Fae Bound

by Hailey Woodward

  Fae Bound

  Book One

  by Hailey Woodward

  Copyright 2020, Hailey Woodward

  All rights reserved. This book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any fashion without the express written consent of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations for the purpose of writing book reviews.

  Cover Art by Rebecca Sorge. All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Like most people, I despised my job. Unlike most people, however, my gripe went far deeper than the sort of complaints you’ll see in the ‘comments’ section of job satisfaction surveys. Of course, to be fair, I hated my job even before it put me directly in the path of kidnappers, sorcerers, mythological monsters, and a certain madwoman with both the means and inclination to inflict pain and suffering on me for the remainder of my earthly existence, if she didn’t just decide to snuff me out altogether. But let me start at the beginning.

  The day had started badly, as was typical. I was a lowly temp at the county coroner’s office. This is, as you might expect, not the most cheerful place to work, though as a bottom-rung administrative assistant, I really didn’t have to deal with anything too death-related. The problem was the medical examiner, Dr. Spear. She had a hair-trigger temper, took great pleasure in screaming at me for minor errors, and came up with absurd make-work projects just for the joy of watching me run around like the proverbial headless chicken. Example: The day before, she had made me reconstruct an entire bin of shredded paper because she claimed that I had failed to scan a page before putting it through the shredder. I hadn’t.

  “It’s only temporary,” I muttered to myself as I took an armful of files from the first drawer of a large beige filing cabinet. I was in the process of digitizing the older files, which was actually not a bad task; scanning things into the computer meant that I would be out of Dr. Spear’s line of sight for several hours, if I played it right. I usually had to fight the other administrative assistant for the duty for this very reason, but he’d left for an early lunch (and, I had reason to suspect, a job interview at somewhere less ulcer-inducing), so I had shamelessly stolen the task. “Only temporary.” The phrase had become a mantra for me, a sort of charm against Dr. Spear’s havoc. Whatever she did, I wouldn’t have to deal with it forever.

  The problem was, I didn’t know how long I would have to deal with it. I was desperately strapped for cash; I’d had a serious falling out with my parents several months previous and was, long story short, on my own. Completely. Aside from all the costs of just keeping a roof over my head and eating more than sporadically, I was trying to scrape together enough money to pay for my first semester of college. I had the option of asking the temp agency for another assignment, but oddly, Dr. Spear found it hard to keep employees on for long, so I was being paid much higher than your average temp. Depressingly, even working full time, it still wasn’t going to be enough. I had applied for several scholarships and awards related to my cello playing—I was hoping to study music—but if I didn’t hear back from some of them soon, I was going to have to take a second job. That would severely cut into my practice time, the mere thought of which made my stomach sink; playing the cello allowed me to channel my frustration and anxiety into the music, and it was pretty much the only thing keeping me sane.

  Anyway, there I was, scanning documents from dusty folders, half expecting at any moment for Dr. Spear to summon me to her office with a shrill demand for some file or other. I finished scanning and uploading the file I was on, then sent the paper version through the shredder before returning to the filing cabinet to get another one. I was still twitchy from a tongue-lashing I’d gotten earlier, and at the sound of a door closing somewhere in the office, I jumped, dropping several files. I knelt down to reconstruct them, disheartened. I was a wreck. Dropping things, always on edge, jumping like a rabbit at sudden noises—

  Ping.

  I leapt, predictably, as someone rang the bell requesting assistance by the front desk. Also predictably, my head collided with the open drawer above it with a sound like a brick hitting a gong. I clamped my jaw shut before anything unprofessional escaped and blinked sudden tears from my eyes. I straightened, took a deep breath, and pasted an inquisitive smile on my face as I left the back room. The secretary had left for lunch as well, so I had to take care of visitors until she got back.

