Chapter Two
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
—William Butler Yeats, The Stolen Child
"It's just a lover's spat."
I turned back, seeing a guy with disheveled blond hair lounging in the shadows behind me. He looked just like any other senior. And he was amused in a hot kinda way. My head tilted. Yeah, hot. It was the first time I had thought that about anyone, so really, my first impression was wrong. He wasn't like any senior guy I knew. Why hadn't I seen him before this? Omak High is the smallest high school in existence, and secondly . . . "Um, can you see those people in front of us?" I whispered. I was proud of how calm I sounded.
The blond studied them for a moment. His dark eyes slanted into almonds. "Yeah."
I think he was laughing at me. I didn't have time to wonder why, because the venomous voice interrupted us: Come to me, O Child of Darkness!
Child of Darkness? Once again, the voice came from above, and I gasped when my arms lifted up at the command. I had no control over myself today. Wait a second; she wasn't calling me the Child of Darkness, was she? It would just figure. I mean, I was messed up, but I wasn't evil. A ringing filled my ears.
Come and claim the birthright of the Stars! The time has come!
I grimaced at the loud, cackling laughter that followed the announcement. It sounded terribly creepy, but it didn't matter; my traitorous legs still couldn't resist it. I stepped closer, and would've run straight into the arguing couple, but with mounting horror I felt something even blacker than the darkness wrap around me. It felt like a strait jacket, and it stopped me from moving, holding me so tightly that I couldn't get to the voice . . . and strangely enough, I wanted to get to that voice more than anything.
I tried to call out to it, but the guy next to me clapped his hands over my mouth and edged me back with him, too. "No, that would be a very bad idea." His rough cheek collided against mine. Someone hadn't shaved today, and I couldn't complain like I wanted to because I didn't have the use of my mouth, and . . . my heart lurched. His bare skin on mine was doing something strange to me; it made me woozy. My legs buckled. He made a surprised sound—we both did. That foreign sensation of being able to feel any kind of emotion rushed back to me more unbearably than it ever did in my dreams, and it hurt.
His hands loosened over me. "You feel that?" he whispered.
Yeah! For once. My heart felt like it was going to collapse. After a moment, the flooding emotions swept away, and the coldness returned under his warm hands. What had he done to me? One touch and he forced me to feel.
The black stuff oozed around us both, clamping over my hands like cuffs. My gaze darted over it, and I tried not to gag at the panic filling me.
"It's only your shadow." He chuckled softly, though there was a trace of uncertainty in it that made me nervous, like he was trying to play it cool, but he couldn't quite after what had happened between us. "You're not afraid of your own shadow, are you?"
My shadow? That's what had me? It had never acted out like this before, unless it was the same thing that had stared me down from my bathroom mirror. It wouldn't let me go. I couldn't ask why with that guy's hand over my mouth. He was stronger than he looked; definitely not an actor. Maybe he was on the soccer team. My head rammed against his shoulder. The evil voice called out to me again, and he jerked me back from it, this time with more force.
The beautiful woman approached the dark-haired man in front of us, her movements slow. "You cannot have the child." She leaned into him, her fingers caressing his jaw before she pressed a tender kiss against his lips. The anger in the powerful man's eyes was replaced by a stricken look.
The blond guy made a sound of derision next to my ear. Well, someone was jaded.
"Finn. Please," the woman breathed. "Forgive me."
The man's hands were on her cheeks, and he ineffectually tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, looking furious while he did it. "Onagh, what have you done?" he asked.
"Oh, she's got him right where she wants him," the blond whispered into my hair. He sounded amused. "Kisses aren't just kisses with faeries . . . they're kisses."
Did he say faeries?
The air blurred over the woman's unlucky swain, and it darkened until it clutched his broad chest, pulling him away from her. The last thing to disappear was his hand tangled through her lovely hair. He held it almost reverently.
"There's always mischief in faery kisses." The blond's gaze flicked over my lips. He studied me with a distracted air and, after a tense moment, released me. His expression cleared into a casual one. "Just depends on the faery's intentions, really."
It seemed like a warning.
The black shadow holding me captive let go of me next, and I watched it with stern eyes to make sure it went back to where it was supposed to be. It did, sliding behind me like a shadow should. I needed counseling.
Faeries? Is that what these people were supposed to be? Now that I could see this blond better, he didn't look like a faery. He wore a dark tee and jeans. His leather watchband slid down his sinewy forearm. He was normal in the high school sense, except for that devilish look; it was strangely alluring.
"Faeries, huh? Where are your wings?" It was probably one of the stupider things I've asked.
His eyes danced as if he were debating whether or not to let out the laugh that threatened behind his curling lips. He flicked my fake wing with a finger instead. "Faeries don't have wings, just like angels don't, you oaf."
