Tithe

by Chani Lynn Feener

  She was on a bed, in a room she’d only visited a few times before. With a start she sat up all the way, instantly regretting her haste when the sunshine burned into her eyes.

  “Forgive me,” Mavek said as he perched on the edge of a high-back black leather chair. “I had no choice. You didn’t want to be awake for the rest of the night’s festivities.”

  Arden felt her anger swell and took a moment to leash it. Not because he didn’t deserve to be yelled at, but because she didn’t know who else was here and listening through the cracks in the walls. For both of their sakes, she needed to assume some semblance of calm.

  “Why? What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

  “Things meant to stay unseen by your kind,” he offered. “You said you know what we are, remember, Arden? Don’t forget. Don’t ever forget.”

  It sounded like a warning and she frowned. “I saw—”

  “What they wanted you to see.” He stood and slowly approached the bed. “You may have the sight, but your mind can still play tricks on you.” The bed didn’t so much as creak when he lowered himself next to her. “You did well. They were impressed.”

  “And the others?” she glared. “Did you test them too?”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Brilliant deduction.”

  “You were the only Heartless in attendance last night. Apparently Titania’s Heartless has yet to arrive and the Erlking claims to have sent his on ahead. His Heartless has been here but couldn’t make it to the revelry.… Eager to meet your competition?”

  Yes, but not so eager to see the faces of the people whose lives she’d have to destroy.

  He pursed his lips. “You’re feeling guilty. Over what you have to do.”

  “You’re the one who should be feeling guilty,” she countered, not wanting to discuss the Tithe, “for what you did already.”

  He opened his mouth to defend his actions but the buzzing returned. And that was when she figured out it wasn’t coming from her head at all, but from her back pocket. Yanking out her cell phone, she swore under her breath.

  “Your little trick made me late,” she snapped, bolting to her feet and scanning his bedroom for her jacket.

  Mavek’s room was large, with a sitting area beside an unlit fireplace and a desk surrounded by old bookshelves. The walls were painted the same deep crimson as his bedding, only without the silky sheen, and the floors were a dark hardwood warped in places from use. Rose Manor was old, and he’d chosen the master bedroom.

  Finding her jacket on the window seat, Arden snatched it up and turned, almost slamming right into him. He’d stood and was now blocking her path.

  “Where are you running off to?”

  “Like I said, I’m late.” She stilled when he grabbed her wrist as she tried to move around him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You haven’t told me what you’re late for,” he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of steel she didn’t often hear directed at her. He was still wearing the clothes from last night, and though she knew he hadn’t slept, he didn’t appear tired at all.

  “Think of it as my version of knocking you unconscious against your will.”

  He let go and his shoulders dropped slightly. Behind him, the sun turned the blue in his hair a bright cerulean. “Titania asked me to play for that very reason. If I hadn’t done it, she would have reacted in a way neither of us would have liked.”

  Arden shifted on her feet, an image of the two of them in the greenhouse flashing through her mind. “Does she have a thing for you?”

  He grunted and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a childish way of putting it.”

  “And that’s a lame way of avoiding the question.”

  “She takes an interest in everyone.”

  “But she’s taken one in you, in particular.”

  “Arden—”

  Her phone buzzed again. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’m coming over tonight,” his words stopped her at the door.

  She turned; he hadn’t moved from his spot before the window. Part of her wanted to stay then, to make up. She hated when things weren’t right between them and what he’d done last night, even under the queen’s orders, left a bad taste in her mouth. But if she stayed, she might say more than she should. Titania wasn’t the only one who’d taken an intense interest in Mavek. Arden worked so hard to keep those emotions down; she couldn’t let them slip free now.

  Even though he hadn’t asked permission to come over, she nodded her head. “Alright.”

  The rest of the house was silent as she moved quickly through it. She didn’t pass a single Unseelie and that unnerved her, considering how exuberant the place had been only hours earlier. Her bike was where she’d left it and she hopped on and rode away, only risking a text back to Eskel once she was a couple blocks from Rose Manor.

  She checked over her shoulders a few times as she pedaled to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of O’Malley’s. She’d chained her bike and opened the door in a few heartbeats. Inside, the warm air was filled with the smell of fried eggs, meats, and the sweet tang of syrup. Like any typical Saturday morning, the place was packed.

  “Arden!”

  She found Eskel seated in one of the booths at the far left. An almost empty cup of coffee sat in front of him. He smiled when she walked up, handing her a menu as she slid into the bench across him.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said letting out a frustrated exhale in preparation for the lie. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

  “That’s okay.” He motioned to the black lace dress she still wore. “Laundry day?”

  Arden groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

  “Ah,” he smiled knowingly, “you were already wearing it when you woke up.”

  “I didn’t have time to change,” she admitted, leaving out the part about her not having been home. If she’d had the slightest clue that Mavek had intended to render her unconscious for half the night, she would’ve at the very least brought a change of clothes with her.

