by H. D. Gordon
“Sounds a lot like the ranting of a madman,” I said, and waited for another slap that didn’t come.
“But I’m not a man, Miss Fae, and you can pretend you are one of them, you can make friends and try to build a home, but you are not one of them, and you never will be, and one day, when you need them most, they will turn from you. They will make it clear that you are not the same, and that there’s no room for you on their side of the line.”
He sighed and stood, looming over me and casting me into his shadow. “Before I allow you over to our side, you must choose. Very soon you will have to decide whose lives mean more to you, those of your own kind, or those of the humans who shun you and fear you. Depending on that decision, the capacity in which we meet again will be chosen.”
He turned to go, his movements smooth and graceful, the click of his expensive shoes keeping time with my heart. I tried to get up, to follow, but could only sit and sweat and stare.
He tilted his head to the side, and without looking back, said, “Please, stay seated for the next fifteen minutes. We don’t want you getting injured jumping along the rooftops trying to follow me. It would put you at an unfair disadvantage for what’s ahead.”
The steel door that led out into the night opened, and he was gone.
CHAPTER 38
I’d remained seated for every second of the fifteen minutes after Shiva left, fighting with all my might against the control he had over me, muscles straining uselessly and teeth gritted.
When I got home, it was the wee hours of Saturday morning, and though I was exhausted, it took a long time for sleep to find me. By the time it finally did, I slipped into a fitful slumber that broke with the rising of the sun.
I had just finished my morning workout and was raiding the meager contents of my refrigerator when there was a knock at the door. At first, I thought it might be Thomas, and butterflies filled my stomach the way they always did at the prospect of seeing him, but when I reached the door, I paused. It was not Thomas on the other side, because the caller was rather angry.
Standing on my toes, I peered through the peephole. My heart sank. No wonder I hadn’t recognized the aura. I’d never seen this particular person angry before. I stole a glance at my window, considering exiting through it so that I wouldn’t have to have this confrontation. After a moment, however, I decided it was best to just get it over with.
It was already raining in my world, might as well let it pour.
I threw the locks and opened the door, and Caleb Cross stared back at me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off.
“You followed me,” he said, and it was not a question. There was no point in denying it. He knew.
I supposed whatever guilty look came over my face spoke for me.
“Were you even going to tell me?” he asked.
Stepping to the side, I waved a hand for him to come in. Conversations like these were always best had in private.
“I’m sorry,” I said when he just stood there, looking justifiably upset in his collared shirt with the little green gator over the breast. The apology sounded lame to my own ears, so I added, “Please come inside so we can talk about it.”
Caleb shook his head, and now that I had a real chance to study his aura, I saw that angry was not the primary emotion. It was hurt. Betrayal. I swallowed, and my tongue tasted bitter.
“I don’t want to come inside, Aria,” he said. “I want you to tell me you followed me and my brother out to my family farm. That you didn’t trust me enough to tell you what I found, despite the fact that I’ve kept some very big secrets for you, and done nothing but try to make you love me back. I want you to tell me you brought one of your Peace Broker buddies out there looking for God knows what, and that you weren’t even going to let me know that you did all of this.” He paused, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I want to hear you say the words… Otherwise, I don’t know if I can believe it, and if it’s true, I need to believe it.”
With every word that he spoke, I felt myself shrinking, shriveling somehow even as I stood before him. Obviously he’d been told about everything. By who? It didn’t matter. All that mattered right then was that he was really hurting, and that I had done that to him. The fact that I thought I’d had noble intentions made no difference, either.
I opened my mouth. I had only to say two words, but they were so hard to speak.
“It’s true,” I said.
The look he gave me then drove a screw deep in my chest and twisted. I would’ve preferred anger. What shone in his eyes was much worse. I’d broken his heart, and in turn, broken mine.
Caleb didn’t say anything, only spun on his heels and left me standing in the open doorway. I watched him retreat, salty tears filling my eyes. I closed the door and slumped back against it before they could cut hot paths down my cheeks.
***
I was still sitting like that when there was another knock on my door ten minutes later, and my stupid, pitiful self thought that it was Caleb, returning to forgive me. So I swiped the tears from my face and threw the door open without thinking.
And immediately regretted it.
Standing there were the two detectives who’d visited me once before, Detective Hathaway and Detective Renner. I felt my blood heat up a bit and resisted the urge to ask them with profanity what it was that they wanted. Instead, I sighed.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
Detective Hathaway, an African American man with a kinder aura than his female partner’s, took in my mood with surprising swiftness. He leaned to the side a touch and tried to peer around me into the apartment.
“Is everything okay, Miss Fae?” he asked.
I braced an arm on the doorframe and ignored the voice in my head that screamed that nothing was okay.
“It’s that time of month,” I said, effectively making him snap his mouth shut. “I’ve got a busy morning, so what can I help you with?”
Detective Renner showed no sympathy. I knew from both her aura and her eyes that she didn’t like or trust me, which made the feelings mutual. “Can we come in?” she asked.
“Do you have a warrant?”
