“Too late.” Finn pointed at the bowed, swaying branches six feet above Mae. The leaves rustled as a gruesome face emerged, its mouth a gaping grin of curved fangs. There was no nose or eyes to speak of, only a snarl of yellowed flesh wrinkled into an evil scowl. A web of veins throbbed beneath skin stretched thin over a bulbous skull. Four long, sinewy arms pulled it further out onto the limb, revealing an emaciated torso. Its membranous hide clung to a deformed ribcage and spikes protruding along its back. From its waist extended a tangle of long, writhing tentacles, which lashed round the branches, enabling the monster to slowly lower itself down over its victim.
Fate trembled. Never had she seen anything so hideous. Her heart pounded with fright as the dark faery sniffed the top of Mae’s head. She wanted to yell out to her, but she had to trust the story would play out as written. Holding still, she held her breath as Mae reached up without looking at the horror fest looming above her. As she ran her hands along each side of its repugnant features, her trusting expression turned to one of surprise, even amusement.
An unnatural hush had fallen over the forest. No breeze, no bird song, no droning of bugs. It was as if every living thing in the area––even the elements––held still as the creature’s jaw unhinged, widening into a cavernous, steaming maw above Mae’s head.
Then she giggled. Her laugh broke the silence, crisp and clear as a bell, ringing through the air with the purity of a child’s delight. Birds joined in song and the wind broke free to whistle through the leaves. The dark faery held still, its jaw snapping shut. As Mae glanced up, the beast recoiled, vanishing within the foliage. Movement in the treetops marked its swift escape.
“Ew, now that’s what Eustace would call uglier than a war wound,” Fate said, a hand to her heart as she started breathing again.
“Agreed,” Finn said, as they emerged from their hiding place and walked over to Mae.
She whirled round, an expectant smile lighting her face. When she saw them, she looked disappointed. “And who might you be?” she asked. “’Tis certain you’re not my newly made friend of these mystical woods.”
Finn eyed her with an appreciative smile. “No, but you can consider us new friends all the same. I’m Finn, and this is Fate.”
Fate tried to ignore an uncomfortable pinching in her stomach and waved hello.
Mae curtsied. “Pleased, I’m sure. My name is Mae of the Glen.”
“Good to meet you, Mae of the Glen.” Finn’s Scottish accent grew even more pronounced in the presence of Mae’s Irish cadence. He stepped close to her. “Who was with you before we arrived?”
A smile lit her face. “That was my new friend. I must say, you no doubt scared him off before I could get a peek at him. He’s a shy one, he is––”
“Sorry to rain on all this Irish freshness, but we got a good look at your ‘friend’,” Fate said. “And he wouldn’t be described as appealing to anyone blessed with sight.”
Finn flashed Mae an apologetic look, before whispering to Fate, “A little tact here, please.”
“I could’ve said worse,” she whispered back.
He turned back to Mae, whose smile had dimmed. “I think what Fate means is that your new friend would’ve frightened you if you’d seen what it looks like.”
Mae shook her head. “I may not have laid eyes on him, but I felt his face with my hands. I could tell he’s not bonnie to look at, which means he’s in great need of a kind touch and a friendly heart.”
The pinching in Fate’s stomach worsened as Finn’s eyes filled with admiration.
“I see your point,” he said, his tone soft, patient. “But we need to warn you about something, and I don’t want you to be frightened by what I have to tell––”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Fate interjected. “Mae, that thing you made friends with is a dark faery, and it’s going to appear to you as a man named Callum who wants to marry you. But if you do marry him, he won’t be bringing the usual problems, like flirting with every pretty face he happens to run into, or leaving you to face danger all by yourself. He’ll be bringing you death on your wedding day.”
Mae drew away from them both, making a sign to ward off evil. “How do you know this? Are you witches come to curse me?”
Finn held out his hand, but she kept backing away. “We don’t wish you any harm. We only want to help.”
Mae studied each of them. “I do see truth and kindness in you, Finn. And though Fate is tetchy––” she paused to survey Fate’s jeans, “––and in men’s clothing, no less, I’m certain there’s goodness deep down inside.”
