Ferrous (Fae's Folly Book 1)

by Valerie Mars

  “I believe you,” I choke out. His eyes zigzag mine like a caged animal as I hold his gaze and will myself not to blink. He releases the ring with a gasp, and Bash rushes in to catch Kai’s crumbling frame. He falls into Bash without grace, his limbs rigid. Bash’s eyes pierce into me like yellow daggers as he eases Kai to the ground. I bite my lips and discover they’re salt-soaked.

  “You could have killed him! Are you satisfied? Any remaining misgivings can be given to my horse’s arse, because I’m done cateri—”

  “No…” Kai moans. Bash’s fury takes the back burner as he attends to his companion.

  Kai opens his hand, bringing a gag to my throat. Even in the moonlight, I can tell it’s bad. His eyes are glass; sweat coats his face. I drop onto my knees and summon light once more. “May I?” He contorts into a pained nod.

  I train the light of my phone over his injury. The outline of the meteorite ring seared into his palm greets me like a raised stamp. The surrounding skin is angry and blistered, while the outline itself almost appears as dried blood or a scab. His fingers are more of the same, with his fingertips looking the worst. A teardrop escapes my chin, dropping onto Kai’s hand and eliciting a hiss.

  “Fuck! I’m sorry.” I look to Bash. “I’m sorry.”

  His lips turn inward at my address, but he considers it with a slight dip of his head. “He’s going to need help getting back to town. Must I carry you, too? You’re going to have greater odds surviving us than you will the forest, I can promise you that.”

  I’m a city girl. The last time I went “camping” was in an RV my parents rented for a holiday weekend. The camper had a jacuzzi tub. I can’t squat in the woods, let alone find my way through. At night. In the dark. And that’s without considering the fact I might not even be on Earth. At least against Bash I may stand a chance.

  “One condition,” I declare.

  His brows lower into a half-smirk. Are you really in the position to be making demands?

  I cross my arms. Sure am. “Tap the ring. Touch it for just a moment. Show me it affects you, too.”

  He considers it a moment before shaking his head. “See, it’s only in your interest to come with us. But I’ve got a soft spot for you and would rather you not become bear bait. Can I ask one tiny favor for a night of blistering pain?”

  “What.”

  “When we meet our friend Ryland Everhart in town, peer up into his gray, emotionless eyes and flash him your most dazzling smile, will ya?”

  “You want a smile?”

  He straightens from his vigil over Kai and extends a hand. “A smile for a touch?”

  “Fine. Sure. Whatever.” I clasp his hand and realize the inadequacy of my costume against the elements. He feels like fire. I want to latch on and soak up all the warmth, but drop my hand. We have business to conduct.

  I slide my thumb through the ring where it hangs and form a fist. It’s the best I can think of to give him access without allowing him the ability to rip it from me. Even so, I feel powerless inviting him this close.

  “Just a tap will hurt?”

  “Plenty.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Go for it, but move quickly and I’ll brand you like Kai.” The words sour my mouth, but they’re my only other defense.

  Bash indulges my fake bravado with a stoic expression that’s likely just as fake. “Aye.” With his right hand tucked behind his back, his left inches closer, bringing with him the scent of bonfires on a beach. It makes me want to bask in the sun.

  He stops just over my hand. “Make sure you’re watching. I won’t linger.”

  I focus on my thumb, nearly cross-eyed. “Ready.”

  Bash’s finger approaches so slowly I’m getting flashbacks from the Interstellar ship docking scenes—one of Grandpa’s favorites. I’ve probably aged years in this one cross-eyed moment alone. Finally, I feel his fleeting heat as he touches down before retreating at warp speed.

  He shakes out his finger with a pinched face, cursing into the night. Kai chuckles weakly from the ground. Lowering into a squat, Bash beckons me with an oh-so ginger curl of his injured finger.

  The result of our experiment is clear, albeit to a lesser extent than Kai. His finger is pink and swollen where he made contact, as if he scalded himself with boiling water. Tension builds in my chest, releasing from my eyes. Not even a severe nickel allergy would explain this shit. If they’re telling the truth, my supposed captors just became my only protectors.

  Bash tilts his head to the side. “Woods or warmth, m’dear?”

