Darkshine

by R. D. Vallier

  "Of course. I am your guide, after all."

  I hooked my arm around his. "And my friend."

  Orin grinned his contagious grin and squeezed my elbow with his. "Yes. And you are my friend. Are you ready to meet your people?"

  I smoothed out my hair. "Yes. I am," I said. Then bit my lip to keep it from shaking.

  The restaurant's atmosphere crackled like the blast of a shotgun. On the surface was that magical buzz, the vibrating powers of the fifty-something faeries inside. At a glance it was like any human establishment. Some of the faeries mingled around the bandstand, some ate meals at the tables, others drank at the bar, some swayed on the dance floor. All were willowy and wore clothing which dipped low on their backs, displaying the differing artwork of their tattoo wings. The restaurant could easily seat a hundred, but unlike humans the faeries did not spread themselves throughout the tables or floor, creating distance between themselves and the other guests. Instead they stayed close to one another, as if an unseen nucleus drew them in.

  Except for the man alone in the corner, scanning the restaurant with flat, granite eyes. He stood opposite the bandstand with a brindled, hunchbacked greyhound at his side, his steely face as expressive as a corpse. His tailored knee-length coat and pants were the color of cinnamon, and yet he still felt gray.

  "Who is that?"

  Orin's eyes followed mine. His face brightened. "That's a sniffer," he said. "They hunt darklings and rebels and criminals who escape the Realm. Sniffers are the most honorable of professions and the bravest of all faeries."

  The sniffer blinked slowly and watched the crowd. A whip hung coiled off the right side of his belt; a knife hung off the left. His hair was so blond it reminded me of a glare off a windshield. Snow blindness, I thought. If snow was gray. The hunchbacked greyhound stood stiff, and licked its chops.

  Orin and I meandered through the tables, arm in arm. Faeries smiled politely as we passed, each of their ears pointed. Beneath the atmosphere's magical crackling I felt another hum in the air. It was faint. Soft. Rising from the mortar in the flagstone, from the plaster of the plain, white walls. I realized it was the restaurant's own magical buzz, a feeling of community and friendships, and a vow to protect all secrets. It was the sensation of collapsing onto your bed after traveling too long, the sigh in your ear that reminded you were home.

  "This next one is for all you hard working men and the ladies who love you," the singer said into his microphone. I sat with Orin on the edge of a crowded bench. Red and white roses bloomed in small copper buckets along the center of the table. Steak kabobs sizzled on a grill behind the oak bar, but through its savory smoke I still caught whiffs of mothballs. On stage, a violinist dragged out three long notes, sad and low. Hardworking men escorted their ladies to the floor.

  I smoothed out my hair. Nine spiders squatted on a yellow sponge across the table from us—four wolf spiders, four daddy long legs, and one black widow. Behind us, three chickadees chattered and ate seed from a glass bowl on the bar. All around us faeries started to stare.

  I smoothed out my hair. Don't let their open stares frighten you. Kayla was right. Nothing is wrong. It's just cultural differences.

  A waitress with a pinched face and a stained apron filled the spiders' sponge with bourbon from a decanter. "Tonight's meal is Dorwian kabobs," she told us. "Can I bring you two some drinks to start?"

  "You must try rose mead," Orin told me. "It's a Realm specialty."

  The waitress leaned over to peer at my ear. "My goodness. You are a changeling?"

  I sunk into my shoulders. "Yes."

  She grabbed my arm and yanked me from the bench to my feet. "Everybody!" she shouted to the room. "The Realm found their lost changeling!"

  The band stopped playing mid-note and every head in the room—faeries', spiders', chickadees', and the greyhound's—turned to me. The waitress yanked me back up when I tried to retake my seat.

  "Well?" the singer said through his microphone. "Say your name, girl!"

  I cleared my throat. "Mir-Miriam. But I guess it used to be Aluala?"

  I smoothed out my hair as a rumble rolled through the crowd. A man with a shaved head approached from several seats over. His tan shorts were frayed at the edges, his green tank-top as faded as Orin's. "I can't believe it! Conley and Makeena's daughter! Lordy, child! We all thought ya were dead!"

  "You knew my parents?"