“I’m not tetchy. Irritable maybe, but not tetchy,” Fate grumbled.
Finn threw her a sharp look, which stung, especially when he smiled warmly at Mae. “Don’t mind her. She means well. She’s just not good at delivering bad news.”
Mae’s blue eyes widened with trust. “I believe you have my welfare at heart. I’ll return home with a mind to turn this Callum away if he should show his face.”
“Good,” he said, openly relieved.
She turned to go. “Safe journey, and may the good spirits smile upon you both.”
He waved. “And to you.”
After she left, Fate rolled her eyes. “Ugh, how sickeningly sweet. Like those chocolate eggs with the white goo and off-putting splotch of yellow in the center. Hated them so much, I wrote the Easter Bunny to tell him to stop putting them in my basket. Of course, I found out much later I should’ve been writing Cadbury, but you get the point.”
“Why must you be that way?”
“What way?” She knew she was being a complete brat, but hadn’t been able to stop the rant once she started. She felt all messy and confused inside.
“Sour about someone you’ve barely met. Mae’s probably one of the most sincere people you’ll ever run into.”
His obvious disappointment in her riled her inner brat even more. “Sincere? You do realize you’re defending someone who’s not real. None of this is. It’s all a work of fiction, albeit with incredibly good special effects. Hollywood would be all over this place if they knew about it.”
His expression grew fierce as he took her by the arms, nearly lifting her off the ground with his intensity. “This is as real as it gets, lass. You’d best wrap your head around that, or you’re in for a great deal of trouble down the road.”
There was fear in his eyes, the same fear she’d seen in Eustace’s eyes when she was little and got lost in the mall. She’d hated causing that pain in her father, and this felt just as bad. “I know it’s real,” she said, unable to keep her voice from shaking.
He let go of her.
“I don’t know why I’ve been in denial. Hard to believe, since I’ve done nothing but write about stuff like this for years. But now that it’s here––and you too––I can’t help thinking I’ve either bumped my head, or I’m dreaming, or just stark raving mad.”
He had begun to relax, but his brows shot up, puzzled. “What did you mean by me too? Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I…I’m just glad I’m not alone in all this. I know we’ve gotten off to a rough start, but I’m really grateful you’re here.”
“That’s it?”
His eyes begged for more. She dropped her gaze and nodded.
“Fine. We should get back, figure out what we need to do next and make sure that snake is behaving,” he said, his voice gruff as he stomped away.
Fate watched him go, a sick feeling starting in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to tell him. He deserved to know. But it would be rotten timing after her callous remark about Mae. She’d have to wait just a little longer.
•
They were traveling in circles.
The same hollowed-out tree stump appeared for the fourth time. On their way back, they had come upon the dreaded grove of twisted oaks and now there seemed to be no getting away from them.
Glancing up, Finn frowned at their dark branches lacing over the gray sky like stiff, gnar
led tentacles. “Even though we’ve seen no sign of the trees moving, I can’t help feeling we keep getting herded back here somehow.”
Fate sighed with relief. Finally, he was talking to her again. She’d been so uptight and distracted by the tension between them she’d forgotten she could write them back to the Book of Fables. She started to tell him when something cracked beneath her boot. She lifted her foot off a thin white branch. It looked wrong somehow. As she bent to pick it up, her gaze followed the fragile line to a tiny skeletal hand. She broke into a sweat, gulped a deep breath as she staggered back.
Finn stepped around her, anxiety showing on his face. She followed stiffly as he pushed through the thickets into a small clearing. He turned abruptly, his hands up to stop her from going further. “Don’t look,” he said, his voice choked.
It was too late. She stared at the tangled pile of skeletons strewn amongst shredded, bloodied clothes and scattered belongings. Terror and sorrow crashed together. She stifled a sob behind her hand as Finn pulled her away, thorns tearing at them. She ran blindly, seeing only the delicate bones of the infant’s hand, a woman’s locket, a little girl’s torn doll, a man’s broken crossbow.
