Faeted

by ReGi McClain

  “And what about taking time to deal with losing my entire family?” She shoved a shaker of seasoning salt into the spice cupboard.

  “You mean by slipping into depression and dehydrating yourself to death?” He snatched the seasoning salt, lifted the lid of the grill, and applied it to the steaks.

  She curled a lip in disgust, wondering how he managed to swallow anything covered in salt like that. “It’s my life; I can die if I want to.” She set the oven to preheat and pulled out a pan.

  He intercepted her on her way to the spice cupboard. “I’m cooking. Remember?”

  “No, thanks.” Glaring at his beard to avoid his eyes, she stood on tiptoe and stretched around him to pull out dill and lemon pepper. The move put her uncomfortably close to him, but he refused to budge and she had no intention of letting him make any more of her decisions. With a smug smile, she waved the seasonings in his face before turning to the fish.

  He snatched a filet and plunked it onto a plate he fetched with his other hand. “Maura likes it raw.”

  She grabbed the fish. “That’s dangerous. It needs to be cooked.” She tossed the filet in the pan.

  He plucked the filet out of the pan and slapped it onto the plate, spattering fish juice everywhere. “Not for hiders.”

  She swiped the filet back. “Hiders, schmiders. It’s raw fish and neither of us is a sushi chef. It gets cooked.”

  He grabbed at the fish again. She turned her back to shield it, slipped it into the pan, and shoved it into the oven without its seasonings.

  “Stubborn faerie-fish.”

  “Insensitive cur.”

  They glowered at each other, arms crossed over their chests.

  “Mmm… The food smells great!” Seraph wore a huge smile but twitched her head to indicate the living room. Maura stared at them, her eyes wide and frightened.

  Harsha put on her smile. “Do you like ice cream?”

  After dinner, Harsha tiptoed out the door from her room to the backyard. Careful not to make a splash, she slipped into her pool. The water cradled her body, easing tension while she swam laps until the pleasant fatigue of activity overcame her weariness and soothed her tumultuous heart. After one final lap, she let herself bob to the surface and float. She closed her eyes, reached for the lilikoi shake drifting above her, and focused on happy memories.

  Water splashed her face. She sputtered and pulled herself upright. Stars shone above and her lilikoi shake was nowhere to be seen.

  Zeeb knelt at the edge of the pool, waving droplets of water off his hand. “I’ve never seen anyone fall asleep while floating before.”

  That explained the levitating milkshake. “It happens whenever I swim laps.”

  “Must be the mermaid in you.”

  “Must.”

  “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.” Zeeb’s brows lifted and crinkled in the middle in a puppyish expression of apology. “Seraph and I weren’t trying to be insensitive. We were trying to help.”

  Harsha shrugged. The combination of food, time alone, and the bliss of swimming followed by a nap produced the internal quietness she needed. For now. She knew the feeling would wear off and leave her with an empty space where her family once lived, but it lent her rationality for approaching the problem at hand.

  “It’s no big deal. At this late notice, we’re probably on standby anyway. I’ll call the airline in the morning and see what I can manage in the way of a refund.”

  “You could come.”

  She scrubbed water over her face. “Not this time. You and Seraph can handle getting Maura back to her family, and it would wear me out. Besides, I’m running out of time. I should…” Sell my house, move into a nursing home, accept I’m going to die … “Get ready.”

  The pool lights glinting off the surface of the water distorted Zeeb’s appearance, but Harsha fancied she caught disappointment and pain in his expression.

  He shifted to concentrate his weight on one knee. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet Seraph’s grandmother? She’s ancient. She might know something useful about your condition. She might even have met the Fae-Mermaid.”

  Interest, if not hope, sparked to life. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “It’s possible. She’s old. Very, very old.”

  “Well.” She still felt she needed to focus on preparing for her final days, but she liked the idea of meeting a hider who knew her ancestor. “Maybe.”

  “Great!” He went back inside without letting her finish.