I heard an intake of breath behind me and swiveled. The beautiful . . . faery, I guess, stumbled towards me, holding her gossamer skirts free from her dainty feet. The woman was already pale, but now she looked positively white, like she had donated too much blood. "My baby . . ." She was losing strength. Her hands clasped mine. "Take her!"
"Me?" Take a baby? That was a terrible idea. Hadn't she heard that sinister voice above us call me a Child of Darkness? I wasn't evil, but I wasn't the warmest cookie in the batch either. I glanced behind me to see what the blond thought of all this, and jumped when I saw that he was gone.
"Halley." The faery woman jerked my attention back to her. "Wandering star."
She knew my name? The tender note in her voice made me uneasy.
Puck, our resident heart-throb actor, leaned over a hapless human on the stage below us, his dark hair getting into his eyes as he wielded the love potion. "On the ground, sleep sound," he said in his gravelly voice. "I'll apply to your eye, gentle lover, remedy."
Not good! The beautiful woman wouldn't put some sort of spell on me too, would she? Who knew what a real faery could do to a human like me? But no, this was all in my head. If only I could force that message to my brain.
The faery stared at me with luminous eyes, not blinking. "There is doubt in your heart," she said. "But we are not a dream. You are. Can you not perceive this?" The skirts of her dress glittered, catching the stage lights from below. It surrounded her in a kaleidoscope of colorful stars.
I shook my head to clear my vision. "It's a schizophrenic episode," I said. "I need help, some sort of medicine or . . ." She laid a pale hand over my heart and I felt it burn through me. I gasped out.
"Oh, I feel it now," she said. "I feel what she has done to you. Child of Darkness?" She sniffed in disdain. "No, it is your heart; it is cold from disuse and misuse." She gave me a measuring look, and then looked relieved. "It is still good, but is it strong enough?" She touched my head as if she would find out. I groaned at the sudden pain, seeing lights . . . and something more. The world came into focus around me. It gave me a horrible headache. "You are the keeper, chosen from the beginning," she said. "You were a sickly child. Do you remember the hands that came for you?" Only dreams, and they weren't real. I shook my head. "Do you remember what those hands did to you?" she asked.
"No."
"Then remem
ber this." She placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, and at once I knew the blond guy was right. Kisses from faeries were dangerous. My eyes grew heavy. Still, she wasn't through with me yet. She started to chant, "With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see. Then one and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax."
I cried out, feeling something strange crawling through my hair. My hands flew up to touch what felt like horns, and I yelped. Seriously? I was growing horns? I had enough problems acting nice as it was. I gingerly tapped them while running my fingers down something that felt like a headband—a tiara? It built on itself until something twinkled from the center of it and lit up the catwalks around us. I tried to tug the whole thing off, but it was all molded to my head.
"Your days are numbered here, my love."
The ethereal lady needn't have bothered me with that information. I could feel it—she had killed me with her words. I cried out at the pain, feeling the band tighten over my head. It screamed into my ears, and with difficulty, I kept myself from falling over. "Your destiny is hers now." The lady's voice sounded sympathetic, and I didn't want it, especially since she sounded like she came from the bottom of a well.
My legs shook. Everything felt weird and hollow. The world faded around me. Just as I was about to pass out, a baby wrapped in a cocoon of pink and white blankets appeared in my arms like a rabbit from a magician's hat. My pain vanished at the sight of her. I looked down into a pair of innocent hazel eyes—they were the kind of eyes that hid all sorts of color. Her face was soft and trusting. She was one of those angelic babies no one suspected would do anything bad, but I knew better. My sleepless nights proved that.
The woman's hand lingered mournfully over the baby, but she wouldn't touch her. It was probably a good thing, because the lady's touch felt like death. "She has no name," the faery said. The baby shook a mirrored toy at her with a chubby hand. Giving her a smile full of regret, the faery touched the toy instead, her eyes lifting to mine. "My baby. Do not rest until you've brought her back to me."
Well, that was easy. I tried to give the baby back to her. The blonde lady gave me an exasperated look. "No, in three days' time. You must find the way. It is how you will stop those who want this power for themselves. Promise me." She took my face in her hands, her nails digging into my skin. "Say it. Promise me."
"I . . . promise?"
The faery gave me a reassuring look, though she couldn't keep her eyes from darting around like she was expecting something bad to happen. "You will not be alone," she said. "I have sent one to help you."
A crash echoed through the catwalks above us. We stared up into the rafters and shadows hanging threateningly over us. My arms tightened around the baby. Already I could feel my connection to the little girl. I had never felt anything like it before, like I would do anything to protect her because she was a part of me. The faery had talked about my heart, and I suspected it was a curse, making me feel something I didn't normally feel. Affection?
The faery's eyes were on mine. She looked scared. "The hag is here. You must not let her get this child." Her hand traced the band over my head. "She cannot find you with my emblem of protection. It will keep you safe."
"Come to me! Sun, moon, star. Cease your cry, reveal to me where you are!"
