Iron (The Warding Book 1)

by Robin L. Cole

  Once in the bar, I shoved my coat into Jenni’s arms and made a beeline for the bathroom. It was our usual ritual at the last stop of the night. I had a bladder the size of a pea, so she always procured us a table and a round of drinks while I dashed off to the ladies room. Thankfully there was an open stall, so I didn’t leave her waiting long. I weaved my way over to the back corner, keeping an eye on my treacherous feet. I was glad that I had broken the rules of high fashion and worn flats—and even more glad that there wasn’t much of a crowd in the bar to navigate, given how stumble-y I was.

  When I made it to our table and slid into my seat, I was thrilled to see a full glass of wine awaiting me. Jenni was talking with Bryan, who had left his post at the bar to chat her up. Predictable. He loomed between us, a wall of determined stupidity. As usual his back was to me, so that all I could see was a wall of black fabric. I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. Jenni stifled a laugh mid-sentence, giving me the mean little thrill of satisfaction I so longed for.

  While they chatted, I rifled through my purse for some lip balm. Eventually she would ease my welcome into the break in conversation. Bryan would never acknowledge me himself. I was pretty certain he saw me as the final hurdle in his on-going quest to get her in the sack. He should have realized how lucky he was to be dealing with my puny five-foot-four ass. If not for me, he would have been facing down six feet of angry, muscled marine.

  I heard the scrape of the chair between us being pulled out. “—the new girl, Ramona. I’ve got to stick around to keep an eye on her, but she’s got this. I can hang for a bit.”

  Balls.

  My stint as No Touchy Referee was starting early. Lucky me. The depths of my purse had just become the most interesting place in the world. Anything—even handbag lint—was interesting if it kept me from having to make eye contact and small talk with that douche-nozzle. The joy must have showed on my face, because Jenni chimed in brightly, “And you remember my friend Caitlin, right? We’re celebrating her belated birthday tonight!”

  Traitor. I took my sweet time turning away and hanging my purse on the back of my chair. I even rolled my eyes and snarled silently. I was so not in the mood for faux fawning tonight, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. She would owe me big for this.

  “Of course I do. Happy belated birthday, Cat.” There was only the bear minimum of friendliness in his voice. It was pretty clear he was as sick of my fake flirtations as I was, but if he insisted on playing the same game over and over, I sure as hell wasn’t turning in my cards early. It irked me to hear him call me Cat. Nobody but Jenni and my father did that. We certainly weren’t on chummy enough terms for him to be using nicknames. Still, I plastered a smile on my face as I turned back to the table.

  My overly cheerful greeting shriveled up and died on my tongue. Instead of saying anything, I gaped. There’s no other way to describe it. I sat there, mouth hanging open like a hooked trout. I blinked rapidly, like that was going to change something. Like there was a film over my eyes, making me see something straight out of a nightmare not two feet away from my face.

  Now Bryan was sitting eye-level with me, facing me—or, what I had once thought of as Bryan was. Though it remained man-shaped, there was little else about the thing before me that could be considered even remotely human. Its gray flesh was almost translucent, with a strangely pearlescent sheen, like a large wax doll. Milky whiteness seemed to roil beneath the surface of its skin, like smoke. The gaunt, oval face I stared into was all but featureless. It was like someone had quickly made the barest impressions of a human face in the wax, smearing thumbprint indentations where the eyes and mouth would have been and nothing else.

  I glanced down, away from that horribly blank stare and saw that the clothing it wore hung off its emaciated frame, rippling with its every movement. How had I not noticed that sooner? The hand that rested upon the table was skeletally thin, its knobby, elongated fingers sheathed in the same strange, waxy skin.

  I wondered—hoped—briefly, that I was seeing things. That maybe my days on end of paranoia were causing my brain to project something for me to fixate on. Unfortunately, rapidly fading buzz or no buzz, that made no sense. All night I had been looking over my shoulder, afraid I’d see horns or wings or fur on some stranger, but nothing had caught my eye. Not a single fairy in all of Riverview, until I let my guard down in a place I had pretty much trusted to be safe.

