Beyond the Wild Wood

by E. M. Fitch

  On the back of that wind, Cassie heard the giggling. But above that, she could hear the shouts, the ripping of the earth as heels dug in and hands grasped uselessly, trying to keep nature from claiming what it wanted. Despite the half-dozen humans trying to tether the screen back to the earth, it was pulled from their grips. It toppled and spun, and then rolled over the gathered crowd. One father, who was still in his camp chair, was knocked over as the inflatable rolled him down. Children scattered, and mothers screamed their names. The screen took flight in a sudden gust of wind, soaring over the chain-link fence that separated the soccer field from the parking lots. It knocked the tip of the gazebo and headed straight for the library in a whipping roll of inflatable plastic and lash-like bungee cords.

  Cassie did not join the rest of the town in trying to prevent disaster; she stood still among the chaos. Her friends ran past her. The ground below her feet trembled. In front of her, at the library parking lot, horns blared and tires screeched. There was a dull thud, and though a quick prayer flashed through Cassie’s mind, she didn’t try to look. She stood still in the center of commotion. Above her head, lights and colors swirled, and it whipped her hair up and out of her face. Cassie kept her eyes forward, searching, because she knew she’d find him.

  And there, in the center of it all, he stood. Tall and straight, face blazing with want, Aidan’s blue eyes found Cassie’s gray ones. He held that gaze, locked it into place, and Cassie walked forward, drawn by him, pulled to him through determination and, yes—somewhere deep inside herself, in a place she didn’t want to examine—a pinch of desire.

  His lips quirked up into a grin at the sight of her, and a curious, playful expression lit his entire face. He raised his hands, and then his eyebrows, his expression screaming, I did this for you, you know?

  She nodded and allowed her wonder to show on her face. She ignored the shouts, the chaos erupting all around her as the screen finally landed amidst the crowd gathered in the library parking lot, just beyond the car that had smashed into the sidewalk. People screamed as the giant inflatable screen came crashing down on their heads.

  “Help us!” The shout went up and was carried on the wind toward the soccer field. Dozens stampeded, either toward the parking lot to help, or toward their cars to escape.

  Cassie didn’t move. Aidan was so near, she could clearly see his wild blue eyes. She felt the world revolting around her, the chaotic energy of the wilds of the forest mingling with the unknowing and terrified humanity. Worlds crashed and collided, not in the midst of a drunken high school party, or in an auditorium full of teenagers, but in full view of the leaders of their community. Mr. Fisk, the First Selectman, was somewhere on grounds; the town hall with the state police barracks was lit up across the street. Store owners, librarians, soccer moms, parents and children—everyone was there. Everyone was watching this unfold. Cassie couldn’t even imagine the aftermath; all she could do was stare with open wonder into the icy blue eyes that stared at her.

  He didn’t advance; instead, he stood quite still. She stayed caught in his gaze, and then took a small step forward. His smile widened, and he nodded.

  Cassie heard a high-pitched, “Help him!” echo from the parking lot.

  She recognized the voice of her boyfriend organizing a count. “One, two, heave!” A series of grunts followed this, and then a piteous voice cried out, “He can’t breathe!”

  A screech of sirens stirred in the wind, and Cassie broke eye contact. She turned to look at the long, winding road leading to the library parking lot, saw the wash of red and blue revolving against the backdrop of the trees beyond. Before Cassie could see any more, the wind caught her hair and whipped it into her face.

  When she looked back for Aidan, he was gone.

  To her left, the gazebo, under a pressure no one could see, collapsed.

  Aidan’s delight could be felt in every tree, every flower, every particle of soil. The very air seemed to sing with glee, and no cloud dared to mar the sunshine that fell in glossy puddles and pooled along the forest floor.

  “You saw,” he breathed, ecstatic.

  “We saw,” Gaia murmured, pulling folds of moss over her shoulder as she turned into the earth, reminding Laney, for one jarring moment, of the fallen queen who slept eternally not far from this spot in the woods. “We saw you stand there like a gormless fish, mouthing idiotically.”