  Part of me still prefers bolting for the trees over trusting them, but it’s obvious I need their help. I wipe my face and stand. “You lead the way.”

  “Atta girl. Keep close and we’ll all soon be at the inn with Eversmart.”

  “I thought you said his name was Everhart?”

  He hoists Kai into his arms bridal-style and adjusts his grip. “Oh, you’ll see.”

  My adrenaline has faded by the time I spot lights down the road. I’m dragging ass worse than Bash, which is infuriating considering he’s carried Kai well over a mile now. It hasn’t been a peaceful journey for the blue-eyed man. Bash’s every step sends shock waves into his wounds that leave him gasping or groaning in response. The guilt has me desperate to do anything to help, a feeling so far best directed toward trying to keep up with Bash’s long legs. It’s a struggle, but the best I can do.

  I notice peculiarities as we travel parallel to the forest. Left to grow unfettered, the trees are of staggering stature. Even the ones that look like dogwood tower over us, casting shadows that last for leagues. My spine prickles. Are the predators this large, too?

  We pass a farmhouse situated on the outskirts of town. Its wooden frame looks bleached in the moonlight with glowing windows that promise warmth. “Keep walking, missy. He needs a healer and the inn’s ahead.” Without realizing, I had slowed down to gawk. I shuffle to catch up.

  The vegetation’s density wanes, the spaces between homes narrowing as we advance. There are more timber-framed structures like the farm, with walls made from various shades of plaster. There are also log cabins and homes made of wood joined together like bricks. Some homes are carved from giant trunks, themselves. Those have me questioning my eyes.

  The dirt road turns into wooden planks near the thick of town. The street is empty this time of night, most windows shrouded. This would remind me of a colonial reenactment town I visited on a field trip in elementary school if it weren’t for the elaborately carved wooden houses.

  Finally, we reach a stately hall stacked three high and stretched wider than any dwellings we passed. Two lanterns illuminate a placard above a set of weathered doors. With considerable effort, I wedge one open for Bash. “The Knotty Willow?”

  He catches it with his foot. “Good old Willy’s,” he answers with affection. “Hundreds of years ago, this place was a brothel. The highest earning of all mistresses and misters during its heyday was Lady Willow.” He kicks dirt off his boots in the entryway. I do the same. “One day, she purchased the building and converted it into an inn.” Uproarious laughter layered with avian giggles trickles through the floor above. “The original business continues, of course,” he says with a wink.

  We enter a common room furnished with comfy looking chairs and a fireplace I long to luxuriate before. “Sounds like a real business woman.”

  “She sure is,” he replies before starting toward an ornate staircase lit by stained glass lanterns. I mean to ask how old Lady Willow is, but the lanterns cast color all over the walls like a kaleidoscopic disco party and I lose interest. Bash waits near the top, and I scowl at the length of fabric draped over his back. I could be getting an eyeful of booty right now if it weren’t for that cloak. The thought is somewhat of a betrayal, given I’m unsure if he’s trustworthy. The vaulted ceilings and disco lamps definitely beat the forest, though.

  We skip the second floor and climb to the third. Bash hauls Kai up both sets of stairs without breaking a sw
eat. Me? It’s been a long night already and my thighs shake by the time I hit the last landing. We travel the length of a long corridor before reaching a door at the end. It’s flung open before Bash can knock, presumably by Ryland Everhart.

  “Why are you cradling him like a lover, and—” He emerges from the doorway, nostrils flaring. I’m immediately drawn to his long silver hair. Its lavender tones remind me of the time Clara left purple shampoo in her hair too long. “What have you dragged in?” Standing inches taller, he peers over Bash’s shoulder to apprehend me with pewter eyes. They widen in bewilderment before narrowing into disgust over a perfectly straight, crinkled nose. He checks the hallway before shooing us into the room. “Get her in here before she’s seen.”

  Bash steps over the threshold, leaving me to follow. Lord Crankypants remains at the door, dragging his eyes up and down my body like he’s invited in a swamp monster. I glance to the side and adjust my shirt before remembering my deal with Bash. Daring to meet his steely gaze, I paste on my widest, most innocent smile. His upper lip curls, prompting me to bat my lashes for effect before scampering off to my protectors. The door clicks shut behind me as he audibly sighs.

