Inimical

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  Splat! An orange melon explodes on the ground at our feet.

  I yank Syl toward my best guess at the exit. “We’ve got to get to the other end. Blackthorn Bridge is the way out.” But where is it? “Blast it all, this place is a labyrinth!”

  Think, Roue, think!

  A hulking shadow falls on us. “Raaahrr!”

  “Duck!” I drag Syl between two carts as a hulking trogg smashes down with his club, taking off the top of a stall. The owner, a glossy black vittervolk with eight legs, swarms the trogg, shrieking gibberish. In a wrestling tangle, they crash into a bank of carts. Everything shatters, wine spills, fruit rolls, buyers and sellers screaming.

  Splinters of wood pepper us, but we keep running.

  The narrow aisles between the carts twist and turn. I duck down them, left, left, right, left, no rhyme or reason. I’m just trying to lose our pursuers.

  “Let us kill her for you, Highness!”

  “Let us slaughter the fair Fae princess!”

  “No thank you!” Syl shouts, but I save my breath.

  No-thank-yous work fine when they’re offering you dandelion wine. When they want to cut off your head and use it as a piñata?

  Not so much.

  I leap a cart of pink dragonfruit, nearly slipping on the vermilion juices. The sicky-sweet stink makes my head pound dizzily. Syl keeps pace with me. “It’s quicker back that way.”

  “It’s a Glamoury. It’s longer that way.” Gah! Why can’t I remember the secret to escaping the Goblin Market?

  Because you’ve been away too long, Roue.

  We race on, passing pavilion tents and vardos.

  “I’ll give you six iceblink lucks for her teeth.” A bracken-hag leans out of the bank of laurel lining her vardo. Her smell hits me—sticky flowers and pox.

  “She’s mine,” I snarl in my nastiest voice, letting ice splinter in my eyes, and she backs off, hobbling back to her cauldron of smoke and mist. As she stirs, the ladle ding, ding, dings against the lip, a rhythmic tolling.

  “Hags,” I blow out, stopping to catch my breath. “Pushy little ladies, the lot of them.”

  Ding, ding, ding goes the ladle as the hag keeps stirring.

  Syl grins. Of course she keeps her good humor even in a life-or-death situation. “Looks like you could sell me for a pretty penny here.”

  “Well, you are the belle of the ball— Wait.”

  Ding, ding, DING!

  “Give that girl a prize.” In two steps, I leap to the cauldron and upend it. Stinky blue goo like smooshed Smurfs spills out splashing my boots, and the bracken-hag swats at me, screeching, “Mine, mine, mine!”

  I yank it away, calling on the Winter in my blood to crystallize the air into deadly shards of ice. “Mine.” I may not be queen, but I am a royal dark Fae, and when I manifest my power, lesser Fae bow to me.

  “Yours,” she agrees, shrinking away.

  I turn as the denizens of the Market swoop and screech toward us, a boiling crowd of threshing claws and glinting knives.

  And then I start banging on the cauldron.

  The ladle ding, ding, dings. Just like the sound of bells.

  Instantly, the dark Fae wail and gnash their teeth in pain, falling to the ground dramatically and kicking about like toddlers having full-on meltdowns.

  Can I just say you haven’t seen a true tantrum until you’ve seen an eight-foot tall mountain trogg wailing and flailing and weeping, “It’s not fair! Mean Queen! Mean, mean!”

  “Yup,” I tell them, still ringing the cauldron to wake the dead. “I am the Queen of Mean.” Actually, that was Fiann’s unofficial title.

  I’m sure she won’t mind if I borrow it—being dead and all.

  I keep ringing the cauldron. “Where Blackthorn Bridge?”

  The bracken-hag whose cauldron I stole points a curved talon, and I want to kick myself. Because rising up right there in the path is the bridge in question.

  Faerie. Always getting the last laugh.

  Blackthorn Bridge is the portal from the Goblin Market back to the mortal realm, and it’s made of, you guessed it, blackthorns. They rise up in graceful, deadly arcs over us, their shiny blackness shifting like sunlight on an oil slick. Massive growths of ivy dotted with white flowers runs stickily along the tops of the bridge, and among it butterflies of bright blue and earthy brown dart and flock, sipping at the flowers. The air here is steamy, balmy. Sticky tendrils hang down.

