by H. D. Gordon
Though I was only seven years old, I understood what the Pixie was asking. If I set her free, her exit would seal my own death, seeing as how the only way I was going to be able to free myself from my iron restraints would be to crush her tiny Pixie bones into dust and sprinkle it over my chains.
As a Peace Broker in training, my mental studies up until this point had consisted of a study of the other races, and it was a well-known fact that Pixie dust could open a vault, could melt through almost anything (glass, of course, was the only exception), if applied correctly. It was also well known that they were spiteful, selfish creatures who never gave up Pixie dust willingly, making the crushing of their bones the only way to obtain the powerful substance.
With my last bit of strength, I heaved my body to the side, and the chair toppled with me in it. This, of course, was what the superiors, who were surely watching me from their control room, had been waiting for me to do, as it put my tied hands within reaching distance of the jar.
As I crashed to the floor, my mind dipped out of consciousness, swallowed up by the shadows, but the tink-tink-tink of the Pixie pounding her tiny fists against the glass pulled me back again.
“Focus, Halfling,” said the Pixie. “Set me free. There’s no point in us both dying!”
The urgency in her tone broke through the fog, and I shifted my body until my fingers brushed the glass of the jar. With a ton of fumbling and direction from the Pixie, I managed to remove the lid containing her. I could hear her tiny heartbeat pick up in pace as she waited for my hands to retreat.
“Go,” I croaked out, resting my head against the cool concrete of the floor, ready to be done with this mess already, ready to give up. The darkness came again, and I more than willingly yielded to it.
Then, there was a tiny sensation near my face, making my nose twitch, forcing me to shake my head. “Wake up, Halfling,” said the Pixie, and I forced my eyes open to see the bitsy creature hovering before my face.
In my fuzzy, half-conscious state, the Pixie looked not unlike an angel, with its shimmering wings fluttering behind its back and the incandescent glow of her skin. Her eyes were slanted and green, much like my mother’s, and her little ears tipped in points as well.
Her small hands slapped at my cheeks, like two gnats buzzing about before my face. “Wake up, Halfling,” urged the Pixie. “You spared me, and so I’m going to help you.” Her voice dropped here, fainter and smaller than before, as if she were whispering. “You are the kind of Peace Broker the worlds need.”
Her words were fading, as if something murmured in a dream. Then, she said, “I’m going to gift you some dust. It’ll burn through the chains, and your skin a little, too.”
My eyes popped open again.
“It’s going to hurt a lot,” she continued. “You ready?”
I couldn’t imagine my body ever feeling worse than it did just then, and I managed a weak nod, taking comfort in this false idea.
A moment later, I was screaming out in pain as the Pixie used its precious, rarely given dust to melt through my iron chains.
It burned like the fires of hell, but it indeed set me free.
CHAPTER 47
My hand was engulfed in flames, and I cried out, shooting up straight in my bed and taking in my surroundings. I was in my apartment in Grant City. I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing I had only been experiencing a dream.
And that I was not alone.
“Where have you been?” I asked, not turning my head, my voice coming out in a croak. I didn’t need to set eyes on him to recognize the sound of his soul.
“Taking care of some things,” said Thomas Reid. He pushed off the wall and approached the bed, hesitating before claiming a seat beside me. “How are you feeling?”
I gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve been better… What do you mean, you were ‘taking care of some things’?”
Thomas only looked at me, his hazel eyes bright with the contrast of his dark hair and expression.
I tried a different question. “How did you find me in that tunnel? We were underground. Even Sam’s tracker couldn’t pick up a signal.”
In answer, Thomas reached up, and his warm fingers brushed my neck, making goosebumps break out over my skin. He gently pulled the necklace he’d given me out from beneath the collar of my shirt and held the piece in his hand, staring down at its brilliant colors as if he was seeing something else altogether.
With him so close, I could do little more than try to steady my suddenly harsh breathing. My eyes seemed to be stuck on the strong angles of his face, in the soft curve of his lips.
“I used this,” he said at last, breaking a silence that seemed thick somehow.
My voice came out a little breathier than intended. “There’s a GPS inside?” I asked.
The faintest of smiles tugged up one side of his mouth. “Something like that.”
Now, it was my turn to stare at him in silence, demanding a better answer with just the look in my eyes.
A bit of gold edged his aura as he looked back at me, his familiar amusement with my reactions returning. I didn’t realize until just this moment that I’d missed making his aura go gold, that I’d been longing for the return of normality between us.
Thomas said, “I communicate with the dead, Aria.”
I nodded, waving the hand that was uninjured. “Yep. Knew that.”
“The necklace belonged to my great grandmother. It has been passed down through my family for generations. It has a certain… connection… a signal of sorts that I can tune into.”
This seemed like an avalanche of information wrapped up in a couple short sentences, and for a moment, I could only blink at him.
When words did find me, they were not what I expected. “Then, what took you so long?” I asked. “I was down in that tunnel for… I don’t know… at least an entire day.”
Before he could respond to this, Thomas’s face darkened, and I understood without his voicing it that it had not been all that simple.