  She scrubbed water over her face, irritated with herself for not staying irritated with him. Those dratted eyes of his. He gave her a look and her resolve to make her own decisions without his help vanished as though it never existed. Mood souring, she climbed out of the pool, grabbed a towel, and went inside, this time through the door that led to the living room instead of her bedroom. She owned the house. Let Zeeb do the sneaking.

  A strange, sickening smell assaulted her nostrils. At first, she blamed the red meat and started for the kitchen to wash the dishes. None remained in the sink, however, and the dishwasher hummed its pretty cleaning tune. Guessing the smell lingered from dinnertime, she decided to go to her room, after all, to get away from the odor.

  As she passed the couch on her way, Harsha realized the stench emanated from Maura. Mortified she’d forgotten to offer her guest a bath and annoyed with Seraph and Zeeb, mostly Zeeb, for not offering for her while she recovered from her shock, Harsha hurried to the bathroom to lay out fresh towels. Maura needed clothes, too. The ones provided by SoPHE looked ready to disintegrate. She chose a loose sundress and a pair of silk pajama shorts to lend Maura for the time being.

  “Maura?” Harsha found the girl sitting in the same position she left her in, staring wide-eyed and zombie-like at the television screen. “Maura?”

  Maura gave no indication she heard.

  Harsha turned off the television and stepped in front of the girl. “Maura, do you want to take a shower, now?” Harsha smiled widely, anticipating an enthusiastic acceptance of her offer.

  Maura curled and put her hands over her head in a defensive position. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  Harsha’s jaw dropped. She looked to Seraph, “What did I do?”

  Seraph cringed. “Your smile. She thought you were baring your teeth.”

  “Baring my teeth?”

  “It’s a common sign of aggression among the more animal-like hiders.”

  Harsha dropped to her knee beside the girl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was trying to be friendly.”

  Maura peeked out from behind her arms.

  Careful not to show any teeth, Harsha smiled again. “I don’t want to hurt you. Do you want a shower now? I put a fresh towel and some clothes in the bathroom for you.”

  Maura returned the smile with a twitch of one side of her lips, but otherwise gave Harsha a blank stare.

  “Shower? Do you want a shower?”

  “Shower?”

  “Or a bath? To get clean?”

  Maura mouthed the word “bath,” but shook her head.

  “Come on. I’ll show you what I mean.” Harsha took the girl’s hand and guided her to the bathroom. “See? Shower.” She turned the spigot.

  A deafening screech lanced Harsha’s eardrums. Maura yanked her hand away, stumbled, and slammed against the wall. Cowering in a ball on the floor, she rocked and sobbed.

  Harsha hurried to turn off the water. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ”

  The door burst open. Seraph glanced from Harsha to Maura, then looked back to Harsha. “What happened?”

  Harsha, mouth agape and brows furrowed, shook her head. “I have no idea. I just turned on the shower and she freaked.”

  Seraph stepped all the way into the room and shut the door behind her. The two women stared at the cowering girl. Seraph looked thoughtful, but Harsha’s heart pounded, her ears rang, and, truth be told, she felt insulted. She tried not to take Maura’s reaction personally,
but she was running out of the ability to approach her circumstances with rationality. She’d expected Maura to welcome a chance to get clean. The girl smelled awful and looked like she’d gone a year without a proper wash.

  “Maybe she’s not compatible with water.”

  “What?” Harsha gave Seraph an incredulous look, her mind not willing to wrap itself around the idea of someone being repulsed by water.

  “Some hiders don’t do well with water. Their cells react with it too quickly and it does serious damage.”

  Harsha pressed her lips together and massaged her temples. She wanted to say the dirt covering Maura would protect her from the water, but snark tended to throw fuel on bad situations rather than cool them off.

  “No water. All right. We’ll try alternatives.”

  It took several hours, a full bottle of olive oil, and all of Harsha’s washcloths, to teach Maura how to clean herself. The girl knew nothing of hygiene. Even the toilet frightened her. When it came time to tackle Maura’s hair, Harsha pulled out her clippers, intending to cut it all off. Maura responded with tears and indistinct words mumbled into her knees while she rocked in a corner. Loathe to add to the girl’s trauma, Harsha put away the clippers and settled Maura in the middle of a sheet spread on the living room floor. Together, Harsha and Seraph worked through the grimy gnarls, using oatmeal to clean the hair and a jar of expensive leave-in conditioner to tame it.