  Jude snorted laughter. The pebbles around him trembled, one shaking so violently that it rolled away from the muscular faery body and plunked into the stream that wove its way through the settling creatures. Already a band of Red Caps were snoring nearby, satiated and full from an evening with an intoxicated biker gang. They had tired of the light show of pixie magic, fireflies, and butterflies and had scampered off instead, high-pitched laughter left in their wake over a soccer field of chaos and screaming.

  Laney and Cassie had never discussed how they would kill Aidan, just that it would have to be Cassie who wielded the iron. Laney couldn’t do it. Still, she wasn’t surprised her best friend had figured this out for herself: to get close to Aidan, he would have to trust her. Laney only hoped Cassie knew what she was signing up for—though, remembering the after-party in the woods, the night she had practically forced Cassie and Aidan together, and how Cassie had ended up, pressed against that tree, Laney was pretty sure her friend knew what was coming.

  Still, all in all, Cassie played her part brilliantly last night.

  “It was romantic,” Aidan retorted to Gaia’s already turned back. Jude laughed again, and Aidan persisted. “It was! She wasn’t scared, she was intrigued. Tell them,” Aidan insisted, looking straight at Laney.

  Laney looked around, avoiding Aidan’s gaze. Most of the assorted faery creatures were barely stirring, none so invested or interested in Aidan’s agenda. Gaia flipped over impatiently, watching Laney with pursed lips. Jude stretched into the surrounding soil with a massive yawn. It was Lucas’s expression that caught Laney’s attention, something in the tightness around his eternal eyes as he looked between Laney and Aidan, something that tugged at a loose string hanging frayed in her mind. She couldn’t place it, but his gaze stirred a feeling like a kitten trying to seize hold of a dangling toy. He noticed her intrigue and blinked, and her attention was brought back to an impatient king, awaiting his subject’s response.

  “She didn’t seem scared,” Laney offered, afraid to say more. What Cassie had seemed, to Laney, was calculating. She watched her friend from afar, just in sight of the chaos erupting. She watched Jude and several of the other, more malicious, Fae egging the pixies on in their paths of destruction. Gaia had snuck around the cars, casually slitting tires and laughing when the owners eventually noticed it. The entire night was disastrous, though all Aidan cared about was Cassie’s reaction, and how Cassie hadn’t run full tilt at him wielding an iron dagger.

  “She’s interested,” he murmured, settling down himself. He lay out on his back, hands entwined behind his head, starring up at the weaving canopy above him. Within moments, his eyes closed, and Laney stood. With all the commotion, she hadn’t been able to see Liam yesterday. With the rest sleeping, she could sneak off without being noticed.

  She didn’t notice she was being followed until she had almost reached the ivy-covered trellis beside his bedroom. The hiss from the forest behind her alerted her to his presence, and she bolted upright, turning before her outstretched hand could grasp the ivy. In the predawn light, Lucas looked like Death at the edge of the forest; all that was missing was a scythe.

  “A word, dear,” he murmured as Laney approached him. She nodded and stepped into the forest, taking her place beside him. “He sleeps well,” Lucas said, indicating the newborn still nestled in his crib upstairs. Laney nodded again.

  “He does. He’s a strong little guy.”

  “He looks like his father. Though he has your eyes,” Lucas said kindly. “Corra thought so, too.”

  “I miss her,” Laney said, sig
hing. Above her, the trees swayed gently. Lucas nodded, and cast a sharp look in Laney’s direction.

  “She was a good queen, fair and respectful, though perhaps a bit too easy-going on her subjects.”

  “On Aidan, you mean,” Laney said, and the bitter taste of regret flooded the back of her throat, making tears feel inevitable.

  “On her son, yes,” Lucas answered. “We often do strange things for our children, and Corra always considered Aidan that. I don’t think she ever believed he could harm her.”

  “She underestimated him, then,” Laney whispered, resigned. But Lucas shook his head.

  “No, she underestimated his obsession, a mistake she would have made with no one but her son. As I said, we do strange things for our children sometimes.”