  I expected to see some county official from another department requesting some document or other, but that wasn’t the sight that greeted me. Two people stood there, a man and a woman. The woman was petite with golden-brown hair and wide, innocent-looking eyes. The man stood head and shoulders above her and had a pale complexion that was accentuated by his dark hair. Oddly, he wore long sleeves and leather gloves, despite the fact that summer was well underway. I wondered if he had some sort of skin condition; Dr. Spear did, and always kept her right hand gloved like that.

  “Good morning,” said the woman, speaking with a strong German accent. She was smiling, but there was an uneasy edge to it. The man just looked bored. “Is Dr. Spear available?”

  If I hadn’t been worn so thin, I might have answered in German; most of my family on my father’s side was from there, and I studied it all through high school, so I can speak it fairly well. As it was, though, I couldn’t muster up the extra energy and decided to stick with English.

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “She is not. She will wish to speak with us, however.”

  I sincerely doubted it. My stomach clenched as I reached for the phone. Dr. Spear hated interruptions and had no problem shooting the messenger. “Who shall I say is here?”

  The woman hesitated. “Isana and Dietrich.”

  I nodded and took a deep, bracing breath before I hit the button to connect me to Dr. Spear’s office. Maybe she’d be in the middle of an autopsy and I’d get voicemail, I thought hopefully.

  No such luck. “Yes?” snapped Dr. Spear. I swallowed.

  “Dr. Spear, there are two people here to see you. Do you have a minute?”

  A silence. “Samantha,” she said in the tone of false calm that meant that I was really in for it. “As you may have noticed, I am a doctor. I arrived at that distinction through hard, constant work—a skill that you have yet to master. When do I ever ‘have a minute’?”

  “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just that—” I stopped myself before I could start groveling. It was pathetic how little it took these days to get me to that point. I took a breath. “They say their names are Dietrich and Isana.”

  Another silence. I tensed, preparing for the next onslaught. To my astonishment, however, all I heard was a strangled, “Dietrich? I… Send them in. Immediately.” The line went dead.

  I dropped the phone into the cradle, stunned. She never saw anyone without an appointment. I covered my disbelief and just said to the visitors brightly, “This way, please.” I stepped out from behind the desk, led them to her office, tapped on the door, then darted away before she could open it, returning to the file room to clean up the papers I’d scattered earlier.

  I got the files back to their original order and returned to the monotony of scanning documents. Too late, comebacks for Dr. Spear’s comments percolated in my brain. Not that I’d ever have the guts to use any of them. It was just unfair. If anything she said was true… but no. The temp agency had placed me with two other companies previous to this place, and both had given me very positive reviews, so it wasn’t as if my work was substandard. She just enjoyed tormenting people. I continued filing, humming quietly to myself in a conscious effort to loosen up a little. About twenty minutes later, I heard a door slam. Luckily I wasn’t holding anything, so there wasn’t a repeat of the file-dropping incident, and I stuck my head out the door to see the two visitors s
torming out of the office without a backward glance. I winced; if they’d put her in a bad—or maybe just ‘worse than usual’—mood, I was going to be the one who paid for it. Minutes trickled by without a summons from Dr. Spear, however, so I gradually dismissed the pair from mind. My first mistake.

  Many furtive glances at the clock later, my lunch hour rolled around. Our secretary had barely clocked back in before I bolted out the door, taking the dimly lit stairwell for fear of bumping into Dr. Spear while waiting for an elevator.

  I walked across the parking lot at fast clip. In an effort to save money I had taken to skipping lunch in favor of just taking a walk to clear my head. Today, however, I felt like I needed a minute to just breathe first. I found my car—a sorry affair—and leaned up against the bumper, which was probably unwise, as it had been threatening to free itself for several weeks by that point. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I withdrew it and rejected the call without even looking at it. There was only one person who ever tried to call me lately, and I had told myself that I wouldn’t answer, no matter how bad things got. I closed my eyes, turning my face to the sun so I wouldn’t have to look at the depressing slab of a government building in front of me. Only temporary. Maybe I’d hear back from a scholarship committee or two today… but I doubted it. Depression settled over me. I had to find some way to calm down my life, but I just didn’t see how.