  What the fuck was with the creepy-ass fae and bars?

  I couldn’t tell what kind of look the Wax Man formerly known as Bryan gave me during my long pause. (It’s hard to read something with no face.) However, over its shoulder I could see Jenni giving me a wide-eyed “WTF?” look complete with mouthed query, so I scrambled to pull myself together. I faked a laugh—and let me tell you, it sounded pretty fake even to me—and forced myself to give the creature next to me a playful slap on the shoulder. Not caring how lame it sounded, I giggled and said, “Come on now, Bryan! Where are your manners? You should know better than to acknowledge a lady getting older!”

  Whether or not they believed my previous shock to have been play-acting, they both laughed along with me. I kept that teasing smile on my face though my stomach was knotted tight. I wondered where that laugh was coming from. The pit-like indentation of its mouth didn’t seem to move. How did it even have a voice?

  Thankfully “Bryan” turned it’s gaze back to Jenni, giving me a slightly less disturbing profile view. I knew they were having a pleasant enough sounding conversation without me—Jenni’s tipsy laugh sounded genuine—but I couldn’t follow the words. My mind was buzzing with fear and gibbering to itself that I should grab Jenni and run for the hills. She would think I was nuts if I did, of course. She obviously didn’t see what I saw, otherwise she would never have tolerated it constantly brushing against her arm, her knee; touching whatever little bit of skin it could get away with without me butting in. It must have been throwing one of those glamours Seana had explained to me; the magic facade that it showed humans to keep them from seeing what it really looked like. If I made a run for it, I would be doubly screwed for having let yet another fae know I could see its true face. I didn’t need two scary dudes out there, hunting me down for the so-called Gift that was ruining my life.

  Shit. What the hell could I do?

  I sat back in my chair, guilty over how glad I was that it wasn’t flirting with me. I wasn’t sure I could handle playing along if that thing touched me. When little more than the occasional nod or laugh was needed from me, I had nothing to do but look at it. My wine glass remained untouched, my stomach too sour to consider another sip of alcohol.

  Instead, I studied the Wax Man in quick glances, all the while wondering what it was and what I should do. I mean, it didn’t look all that dangerous. Creepy as hell, yes, but not out-right dangerous. Not like Goliath had looked, with his lion’s teeth and ham fists. How could this thing be feeding off of humans?

  Seana had made it sound like all of the bestial fae did in one way or another. Goliath was obviously one of the more carnivorous types. I was pretty sure I knew how he’d prey upon humans. This thing was different. With no physically frightening features to pinpoint—or features at all, really—I was at a loss for how this thing could eat…

  A chill ran down my spine. It kept touching her.

  My eyes darted down to the hand resting on the table near me. The angle was all wrong to get a good look, but I thought something about them was off. They didn’t look human, with strange ridges peeking out at regular intervals, running down each finger to its hidden palm. I watched the hand it had casually rested against Jenni’s. It’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. That hand appeared to be glowing; pulsing faintly. I knew immediately that it wasn’t a trick of the light. That milky mist under its skin was moving, swirling.

  If I had thought my stomach felt knotted and sick before, I had had no idea the depths to which it could sink. It was feeding on her. It was sucking something out of h
er; some emotion or energy that wasn’t visible to the human eye. Whatever the hell was making that smoke beneath its skin was something it sucked out of humans.

  I had a feeling that this job was a smorgasbord for a creature like him—tons of contact with drunk, emotional ladies who never even knew that they were prey. Before the veil had been ripped from my eyes, I had seen what it had wanted everyone to see too: sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, a slight cleft in the chin. Nothing over the top gorgeous but maybe that was what it wanted. Too good looking would have attracted too much attention or, perhaps, put some of the less inebriated women on guard. Maybe it wanted to be seen as cute but harmless run-of-the-mill boy next door. The kind of stranger that you could trust. The thought made my stomach roil with a whole new emotion: rage.