  “I don’t know if I could ever leave him,” Laney murmured, looking to her son’s bedroom window. He was just beginning to stir; she could tell in the restless movement he had begun to make. Lucas tilted his head, considering.

  “It might be best for the boy, and it would certainly be better for your friend,” he eventually answered.

  Laney nodded in defeat; she knew that to be true. “That’s why he killed her, you know,” she whispered. “He didn’t want to leave Cassie.”

  “Oh yes, I know,” Lucas said. “Aidan is a tempestuous fool. I tried to warn her.”

  “I believe you.”

  “But I will see her again, and don’t think I won’t say ‘I told you so,’” Lucas said, humor lacing his tone. Laney stiffened and turned from the window to look at the ancient Fae.

  “But she’s dead,” she said, and she knew the confusion showed on her face. Lucas regarded her with raised brows.

  “Well, of course,” he answered, considering her carefully. “But why should that mean I won’t see her again?” Laney didn’t answer, and after a while, Lucas added, “Didn’t you ever believe in an afterlife?”

  “Oh,” she blurted. “Like heaven? Do we get to—”

  Lucas laughed and shook his head. The trees around them trembled with mirth. “Yes, like that, I suppose,” he eventually said, laughter still trailing after his words. “I forget how young you are. Had Corey not explained about the land of Tír na n-Óg?”

  Laney shook her head.

  “Ah, that explains it. It is the Underworld,” he started, watching her face. He must have seen her confusion written into her expression. “No, no, not that Underworld; the Greeks were very colorful, weren’t they? It is our Underworld, and it will someday be the land of all humanity, Fae, and creature. It is how you were created in this new life of yours; you were touched by the Underworld, a place of darkness and warmth where all things grow. In our homeland, in Ireland, Tír na n-Óg is the realm of the faeries, and humans have wandered in before. Have you never heard the tales? They are embellished but hold kernels of truth.”

  “I don’t know if I have,” Laney murmured, wondering. She had spent so much time reading ghost stories and researching the history of the area she lived in, but she had never read the folktales of other countries. He nodded, smiling gently.

  “They are amusing, and vary, but most contain that essential element with regard to time. You see, young one, time is something we exist around, not within. We are the circle, while humanity basely exists in a line. They dart moment to moment in succession. We live in a realm that time has forgotten. And so, humans can flit into the land of Tír na n-Óg, drink our wine and eat our food, and when they return home, a thousand years may have passed. The human may die of grief or succumb to old age in an instant.

  “Here, outside that realm, it is different. Though when in our presence, time can loop in similar ways. One night of dancing may last only a few hours, but to the human, a lifetime may have passed. Not all can withstand it, especially those who are blind to what is happening.”

  “But what does this have to do with seeing Corra again?” Laney asked, breathless. She couldn’t deny the desire that leaped through her veins, the hope that flared, not just for Corra, but for Corra’s lost son, Laney’s husband, Corey.

  “She will be there, in the land of Tír na n-Óg, in time,” Lucas answered simply.

  “But, how? She was buried here!”

  “She was, which is why it will take so long, buried as she is on foreign soil. But her spirit will travel to Tír na n-Óg, and it will drag her body along with it. Just as our spirits fly now through the trees and take our willing selves with them.”

  “And … Corey?” she asked, whispering the name. Lucas looked down with understanding and smiled.

  “And Corey,” he confirmed.

  “Why didn’t Aidan tell me?” Laney burst out, anger curling her fingers. She clenched them tight by her side and willed her emotions to calm; already the branches above her were creaking with the pressure of her fury.

  “He knows his brother will not surface for many, many years. And when he does, he will be trapped in the eternal, no longer able to enter the living world. Not until the end of time,” Lucas answered gently, calming the forest with a tiny wave of his hand. “Or maybe he doesn’t understand at all; he was never one for fairytales either, and to be honest, I don’t know if he ever grasped the potential. He knows of Tír na n-Óg through legend and the bedtime tales of his youth, but he has never been there, not since his creation centuries ago.