  There’s a blazing hearth in the living room. I fall away from the group, ignoring all else but the fire as they walk deeper into the suite. Eager for warmth, I sit down in front of it and extend my hands. Instead of soothing heat, my skin feels like it’s being attacked by fire ants. I rasp out through my teeth and retreat. The pins and needles linger, and it’s shocking to think I didn’t recognize I was this cold. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

  Bash and Ryland return from the back of the suite, the latter donning a cloak by the door. He eyes me before throwing a hood over his pastel hair, which comically undermines his serious demeanor. “Try not to collect any more mortals while I’m gone,” he sneers before heading out.

  Beats me why they don’t like him.

  Bash bolts the door, eyes about to roll out of his sockets. “He’s off to fetch a healer.” I hum acknowledgment and try to rub my hands back to life. The redhead stops before me. “You’re cold?”

  “You aren’t?” It’s only worsening as my skin awakens.

  “No, I—” He wipes his face with a groan. “Of course you are. I was so concerned with Kai, I—” He gazes down at me, fingers pressed to his mouth. His head tilts. “May I approach?”

  If there’s anything tonight that makes me think he may not be human, it’s the humble way he just asked for my permission. It doesn’t happen in the city, that’s for sure. I stifle a smile. His golden eyes betray only concern and curiosity.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. “You may.”

  He advances with caution before settling in front of me and crossing his legs. His unruly hair blends seamlessly with the flames at his back. He wrestles with his thoughts, biting his lip. “Let me help you with that,” he tries, gesturing to my hands with his eyes.

  I don’t know what to do with this suggestion. He holds his hands out to me, not unlike the toddlers I work with. I spend all day holding hands and receiving hugs at school, but toddlers and strange men shadowed by firelight are two different beasts. Similar in many, often stinky ways, but different. I shake my head no.

  The bite returns to his lips as his eyebrows draw together. He searches behind me, then holds a finger for me to wait. Walking over to the chaise, he retrieves a blanket. It’s a sweet gesture, and I anticipate the weight of it falling around my shoulders.

  But he doesn’t place the blanket on my shoulders. Instead, he returns to his spot before me and runs his hands across the length of the blanket, smoothing its fibers. “Kai didn’t tell you why iron affects us,” he states. But it sounds like a question.

  My mouth is dry, but I swallow, anyway. “No, I…wasn’t being very patient.”

  The rubbing of the blanket continues. “In short, iron mucks with our magic,” he says, eyes lifting to gauge my reaction.

  It’s a mixed bag. I’ve seen too many weird things tonight to dismiss them as a collective, but my mind still strains to rationalize everything individually. An old forest, crazy iron allergies, loss of memory…and great cosplay. I sigh, my gut contradicting it all.

  I throw him—and potentially myself—a bone. “What’s your magic?”

  “It’s the root of all fae, just as the cosmic elements are the root of all humans. It manifests differently for everyone, like family traits.”

  “What’s in your family tree, Bash?”

  “Psh, trees are for Spring folk. The Ankerstrands hail from the Ember Isles.” He stands, shaking out the blanket before draping it over me. It’s somehow already saturated in the smoky sandalwood goodness he has going on. Goosebumps break out over my skin as he wraps me into a human burrito. It’s as if he just pulled it from the dryer. “Can you guess our affinity?”

  I close my eyes and let the heat seep in before replying. “Something warm, it seems.” When I open my eyes to his cheeky grin backlit by flames, it all clicks together. “Wait, are you for real?”

  He kneels, eyes full of mirth. “Let me help your hands.” This time, I tunnel my hands out from under the burrito and rest them on my legs. His grin fades into a closed-lip smile, so downplayed from his usual expressions. It’s cute. Hair flopping over one eye, he delicately takes my right hand between both of his. It’s warm, but nothing supernatural.