  “…must get lonely though.” I still had no idea where that voice could be coming from, but something about its husky, sympathetic tone made my ears perk up. It had Jenni’s hand cupped between in its own. Judging by her empty glass and the forlorn look on her face, she wasn’t in a great state of mind. While I had been trying to think of a game plan to use against our interloper, she had drifted into the danger zone. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Bryan” sidled his chair just a little bit closer and that sparkle-swirl where their hands met increased. “You know, we close up soon. As soon as I show Ramona how to cash out and lock up, I could walk you home. We could watch a movie, talk a bit more—”

  Oh. Hell. No.

  Fueled by fury and the last dregs of my earlier buzz, I reached over and grabbed it’s wrist. The cold, slick feeling of the flesh beneath my fingers made me want to recoil, but I stuck to my guns and pried it’s hand off of hers. The moment their contact was broken, the glow beneath it’s translucent skin died.

  Jenni drew her hand back immediately, probably in surprise given the wide-eyed stare she leveled my way. The Wax Man’s head whipped around and it didn’t need eyes for me to know I was getting a vengeful stare from its human facade. I could feel its anger. That was fine by me. I was pretty pissed off too.

  There was no playfulness in my voice when I said, “First off, you know she has a boyfriend. Second, the only person walking her home tonight is me. So why don’t you knock off the act? We all know you’re just trying to get in her pants, ‘cause you’ve been trying for years. Not gonna happen, buddy, so I think it’s about time for you to piss off.”

  I pushed its arm away with all the force I could muster and stood. My purse was already on my shoulder as I gathered up my coat. It was still staring at me—it was hard to think of it as “Bryan” when those two elongated black pits were trained on my face—but it made no move to get up. Belatedly, I wondered just what the hell I would do if it did. I ignored the shaking in my knees and held my ground. “Come on Jen. Let’s go.”

  Jenni sputtered something that was probably an apology, quickly grabbing her own coat and purse up in her arms. I waited until she was past me, never taking my eyes off of the Wax Man’s face, before I whipped around and marched out of the bar after her. People were staring but I kept a look of righteous fury on my face until the door slammed shut behind us. Those onlookers never knew those few feet were the longest in my life.

  The bracing autumnal air outside felt good. I hadn’t been aware of how flushed I was until it hit my skin and a chill of a whole ‘nother sort ran through me. I shrugged into my coat and pulled out my cell phone, using my short phone call to the cab company to center myself. Jenni was waiting a few feet away, arms crossed. She didn’t look happy with me. She fell into step beside me and waited until I slipped my phone back into my bag, ride secured. Then, she attacked. “Jesus Christ, Cat! What the hell was that about?”

  Lucky for me there was some truth I could use to cover the revelation I couldn’t even begin to explain to her. “He crossed the line. I don’t like that scumbag trying to take advantage of you.”

  She snorted, brushing a stray ringlet of hair away from her face. “Oh please, that’s bull. He’s been much sleazier than that before. It never bothered you then. We could have gotten another free round or two out of him before I blew him off.”

  I shot her an incredulous look. It was so damn hard to argue with someone who hadn’t seen what I had. I wished I could tell her, but that was flat out of the question. Instead, I quickened my pace and shot back, “Oh yeah? And what if he followed you home this time? He’s enough of a shit to hit on a girl who has told him a zillion times she’s got a boyfriend. Who knows what he might do when he finally snaps!”

  “You’re totally overacting Cat.” She jerked to a halt. “You’ve played along every other time and we’ve laughed it off afterwards. You just made a big scene over nothing and made it pretty much impossible for me to ever step foot back in that place! What gives?”

  I stood there for a moment, heart hammering, before I turned to face her. I half-expected to see him coming up behind us, but the street was clear of any familiar faces. We were close to her apartment now and, man, I really wanted to be safe behind those locked doors, but I knew that stubborn stance. She was determined to have it out with me then and there, public eye be damned. I loved my bestie, but man did she know how to make a scene—especially after tying one on. Since I couldn’t very well tell her I was afraid of the monster a few doors down, I took a deep breath and apologized to my soul for the lie I was about to tell. “I like him.”

