The Fountain of Truth (Tales of the Dark Fae Book 1)

by Hadley Weaver

They were so caught up in their argument that they hadn't noticed Aeryn open her eyes. She moaned and they both jumped out of their chairs, leaning over her. When she spoke, her voice was weak as a whisper, although her words were as heavy as an irrefutable death sentence. "Your sister is right, Connor. It's time for us to step down."

  20

  Of Death, Revenge and False Appearances

  When Iris opened her eyes, it took her a while to figure out where she was. She was lying on a futon in front of a fireplace, covered by a warm, heavy red blanket. She looked around and soon recognized Dorian's bedroom. As the memories of the night before rushed back, she jumped up and ran to the bed.

  Raven didn't seem startled. "You fell asleep on the floor."

  The back of her head was throbbing. She winced, remembering how she'd ripped the strand of hair caught up in Dorian's zipper the night before. She tapped her fingers on the area and was surprised to find that it had been patched up.

  "I noticed it when I laid you on the sofa," Raven explained. "I don't have the Guardians impressive gadgets but I did put on something that will speed up the healing process."

  "Thank you."

  "It's the least I can do after what you did for him."

  Iris watched Dorian lying on the bed, sleeping. He was still burning up and Raven kept passing a wet towel over his face. She sat on the bed at Dorian's feet but he winced and she got up as if electrocuted. She went to the massive mahogany desk in front of the window, took the chair, placed it next to the bed and sat on it.

  "He's not healing," Raven said.

  "Why? You took out the bullet, didn't you?" She shuddered as she remembered Dorian's screams when Raven inserted the tweezers into the wound.

  "I did, but I've never even seen a cold iron bullet before, let alone extracted one. There are a million things that could have gone wrong. Maybe it was poisoned, or maybe it broke inside the wound and pieces of it are still lodged in his body. I don't know."

  "So let's take him to someone who has experience with these things."

  "Like who?"

  "A trauma surgeon."

  "Like in a hospital?"

  "Yes."

  "No."

  "They have x-ray machines."

  "No." He remained silent for a while, looking at Dorian. "He saved me, you know? My father was the ruler of the Kingdom of A Hundred Rivers. That's like most of Asia in your world. He never agreed with sending our criminals into another world. He felt like they were our responsibility. But it was the law set by the majority of the Council of Seven thousands of years ago and he couldn't fight it. However, the thing that really bothered him was the fact that once someone was found guilty of a crime and banished from Aldera, their entire family was disgraced. Parents and children were stripped off their magic powers and forced to live as outcasts. My father was against that. He didn't think it was right for dozens of Fae to pay for the sins of one stray family member.

  "Each ruler of the Seven Kingdoms has some amount of leeway when it comes to enforcing the laws, and my father decided to use his to pardon the families of those who committed minor crimes. That didn't sit well with the Council so they devised a vile plot to accuse him of treason. Normally, the punishment is death by execution in the festivity court of the Council Palace, to set an example and scare everyone into obeying the law. But since kings and their bloodlines can't be killed or stripped of their powers, the only other option was to exile him. Which they did, eighteen years ago.

  "My mother was still pregnant with me when they sent him into your world. They even built a prison especially for him with magic wards and complicated spells to contain him. My mother died giving birth to the only heir of a shamed king. For the first five years of my life they let me stay in my father's Palace. Everyone acted like I was still their revered Crown Prince and I believed them, unaware that they actually kept a close eye on me to discover and study my powers, so they would know what kind of prison to build for me. Or, if they were lucky, find out what could kill me and end our bloodline. They served me the most exquisite dishes to test my resistance to various poisons and trained with me to evaluate my abilities. On my fifth birthday, I got so excited about the festivities in my honor that I turned on the two hundred water fountains in the palace all at once. A week later I was sent into your world and locked up in the middle of the Sahara desert where I remained until two years ago when Dorian broke me out. The moment I walked out of there—well, mostly ran, but that's a story for another day—I swore I would avenge the shame and injustice that my father had to suffer."