  Meanwhile, Zeeb snoozed on the couch. Harsha’s dislike for him mounted as the night wore on. He could at least help with the combing, she thought. Her curses for SoPHE began to be interspersed with ideas for making Zeeb pay for his transgressions, though she found it difficult to put her finger on specific offenses deserving of retribution. By the time she finished her own shower and dragged herself to bed in the morning, she’d given up differentiating between SoPHE’s crimes and Zeeb’s.

  She closed her eyes only to get an earful of whiskers and a whispered, “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “What do you want?”

  “It’s dinner time.”

  “You mean breakfast? Make your own.”

  “No. Dinner. It’s seven PM. And I did.”

  “Seven PM?” Harsha sat up enough to look at her clock. It confirmed Zeeb’s declaration. She groaned and flopped back down. “I feel like I just lay down. Let me sleep.”

  “I would, but you’re malnourished and dehydrated. You need to eat.” He added in a sing-song, “Seraph made mahi-mahi burgers.”

  Harsha pulled the covers over her head. “Eat mine for me. I’m going back to sleep.”

  Zeeb lifted the blankets. “Harsha, you have to ”

  “Nothing! I have to do nothing . Stop telling me what I should do.”

  Zeeb stared at her, lips parted, eyes sad. He looked pained and she did not care. All of her hurt. Her head hurt, her back hurt, she felt weak and exhausted. Worst of all, her heart lay in a pile of shards, too sharp to handle and too small to puzzle together. She didn’t care if Zeeb cut himself on the pieces.

  He knelt beside the bed. “I didn’t mean to be ”

  “Pushy? Controlling? Domineering?”

  “What is this about, really? Is it about the trip?”

  “No. Yes. I…” Oppressive anguish filled her, making the world a dark and terrible place. Nothing Zeeb did made it worse, but maybe she blamed him for not making it better. The weariness of living wormed its way into her bones, replacing hope and the appreciation of simple pleasures, like the presence of a friend, with heartache. She wanted to be done. “I’m tired.”

  Zeeb sucked in a shaky breath, swallowed, and took her hand. “Please, please don’t give up.”

  She gazed into his eyes. They were filled with the same desperate hope she felt when she set out on the faerie hunt, the same need to save someone in spite of himself.

  It gave her patience. Not optimism or confidence, but patience. Enough to live a few more days and see Maura to her home.

  “All right.”

  Chapter 23

  The following Wednesday, seated on the edge of her bed in the Shelbourne in Dublin, Harsha listed the flight to Ireland among her things that won’t be funny for a long time memories. The trip had demolished her entire candy supply. She shook all four of her tins, hoping to find one last piece. Not a morsel remained. Seraph sat on her own bed, basking in a ray of morning sunshine and flipping through channels on the television as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Maura sat, limbs limp, in an armchair and tried to watch television, too, but dropped off every few seconds.

  Granted, the first leg had gone well. Harsha and Maura sat next to an elderly man who preferred reading his book over chatting. Maura watched videos on Harsha’s tablet and listened to music. Seraph was quiet on that flight.

  Even the second flight, from Denver to New York, went smoothly. Harsha and Maura sat next to a mother with a lap toddler, which made take-off and landing unpleasant, as the child squalled because of the popping in her ears. The rest of the time, the toddler colored or nursed. For a while, Maura played with the little one. She tickled her feet and hummed a lilting, ethereal tune, which put the child to sleep. Aside from the occasional mini-elbow to her side and a bowl of dry cereal spilled in her lap, Harsha considered it a success. Seraph was quiet on that flight, too.

  The real kicker, the part Harsha hoped not to think about again for many years, the part which made her dread the longer return trip, was the flight out of New York. Flying standby as they were, she and Zeeb barely made it onto the plane. When the airline confirmed enough cancellations, the customer service agent wasn’t able to find two seats together. When Maura learned she’d be forced to sit alone, she’d had a meltdown to rival the crankiest of two-year-olds.