  She understood why he’d done it, now that she’d had the whole ride here to clear her head and cool off, but she was still chafing over the fact that he’d failed to warn her beforehand. They needed to come up with a warning system so he could at least tip her off before something like that ever happened again. When she thought about the creatures Titania and the Erlking had morphed into…

  Arden practically begged the waitress for coffee when she arrived, downing half the cup before the middle-aged blond finished refilling Eskel’s. Then she ordered a cheddar omelet and handed over her menu.

  “You look tired,” Eskel said after a moment of awkward silence. “Do you need to go back to bed?”

  The thought of Mavek’s silk sheets entered her mind, but she quickly cut off the train of thought before it got too far. Focusing on the boy across from her, Arden tried to liven up, straightening her shoulders and offering a somewhat believable smile.

  “I’m good.”

  He inspected her for a minute, deep blue eyes twinkling in a way that told her he didn’t buy it. He’d dressed in a loose, dark violet sweatshirt that he’d left unzipped to expose the tight, black T-shirt underneath.

  “I have questions.” He reached onto the seat next to him, and then dropped onto the table the heavy book he’d bought at the bookstore that first night.

  The cover of There are Things that go Bump in the Night was a shady scene of the woods at night, glowing eyes in the distance, foggy white tendrils snaking across the leaf strewn ground. Its title was scrawled in jagged, white letters across a black background. The volume was so thick it rivaled the gothic literature book they needed for class.

  “About the ghost stories in town?” She feigned boredom and sipped from her second cup of coffee.

  “Except,” jamming his pointer finger against the soft cover, “according to you, there’s no such thi
ng. But I know you believe these stories are true, or at least some of them. So, question one, if they aren’t ghosts, what’s haunting this town?”

  “What makes you so sure I believe any of it?” It sounded insincere even to her.

  “Come on,” Eskel leaned back against the booth and dropped his hands into his lap, “I’ve hung out with you one time and you warned me against going out at night.”

  “Going out alone,” she corrected. “And while we’re on the subject, avoid the birches while you’re at it. At all times of the day.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  “Okay, we’ll come back to question one. Question two, what’s a Bloodheart?”

  Her breath caught in her throat for a second before she recalled Cato blatantly waving that word around at Tollbooth’s. She scrambled to come up with something to say, but really, there wasn’t a good enough diversion. Or maybe her head was still too jumbled from being knocked out by a magic violin to bother forming a viable lie.

  So she ended up admitting, “It’s a human.”

  “What’s a Heartless then?” he pressed, tone never changing.

  Damn Cato.

  “Are you asking if I’m not human, Eskel Montgomery?”

  “Tell me if you are, Arden Archer.”

  Names had power, this was something they both knew. He’d told her as much when he’d refused to give her his willingly. A name on its own could be used against the owner, but only one given freely had true and total control. Fortunately, those rules only applied to the Unseelie.

  Arden slid her arms onto the table, propping her chin against her palm as she watched him. There was something more to this conversation, something specific he was looking for. On his face, she read not curiosity but determination. Maybe even a little desperation. Considering that he didn’t recognize simple terms like Bloodheart and Heartless, however, meant that he probably didn’t know anything.

  “That won’t work on me,” she said, voice lowering so that only he could hear. “And even if it did, that’s not my full name. Like you mentioned before. I’m a local. I know better.”

  Their food arrived and the two of them smiled at their waitress, waiting until she was gone again before turning their attention back to each other. Arden started eating right away, her stomach tightening painfully from hunger.

  “A Heartless is a human,” she began, after thinking it over. There was no rule against her telling people about the Unseelie. “Someone cursed. Some Heartless can see things that don’t want to be seen.”

  “But not ghosts,” he finally lifted up his fork and started into his hash.

  “Precisely.” She ripped off a corner of her toast and popped it into her mouth, smirking when he glared at her from beneath his blond bangs. “They aren’t called ghosts or spirits around here, they’re called the Unseen.”

  “Except you can see them. Because you’re a Heartless.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what are they really?”

  “They’re the Unseelie.” Arden didn’t hesitate in her answer. Better to rip the bandage right off. She’d never said the actual word to anyone before aside from Tabby when the two of them were children, but she had never believed her anyway. At Eskel’s blank expression, she elaborated.

  “They’re fae. Faeries. Thornbrooke is filled with faeries, and this,” she tapped the book still on the center of the table, “recounts some of the more exciting encounters with them over the past fifty years.”

  Eskel stared down at the book, then back at her. For the first time his brows began to furrow. “There’s a story in there about a five-year-old girl being drowned in a lake.”

  “Lake Trinity,” she nodded, “yeah. Kelpie got her.”

  “A kelpie.”

  “Yup.”

  He let out a slow breath and then ran a hand through his hair. The ring on his finger reflected the sunlight spilling in from the window. “You aren’t kidding.”

  “You asked.” She finished off her second cup of coffee and was about to motion for the waitress when the tiny bells above the door jangled. She glanced over and did a double-take when Victor and Twila walked in.

