The Iron Sword (The Fae War Chronicles Book 1)

by Jocelyn Fox

  The stranger didn’t move. His hair was dark, but I didn’t know whether it was actually black—where the light fell across the back of his head from the window, I saw sheens of deep purple and blue and green. I thought of winter, and the reflection of light on a dark frozen pond.

  “Well, yeah,” said Mr. Jackson, as if nothing at all was wrong. I stepped to the side, toward the kitchenette. Maybe I could slip the salt into the backpack before the stranger turned around. Maybe he wasn’t the Sidhe knight come to collect Molly at all. My eyes were drawn again to the impossible beauty of his hair, the colors mingling under the bright touch of sunlight. Then I blinked and took another step toward the cabinets. Focus. I had to focus, because if this really was the Sidhe knight…things could go downhill fast, and we would need all the protection we could get.

  I swung the backpack off my shoulders and put it on the countertop of the kitchenette. I opened cabinets like I was searching for something, taking out a box of granola bars and a tin of powdered sports-drink mix from one cabinet and holding them as I opened the left-most cabinet. I saw the canister of salt, tucked back in the corner. Using the granola box and drink mix to shield the canister from curious eyes, I dumped it all into the backpack. “Hiking is hard work,” I said to Mr. Jackson in response to his inquisitive glance. I smiled innocently, and then my smile froze as the dark-haired stranger turned his head.

  He transfixed me with his gaze like a collector pinning a butterfly to a card. His eyes were blue, but a blue so dark I could barely see the black of his pupils. I dizzily put a hand behind me, gripping the countertop for support as the world seemed to fall away. I knew instinctively that this strange young man was the Sidhe knight—because no man I had ever seen was so stunningly beautiful. I tried to form a sentence, but my mouth refused to function, so I was reduced to a stream of words running through my head, fragmented thoughts tumbling after one another like water over rocks. The word ‘beautiful’ had entered my mind—and although the word normally describes feminine features, it fit the stranger sitting at Molly’s kitchen table. ‘Handsome’ fit, too, but it seemed inadequate. I used the word ‘beautiful’ in my head to describe him because he seemed…wild. An undercurrent of danger hovered in the air around him. I felt it like an electric charge. He gazed at me as I struggled to breathe, his dark brows drawn down slightly over his powerful eyes. Then he spoke.

  “You must be Tess,” he said in a strong tenor voice. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  I swallowed and took in a deep breath, willing myself to stop staring like a complete idiot. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Of course we haven’t,” he said, the smallest of smiles turning up his perfect lips. “But certain…mutual acquaintances, let us call them...they have told me about you.”

  “I don’t understand why you’d be interested,” I said, feeling the beginnings of anger sparking in my chest. I clenched my teeth, willing the fire to glow hot and burn away the fog still lingering in my mind. “You’re here to see Molly.”

  “Of course I am,” Finn said, that small infuriating smile lifting the corner of his mouth again. He turned to Molly. She crossed her arms, hunching her shoulders but meeting his eyes defiantly. “Molly, can we talk outside?”

  I saw Austin narrow his eyes slightly at that. He was staring hard at Finn, his blue eyes flinty. I had never seen this protective side of Austin before, but I supposed it was innate…even younger siblings felt protective sometimes. I knew that as well as anyone. I tried to catch Austin’s eye, but he crossed his arms and stared at Finn like he could burn a hole through the side of his head just by glaring. I took a breath and squared my shoulders, firmly tamping down the overwhelming weakness jellying my knees. “Well,” I said in the best friendly voice I could muster, “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I came with you and Molly. I think we had a class together sophomore year, now that I think of it…”

  I saw the small movement of Finn’s eyebrow again—just a fraction of an arch, but enough to show his amusement. “Yes,” he said, taking a few steps closer to me. The air suddenly condensed around me, making it very hard to breathe again. I stood very straight and stuck my chin out a little, clenching my hands into fists. My fingernails bit into my palms and I used the pain as an anchor against the tide of pure energy rolling off him. He stopped about an arm’s length away from me, searching my features intently as if trying to remember me. “I think we had chemistry together,” he said, suppressed humor coloring his tone. He sounded like a professor talking to a female student whom he knows has a crush on him.