Finn slammed his back against the trunk of a thick oak, pulling her close to him. “Stay still and be very quiet,” he whispered.
His tone frightened her. She huddled close, her arms round his neck, heart racing, thoughts muddled with fear. A piece of bark moved just above Finn’s shoulder, like something was pushing from underneath. She pried it free, thinking it felt too thin and papery to be bark. As she placed the brown leafy thing in her palm, spidery legs unfurled and a gruesome little head with almost human features blinked at her.
Startled, she screamed and flung it.
At that moment, everything happened in a terrible blur. All of the bark dislodged from the trunks of the surrounding oak trees, becoming a disorienting swarm of shrieking pixies. She clung to Finn, but as the pixies smacked into them, she flailed and fell away from him.
The earth groaned with the sound of roots ripping free of solid ground as the oaks joined the fray. Clods of dirt flew everywhere, a multitude of branches lashed through the air.
Fate dropped, scrambling on all fours to escape the writhing tree limbs. Pixies pelted her, from all angles, pulling her hair, tearing clumps from her scalp. Tiny claws clung to her face, prying her eyes, nostrils and mouth back, digging in her ears.
The pain and terror fractured into pure hysteria. Her scream blended into the cacophony as she twisted onto her back, kicking wildly, slapping at her face and arms to get them off. Then something snaked around her waist, squeezing so hard she thought her guts were squishing into her chest. As the branch snatched her off the ground, she saw Finn bound in the tree next to her, covered in pixies. His face was flushed and scratched.
She was stupefied. The fable hadn’t exactly specified manhandling trees and rabid pixies.
She watched the trees burrow their roots back into the ground. The pixies had suddenly fallen silent, settling on the circle of oaks. She still had her share of pixies crawling over her, tugging at her hair, pinching and poking her skin but with much less intensity. She squirmed, trying to shrug them off. Another branch slithered over her, tightening around her ribcage so hard she could barely suck air into her lungs.
“Stop struggling…you’ll make it…worse,” Finn warned, suffering from the same shortage of breath.
Just then, the trees parted, allowing a young man to step within the tight circle of gnarled oaks. He stood out bright and beautiful amongst the wild, gray woods like a cultivated rose. The moment Fate looked at him, a pleasant heat rose beneath her skin, dispelling her fear and discomfort.
He wore a long coat of brushed suede over an olive vest, tan breeches and shiny black riding boots, but it was the glow of his sun-kissed skin that captivated her. Looking into his eyes was like being dunked in melted chocolate. He planted his polished walking stick into the ground and leaned on it. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Callum, lord and master of these cursed woods.”
The silvery timbre of his voice coaxed an involuntary moan from her throat.
Callum stared at them expectantly. “And you would be?”
A chill passed through her for a fraction of a second, like someone had flapped the covers, waking her enough to realize who he was before the drowsy warmth returned. “Oh…he’s the dark faery,” she informed Finn. “And damn gorgeous.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Finn said, his jaw clenched. Then he glared at Callum. “I'm Finn McKeen.”
Hearing his full name hit Fate like a freight train, driving the truth home like nothing else had before that very moment. Finn McKeen, the name she’d written over and over for the last five years. “It really is you,” she said.
Finn’s gaze flicked to her before returning to Callum. But in that instant, his eyes burned with a desperate need to know.
“And your name?” Callum said, netting her back into his entrancing gaze. His voice sent delicious shivers up her spine, pulling her thoughts away from Finn.
“Fate,” she croaked.
Callum raised a brow. “Fate? What an apropos name for circumstances such as yours.” He turned to the trees and their little parasites. “Don’t you think so?”
The twisted oaks groaned, creaked and cracked while the pixies screeched with laughter.
Callum strolled up to her. His scent flowed over her like a balmy breeze, a full-bodied blend of woodsy musk and winter spices. “Yes, dear Fate, you will definitely be meeting your namesake very soon.” He waved his cane at the trees. “Hold these meddlers as long as it takes my pets to pick their bones clean.”