  Victor reached over a middle-aged man and plucked a piece of toast off the plate next to his arm unnoticed. They must be invisible.

  The Unseelie had the ability to blend in with their surroundings. Mortals were unable to see them unless the faeries dropped the glamour. Or unless the human had the sight, like Arden did. Usually, the Unseelie glamoured themselves at night by calling the shadows around them, but the stronger and older of their kind could pull it off during the day as well.

  Arden hadn’t pegged them as old last night, but now that she was seeing them use glamour in broad daylight, she wasn’t so sure. Trying to be inconspicuous, Arden eased closer to the window, tucking herself down to make it harder for them to spot her.

  Or more aptly, to spot her sitting with Eskel.

  Her phone buzzed and she carefully took it out, checking the text. They’d both finished with breakfast, and this diner was the type where cash could be left on the table.

  “Would you like to go to Willow’s?” she asked, keeping her voice down. From the corner of her eye she watched Victor move to another table and select another half piece of toast while the woman wasn’t looking.

  “What’s that?” Eskel had noticed her odd behavior, but didn’t comment on it. Instead his body stilled as hers did, and he appeared to be trying to make himself smaller on his side of the table as well. His head was bent and his hands had returned to his thighs.

  “It’s a coffee shop/lounge. Everyone from campus goes there, so they open early and close late—or really early, if you want to be technical. Tabby is there now.”

  “Sure.” He reached into his back pocket to get his wallet and she stopped him.

  She’d brought her purse to the party, and selected a twenty which she placed beneath her coffee mug. Then she waited, watching as the faeries moved deeper into the diner. As soon as their backs were turned, she abruptly stood and made her way to the door.

  She heard Eskel’s footsteps close behind, but she didn’t stop to turn to him until they were safely around the block. She glanced at him over her shoulder, about to explain, but he cut her off.

  “That guy that freaked you out the other night,” he said, “he was a faerie?”

  “An Unseelie,” the term they preferred, “yes.”

  He snorted and she frowned. “I thought he was too corporeal to be a ghost. But I knew there was something off about him.”

  “He was warning you,” she explained. “They can do that. Make the air around us crackle. Something about electricity and messing with our brains. I don’t know the semantics. He’s bad news though, so if you see him again avoid him.”

  “He didn’t seem to like me very much, so I doubt that’ll be a problem.”

  “He doesn’t like anyone,” she said, hating the note of hurt that slipped past her defenses. A year had passed, long enough for her to get over him dumping her as a friend.

  The coffee shop was close by, so fortunately their discussion came to an end as she led him inside. There was a stage set up in the back, currently empty, and rows of round tables, high against the wall and low in the center of the room.

  Tabby was at a center table and she waved them over. She had both hands wrapped around a paper cup and smiled when they took the empty seats at either side of her.

  “Hey guys,” she began tapping her fingers against the surface absently, “Eskel, I didn’t realize you were coming.”

  “I hope that’s all right,” he said.

  “Only if you tell me everything about you.” She leaned toward him. “Go.”

  “Ignore her,” Arden told him, rolling her eyes. She stood and pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the short line. “Want something?”

  They’d only been there for ten minutes when Arden spotted a brunette boy on the sidewalk, heading for the front door of the coff
ee shop. For a second, she was caught off guard seeing him here after so much time had passed. Then she groaned and glanced pleadingly at Tabby.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Whoops.” Tabby shrugged, obviously not sorry for inviting the boy now crossing the floor toward them. “Hey, Cole.”

  Cole settled into the chair across from Tabby, shifting the metal legs back so that he was balancing with his knees propped against the edge of the table. His hair was thick and curly, the shade of roasted chestnuts, and unruly. His eyes were a dark umber and they flickered over Arden’s coffee—closer to him than Tabby’s—in a clear debate over whether or not he’d be allowed to take it.

  Smartly, he settled on reaching over to snatch Tabby’s cup instead.

  “Shouldn’t you be at Carnegie Mellon?” Arden asked. It wasn’t bad enough that the town was slowly being overrun with Unseelie, now she had to deal with him too?

  “I took a semester off,” he replied.

  “This is my cousin,” Tabby told Eskel, “Cole Bricker. He and Arden used to date.”

  “Geez, Tab.” Arden stared around Willow’s trying to find something to distract her from the horribleness that had just become this experience. They’d been together for over a year when her mother had first started showing signs of paranoia and hallucinations. Cole had broken up with her as soon as her mom had gotten bad, and gone off to his fancy school without another word. He came home for Christmas last year, but he never sought her out. They hadn’t spoken since, not even after her mom’s death, which he must have known about thanks to Tabby.

  Cole didn’t say anything, balancing on the back legs of his chair, eyes shifting from Tabby’s cup to the sugar dispenser and back again. It seemed as though he were trying to focus on anything other than her.

  “Can you cover me tonight?” Arden looked at Tabby. She didn’t know exactly when Mavek planned on stopping by, but she didn’t really feel like having him show up at Howl Books. Not when there were so many Bloodhearts around her.