  I felt myself blush fiercely. “No,” I snapped before I could stop myself, “I think I remember now, you were in calculus with me. And I couldn’t have been more bored.”

  “Calculus is a boring class,” agreed Molly, edging up by my side. “Obviously you two didn’t really bond at all during it, so let’s take this conversation outside, shall we?”

  Molly tugged at my elbow. I narrowed my eyes in what I thought was a glare at Finn before allowing her to pull me toward the door.

  “Molly, be back by ten, y’hear?” Mr. Jackson said, his voice trailing off behind us.

  “Right,” Molly called back. She made a face. “Back by ten.”

  I followed Molly down off the porch onto the scrubby grass that surrounded the cabin. With no warning, Kirby rocketed out of a patch of prickly-pear cactus. He barreled past me, a streak of brown and white with an accent of pink where his tongue lolled out to the side. I turned and watched, hoping Kirby would somehow scare off Finn and save me the trouble of testing out my theories about salt and iron on the Fae. But to my disappointment, Kirby scrabbled to a stop right before running into Finn’s legs, his stumpy tail wagging so hard that his entire back end wriggled.

  Finn put out a pale hand and let Kirby sniff his palm. After Kirby licked his fingers, he scratched the dog behind the ears for a moment. Kirby whined in enjoyment.

  “Kirby’s never been a very good judge of character,” Molly commented dryly. “He’s not the smartest.”

  Finn’s face remained impassive. He looked first at Molly, then at me, still rubbing Kirby’s ear. “I believe you both know why I’m here.”

  “You might as well just tell us,” I said tightly, stepping forward a little. “Spare us the ‘mysterious-stranger’ role playing.”

  He chuckled softly, an enigmatic smile playing across his lips. “No matter how much time I spend in the Overworld, I never remember how impatient you mortals can be.”

  “Maybe it’s because we don’t have all eternity to stand around and talk,” I said acidly.

  “Then let me properly introduce myself,” he said, taking a step closer to us. It was a delicate dance, this spacing between us. “My name is Finnead, and I am a Knight in the service of Mab, Queen of the Unseelie Court and Lady of Darkhill.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Molly elbowed me sharply. I glanced at her and saw her jaw clenched tightly, her lips compressed into a thin white line. Perhaps proper etiquette during introductions fell into the very large category of all that I didn’t know about the Sidhe.

  Molly tapped one toe behind her other heel and bent her knees a little. I blinked. Was she curtseying?

  “Are you curtseying?” I whispered, shifting the backpack awkwardly on my shoulders.

  “Yes,” Molly whispered back.

  “Do I have to curtsey?” I asked in the softest whisper I could manage. To his credit, Finnead discreetly pretended not to hear us, devoting his full attention to rubbing Kirby’s ears.

  “It would probably help,” Molly replied.

  “The things I do for you,” I muttered, trying to copy Molly’s motion. I wobbled a little bit but managed not to fall over.

  Finnead inclined his head gracefully, bowing as if it were the most natural exchange in the world.

 
“Well met, Finnead, Knight of the Unseelie Court,” Molly said.

  “Well met, Molly Jackson,” Finnead replied.

  I wobbled a little more, decided curtseying was rather silly and put out my foot to catch myself before I fell, successfully stubbing my toe on a large rock. I felt my face heat. Why did my clumsiness have to manifest so obviously? I forced myself not to sigh, instead looking fixedly at Kirby until the wave of embarrassment ebbed over me.

  “I understood from the missive that I had until midnight tonight to make my presence known to the Unseelie Queen,” Molly said, sounding more composed and icy than I’d ever heard her before. She stood with her feet together, back ramrod straight, hand loose at her side. I glanced between her and the Knight, estimating that her head just barely came up to his shoulder. That meant that he was still at least half a head taller than me.

  “Circumstances changed,” Finnead replied. He lowered his voice. “There were rumors that the darker powers had caught wind of you.”