“It’s not the easiest thing to do,” he said. “To find the necklace, I had to open myself up completely to the world of the dead, which I haven’t done for years, not since before my deployments, anyway.”
He was no longer looking at me, his hazel gaze somewhere else, at some other time and place, perhaps with the demons of his past.
Thomas cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, and my breath caught as his hand came up again, his fingers touching my chin, and then slowly cupping my face. “I’m sorry I took so long, and I’m glad you’re okay.” A pause. “Really glad.”
I started to slip off the necklace, but he stopped me with a shake of his head. “Keep it,” he said, and more gold touched his aura. “Knowing you, this won’t be the last time it comes in handy.”
I felt a grin pulling up my lips. It grew into a full smile, and I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I had really, truly smiled.
“Just for the record,” I said, “I had the whole situation handled. In fact, I was making my escape as you showed up.”
Thomas inclined his head. “Yes, Aria,” he said. “I’m aware that you’re quite capable.”
“But you came anyway.”
He shrugged, his large shoulders lifting once and falling.
Suddenly, my throat felt tight, my eyes beginning to burn again. “Thank you, Thomas. Thank you for coming after me… and… for what you did. I wouldn’t have done it myself. I wouldn’t have been able to. I would’ve sent him back to his prison, and if I’m being honest, I’d always be worried about his return.”
Thomas looked down at his hands, and his voice came out a bit gruff. “I’m glad you didn’t have to. It… changes you, taking a life.”
“The Scarecrow wasn’t your first,” I said.
It was not a question, but Thomas shook his head in answer.
“That must be hard. Being able to communicate with the dead, and having taken life. Do they… haunt you?”
T
he gold was gone from his aura, the darkness flooding back in and taking its place. “That’s one way of putting it,” he said. “Most of the time I keep them out, but when I open up…” Another shrug.
My stomach swirled, my chest tightening a bit as the sacrifice he’d made for me was acknowledged. “Open up,” I said, my fingers wrapping around the necklace he’d given me. “Like you did to find me.”
Thomas let out a low sigh, his hazel eyes on the necklace at my throat, then on my lips, and finally meeting the green of my own gaze.
“It’s no big deal,” he said, and I didn’t need to check his aura to know this was a lie.
All of a sudden, it felt as though the room was smaller, or maybe just that it had disappeared altogether. I swallowed, trying eagerly to break the silence. “How does it work?” I asked. “Can you contact anyone who’s passed? Or do you just encounter them at random?”
I watched as Thomas’s wide chest rose and fell. His eyes wandered down to his hands. “Both,” he said. “But with practice, I’ve learned how to tune it out.” He looked at me now, dead on. “It’s sort of a necessity when you’ve killed the number of people I have.”
I couldn’t keep my eyebrows from lifting slightly at this admission, though I tried to keep a neutral expression. This was new ground between my mysterious neighbor and me. I’d become accustomed to sharing my secrets with him over the past quarter of a year, but Thomas Reid had yet to truly open up to me.
I found myself leaning forward, afraid to miss a syllable.
“And now there’s one more to add to the list,” I said, once it became apparent he wasn’t going to continue. “And you did it for me.”
That latter sentence just slipped out. I’d been realizing the gravity of it myself more than saying it to him.
“It’s no big deal,” Thomas repeated.
I was so lost in all that was him that I didn’t even notice that Nick had slipped in through my open window.
My heart dropped as if someone had kicked it over the edge of a building, and I could do little more than struggle to keep my mouth from hanging open. Somehow, having Nick find Thomas and I in such a manner made me terribly uncomfortable, though I stubbornly decided this feeling was ridiculous. I didn’t owe anything to Nick Ramhart, certainly not an allegiance or an explanation.
What made my cheeks flare red, though, was wondering just how much of this conversation he’d overheard. As it would turn out, he’d heard more than enough.
“You may insist it’s no big deal, Mr. Reid,” Nick said, his Broker face appearing, making my blood feel cold. “But I’m not so sure my superiors will feel the same. They want to know the status of the Scarecrow, and when we will be returning him to his cell.” He paused. “I suppose I’ll have to tell them he’s been disposed of.”
Nick was silent a moment, and the only sound in the room was the suddenly rapid pace of my heart. For the first time since he’d entered my apartment, my old mentor looked at me. There was a certain hurt, a borderline betrayal behind his eyes that made a small ache spread across my chest.
At last, Nick said, “There’s going to be some serious explaining to do.”
CHAPTER 48
“For the last time, I’m not angry, Aria,” Nick said, his tone still the flat, inflectionless one that I hated. “It’s just Peace Broker business, and I have to follow protocol.”
I blinked at him, my patience fading. “You seem to forget that I can read auras the same as you, and that lying is pointless. You are mad. In fact, from where I’m standing, you’re not just mad, you’re pissed, and I’m not so sure you have a right to be.”