The dark faery chuckled as he turned to leave.
“Why don’t you eat us yourself? Better yet, I challenge you to a good and proper brawl. Just you and me!” Finn called to Callum’s departing back.
Callum stopped, then turned to face him. “Tempting, but I don’t wish to stain my fine attire with your blood.” He caressed the fox-trimmed lapel of his coat. “My children must eat, though it’ll be a while before their appetites return. We just feasted on an entire family. I must say, the baby was a rare delicacy.” He licked his perfect lips and bowed. “I must be off now. I have much to prepare for my wedding. Oh, and since you’ve warned Mae about me, I’ve decided to introduce myself as Ennis. Ennis and Mae. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?
Finn struggled all the more, but the tree squeezed until he groaned in pain. Callum smiled with satisfaction. “And I think I’ll marry her post haste. No need to allow the lovely Mae anymore time to dwell on those troublesome seeds of doubt you planted in her mind.”
The dark faery whistled a cheerful tune as an oak ambled aside, allowing him to leave the circle. As the whistling faded, the pleasing fog in Fate's mind cleared. Fear slammed back in. Her skin crawled with hyperawareness. She felt every pixie tangling in her hair, worming down her shirt, scrabbling up her pant legs with needle-sharp claws pinching and scratching, even tickling.
She remembered the pile of skeletons. As soon as the pixies grew hungry, they’d eat them too. A sweating panic erupted. She thrashed against her bindings, desperate to escape. The branches constricted all the more, crushing her chest. “We’re…going to die…like that…family!” she gasped.
“Fate, stay calm,” Finn urged. “Try to hold still.”
How could she relax when she couldn’t get enough air? With each hyperventilated sob shuddering through her, she bruised her ribs against the rigid branches.
“Just let go,” he said.
Frowning, she looked over at him, certain she’d heard him wrong. Did he really mean what she thought he was saying? Give up? Die? But she couldn’t see him anymore. Sparks floated across her dimming eyesight. Maybe he knew it was best this way, more merciful to slip into oblivion.
Sorrow welled up inside her. There was still so much she wanted to do. But this was it. The end.
As her lungs and brain scre
amed for oxygen, a roaring wave of darkness engulfed her. She panicked as she felt herself sinking into the deep. Then two green eyes, a pink nose and orange-striped face appeared. It was her cat, Oz, his stare watchful and dignified. He started purring, a sound that ran through her like a powerful tranquilizer.
Stop that, Fate told him. If I fall asleep, I’ll never wake up again.
Oz’s face faded away. Only his eyes remained. You should be so lucky, he purred. Unfortunately, you’re destined to live. So sleep, and enjoy a little slice of peace. With that his pupils expanded, eclipsing the light of his green irises and plunging her into an ocean of nothingness.
Chapter 9
FATE WOKE TO THE SENSATION OF FALLING. Her face hit moist earth. Bewildered, she sat up, rubbing dirt off her sore cheek. She glanced around just as Finn stepped out of the morning mist curling through the trees.
Before she could say a word, he clamped his hand over her mouth. “Be dead quiet,” he whispered, scooping her up off the ground.
Gripping her hand, he led her through the still oaks. Slumbering pixies slipped off her and landed on the ground. Having lost their cozy sleeping place, a few woke, screeching in alarm when they saw their breakfast leaving.
She ran blindly, letting Finn lead her past a blur of trees. As they pushed through the brambles, she barely felt the thorns scratching her hands and face. Her attention was on the angry, shrieking swarm of pixies gathering force behind them. It seemed as if they would never outrun the raging sound, but instead of getting louder, the noise receded.
They came to a breathless halt as soon as they realized the swarm had given up the chase.
Fate staggered to a harmless birch tree, clinging to it for support. Gulping air, she stared at Finn in amazement. “How…did…we…get out of there?”
He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I waited ‘til the trees fell asleep and joined them in their dreams. It took all night, but I was eventually able to convince them they had no prisoners, so they relaxed their limbs.”
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