  Molly looked skeptical. “Does this have to do with my father?”

  “In a word, yes. But we don’t have time for the whole story here. We must get you safely to Darkhill.” Finnead gave Kirby a final pat on the head and strode purposefully toward his motorcycle.

  “Why should I go with you and not with the Seelie Court?” Molly asked. Her voice, though no louder than before, conveyed a resolute will that made me smile with pride.

  Finnead stopped and turned, but he didn’t even blink at the question. “Because I can provide you with protection. And I swear not to harm you.”

  “You swear on what?” Molly arched a dark eyebrow.

  A chill ran down my spine. She looked eerily similar to Finnead when her face settled into that aloof, amused expression.

  “I swear not to harm you on the honor of my Queen, the Mistress of Darkhill,” Finnead said gravely, placing an elegant hand on his chest. I thought at first over his heart, but who knew if the Sidhe even had hearts at all.

  “And Tess?” Molly pressed.

  Finnead glanced at me, then back to Molly. “What about her? We’re wasting precious time.”

  What was it that was making him so edgy? I looked beyond him. The last vestiges of golden light burnished the western sky, illuminating the dark silhouettes of the cedar trees and covering the rocks with a layer of glowing luminescence. The Unseelie preferred the night, so shouldn’t a Knight of the Unseelie Court welcome the world’s slow slide into darkness?

  “Tess is coming with me,” Molly said.

  “That is against the High Code,” Finnead said instantly, “and you know this, Molly Jackson.”

  “She knows of us already,” Molly countered.

  Us? I stared at Molly. Since when had she so readily counted herself among the Sidhe?

  “It would be smarter to have her with me,” she continued. She nudged me.

  I supposed that was my cue. Brushing off my shock at Molly’s inclusion of herself with the Unseelie Knight, I tried to look very serious. “If you leave me here, I’ll just follow you. I’ll look for Molly. I already know about Crownhill, and I know how to summon a glow. I won’t stop looking.” Finnead’s expression, slight as it was, conveyed wariness and a hint of skepticism. I forced myself to meet his eyes levelly. “Trust me. I’m a very persistent person.”

  Finnead held my gaze for a few seconds longer than I would have liked. I felt as though he was actually delving through my thoughts, staring deep into my eyes to discern my true motives. Peripherally, I saw his expression change to slight surprise, then thoughtfulness, and then smooth out into that calm aloofness again.

  “Very well,” he said, “but you must swear an oath too.”

  “What should I swear by?” I asked, feeling my heart flutter a little. I was certain Finnead’s oath was deadly serious, and he expected me to treat an oath with the same respect.

  “That which you hold most dear,” Finnead replied. “Swear that you will never reveal the existence of my kind, nor any of our secrets or dwelling places, to any other mortal.”

  “I swear on my brother’s life that I will never reveal the existence of your kind, nor any of your secrets or dwelling places, to any other mortal,” I said slowly and softly, the words falling heavily from my mouth like pebbles to drop into the dark air of dusk. I felt vaguely relieved that I hadn’t had to swear anything about not harming any of the Sidhe.

  “You love your brother more than your own life,” Finnead said, a new kind of light filling his unfathomable eyes for a moment.

  I cleared my throat. “Now who’s wasting time?” I said.

  He smiled a little. “Let’s stop wasting time, then.” Turning again, he strode to the motorcycle. “I only thought I would be bringing one passenger back,” he said, “so Tess, if you don’t mind, you’ll wait here. I’ll take Molly to Darkhill and then come back for you.”

  When he wasn’t speaking about the Court or oaths, Finnead spoke very much like a normal person, I noticed. Kirby trotted over to me, pushing his cold nose against the back of my knee. I put my hand on his head and started rubbing his ears. “Why are you in such a rush?” I asked as Finnead handed Molly the dark-blue helmet. She slid it over her head and buckled the chin-strap easily.

  “Dusk,” he replied. “Dusk and dawn are the two most dangerous times in the Overworld for us.”