  I keep banging on the cauldron, ushering Syl back and back and back.

  “Ready?” It’s only one word, and yet it’s rife with meaning. Are you ready to go back to the mortal realm, to face all these challenges, to maybe lose each other—not to mention our very lives.

  What if we lose?

  Syl kisses my hand, and it stings like the sun. “But, oh, Rouen, what if we win?”

  I can only hope. Hand in hand, we cross the threshold together.

  29

  SYL

  Like fire needs ice

  Like day needs night,

  Light needs the darkness

  To define it

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  * * *

  After our near-death experience in the Goblin Market, I need some good old-fashioned downtime. Can you blame me? I was almost spit-roasted by a brood of angry dark Fae out to please their future queen.

  I officially need a night off, but we can’t afford to take one.

  “City softball” is Roue’s idea, and I’ve gotta admit, it’s a good compromise for my half of our training plan. I kind of love it. There’s nothing like playing a giant game of softball on top of the skyscrapers, with the entire city as our playing field.

  First, it’s just the two of us, her and me, taking turns hitting and pitching, playing offense and defense, each of us a one-girl team as we zip around on the rooftops of Richmond center. Second, I really need to work on my batting or our team doesn’t stand a chance against Becca’s.

  That’s easier said than done, though.

  Every time I’m up to bat, I relive that day in the 8th grade—the blinding flash then the jolt of agony shooting though my jaw, into my whole body. The only time I didn’t feel that was when I was with my dad in the Somewhen, reliving my simpler days, whacking the semi-easy pitches he lobbed at me.

  That’s nothing like what Becca will serve up.

  Roue must feel my anxiety through the bond because when we get to the SunTrust building that’ll serve as home plate, she steps up.

  “I’ll bat first, all right?”

  I nod, swallowing hard. It’s full-on dark, but even so, I know she can see my flushed face, how I’m already sweating in anxiety, my heart freaking out like a bird in a cage. I don’t even know if I can touch a bat without losing it.

  She lays her hand on mine and squeezes. “It’ll be all right. It’s just us.”

  “Okay.” I nod again like I’m trying to convince myself.

  Roue throws me a dazzling smile. My Winter girl is stoic to a fault. When she shows emotion, it really counts. I’d do anything to see that again, so like the total sucker I am, I windwarp to the Marriott and wind up for the pitch.

  “Ready?” I send to her because it’s easier than shouting across the distance.

  “Bring it, princess.”

  No holding back, Syl. I psych myself up, wind up, and pitch a fast one.

  Crack! The bat blurs, she hits so hard, and now I remember my dad’s saying, “Faster in, faster out, Syl.” Yeah, this is definitely fast!

  I windwarp after it, like a Seeker after the Golden Snitch.

  Fwoosh! I pour on the speed, calling my fairy wind.

  Almost got it…

  And…

  There! My fist closes over it.

  I feel Roue’s excitement for me, hear her clapping. “Good job, princess.”

  I windwarp back to the pitcher’s “mound” and shoot her a smile. “That’s one out. Two more to go.”

  I wind up again, warming to our game.

 
By the time I get to three outs, she’s scored three runs and smashed about a half-dozen windows on the abandoned building across the way.

  Whoops. We’ll just call that “collateral damage.”

  Then it’s my turn.

  I take the bat from Roue. Our hands touch, and she brushes a curl from my face. “You got this, princess.”

  “Yeah.” But do I? It seems silly to be freaking out over batting when I’ve fought hell-hounds and Môrgrim and Circuit Fae, oh my.

  But we don’t get to pick our damage.

  So off I go, windwarping my way to home plate. I take up my stance, holding the bat high. Even this feels awkward. I feel exposed, unable to protect myself. Even the fact that I’m Fae and a softball probably couldn’t even hurt me doesn’t help.

  Whoosh! The first pitch sails by, and fwoosh! Roue goes windwarping after it. She’s both catcher and pitcher. Before I know it, she’s back on the mound.