  He laughed and slapped me drunkenly on the back. "Knew em? I worked with em on Earth's calvary for nearly a century. Good faeries. Devastated when they couldn't find ya. My name's Alston. Praise the Realm! They will be thrilled!"

  More faeries approached, friendly and curious. They asked where I had been (Ohio), what I had been doing (oh, nothing much), what living with humans was like (lonely), how I felt to finally go home (overwhelmed but excited). I felt claustrophobic with questions, unsure which to answer first, not wanting to be rude to those I passed over.

  A woman with apricot hair and a splattering of freckles across her button nose barged through the crowd. She plopped herself beside me and introduced herself as Shea. "I wondered why you were dressed strangely," she said. "You must be dying. Come with me. I'll find you something more befitting."

  I followed Shea to the end of the long hall and into a room as small and plain as mine. She dug through a dresser drawer and tossed me a short lavender dress. "Try this on," she said, then sat cross-legged on the bed.

  "Um, here?" I asked.

  "Where else?"

  I felt awkward changing in front of a stranger (it brought up all that stomach-swirling anxiety from my high school locker room days), but Shea acted as if I was merely about to wash my hands at a sink. I bit my lower lip and pulled my shirt over my head. Shea jumped to her feet with a soft laugh. "Take that off, too," she said, and unlatched my bra. I stiffened and she noticed my unease. She smiled gently and squeezed my shoulder. "Such garments are prohibited. For within the Realm faeries must always display their wings."

  The dress fit well, formfitting on top with short bell sleeves. The back dipped to my sacrum, exposing my naked skin, and flailed into a skirt which brushed the middle of my thighs. I tugged on the hem to increase the length, but the fabric refused to give.

  Shea smirked at my mud splattered boots. "Not what I would choose, but they will have to do."

  I padded back to the restaurant, skulking behind Shea and tugging on the dress's hem. The band had increased their tempo, singing about honor and duty and a war called Quarin, and how the blood of the righteous will never spill again.

  "The dress has heliofiber woven into the fabric," Shea said as we meandered through the tables.

  I smoothed out my hair. "What's heliofiber?"

  "A Realm grass used in embroidery. It glows when you add magic."

  I frowned. "Oh. Well. I'm not good with magic."

  Shea shrugged. "You are young. You'll develop your skills with time. But until then ... Orin!" Orin turned away from a group of faeries near the bar, a glass of mead in hand. "Come take our changeling for a spin. Show her how heliofiber works."

  Orin's face lit up. He set his mead on a table, then dragged me toward the dance floor.

  I dug my heels into the flagstone. "No! I can't dance!"

  "So? Neither can I. What does that matter?" He clenched my wrists and whipped me into a circle. I squealed as he spun us around like a demented game of ring around the rosy. My stomach flopped. Around and around, one direction, then the other. He added a hop to his step. Hop, hop. Skip, skip. Halfway through the song he granted me mercy and settled into a simple sway. I still followed his lead terribly, but laughed too hard to care.

  "You're right," I said. "You can't dance."

  He grinned. "Neither can you. Told you it doesn't matter."

  My body swayed with Orin's, both of us unable to match the band's rhythm. He slid his hands down my back and cupped the base of my spine. The dress flickered beneath me. Gold glowed in the fabric in the shape of intricate knot-work,
the fabric's secret embroidery. I squeaked with excitement. Orin twirled me away from him, my fingers sliding off his as I let go and spun. The dress flailed out and the gold light disintegrated. I clapped my hands, bouncing on my toes. Orin started towards me, but Alston stepped between us, cutting him off.

  "Will ya give the honor of an old fart such as myself a dance?" he asked.

  "Of course," I said. He didn't look a day past twenty-five.

  Alston took my hand and around and around we went, my dress glowing gold. His hands slid off me and the light faded until another man snatched me away, lighting up my dress again. My cheeks flushed from laughter and heat; sweat dripped down my back. The dress shone and twirled as I passed from hand to hand, each man another glimpse into an enchanted world.

  The sniffer blinked slowly in the corner.