With a last lingering glance at the silent baby, the faery took a deep breath. "I can stop her, my darling, but not for long." And with that, she raced to confront whatever was chasing us, her platinum hair streaming behind her like a moonbeam.
I stopped myself from shouting after her, and huddled behind the backdrops instead, listening to the fighting somewhere in the darkness, feeling just as helpless as this baby in my arms. She looked up at me silently, her short neck straining against her big head. I tightened my hold on her. The kid probably knew more about this than I did. If only she could talk.
The arguing voices got louder. "I know what you've done, hag! Witch!" The beautiful faery's voice went all shrill. "Now you will know what it feels to lose everything you love!"
"As you will, my dear. As will you."
"You cannot have my baby!"
The crueler voice guffawed in response. "Onagh, fraud, thief, deceiver. As long as this child hath breath, you are banished. From these lands, your power hath vanished. Leave here!"
"Then with that curse, you'll suffer too," our protector lashed back. "Your magic on this sphere you'll n'er renew. Be gone with you!"
A shrill scream followed the curse. "You cannot stop those I send! In three days' time, I'll have my revenge!"
The voice faded, and our protector cried out with her. The noise spiraled into silence. Strangely enough, I sensed that the beautiful faery was gone, along with whatever evil that was after us, both of them banished from this place by a few weird and rhyming words.
The baby and I were alone in the shadows. I buried my face into the kid's soft blanket, not sure what to do. The faery's kiss and touch were more than enough to convince me that this was real, but how could I help this child if I didn't know what was happening? My body ached, and a deep weariness pressed down on me. The baby's small fingers tangled through my hair. I lifted my head, meeting her big eyes. She watched me with too much trust. No one had ever depended on me like that.
"I can't help you," I whispered. "I don't know how."
"That's okay. I do."
I glanced up, seeing the blond guy again. His grin was mischievous, but there was something else in it too. Confusion? Recklessness, anger, a little guilt? That didn't make me feel any better. He offered me his hand. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but I had no choice—I took it, feeling the same warmth flow through me at his touch; though not as potent as the first time, it still wasn't comfortable.
"They've lost their strength since the baby's been gone from the Sidhe," he said.
"Who?"
He jerked me to my feet in a far-too-familiar manner. "The faery king and queen. You refer to them as Titania and Oberon in your little play. Good job, by the way. You looked really . . . affectionate on stage."
I scowled at the sarcasm, not wanting to be reminded about ruining the play right now. Things were only going to get worse. "They called each other Onagh and Finn," I said.
He put a finger to his lips to shush me. "Look, those are just a few of their names. Euphemisms really. Mom and Dad to you." I jolted in surprise when I thought he was referring to me, then saw him smile at the baby. "Isn't that right?" She gave him a gummy smile in return, and he sucked in his breath. His eyes darted about as if expecting something bad to happen, then he let out a shaky laugh. "If you had those faeries' full names, you could bring them all here just by saying them. Names at our place work like a code. Of course, your pronunciation and each syllable have to be correct." His eyes returned to mine. "Not now, though. You heard those two fighting—they're banished from this sphere until we get you back."
"Back where?"
He didn't answer. A light flared over us and I finally had enough wits to run. I didn't get too far before he grabbed my shoulders and stopped me from plunging headlong into the dark maze of catwalks. "Not that way! You'll run straight into whoever that hag sent after us." He dragged me down the stairs after him, looking over his shoulder at me and the baby. There was something penetrating about his eyes that made it hard to look away, like he knew more about me than he should. Mercifully, his eyes left me to study the mysterious thing on my head. "Never get involved in a crown war with faeries," he said.
"This isn't a crown." I tugged at it with a free hand, but it wouldn't come off. I heard a sucking noise and immediately stopped, not wanting to rip my hair out with it.
"Wow, you don't know anything, do you?" he asked. "There's a war going on. Bring the changeling and she will lead the people." I must've looked confused, because he took a deep breath before explaining. "Yeah, I thought it was wishful thinking too—before now, before you. By the looks of things, we finally have a fighting chance. That's good news, ri
ght?"
"A fighting chance against what?" I asked.
"Against whom," he corrected. "We'll call her the hag for now. You know the drill. Just saying her name will invoke her, blah, blah, and that means," he said way too condescendingly as we hurried down the rickety stairs, "if you so much as breathe her true name, it will alert her to where we are and then she'll find us. Even if your protector banished her from this place, she'll send others after us. That's how faeries work. Get it? Got it? Great." We landed safely on the ground floor. The play was still going on. Everything seemed normal, but I had a feeling nothing would ever be the same again.
"All shall be well," Puck said onstage.
No, it wouldn't—especially when I heard the tail end of the blond guy's words: "If she finds us, she'll kill us all. Of course, she'll reserve something special for me . . . after she hears what I've done."
His chuckle echoed in the darkness.
With a Kiss Page 2