Nick threw his hands up, pacing the small space of my apartment. Thomas had left shortly after Nick’s arrival, and I’d dressed and folded up my bed into the wall. After that, I’d spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince Nick that we didn’t need to involve Thomas Reid in the report to the superiors, that there was no reason to reveal what he’d done at all.
“You want me to lie for your boyfriend, and you know I can’t,” Nick said. “If you’re picking up anger in my aura, it’s because you would even ask me to do such a thing, knowing that it puts me at risk.”
This was something I hadn’t really considered, but I held my ground. “You’re only at risk if they somehow find out that you omitted Thomas’s involvement, and they won’t find out, because the only people who know are you, me, and him, and none of us are going to say anything.”
Nick raised a single eyebrow, his red hair flaring out in all directions, the way it always did when he got upset. “The three of us are the only ones who know, Aria? You swear on that?”
I bit my lip, ringing my hands. There was about as much point in lying to Nick Ramhart as there was in lying to me. “I may have mentioned it to Sam, too,” I admitted, and spoke quickly before Nick could protest. “She won’t say anything, either. Why would she? She’s my best friend.”
“Your best friend? Will you listen to yourself? When will you admit that you don’t belong here? These aren’t your people. This isn’t your world.”
I knew that I needed Nick’s cooperation, but at the same time, these words angered me, mostly because they hurt me. “In case you forgot,” I said, a certain acid leaking into my tone, “I was thrown out of ‘my world’ by ‘my people’. I came here, and these people—my friends—opened their arms to me without any questions. Samantha Shy especially. As a golden boy for the Brokers, I don’t expect you to understand what that means to me.”
“You’re in love with him,” Nick accused.
I scoffed. I didn’t need to ask to whom he was referring. “I am not, but even if I was, what of it? Just because we slept together, that doesn’t mean I’m yours.”
I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth, but like all words, once they were spoken, they could not be retracted. I still hadn’t sorted out all of my feelings about what had happened between us. There hadn’t been time.
Nick stalked over to me, stopping only a few inches short of my face, glaring down at me from his taller height. I planted my feet and crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to be intimidated even though I felt a bit like a buttwipe.
Between clenched teeth, he said, “I won’t lie for him, and you shouldn’t even ask me to.”
Some of my anger left me, and I found that I felt deflated, empty. It didn’t help that there was genuine hurt flashing through Nick’s aura, or that he wasn’t the only one who was hurting.
“Then, lie for me,” I said, and hated that the words came out almost pleading.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because with a shake of his head, Nick gave me a look that I can only describe as disappointed. Somehow, seeing this from him was even worse than the hurt or the anger.
Without a response, Nick exited my apartment, slamming the door hard enough to make me cringe, both on the outside and the inside.
A moment later, there was a knock at my door, and I let out a big breath, intending to apologize to Nick for what I’d said, and try again to change his mind.
“Nick, I’m—”
The words dried up in my throat, and my head tilted to the side.
It was not Nick Ramhart standing outside my door, but a man and a woman, both wearing suits. I stood staring at them for a moment, realizing that I didn’t recognize either.
“Can I help you?” I said.
My heart stopped dead in my chest as the woman—a tall, large lady with dull brown hair and sharp brown eyes—reached into the jacket of her ill fitting suit and flashed a gold badge.
“Miss Fae,” she said, “This is Detective Hathaway, and I’m Detective Renner. We’d like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?”
Now my heart was working again, practically pounding in my ears, but I had been trained to keep cool, and so that’s what I did. I gave a confused look—though I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly why they were here—and stepped to the side, waving a hand for them to enter.
&
nbsp; ***
“What’s going on?” I asked, once the two detectives were inside.
“Are your parents home?” asked Detective Renner.
I shook my head, not having to feign my look of concern. “It’s just me and my mom, and no, she’s not here. Is everything okay?”
Both of the detectives were studying my small apartment, their gazes seeing everything while their faces remained stuck in a studied disinterest.
“Where is she?” asked Renner.
“Not here.”
Renner’s eyes flashed down to my wrist. “What happened to your hand?”
“I fell off my skateboard,” I answered, and folded my arms over my chest, tucking my right hand out of sight. It was a good thing my face had healed faster. “I’m sorry—What is this about?”
The male detective—Hathaway—spoke for the first time. “You’re aware of the vigilante who’s been running around Grant City, aren’t you, Miss Fae?”
Though I was careful to give no outward indication of it, my stomach flipped. My suspicions had been right, then. That wicked witch Andrea Ramos must have ratted me out.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, quirking a brow. “The Masked Maiden. Who hasn’t heard about her?”
Renner’s gaze was locked on me, while Hathaway was drawing conclusions about my home situation.
“You and your mother live here alone?” asked Hathaway.
“Not sure too many others could fit in here,” I answered. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
Renner cleared her throat, her brown eyes still fixed on me. “We received an anonymous tip, Miss Fae. The caller claimed that you may have information about the vigilante, and we’re following up on that tip.”
I let out a laugh, though no part of me found this funny. Anonymous, my ass. There was only one person who hated me enough and also knew my secret.
“Is this some kind of joke?” I asked.