  “That is where Corra wanted to take us all, back to the beginning. She wanted a chance for us to reconnect to our purposes in this world and stop living in fitful little adolescent dreams of dancing teenagers and drunken parties. I confess, I was looking forward to the realm of the Fae myself.”

  “And now we’re stuck here? We can’t leave?”

  “Who, you and I?” Lucas asked. “We certainly could. I know the way. But would you leave?”

  Laney glanced up at Liam’s bedroom window. His parents had arrived, sloppily dressed and with sleep still in their eyes, and hovered over his crib and lifted him to their faces, pressing kisses to his brow. He cooed in their arms as they turned to change him.

  He didn’t need her protection. But another did.

  “I couldn’t leave her unprotected, no,” Laney finally admitted. Lucas nodded.

  “I thought not, and I agree. We Fae were never meant to hunt, not like Aidan is.”

  “But he is king,” Laney whispered, her gaze still drinking in the sight of her rosy son.

  “He is,” Lucas murmured. “But should he be? I wonder.”

  “Pull in here,” her father said, pointing to the ambulance bay parking lot. The fire station and ambulance shared a parking lot and were further along on Main Street than the rest of the town. The forest lined the enclosure, and the only other thing in sight was a small, white house. Cassie often wondered just how annoyed those residents must be, what with the fire bells going off at all hours of the day and night.

  Cassie did as her father said, directing her car to the parking lot at the side of the building. One of the older rigs was out in front of the open bay doors, and a small group of teens was washing it. Cassie recognized two of the boys from her grade; the other three girls must have been younger.

  “What are we doing?” she asked her father, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt. Her father opened his door and had one foot out on the pavement, leaving the coffee he had taken his daughter out to get cooling in the cup holder. He stopped and looked back at her before standing.

  “If you want to know dirt, you ask the locals with CB radios attached to their hips,” he answered, smiling grimly. He shut the car door and waved hello to the men lounging in camp chairs by the open bay door.

  Cassie followed quickly.

  “Hey, Harris, what’s up?” Joe, a tall, rangy-looking guy with hair in his eyes, called out. Cassie smiled and wandered over to where the younger crowd was working.

  “You pull the short straw today?” she asked, nodding at the soapy sponge Joe held. He laughed and tossed his hair out of his eyes.

 
“Nah, we’re free labor around here. But Al promised us his arm if we did a good job.” Cassie’s eyebrows rose, and Joe clarified, “For practicing IV sticks.” He mimed hitting a vein with a needle, and Cassie’s mouth bobbed open.

  “Oh! Geez, they just let you do that?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “Well,” Joe confided in a low voice, “he’s not really supposed to. But I’m licensed now, and I need the practice! I’d look like a dummy trying to get my sticks in on the little old ladies we pick up in the rig.”

  “Sure. I get that,” Cassie conceded. Joe and the rest of the kids all washing the ambulance that sat sparkling and shining in front of Cassie were trained—or training to become—EMTs. Cassie had seen them riding around in the town ambulance, which was an all-volunteer crew, for years now. It was all a part of a program the ambulance ran. “Are you skipping college, then?”

  “No way!” Joe exclaimed. “Well, Ethan is,” he amended, nodding over at the other boy.

  “Shut up! I have one year of training left, and then I’m a paramedic. There’s nothing wrong—”

  “I know, I know!” Joe shouted, throwing a soapy sponge in his direction.

  “Whatever, male nurse,” Ethan quipped, smirking.

  “Is that what you’re going for?” Cassie asked. “Nursing?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said, a bit defiantly. “It’s a good job.”

  “It’s a great job,” Cassie said. “My mom’s a nurse. She works in the ER over in—”

  “Oh, sure, we know Cathy.” One of the girls spoke up. “Talk to her all the time over the radio. You know, when we’re bringing people in.” The girl slapped the side of the ambulance for emphasis.

  “True,” Cassie murmured. “Hey, do you guys have those things on you all the time?” She pointed at the radios all piled together by the cleaning supplies. Joe nodded. “Have you heard anything lately? Anything … weird?”