“No.”
“Then, no. I’d rather you didn’t.”
Silence held for a tick. Renner reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a photo. When she turned it toward me, I saw that it was a school picture of Brian Brewbaker, smiling into the camera. “Do you know this young man, Miss Fae?” she asked.
I looked at the photo and maintained a poker face. “I go to school with him.”
She nodded. “You’re aware he was missing yesterday.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “We were all made aware of it. Have you found him?”
The two detectives exchanged glances, and my heart hit the floor with what I saw pass silently between them. My poker face slipped off like melting snow.
“What happened?” I asked. “Did you find Brian?”
“So you did know him?”
I ignored her and looked at Hathaway. My voice came out small, almost a whisper. “Where’s Brian?” I asked.
Hathaway cleared his throat, ran a hand down his face. “A fisherman found him this morning in the bay… He’s gone, Miss Fae.”
It felt like someone had just slammed a fist into my gut, the air whooshing out of me in a rush. The world began to sway, and then to spin, and suddenly, I was gripping the doorframe not to block the detectives, but to hold myself upright.
“H-how?” I managed.
“That’s what we’re here to find out, Miss Fae,” said Renner. “Now, can we please come inside, or would you rather come down to the station with us?”
With legs that felt shaky and a chest that felt numb, I stepped to the side and allowed them to enter.
***
I gripped the cup of tea Hathaway had made me from my own stock, staring into the dark depths as if it were a reflection of my soul. Renner had spoken to me, but I hadn’t heard what she’d said, so I ask
ed her to repeat herself.
“Where were you last night between the hours of ten and midnight?” she asked.
“I was here,” I answered.
“You were here,” she repeated, the doubt clear in her tone.
“Where else would I be? There’s a curfew, remember?” My eyes narrowed. “Where were you?”
This was not the way to win Renner over, but I didn’t care. I was marveling at the number of times my heart could be broken in a single day.
“Where were you after midnight?” Renner asked. “Here, I suppose.”
“You suppose correct.”
“What was your relationship like with Brian? How long had you known him?”
I shrugged, and my shoulders felt terribly heavy. “We were friends. I’d known him as long as I’d known anyone else in Grant City.”
Renner flipped through the small notepad she’d been scribbling in. “Which is about six months, right? Right around the time the Masked Maiden showed up in Grant City?”
I lifted my gaze from the tea and only looked at her. If she understood just how full of turmoil I was, she might be more cautious with her poking, but Detective Renner was a very tall, wide shouldered, no nonsense type of lady, and she obviously didn’t recognize threats that came in small packages.
When neither of them spoke, only waited for a response, I said, “You’ve obviously concocted a timeline, so you would know better than me… Am I being charged with something?”
The detectives exchanged looks again. Every time they did so, I wanted to smash their heads together. I wanted to scream at them that I had tried. I had tried to save him. I’d thought I had succeeded.
“No,” Hathaway said.
“Not yet,” added Renner.
My jaw was clenched and I worked to loosen it, just barely keeping my emotions at bay. “Look,” I said, “I don’t have anything to do with what happened to Brian.” I swallowed. It sounded like a lie to my own ears. I spoke quickly to cover it with another. “And I’m not the Masked Maiden. You’ve just told me that I’ve lost someone whom I considered a friend. If you’re not going to bring me in, please leave me alone so that I can grieve.”
“When we first got here and asked if you knew Brian, all you said was the two of you went to school together,” Renner said, making no move to leave. “Now he’s your friend and you need to grieve?”
Whatever look I gave her then had Hathaway holding up his hands. “Whoa,” he said. “Alright. Let’s just all keep our cools. This is an emotional time for everyone.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Fae, we’re just trying to do our jobs. A young man is dead, there’s some sort of beast on the loose, and in all honesty, you’re the likeliest suspect as far as the Masked Maiden goes.”
“What makes me the likeliest suspect? Just because I just moved to the city? You guys sure are grasping at straws.”
He spread his hands. “We gotta grasp at something.”
I stood, went over to the door, and opened it. “If there was something I could tell you that would help, I would. Whoever did this to Brian deserves to see justice. Now, please.”
Renner still made no move to stand, but Hathaway took to his feet and nodded for her to follow. With a huff that made me want to dropkick her, Renner finally rose and brushed past me through the doorway.
“We’ll be in touch, Miss Fae,” she said. “Be careful out there. Grant City is a dangerous place. Obviously.”
I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
Hathaway followed her lead, but he had the decency to pause and say he was sorry for my loss before taking his leave as well. Once they were gone, I allowed myself to crumble again.
Brian Brewbaker was dead.
And despite what I’d said to the detectives, I knew it was my fault.
***
I decided not to go into work. I texted Rose and told her I couldn’t make it, and she responded with an ‘ok’ and asked if we could talk sometime soon. I ignored this, tossed my phone on my bed and folded it into the wall with the phone tucked inside.