  “But you like the night,” I said, watching as Finnead gripped the handlebars of the motorcycle and eased the kickstand off the ground. He straddled the bike in one fluid motion. “And aren’t you going to wear a helmet?”

  “You’re very inquisitive,” he said over his shoulder. “Yes, I like the night. I am bound to the Unseelie Court. But dusk and dawn…those are the times when the balance of the world is shifting between night and day. Things lurk on the edges of night that have no place in the darkness but cannot survive the light of day. Things that do not properly belong in your world or mine.” The engine of the motorcycle roared to life. “I would rather avoid those things.” He twisted the throttle, making the engine purr. “And I’m not wearing a helmet, Tess O’Connor, because I am very, very hard to kill.”

  Molly swung her leg over the motorcycle. She placed her hands on Finnead’s broad shoulders, one delicate hand on each side. I couldn’t help but grin at Finnead’s parting shot. A plume of dust shot up into the air as Finnead leaned forward and the bike rocketed down the trail. I thought I heard Molly squeak in surprise before they disappeared down the hill. I walked to the side of the house and watched the motorcycle start to climb the next hill. Kirby, still pressed against my knee, suddenly growled deep in his throat. I scratched his ears but his lips curled up off his teeth as he snarled. I moved my hand—in the short time I’d been here I hadn’t heard goofy, lovable Kirby make anything near a sound that vicious. His eyes were fixed on something in the distance. I looked up as the motorcycle crested the next hill—and a dark shape hurtled into it. Molly’s scream floated in the darkening air like a ribbon. Kirby barked and charged down the hill, and I ran after him.

  Chapter 6

  The last threads of Molly’s scream settled on the shoulders of the dusky hills. Kirby was a white and brown streak in front of me, racing along the rutted dirt road down the hill and up the next. He disappeared over the crest of the hill. I stretched my legs, ignoring the awkward bounce of the backpack, willing myself to go faster. I heard a strange metallic sound, a sound that sliced through the air—and then there was a horrible snarling, not Kirby, because Kirby could never make a sound that malicious. I reached the bottom of the hill and attacked the upslope, picking my knees up and pumping my arms. My lungs burned. The snarling came again and then Kirby’s bark rang out clear as a bell, cutting through the bloodcurdling sound.

  As I reached the top of the hill, I swung the backpack off my shoulder and opened it in one savage motion, grabbing t
he canister of salt in one hand and the cool firm curve of the iron horseshoe in the other, skidding a little as I stopped. “Molly!” I called out as I saw the motorcycle, lying on its side on the rutted dirt road like a wounded beast. Icy fear spread in a sudden burst from my stomach, rushing down my legs and up my spine.

  Kirby barked again. He was standing, legs braced wide, over Molly. She lay motionless on the side of the path, probably exactly how she had landed when she had been thrown from the motorcycle. I couldn’t see her face because she was still wearing the dark blue helmet. Kirby’s hackles bristled and his teeth showed as he growled, his attention focused on the other scene playing out in the dying light of the desert sun.

  I wasn’t usually the screaming type, but I felt a shriek catch like a bubble in my throat when I saw the creature attacking Finnead. The Unseelie Knight brandished a sword in his hand, the blade streaked by the reddish light of the sunset, his eyes riveted on the creature standing before him. My skin crawled as the creature snarled again. It looked like a wolf, but wrong—its fangs were longer, more vicious, its lips thick and black, its fur mottled black and crusted in scarlet patches, as if the blood of its victims coated its fur. Its huge legs, which led down to paws about as big as my head, bowed out slightly from its body, like those of a spectacularly large bulldog. As it growled again, I glimpsed a dark purple tongue behind its teeth. Its eyes glowed a vengeful red, the pupils crescent-shaped, imbued with a horrible cunning and intelligence as it looked between Finnead’s blade and Molly’s unconscious form.

  I heard someone breathing heavily, and a heartbeat like drums pounding on the horizon. I realized the breath was my own and I was hearing my heart in my ears like a drummer’s call to war. Some strange instinct quickened the beat of my heart further as the beast coiled itself to spring at Finnead, its muscles rippling under its hideous fur.