  “That’s strike one, princess.”

  Right. My girl’s very tough-love oriented.

  I sink into my stance. The next pitch is high, so I let it go by. Then the next. The third is a strike.

  “That’s two and two,” Roue sends from the top of the Marriott. She’s haloed by the city lights, and her face is dark, but I feel her concern, and see the light blue of her aura. “Ready, princess?”

  I grit my teeth. “Bring it.”

  She pitches, a fast slider.

  I let out a breath, relax, and swing.

  Crack! The smack of the bat hitting the ball is sweet, sweet satisfaction. The fact that it goes zooming over the top of the Richmond skyline?

  That’s just icing on the cake.

  I stand atop the SunTrust building, loosely holding my bat, and watch the ball arc like a white bird out over the city. “Ha! That’s a home run for sure. You’ll never—”

  Fwoosh! In a flash of tiny crystal icicles, Roue’s flying across the skyscrapers, her windwarp speeding her into the night. Wow, she’s fast! She zooms out over the city, alighting on each building as she chases my ball.

  Time to run my buns off.

  I hightail is around the “bases,” each building roughly laid out in a diamond. I can’t help but look back. Watching her, all that beautiful dark Faeness encased in black leather, equal parts strength and grace and power, gives me the shivers.

  My Roue is all things amazing and awesome.

  I’m still going to beat the pants off her, though.

  I round second and head on to third base. I’m torn between wanting her to miss my homer and wanting her to catch it. Either way, my love for her fills me up.

  I can’t imagine my life without her.

  She leaps up and smack! catches the ball right in her glove. Perfect.

  That’s an out, but I don’t mind. I hit one. A solid hit.

  I’m grinning my face off as she windwarps over to me, vanishing off the hotel building to reappear close by in a little burst of violet mist and tiny icicles. She grabs me around the waist and spins me around. “You did it!” Her pride wraps around me like a warm blanket.

  I did do it. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.

  I’m laughing, my hands on her biceps, feeling her dark Fae strength. I want to get closer, to melt into her, feel her body against me.

  She kisses me, nipping my bottom lip in a way that makes me all swoony. “Come on, princess. Let’s finish our game.”

  Game? Oh, I’ll play, all right. “What do I get if I win?”

  Flirtiness sparks in her sapphire-blue eyes. “A kiss. And…the winner gets to name where we get takeout after.”

  I grin. Leave it to my girl to get food into the deal. Roue loves mortal food, especially takeout. “Cool. Let’s do this.”

  We spend the rest of the evening playing city softball. I never quite lose my nervousness at being up to bat, but it gets better.

  Everything with Roue is better.

  Plus, she’s gentle with me, no pushiness, no impatience, just those steady blue eyes on mine, her love and support flowing down the soul-bond.

  I don’t even mind when she catches my foul ball in the last inning.

  She flips the ball to me, and I catch it.

  She’s all super-cheeky. “That’s my win.”

  “Yeah.” I toe the top of the building with my Doc. “So what’s it to be, then?” As if I don’t already know.

  “Elephant Thai.” She smirks. “Unless you’re tired of it.”

  I shake my head, curls bobbing. “Nah. It’s okay.” I mean, I deliver for Elephant Thai, so I eat it a few times a week, but it’s not takeout I’m after. “Don’t forget, you owe me that kiss when I get back.”

  Roue shakes her head. “Nope. You owe me a kiss, princess.”

  Her intense, glowy eyes make my stomach do a lazy flip-flop. How I’ll eat anything I don’t know, but a deal’s a deal. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  I windwarp away, racing to the VCU section of town between Monroe Park and the Fan. Elephant Thai’s slow tonight, and I zip inside. It takes me no time to get my order. I thank Mr Vipada, check the schedule for my next shift, and whoosh away back to Roue on top of the SunTrust building.

  It overlooks the entire city, and we can see all the lights laid out like a dragon’s hoard of sparkling jewels.

  “Not a bad spot for a takeout picnic,” I decree, setting down the bag. I unpack the satay and peanut sauce, the double-fried chicken wings, the kanam jeeb, pineapple fried rice. All the delicious smells waft out of their various containers. “I got it American hot.” My girl loves spicy, but me? Heck, I look at a jar of mayonnaise and break out in hives.