  Iris was staring at Raven, her hands folded in her lap. For a while she didn't know what to say. She was still picturing the events that Raven had just recounted. She hadn't even realized that she was crying until a tear fell on her hand, pricking her like a sharp point needle. She jerked and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She thought of Connor's legend about the Fountain and Aeryn's story about Agatha and couldn't help thinking that Aldera was a cruel world to live in, a world where not even kings were safe if they didn't follow the harsh laws of the Council. There was a way to punish everyone, no matter how high on the social ladder, no matter how powerful their magic. But since kings and their bloodlines can't be killed or stripped of their powers, the only other option was to exile him. "You can't die?"

  Raven laughed. "From everything I've just told you, that's what you got?"

  "No. I mean…"

  "There is only one thing in the world that can kill a member of a royal bloodline and it's different for each of us. It can be anything from the thorn of a rose to a particular flavor of tea or a special kind of weapon. We know what it is. We can feel it from an early age. But we never reveal it to anyone. Not even to other members of our families. When we consider we've played our parts in the world, lived our lives the way we wanted, accomplished everything we wanted, when we've made peace with ourselves and the world, we use that thing to end our lives."

  He leaned over Dorian and wiped two streaks of sweat running down his temple. Then he turned his head towards the door staring at the empty space in the frame.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Stay here. Whatever happens, don't move, don't talk, don't breathe. Oh and most importantly, do not think of anything."

  He went downstairs. Iris heard him open the front door and talking to another man. A few moments later, they both returned into the bedroom. The tall man standing next to Raven looked like he'd just stepped out of a historical reenactment. He looked at Iris for a moment then his gaze went past her to Dorian. He spoke with a strange accent.

  "It's a good thing I'm here. He's dying."

  Iris froze. The man's words hit her like a punch in the stomach. She looked at Raven. His eyes were wide and she could tell that he was just as shocked as she was.

  The man stopped in front of Iris and stared at her, analyzing her from head to toe. "Who is this?"

  "She's the neighbors' daughter." Iris looked at Raven and he blinked once, a little longer than necessary. Whatever happens, don't move, don't talk, don't breathe. She obeyed. There was a slight tremor in his voice and she wondered if the stranger had noticed it too. "She's the one who found him in the woods and brought him here. I asked her to stay and help me patch him up. Don't worry, I'll get rid of her."

  "No. Not yet." The man went to the bed and leaned over Dorian. "Turn him over."

  Raven rolled Dorian on his stomach as gently as possible, making sure his head was on the side so he could breathe. The bandage he and Iris had changed a few times before was soaked in blood again. As was the bed sheet. Raven removed the gauze. The wound hadn't heeled at all. If anything, it looked worse than before. The purple veins around it were now completely black and had spread across his entire back.

  "What caused this?" the man asked.

  "A cold iron bullet. I took it out but a piece must still be lodged somewhere inside."

  "A fragment must have entered his bloodstream and is now travelling towards his
heart. You need to take it out. Now."

  "How?"

  "You control fluids. Find the right vein, slow down the flow, wrap the piece in a bubble and drive it against the stream back towards the wound."

  "Oh, is that all?"

  "Your friend has but a few minutes left to live. Are you certain you want to waste them on cheap sarcasm?"

  "Do you have any idea how many veins there are in the circulatory system? And how tiny they are?"

  "Do it!"

  Raven closed his eyes and put out his arms, palms down. He slid his hands up and down over Dorian's torso as if he was assessing the complex map of blood vessels underneath his skin. The man looked at him without blinking.

  "I can't do it." Raven dropped his hands to his sides. "I can't find it."

  "Try again."

  "It's pointless. I can only feel the large veins. The smaller ones, it's like they're not even there."

  The man paused for a second. "Where do you keep your tools?"

