Jude had his back against that same tree, his feet up on a rock in front of him, swaying to a tune only he heard. The forest was cool this morning, even though the shifting leaves let in bursts of light and fine rays that seemed to skip through the canopy just to kiss the dead leaves below.
Laney rose slowly, the moss shifting aside like her comforter used to. She stretched into awareness, smiling, even though each dawning day brought a new variety of headache lately. She was still one with this world, a part of it always, and as she slept that comfort leeched from the earth to her soul.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Aidan said. Her glorious view of green, shifting tree limbs and blue patches of sky beyond, lit by a pale sun, was occluded. Aidan’s face loomed above her, a grinning eclipse. “Good. Big plans today, dear Sister. Big plans!”
Soft thudding began just behind Laney’s eyes, and she rose fully, pinching the bridge of her nose. Aidan flourished a stone goblet full of water, handing it to her. She accepted with a grateful murmur, moving to sit next to Jude and nibble from the blackberry bush he coaxed out of the earth. She wasn’t Jude’s biggest fan, but he did always share his food without so much as a side-eye. Laney appreciated it.
“Morning,” Jude grunted. Laney offered a strained smile, plucking some of the blackberries she knew he had left just for her.
“Sleep gets easier,” Gaia said flippantly. She tossed her hair over one shoulder as she sat up. “In time. This winter you’ll have to sleep again, but the next you won’t need as long.”
“We’ll keep a watch over you,” Jude said. The blackberries on the bush beside Laney swelled with juice, and she took another handful.
“Yes, we will.” Laney turned quickly to see Lucas speaking. She hadn’t realized he’d been sitting there. He hadn’t joined them as often, ever since Corra’s death. He smiled, but it was as strained as Laney’s was. He looked away quickly, back to the earth at his feet.
There were Fae dawdling on the other side of Aidan. Laney knew their names, Ruari and Moira, also Grady and Paola. They had all been there when Aidan claimed his throne. Paola sipped casually at what Laney assumed was wine, and the rest seemed to be simply waiting. Aidan beamed at the little group.
“As I was saying,” he started, “big day today. I wanted to invite the pixies out to play.”
“The pixies?” Gaia asked, sitting up. “Why?”
“For fun!” Aidan boasted. “And because we can. So, why not?”
“In town?” Jude grunted. He looked doubtful, his broad forehead scrunched. Aidan nodded.
“Yeah, why not?” Aidan said again, a little more forcefully. No one argued with Corra. The entire group had been ready to leave the country on her whim; it was Aidan who rebelled. But this kind of questioning was something Laney was sure Aidan hadn’t been expecting.
“They’re so destructive, Aidan,” Gaia said. She waved her hands in the air above her. “I know we give them a little free rein on occasion, but that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?”
“They’re not destructive!” Aidan argued. “They’re beautiful!”
Gaia rolled her eyes. “I thought the entire point of you killing Corra and assuming the throne was to stay here, close to that human you obsess over?” Her words were harsh and unforgiving, and she glanced quickly at Laney, though not long enough for Laney to catch her eye. Jude nudged the berry bush closer to Laney, but she held her hand out, shaking her head.
“It wasn’t just that,” Aidan blustered. “Corra wanted us to leave, wanted us to stay in hiding like the good little forest pets we are—”
“The queen was quite right to want us to stay hidden.” Lucas spoke in a deep, reverent voice. “The forest is our home, and our duty. Long have we kept that. Humans do not understand us. They never would. Do you not remember your history? Or are you too witless to heed it?”
“These are not idiotic villagers,” Aidan spat through gritted teeth. Gaia cast a look toward Jude, while Ruari and Moira sipped non-committedly at their wine; neither wanted to catch the eye of their agitated king.
“No, they’re not,” Paola agreed, her voice a tiny squeak in the riled group. “But they don’t believe. They don’t see us.”
“We could make them see!”
“Do you not remember what it was like back then?” Gaia asked scathingly. “When they did believe? We were hunted near to extinction!”
“I remember the gifts,” Jude said, a hint of longing in his tone. “Don’t you remember? Bread and wine and cake—”
“You can have wine anytime you like, and any food you can pull out of the earth, and all the silly little blond playthings you could want!”
“I miss the cake,” Jude said simply, shrugging.
“They used iron back then. Don’t you remember?” Gaia pulled up the sleeve of her long, flowing tunic, and Laney saw, for the first time ever, the ugly scars that marked her milky flesh. “I remember. It took an entire season for the burning to go away. It still hurts, some nights … ”