  “Perfect.” She inhales, and I love the look of satisfaction on her face. I pass her a satay skewer. We clink them together like they’re wineglasses and we’re at a fancy party. “Thanks, Syl.” She kisses the top of my head, and we dig in.

  Okay, can I just say that a rooftop picnic overlooking the city on a warm summer night is about the most romantic thing ever? We eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other over steamed dumplings and mango rice.

  Soon enough, we’ve devoured dinner and packed up the containers so they don’t blow away. I play with the pop-tab of my soda and steal another glance.

  She smiles slowly, her fangs barely peeking out from behind her full lips. “I believe someone owes me a kiss.”

  My face gets all blushy, and I point at myself like, Who, meeeeee?

  “Yes, you.” She grabs me round the waist and pulls me into her lap. Her easy strength takes my breath away. A smile ghosts her lips. She looks at me, all intense, and moves in.

  She kisses me hard, deep, and I go with it, breathless and lost in her embrace. It’s a whirlwind of sensations: touch, scent, emotions rioting around my head. She pulls me closer, and I gasp for breath.

  It’s intense and crazy, and I love it. Our lips brush, and I don’t even care that we both have Thai food breath. Technically, that should be super-gross. Instead, it’s…weirdly intimate. She licks my bottom lip, I gasp, and then we’re kissing even more.

  “Roue…” I pull away. Things are getting a little intense for me.

  But her lips find my neck. She nips me with her fangs, and ohhh… I’m a goner. I arch back in her arms, and then—

  She yanks away, her eyes dark and dilated. There’s a dangerous look on her face like she’s going to pounce on me, and a ribbon of fear slithers through my guts.

  “Roue…?”

  She jerks away and stands up, walks to the edge of the building and back. She’s breathing hard, her face pained. “Syl…I can’t.”

  “O-okay.” I can’t keep the hurt from my voice. I start to crumple inwardly, but she comes to me, kneels down, and takes my hands.

  “It’s not you. It’s…” She swallows hard. “It’s me.”

  “Your dark self?”

  Shock slices through her eyes. “You…know about that?”

  I nod, biting my lip. “I can feel it inside you.�
� I can also feel how much she worries about it. Her father turned to his dark side, and now he’s a raging megalomaniac trying to turn everyone into Circuit Fae.

  She turns away, but I capture her hand. “It’s okay, Roue. You don’t have to hide from me.”

  “I really should.” She looks down at her hands.

  The pain and anguish in her eyes is more than I can take. “We’ve fought tougher enemies.” I take her hands and rub my thumbs across them. “We can fight this. And we can win. Together.”

  She looks up, fragile hope on her face. “You really think so?”

  “Yes. I do.” I kiss her cheek. Now for the other shoe, though. “But I do think…” My heart’s suddenly pounding. “I think we should wait.” I swallow hard, my throat clicking drily. “Before we take the next step.”

  I’ve been thinking about this ever since we got back from Dark Faerie. I want so much to be with her, but not sandwiched between fighting for our lives and our crowns.

  My chest constricts. It’s hard to breathe. “Are you okay with that?”

  30

  ROUEN

  The darkness in me

  Wants the light in you

  I can protect you

  From everything but me

  “The Light in You,” Euphoria

  * * *

  “Are you okay with that?”

  In a spinning, crystalline moment, Syl’s question hangs thick in the air, tension pulsing around us. The world seems to shrink down till it’s just me and her and all this pressure ricocheting back and forth, us in the middle.

  Will we? Won’t we?

  And what would it mean to our people if we did?

  We’re both still having the nightmares where we kill each other. Me with a blade of ice and wintersteel, her with a dagger of sunfire and white flame.

  If OverHill and UnderHollow have anything to say about it, we might never get another chance.

  So am I okay with waiting?

  “Yes.” The word is harder to say than I imagined. Every logical, rational part of me is perfectly okay with Syl wanting to wait. And, cool goth singer image aside, I’m also more than a little nervous about taking the next step in our relationship.