  "My tools?"

  "Potions and plants."

  "In my room, down the hall."

  "Take me there."

  The two men headed out of the room. As they passed by Iris, Raven ordered her to stay put. As soon as they'd left the room, she rushed to the other side of the bed and kneeled in front of Dorian. She ran her thumb along his eyebrow and pushed his silver hair away from his face. Then she took the wet towel from the nightstand and tapped it on his forehead and temple. Again, she was overwhelmed by an unreasonable desire to save him at all costs. "Please don't die."

  She heard the two men returning so she got up and moved back to the spot she was in before.

  "Everyone needs to stop assuming that, just because I can't die, it's okay for me to ingest all manner of poisons." Raven walked into the room, holding a little bottle with a dark green, semitransparent liquid inside.

  "Do you want to save him or not?" The man followed him next to the bed.

  "Of course. What kind of question is that?"

  "Then stop whining and drink that."

  Raven opened the bottle and drank its contents. For a few seconds nothing happened but then, when he turned and looked in her direction, his pupils were completely dilated, a dark shade of green against his turquoise irises, now only a thin ring. Then something happened that made Iris wonder whether she was dreaming or seeing things. The man walked up to Raven and a second later disappeared inside the boy's body, like a ghost. The only sign of his presence were Raven's altered movements, a bit slow, just like Iris had noticed in the man earlier.

  Then Raven—or was it the stranger inside him?—turned towards Dorian. Iris could only see half his face now. His lips were moving and, as his palms hovered over the wound, Dorian's skin began to take a darker and darker shade of red until it looked like he was burning from the inside out. Iris looked at his face. It was covered in sweat and his eyes were moving fast underneath the closed eyelids. He didn't make a sound but there were deep furrows between his eyebrows and she shivered at the thought of how much pain he had to be in. Just as she thought his body was about to explode, the black veins began to retreat until they disappeared completely. A streak of dark blood flooded out of the wound and a second later a minuscule red dot, the size of a grain of sand, came out and flowed in midair between the wound and Raven's open palm. He moved his hand and the dot moved with it until it fell next to the bed, a crimson dot on the white floor.

  The ghost left Raven's body and materialized again in the shape of the strange man. Raven fell on the chair next to the bed. He seemed groggy but he was conscious.

  The man turned around and looked at Iris. There was something familiar in his eyes and she shivered remembering the way Vincent looked at her. "Now tell me, child, what are you?"

  Raven answered before she could. "I told you. She's the neighbors' daughter."

  "I asked what not who."

  "She's just a human."

  The man took a step towards her, as if he wanted to see her better. "No. There's something unusual about you. You vibrate a certain way." He stopped just two feet away and leaned forward. His papery face was inches from hers and she wondered how it was possible for her heart to pump ice shards through her body. He stood there, staring at her, analyzing her, as if he was trying to look into her soul. Don't move, don't talk, don't breathe. She couldn't move even if she wanted to. After what seemed like forever, the man took a step back. He picked up his hat and his cane and headed for the door.

  "Tell him to be more careful next time. That mark will only get him so far. Oh and…" He stopped and turned his head half-way. Iris could only see half his face, but somehow she had the feeling he was addressing her directly. "I was never here."

  Dorian felt like he'd been hit by a moving train on fire. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying in his bed. Raven was in a chair next to him, reading.

  "You gave me quite the scare, you know," his friend said, putting down the book.

  Dorian sat up, wincing when a staggering flash of pain shot through his back. "I should do this more often. This way you'll learn to appreciate me more."

  "I'd rather you didn't. Cyrus gives me the creeps."

  "He was here?"

  "Only his shadow, thank God. I don't know if I would have handled him poking inside my mind too. It's bad enough he took over my body."

  "Aw, you were possessed?"

  "It's not funny. But we were lucky he came when he did. He saved your life. In the end. It was Iris who made that possible."