  Harsha felt sure she had never gotten so many dirty looks in all her life. Wi-Fi and overpriced airport shops came to the rescue. With two new movies and an audiobook downloaded on the tablet, a new backpack full of the most interesting goodies Harsha managed to find at the last minute, and Harsha’s assurance she would be a few seats away, Maura allowed herself to be seated next to strangers. She finished the journey in splendid form, albeit as an antisocial bundle of nerves.

  But Maura hadn’t been the real problem. Harsha decided she’d think twice about ever taking a dragon on a long flight again and tried not to feel resentful. She’d assumed a flying creature would be accustomed to changes in air pressure, but it turned out pressurized cabins caused serious problems after prolonged exposure.

  Seraph had staggered up the aisle clutching her head in both hands and begging Harsha to either make the pain stop or, failing that, kill her. While Harsha dug in her purse for the bottle of ibuprofen she habitually kept there, but couldn’t find, and people in the surrounding seats watched, a flight attendant arrived and asked Seraph to return to her seat. Seraph had insisted, loudly, on staying until she got pain killer.

  The flight attendant had given Harsha about three more seconds to find it, staring pointedly at her the whole time, before taking Seraph’s elbow, assuring Seraph she’d get pain killer if she’d just sit down, and trying to escort her back to her seat. Seraph, having a greater density than a human of her height and build, hadn’t so much as shifted her weight when the attendant nudged. This clearly annoyed the attendant. She’d looked toward the back of the plane and beckoned someone.

  At that point, Harsha had dumped the contents of her purse onto her lap. Two of her candy tins popped open and the candies rolled all over the place. There was no ibuprofen. Just as two more flight attendants arrived, one of her seatmates offered his own, along with his regrets that he would be without it. His bottle held one pill.

  Harsha had thanked him and held the pill up to Seraph, hoping it would be enough to get the redhead to it down. Seraph, who’d had her eyes squeezed shut against the light, couldn’t see the pill and didn’t seem to hear Harsha over the sound of her own sobbing. Zeeb arrived, tailed by a terrified-looking Maura, and asked how he could help but the flight
attendant snapped at him to go sit down. He’d started to explain Seraph was his friend and he might be able to get her to calm down, but a burly man had walked up and told Zeeb he’d heard the flight attendant.

  Then Seraph sneezed.

  It had only been a tiny sneeze, barely a snort, but the miniscule burst of flame had been enough to set one of the passengers screaming about lighters and bombs. Suddenly, not one or two, but four sky marshals had appeared, all demanding Seraph, Zeeb, Harsha, Maura, and the burly man put their hands up and move to the back of the plane. Zeeb, with Maura trailing, and the burly man had done so immediately. Harsha had been stuck with the job of convincing the dragon to follow. Two of the marshals had gone with the men and Maura, but the other two looked ready to use force, which Harsha knew would not end well.

  She tried to remember everything she knew about dragons and just as one of the marshals shifted his weight, inspiration struck. She grabbed her wallet and waved a wad of cash under Seraph’s nose before the sky marshals could react. The money had remarkable restorative powers and worked like a carrot to keep Seraph following Harsha to the back of the plane.

  They’d been cuffed, searched, questioned, and, after landing, briefly confined. Seraph had moaned and complained about her headache—though not nearly as much as she had prior to getting a whiff of paper treasure—until one of the security officers finally brought her pain killer and she’d fallen asleep like a toddler who’s cried herself out. With a combination of lies, logic, the paying of heavy fines, and aggressive flirting, Harsha kept everyone out of jail, including the burly man, who didn’t seem the least grateful to Harsha for keeping his rude interference from making long-term consequences for him. Then, she’d had to wake up Seraph, convince the sleepy dragon to move herself instead of making Zeeb carry her, and repeat the process with the customs agents to get their luggage.

  Frazzled and disappointed to tears, she dropped the candy tins in the garbage can and phoned room service. After a shower, she’d eat and take a nap. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need to talk to anyone until sunset.