  She couldn’t have looked more shocked if I had hit her in the back of the head with a board. Her voice was a disbelieving squeal. “What?”

  I turned around and resumed my march toward her place. She caught up to me only a second later, still sputtering. “Are you serious? I thought you hated him! You’re always saying how cheesy and pathetic he is. You just called him a scumbag not ten seconds ago!”

  “Yeah well, it’s called jealousy okay? I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me, so I ragged on him instead. He’s always been all over you anyway so it doesn’t matter.” I hid my face in my hands. It was to hide the pain of lying but she didn’t need to know that. Let her think it was embarrassment. I hated myself more and more with every word. “But tonight I guess I was just cranky and drunk and, well, I acted stupid, okay? I’m sorry I made a scene.”

  “Aww, Cat!” She slung an arm around my waist, nearly knocking me off balance. “I’m sorry! You should have told me. I never would have suggested that we keep going there if I had known.”

  I accepted her sympathy mutely. My cheeks were flaming, growing warmer as she went on and on about how much she loved me and how I couldn’t let my single-ness get me down; how I would find a wonderful man that made me as happy as Anthony made her one day. I let her think my blush was embarrassment rather than guilt. I had never told my bestie a lie before. I felt like a shit.

  We dawdled on the porch outside her place for a few minutes. Thanks to liquor and plain old naivety, she spent the whole time rambling on about how great I was and how bright our future would be and how I should keep my chin up. It took everything I had not to shake her, darkening her happy little world with the truth of what we had just narrowly escaped. She was waxing poetic about the beautiful weddings we’d have one day, and how we’d screw up our children as badly as our parents had screwed us up, when the cab finally arrived. I had never been so glad to shoo her inside, climbing into the cab and locking the door behind me.

  Thank God the cabbie was your regular run-of-the-mill human. Or maybe he was just a non-bestial fae that could pass for human. I pushed that thought out of my head and dug through my purse with singular determination.

  “Where to ma’am?” he asked, in a tone that made me think it wasn’t the first time he was posing that question.

  “I—uh—I’m sorry. Just give me one minute to, uh, double check the address okay?” I retrieved the little ball of paper from the depths of my bag and smoothed it out once again. The hand that held the phone to my ear was shaking. I squeezed my eyes closed and prayed someone would answer, despite the late hour. It seemed to
ring forever, until my heart sank and I was sure it was about to click over to voicemail—

  “Hello?”

  Relief flooded through me. A tear came to my eye. I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling. “Hi Seana, its Caitlin Moore. I’m sorry for calling so late, but I think I need your help after all.”

  Chapter Seven

  The address Seana gave me lead to a neighborhood I had never visited before, where the rows of brownstones sat with dignified grace. The stately windows and carved stone facades hearkened back to a forgotten era long before my own. I fell in love with them immediately. Even in the dark, guided only by streetlights, it was clear how they put my piddly little apartment to shame. It was also quiet on their street, which was about as close to suburbia as you could get without leaving city limits. We were the only car around, which seemed abnormal to me, even at such a late hour.

  Thankfully I had enough cash on me to cover the cab fare. A trip to the edge of the city hadn’t been part of my plans, but my mother’s insistence that I keep an extra twenty tucked under the ID in my wallet (much like the importance of always wearing clean underwear in case I was hit by a bus) was deeply ingrained in my psyche. Having to borrow money from the people I had been avoiding would have made my night all that much more embarrassing. Thanks for the life lesson, mom.

  I stood on the sidewalk and listened to the cab disappear into the distance. A minute or two passed before I could drag my feet up those graceful stone stairs and stare at the beautiful, dark wood of their door. I still couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. I had been so adamant about staying far away from these people only a few days earlier. Now I was at their door in the middle of the night, heart beating like a drum. My need for their help warred with my pride. (And not a bit of me was scared shitless of what new and exciting freakishness awaited me beyond that door. Nope, not one bit.)