  "Ah. The little human that could. Quite the performance last night."

  "Yes. She's really feisty for a human. Do you really think she can help the Elwoods kill the hounds?"

  Dorian couldn't explain it, but a part of him wanted to prevent Iris from having to face the hellhounds again. He knew that she was their best chance at killing the beasts and he was almost entirely sure that she could do it, and yet he didn't want her to. He didn't want her to be in danger. He wanted to… protect her. Was that the reason behind his sudden decision to kill Vincent and serve him to the Elwoods the night before? So they could use him instead of her?

  "Dorian?"

  "What?"

  "I asked if you think she can help the Guardians kill the hounds."

  "Perhaps she won't have to. With Vincent dead, the Elwoods can transfer the mark and solve the problem themselves. But if it comes to that, I think she can handle it. She's stronger than she seems."

  "That she is. She carried you out of the woods on her back."

  Dorian didn't remember being carried but he did recall the lavender smell in the bar, probably from her hair, and her voice begging him not to die. Hang on. We're almost there.

  Raven laughed. "How does it feel being saved by a girl?"

  Frustrating. Irritating. Humiliating. "She wouldn't have had to if the sheriff hadn't shot me! By the way, where is she now?"

  "She went home right after Cyrus left. She was exhausted. I offered to drive her but she insisted that I stay with you."

  "Iris always the martyr. Raven, always the gentleman."

  "Hey, we need her alive. Do you know how hard I had to work to get Cyrus to think she was ordinary and useless? Speaking of false appearances, don't you find it strange that the sheriff of a small town like Forest Hills would load his service weapon with cold iron ammunition?"

  "Well, it is Forest Hills, after all. But I do think it begs for further investigation. Clearly, no one is what they seem in this town."

  Iris opened her eyes and remained still for a moment, waiting for the blurry images to clear up. She was lying on the couch in her living room. She didn't remember falling asleep. She sat up, pulling back memories of the night before. She had a terrible headache, which only got worse as the events unfolded in her mind—the hellhounds, the Elwoods struggling, Vincent's body lying on the ground after Dorian snapped his neck, Connor sending her away, Dorian's wound, Cyrus.

  She got up and stood there for a moment to calm the verti
go that threatened to throw her to the ground. Once she regained her balance she went upstairs. As she passed by the full-length mirror in the foyer she jerked at her reflection. Her clothes were torn and covered in ashes, her face and hands were black and there was a streak of dry blood on her neck. She instinctively reached at the back of her head and felt a sharp pain as her fingers touched the spot where her hair had been ripped off its roots. Indeed, Raven's remedy didn't work as fast as the Elwoods' spheres.

  She headed up the stairs. Her entire body hurt and so every step required an enormous amount of effort. When she finally walked into her room she was out of breath and dizzy. She fought the weakness in her legs, took out her phone and threw it on the bed, then went into the bathroom. She dropped her clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower. The warm water calmed her sore muscles. Unfortunately, there was no remedy for her mind. For that she needed sleep. She wasn't afraid of the nightmares anymore. The events of the past couple of days helped with that.

  She lay on the bed and closed her eyes but she realized that there was something she had to do before she surrendered to sleep. She took her phone and called Connor. She wasn't sure he would answer but she had to try. After the fourth ring, she heard his voice, calm and polite, inviting her to leave a message after the beep. She sighed. "Hi. It's me. I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but there's something I have to tell you. Dorian got shot last night. It was the sheriff. The bullet was made of cold iron. I just thought you should know because, unless you have the sheriff on your payroll, you might want to be careful around him. That's it." She paused. "Oh and, Connor... I'm—" She was cut off by the beep signaling the end of the message before she could finish her sentence. "Sorry," she said and then closed her eyes.

  She was running for her life through a maze of fire when a familiar sound snatched her out of the flames. She opened her eyes and picked up the phone from the nightstand. Unknown caller id.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello to you too, little human."