  He squeezes my hand. “Don’t be frightened.” I stare without blinking, expecting there to be rays of light or an aura. But there isn’t anything abnormal but the rising temperature of his skin as perfectly normal looking hands clasp mine. Glancing up, I find it’s his eyes I should have been watching. Near the fireplace, one could almost dismiss it as a trick of light. The patterns in his irises glow ever so slightly, like fissures revealing molten lava. I watch them ebb and flow, mesmerized. But it isn’t long before my hand is warm. The heat begins to ramp down and the glow of his eyes dims with it until it’s just the two of us staring at each other. My heart decides I must be dying, so I look away.

  He releases my hand and I raise my left. “Can you do this one, too?”

  His confident smile returns, breaking the tension. “It’s the least you deserve. Give it here.”

  I watch him work, feeling better by the second. My mind is buzzing with questions, however. What else can he do? What are Kai and Sir Stickuparse capable of? Speaking of Ryland, what’s his—Bash drops my hands, taking the heat with him. He stands, heading to the door. “They’re here.”

  “What? But it’s only been a couple minutes, and how do you—” He taps an ear. “Oh.” Guess they aren’t just for show.

  “The Everharts are known for their weather. Ryland’s strength is wind,” he says while unbolting the door. “If I had to guess, he used it to carry his voice to the healer faster than he can travel.” He opens the door and waits in the entryway. “I think it’s creepy, but you can’t deny its use in times like these.”

  Moments later, Ryland and the healer appear from the hall. Judging by the look of disdain Ryland throws Bash, exceptional hearing is a trait all fae possess. They head straight for Kai, leaving me alone with another one of Bash’s shit-eating grins. He waggles his brows as I shake my head, feeling like an unwilling accomplice. Not an ounce of shame in this one.

  6

  Mallory

  This healer better be talented, because my gut says I’ll need Kai’s help keeping Bash and Ryland from murdering each other. Ryland regards me as we enter the bedroom where Kai lays. If he attempts to restrain his contempt toward me, it’s done little to affect his expression when he lifts his silvery head at our entrance. I don’t want me to be here either, dude. I simper sweetly with a gracious bowing of my head, greeting him like the prince he thinks he is. Bash snorts obnoxiously, and I hear the brownie points racking up like a slot machine.

  We all turn to Kai and the healer examining his hand. He sets it down and rummages through his belongings. “It’s apparent your time in the mortal real
m has weakened your constitution.” Finding a glass jar, he slathers brown paste onto the wounds. “Your recovery will take longer than usual, but you should be right by week’s end provided you refrain from calling on your gifts.” I’ll probably be home by then, so it’s a little disappointing to hear this. Judging by his yoga, he probably has the gift of being able to noodle out his limbs like Elastigirl.

  “When is the earliest he may travel, Healer Bryce?” Ryland probes.

  “At this late hour, I would say to let him sleep halfway through tomorrow, then depart the following morning. His body needs a chance to eliminate the toxin,” he says, searching through his bag again. Ryland drums his fingers at his sides, the movements scarcely visible. Bryce produces a vial and removes the lid. “This will help with pain and sleep tonight. I recommend a few more applications of the poultice to encourage healing in the days after.” He administers the liquid to Kai, who swallows it before laying his head to the side. My chest squeezes at how quiet he’s been.

  The healer bandages Kai’s hand to hold the herbs in place, then begins packing his bag. “Thank you for coming at this late hour,” Bash says as Bryce turns from the nightstand.

  He nods. “Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been quite busy this month.” He glances at me in passing, eyes stopping at my necklace. “And if I may offer a piece of advice, gentlemen.” My hand slides over the necklace as I feel Bash step closer to my side. “Get the girl into something that doesn’t smell like humans and conceal the weapon if you expect to make it to the capital before the matching.”

  I slide the ring under my shirt. “Thank you, sir.”

  He shakes his head before exiting the room. “Never thought I’d see one in my time.”

  “Let’s discuss payment,” Ryland says on their way out. How much of that includes a bribe to not mention the human?

  Kai’s chest rises and falls steadily from the bed, the medicine he drank quickly taking effect. Face pale and hair tangled, he doesn’t look himself. Guilt settles onto my chest again. All I had to do was listen. If I had given him more time, maybe right now he’d be showing me magical spaghetti yoga instead of sleeping off trauma. How long will it be until he can balance on that hand again? Will it scar?