I needed to work because I needed money, but I couldn’t work because I was a blubbering mess. How could I have been so stupid as to just accept Shiva’s word as if it were truth? He’d said he’d let Brian go safe, and now Brian was dead, and he never would’ve been taken in the first place if it weren’t for me.
The ironic thing about the onslaught of guilt was that every time I watched a movie or read a novel about a hero/heroine who felt guilty over something like this I would roll my eyes and wonder how they couldn’t see that they weren’t to blame. Now that I was in the situation, I felt pretty stupid about this. I did feel guilty, because I was guilty. I felt terrible, and there was nothing that would change that.
Except maybe hanging Shiva up by his fancy shoes, and Raven along with him while I was at it. He’d said I’d have to choose a side, and I didn’t know if this was true or not, but I did know that if the time came, it sure as hell wouldn’t be his side I stood on.
By the time midday rolled around, I was busy wallowing in my misery, staring at a pigeon that had landed on my fire escape and wondering what it would taste like after roasting in my oven since I’d cleared my refrigerator out hours ago.
When another knock sounded on my door, I trudged over to it and threw it open with every intent of biting the caller’s head off. When I saw it was Sam, my shoulders slumped and I practically fell into her arms. She held me and stroked my back.
“So you heard,” she said, her hands still on my shoulders once we finally broke apart.
I nodded. “Just had a visit from a couple of detectives… How do you know? It’s in the news already?”
She blinked at me behind her glasses. “I listen in on the police scanners. When I heard, I hacked into the GCPD system and confirmed it.” She paused. “Aria, it’s not your fault.”
I shut the door behind her and slumped back against the wall. “No? Sure feels like it.”
Sam sighed and held up a bag. “I brought food.”
“Because you love me, even though I don’t deserve that love.”
Sam went over to the counter and began unloading the bag, pulling out a couple of paper plates and not looking up at me. Once she had everything set up, she said, “Come. Eat. We’ll discuss it more when you’ve got a full belly.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” I said. “I failed. I failed Brian, and now he’s dead, and it’s my fault.” My voice cracked on that last part and fresh tears filled my eyes.
To my utter surprise, Sam slammed her hand down on the counter hard enough to make me jump. “Fine,” she snapped. “It’s your fault. Is that what you want to hear? You’re the biggest failure I’ve ever known and an innocent boy is dead because of you. Happy? Feel better?”
I ran a hand under my nose, too shocked to really know how to respond to this. “No,” I said.
“No?” Sam continued, her fire growing brighter rather than diminishing. “I’m not going to coddle your feelings right now, Aria, because that’s not what you need. You need to stop with the damn pity party so that we can come up with a plan on how to stop these bastards.” She slammed her hand down again on that last word.
I stood staring at her as if she had two heads… but the tears had stopped, and I could smell the luring scent of the food she’d brought over. I didn’t smile, but looking at her so filled with passionate determination made me think that at some point in the future, I might actually be able to.
CHAPTER 39
A black mask covered my eyes, the top half of my face concealed, my features cast into shadows by the darkness of the night and the hood pulled down tightly over my head. Tucked into its place in my custom jacket was my magical staff, waiting ever patiently for me to whisper old words to it and make it extend to its full size.
Slung over my shoulder was the crossbow Matt had fashioned along with the arrows filled with epinephrine. A breeze picked up and lifted my black cape, tugging it to the side as it f
loated gracefully in the wind.
I crouched on the edge of the bell tower, my eyes closed and my head tilted, listening to the sounds of Grant City and the steady beating of my heart. I could hear the bustle of the downtown traffic, the chatter of the people spilling out of bars. The night was abuzz with activity, it being Saturday and the curfew over the city having been officially lifted.
The Blue Beast was already but a memory to everyone, it seemed, but me.
If I tilted my head to the east I could pick up the fishy, salty scent of the bay, could hear the gentle motion of the water. The train tracks near the stockyards whirred as metal skated over metal, freights and passengers moving along with what seemed dogged determination.
Overhead, a full moon peeked out from behind drifting clouds at varying intervals, the stars hidden from sight by the light leaking up from below.
I was not afraid. I didn’t know when that had happened. Just earlier this morning I’d been unable to hold myself upright, had braced myself against the dingy walls of my apartment, had crumbled to the floor with what seemed ceaseless tears. I knew what was coming. I knew a battle would ensue. And I knew any sane person—Halfling or no—would be afraid. But I wasn’t. I was done with the running and hiding and reacting.
If Shiva wanted to make me choose, then I would. And I would choose justice, because that’s what the Masked Maiden stood for.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, the earpiece through which she communicated buzzing in my sensitive ear.
“I’m ready,” I said, and could hear the truth of these two words even as I spoke them.
I could practically picture the pride that swelled through her when Sam replied, “Good.”
A car horn blasted to my southeast. And then another from the same direction. And another. I stood from my crouched position and searched the area for the cause of the commotion, my cape rippling in the wind behind me. My eyes locked onto the Grant City Bridge, and my jaw clenched with resolve.
In the distance, people began to scream. More car horns blared, and a roar that would rival Godzilla tore through the sky.