  Come on now, I chided myself. It’s not that bad. You can hold out a few more months. I tapped out a rhythm against the trunk of the car, using the fingering of a cello piece I’d been practicing. I could hear the tune in my head, and, gradually, I felt the tension drain out of my shoulders. I exhaled. It would be okay, I reminded myself. It might take a little while, but I was going to be okay.

  “Samantha?” I jumped—I hadn’t heard anyone approach. I opened my eyes, all the anxiety I’d just dispelled rushing back. Before me stood the pair I’d met earlier: Dietrich and Isana.

  “Yes?” I said, perplexed. I thought they’d left hours ago. I frowned. “How did you know my name?”

  “You are wearing a tag,” Isana said with a faint smile. I blushed. Duh, Sam. Nametags are a required part of the dress code. I was losing my mind. “You may not remember from this morning, but I am called Isana.” I nodded, looking over at her companion. He returned my gaze with an aloof expression. I decided I didn’t like him. Of course, anyone Dr. Spear actually wanted to talk to could hardly be good news. “I wanted to apologize for any trouble we may have caused you,” Isana continued. “This morning you appeared… distressed.”

  “Oh—no, not at all,” I said, my fake smile back in place. “It was just a busy morning.”

  “I am glad,” she said, then glanced at Dietrich. He nodded shortly, and a flash of resentment crossed her face before her shoulders dropped in resignation. She turned back to me. “Samantha, is there any possibility that you are seeking other employment?”

  My heart leaped, but I squashed the excitement almost reflexively. I considered, not without an edge of paranoia, that Dr. Spear might have put them up to this as some sort of weird test of my loyalty. “It would depend on the position,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. I’d had too many disappointments and setbacks over the past few months to let myself get my hopes up.

  Isana smiled. “Of course. Why don’t you accompany us for a time? We could discuss the possibility in more detail.” She gestured toward a car in the row behind her, a sleek specimen that just made mine look even more pathetic by comparison.

  I took a step forward, then paused, surprised at myself. Was I really considering climbing into a car with two complete strangers? What was wrong with me? I shook my head. “I’d prefer to talk here, actually.”

  Dietrich, who had yet to speak a word to me, gave Isana a quick look, eyebrows raised. She returned his gaze with a bewildered expression, as if something had surprised her, then turned back to me. “That is not convenient for us… and in any case, I doubt that you really wish to stay here.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. I frowned, though—a strange, foggy sensation was creeping through my brain. Great. The stress was finally getting to me. “I would like you to accompany us,” Isana said with an easy, pleasant smile. “I think you would find it far more interesting than what you do here.”

  The fog in my head thickened. “I…” A strange desire to do as she said gripped me, as if pleasing her was very important. I shifted my weight to one foot, trying to focus, but it was like trying to chase after a fragment of a dream right after waking. I shook my head. What was going on?

  “I can assure you that you will come to no harm with us today,” Isana continued. I relaxed. Of course I wouldn’t. Why was I worried? These were obviously very nice people… My phone slipped from my fingers, clattering against the pavement. I stepped forward. “That’s right,” she said, still smiling. Part of me noticed that there was a sad tinge to her expression, but I didn’t dwell on it. Couldn’t dwell on it, or on anything besides her voice. “Come along.”

  The last of my resistance, such as it was, crumbled. I nodded, only barely aware of what I was doing. A little voice in the back of my mind was screaming in protest, but I brushed it aside as I climbed into the rear of their car. It was so much more comfortable to just obey, do what she said…

  And that was how I quit my job at Dr. Spear’s office.

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t really come to myself until I stepped off the airplane at the Shannon Airport. Yes, that’s right—Shannon, Ireland.