  Three songs and seven men later (or was it eight?), a woman cut in, thrusting her butt to push away a dark-haired man who already had a turn. She pulled me in, our noses so close I went cross-eyed. The lavender dress flared gold. "Hi! I'm Breena." Her spiky hair blazed like autumn vineyards and her eyes gleamed like fine brandy. She had a body which belonged on stage in a tutu dancing the dance of sugarplums, not sporting the frayed hot pink and black checkered minidress she wore. Silver studs cuffed her wrist; the belts on her scuffed boots wrapped from her ankles to her knees and jingled as she whirled. She seemed like a girl who would kick your ass for teasing her, then bake you a cake to say she was sorry for losing her temper.

  "I hear you need a ride to the ley line to shake your psycho husband's tail," Breena said. "I am heading out early. Sunrise. Don't be late, kay?" She spun me away from her, then skipped off into the hallway, her wings a coiling of spirals and polka dots.

  Orin snatched me before the swarm of faeries waiting on the sidelines descended. He twirled me against his chest, then dipped me low enough that my hair swept the floor. Gold light reflected off the flagstone. "You're flushed," he said.

  "I'm dying. I need air."

  Orin returned me to my feet. I wiped the sweat off my brow as we headed toward the door.

  "Miriam!" Orin said. "Your dress!"

  The fabric glowed its gold knot-work, yet Orin stood six inches away. "How are you doing that without touching me?" I asked.

  Orin grinned. "I'm not. That's all you."

  I gaped at my dress. "Impossible. I suck at magic."

  Orin dragged me to the nearest table, then tore a rose petal on a centerpiece. "Heal the flower," he said.

  "I can't—"

  "You can." He pushed me down onto the bench.

  I took a deep breath and hovered my hand above the flower. Heal, I commanded with my thoughts. Heal. Heal. Heal. Several faeries gathered around to watch. Then several more. The sniffer stayed in his corner, yet his eyes felt heaviest of all.

  Nothing happened.

  My shoulders slumped. "Told you I suck."

  "Keep trying. I know you can do this. You feel it here," Orin said, and poked my sternum.

  I concentrated harder. Heal. Heal. A bead of sweat slipped off my jaw, and my hand started trembling. Please, heal. Please! Several faeries sniggered and whispered. My heart hammered as the light on my dress disappeared. Oh for the love of God you stupid rose, heal!

  Music hummed on my skin, then unfurled from my chest and through my fingers. My ears grew hot and the restaurant's murmur seemed to double. I caught snippets about crevices and insects, cobwebs and silk, and realized I was eavesdropping on a conversation of spiders. The music on my skin shifted from a hum to a symphony. My dress flared gold, warm and blinding. The rose petal quivered. Then the tear shone a brilliant white and mended.

  The faeries raised their glasses and cheered. Alston clapped my back. "Get this girl some wings!" he bellowed.

  "I told you you'll make a good healer." Orin squeezed my shoulders. "Now come on. Let's get some fresh air before you pass out."

  Faeries beamed and patted my back, congratulating me as Orin escorted me to the restaurant's door. No one shied away from me, no one sneered. I was present for the first time in my life. I had finally found my community. I finally belonged.

  Winter bit my skin when I stepped outside, and every hair on my arms and legs stood on end. I never thought I would yearn for the cold after the train ride and the woods and wandering miles of endless slushy roads. Yet I sighed with relief as iciness filled my lungs and left again in misty ribbons. It felt like the first time I could breathe for the last hour.

  Orin handed me his key. "You need water. I'll be right back."

  The restaurant's door closed behind him; the celebration inside became a whisper. I hugged myself, beaming. Gold light flickered on the hem of my dress. Magic's buzz sang on my skin, lingering like a lover's embrace. I leaned back against the storage unit that wasn't a storage unit, and gazed up at a million stars.

  A shadow fluttered in my peripheral. My muscles tensed.

  Delano stood twenty feet away. He stepped towards me when he realized I had noticed him, his palms open in a gesture of surrender. "Please," he said. "Hear me out."

  I bit my lip. Then turned my back on him and opened the restaurant's door.

  Orin exited before I crossed the threshold, a glass of water in his hand. When he saw Delano his eyes widened, as large and explosive as two live grenades.

  "Go back," I said, trying to push him inside.

  Instead, Orin held his ground and shouted: "Darkling!" for all the faeries to hear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The sniffer fled through the door with Orin's shout still hanging in the air. Delano took a step back, his eyes huge. The building's shadows rolled toward him, lapping against his ankles like the waters of the Styx.