  It was difficult to remember, but I’m fairly certain I spent the entire eight-hour flight humming absently to myself, staring at the fluorescent light overhead and observing the interesting spotty patterns that doing so left on my retina. Anyway, I don’t know if it was the sunlight or the sudden rush of cool, damp air, but I was abruptly torn out of my peaceful little inner world the second my feet hit the tarmac.

  Panic hit, and hit strong. “Where am I?” I demanded, jerking away from Isana, who’d been guiding me along with a hand between my shoulder blades. She started to reply, and I clamped my hands over my ears. “Never mind, don’t say anything.” We were the last passengers to disembark from the plane, and I could barely remember descending the set of mobile stairs that had been wheeled up to the plane. A few hundred yards away, I could see the terminal, the words Shannon Airport displayed prominently in big plastic letters on the side of the building. I frantically sifted through my memories. I’d been at the coroner’s office… then I’d met these two… it was a bit hazy, but I’d gotten into the car with them. Then the airport… we’d had some trouble with airport personnel, but Isana had asked them to let us pass… She had such a pleasant voice…

  No. I dropped my hands from my ears, staring at Isana. I was angry, but more afraid. “Where am I?” I asked again, voice strained.

  She looked away as if embarrassed. “We are in Ireland. I apologize for distressing you, but—”

  “Ireland? And you— you apologize—for distressing me? You’ve—kidnapped me, hypnotized me, or something!”

  “Can you not quiet her?” asked Dietrich, looking at Isana with an annoyed expression. “She will call attention to us.”

  Good plan. I looked wildly around, wondering how fast Dietrich could run, or if Isana’s strange ability would work if she had to shout at me over a distance. Before I could even pick a direction to run, however, Dietrich’s gloved hand closed around my wrist. I reflexively pulled away, then yelped as he tightened his grip.

  “Samantha,” he said, voice low. “This can become very unpleasant, very quickly. If you run, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

  I finally managed to jerk my hand away. “You kidnapped me,” I said again, still not quite able to process it.

  “Yes.”

  I stared at him, trying to get past this blunt admission of a serious crime, meeting his eyes for the first time since being under the influence of whatever Isana had done to me. The back of my neck prickled. I hadn’t noticed bef
ore, but there was something very disconcerting about his eyes—I couldn’t distinguish the iris from the pupil, as both were the same inky shade of black. And the way he was looking at me—I had heard a saying once, that the eyes were the window to the soul. In that instant, I thought that if that were true, this man did not have one.

  “Why…” I swallowed, suddenly very afraid. I looked at Isana, who was watching me with an oddly concerned expression. Well, it was a bit late to be wondering about my well-being. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “We can discuss that when we reach our current destination,” said Isana calmly. “It is a pleasant place. You will come to no harm there.”

  “I don’t really care how pleasant—I’m not just going to traipse across Ireland with you!” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a portly man in reflective vest approaching. Airport employee. Had to keep these two talking. “What do you want from me?”

  “As I said, we can discuss that—”

  “Everything all right here?”

  Irritation crossed Dietrich’s face at the interruption, but I almost cried in relief. “Sir,” I said, dodging around Dietrich to face the employee. “You’ve got to call the police. These two have—”

  “That is not necessary,” said Isana, her voice soothing. I yelped and clamped my hands over my ears. The employee gave me a funny look as he turned to faced Isana. I watched, agonized, as she spoke to him and his expression became progressively more glazed. A moment later he wandered off, tripping over one of the plastic truncated cones embedded in the runway.

  Isana gave a satisfied nod as she turned back to me. I decided I was really starting to hate her. “All right,” I said, voice shaking as I lowered my hands from my ears. “Fine. You’ve got me. But I’m not going to cooperate if you don’t at least tell me why.” My voice wasn’t the only thing shaking—I had to clench my hands to stop the trembling. I looked over my shoulder at the expanse of tarmac and the broad fields beyond, then back at the airport terminal. Could I get to it with enough of a lead that I could get help before Isana brainwashed anyone I talked to?