  The sniffer strutted forward, his hunchbacked greyhound growling at his side. His lips curled into a murderous grin. "Delano darkling," the sniffer said. For such a stony appearance, his voice was soft, almost musical. It reminded me of Orin's. "You are guilty of treason, kidnapping, murder, embracing dark magic—"

  "I am guilty of many things," Delano said, "but none of those Realm lies."

  Faeries piled out of the restaurant door, gathering behind the sniffer. Rage twisted their faces when they noticed the darkling in their lot. "Kidnapper!" "Baby killer!" "Demon!" "Manipulator!" "Liar!" they shouted.

  The sniffer shrugged off his coat and tossed it to Breena, and only then did I realize he was the only faerie whose wings had been concealed. His back was an elaborate snarl of scimitars and claws, darkening most of his skin. "Any last words?" the sniffer asked. The greyhound pawed his foot against the pavement like a bull, hackles raised, and slavering.

  Delano stood alone in the shadows, outnumbered at least twenty to one. I had to force my feet to stay still. Delano had shown me only kindness, and I didn't want him hurt no matter the allegations against him. But the eyes of the faeries burned with hatred and rage, their anger radiating off them as intense as their magic. My heart raced with fear and guilt and shame, as if whatever happened next would be all my fault. I glared at Delano. Why didn't you listen to me you stupid man? Why didn't you stay away?

  Delano's hands curled into fists. "I do not want to fight."

  The sniffer smirked. "Then surrender willingly."

  Delano chuckled and shook his head. He shifted his weight as if to turn his back on them, then he vanished in a burst of shadow and appeared an inch from my face. I yelped with surprise; Delano seized my arm, shadows racing up our bodies. Coldness filled my marrow and I felt a sucking sensation, as if a black-hole had burst open behind me. My head swam. My consciousness started to slip. Then Delano flew off of me in a silent explosion of light.

  Orin caught me one-handed before I fell to my knees, water from his drinking glass splashing onto my shoulder. I was lightheaded, nauseated, as if I had jumped out of a sauna and into a pool of glacier runoff. I staggered to my feet, swaying.

  The sniffer blasted Delano with another burst of white light, slamming him into the chain-link f
ence. Wire cut Delano's ear; blood streaked a fence pole as he fell to his knees. Instinctively I darted to help him, but Orin yanked me back and forced me to the restaurant wall. Delano seemed to melt into the shadows, then materialized on his feet. Darkness slithered off his body like the skin off a snake.

  "What did you do with the human baby once you realized it wasn't a faerie?" the sniffer sneered. "Torture it? Broil it?"

  "I tried to return her," Delano said. "But the parents—"

  The sniffer scoffed. "Liar. The Realm found its corpse, the flesh torn from the bones, the eyes plucked from its sockets."

  I gaped at Delano, revolted.

  "Lies," Delano sneered.

  The sniffer flung his arm at him as if catching an invisible ball; Delano did the same. Light and heat exploded from the sniffer, colliding with Delano's cold burst of shadow. The two forces wavered and shot up three stories; the air between them seemed to split. Light infiltrated the darkness like illuminated icicles, pulverized by the darkling's gloom. Delano leaned into the sniffer's magic, grinning wide, his eyes almost euphoric. My bones hummed and static prickled my skin. Delano shoved harder and the sniffer's light folded backwards like softened, white gold.

  If this had been a movie the speakers would boom with whooshing or crashing or screeches or bangs. But the only sounds were heavy breathing, the insults and shouts from the faerie crowd, the crunching of gravel beneath Delano's shoes as he closed in on the sniffer.

  "You must realize I can destroy you," Delano said. Droplets beaded on the sniffer's forehead—the first time I saw a faerie sweat. "But I do not want to fight. No darkling wants to fight."

  The sniffer scoffed. "If you think we will lay down and let you destroy us, you are sorely mistaken."

  "Kill him!" the crowd cried. "Kill him!"

  "Stay back!" the sniffer shouted as the faeries started to rush the darkling. Shadow and light danced in their eyes. Their teeth were bared and thirsty for vengeance.

  "Is this what you want?" Delano shouted at me. "A brainless mob demanding the execution of innocent men, all to protect their own enslavement?"