Lies in the Dark

by Robert J. Crane

  “If they ever finish …” Orianna mumbled.

  Lady Albus sighed heavily. “You’re quite right. I don’t even know if they have picked them back up.”

  “The last I heard, they abandoned them all together,” Orianna said, shrugging. But there was a strain in her eyes as she stared at the ground.

  “That is not good if that’s what is happening,” Lady Albus said. “We need those talks to continue. The Unseelie can have this accursed territory all to themselves for all I care. This is hardly in our borders, after all.” Lady Albus seemed to lose herself in considering this future, scratching at her wild hair. “With the war over, my hospital wouldn’t be used for any more than minor injuries. And it wouldn’t have to be in a tent anymore, either.”

  I looked down at the faerie who had been attacked. She was lying on her back, hands folded over her chest as if she were practicing some breathing exercises. But she wasn’t moving at all.

  I reached out and put my hand on hers, just to let her know that someone was there, and someone cared about what happened to her.

  Then I shrieked, jumping away from her.

  The whole room had gone dark, the light dying around me as though the sun had been snuffed out. The tent shrank, the walls turned from glass to cloth and flapped madly as if caught in a terrible wind storm. The girl on the bed was sprawled, limbs at odd angles, a long gash across her throat spewing silver blood, her eyes, open and blank, staring into the abyss.

  My heart thundered in my ears, blood pumping furiously, painfully through my veins. I wheeled around.

  The golden light had gone. Only dim light remained, like lit candles in the night, where I could just see cots filled with moaning, screeching, crying faeries. Nurses hurried between the beds, casting spells or charms over them, trying to do anything to ease the suffering all around.

  I watched as another pair of faeries dragged a gurney in through the now-narrow flap of the tent, carrying the lifeless form of a child. The little boy’s arm was hanging limp over the side, shining, silver blood dripping from the tips of his fingers. It hung there, unmoving—

  Then the golden light had returned in a bright flash, as though it had never left. I was back in the vast, open space of the hospital, not in a shrunken tent, caught in a storm.

  The quiet had returned.

  No one looked at me. Apparently my shriek had not been heard by any of those in the room.

  My skin crawled as I pulled my hand from the sleeping faerie. Her skin was cold, like ice cubes right out of the freezer.

  She was dead.

  “Lockwood?” I asked.

  He turned to look at me. Lady Albus looked past him at me, curious at my interruption while Orianna fluttered to the side, watching.

  Lockwood’s eyebrow raised in slight surprise as I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the archway, back toward the door. There was no child on a gurney, no hint of death in this shining, golden place.

  “We need to talk,” I said, pulling him along, away from the others. He did not resist, and neither Orianna nor Lady Albus followed as I led him out of the tent.

  I needed answers.

  Chapter 16

  “Cassandra—”

  Yeah, I wasn’t giving him the chance to protest.

  I dragged him away from Lady Albus, back out of the tent, section by section. How was it so immense now, where in the moment that it had flashed, it had seemed smaller? Wouldn’t we bump into a wall any second now?

  I grimaced. I really didn’t like magic very much, and the fact that it could warp my sense of reality made it even less palatable.

  Like I was in the middle of the biggest lie I’d ever run across. And it wasn’t even one of mine.

  There were large, wide pillars that reached up into the vaulted ceiling of the hospital, plenty wide for the both of us to stand behind. When I was confident that Lady Albus couldn’t see us and knew that we wouldn’t be overheard, I let go of Lockwood, and we stood there, staring at each other, in an open space some thirty feet from the nearest cot. Its occupant was a male fae with blue hair who looked to be sleeping.

  “What is the matter?” Lockwood asked, his eyes narrowed in concern.

  “I had another … flicker,” I told him, thinking it was crazy even as I said it. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

  But I’d seen it. With my waking eyes, I’d seen it.

  “What did you see this time?” he asked.

  He would never understand how grateful I was that he didn’t challenge me about it or question me. A liar like me who’d been caught enough times gets used to being challenged. It was one the things that drove me the most nuts about being home with my parents lately, the constant challenges over stupid stuff.

  Lockwood, though … he just believed me and skipped ten unnecessary steps.

  “Everyone here …” I said, the bile rising in my throat. “They’re all sick, Lockwood. Dying. Diseases, gruesome wounds … the girl that I was standing beside, the one who looked like she was sleeping? Yeah. Slit throat. Blood everywhere—”

  He put his hands on my shoulder as I began to tremble.

  I had never seen a dead body before. Vampires didn’t count. They were already dead, and they turned to black mush when you killed them. But that girl I had touched …

  She looked no older than I was. More innocent, even. She couldn’t lie. And she’d seemed … alive.

  But wasn’t anymore. That was the truth I’d seen in the flicker.

  “What I saw,” I said, “it’s like … I was seeing this place for what it really is, right now, instead of … some golden version of what happened in the past.”

  “What do you mean, in the past?” Lockwood asked.

  “Remember how the faerie at the farm said that the Seelie forces had been through there weeks ago? In my flicker there, I saw the soldiers walking toward Stormbreak. And they were wearing the same armor that the Seelie here are wearing. As though I could somehow see … the past. The terrible, crop-razing event he talked about.” I brushed my hair back behind my ear. “I wondered how they could have regrown all those crops so fast. It was like … an illusion or something. Just … weird.”

  Lockwood pursed his lips, his jaw tightening.

  “Why am I the only one who can see it?”

  “I really don’t know, Cassandra,” Lockwood replied in a low voice, his grip strengthening. “I don’t understand it. I’ve never heard of anything like it. It’s almost as if …” His gaze became distant, and he shook his head in disbelief.

  “What?” I asked, not much liking the look on his face. “What, Lockwood?”

  “It’s almost as if you can see through glamours …” His voice was a whisper. He looked around the room, gaze hardening. “As if they are layering glamours here to keep up appearances.”

  “What would be the benefit of putting a glamour up?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be detected?”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “Orianna doesn’t know you are glamoured. And they haven’t discovered hers.”

  “So you do all lie to one another,” I said quietly. “But it’s in more of an underhanded way. It’s everywhere but out of your mouths.”

  Lockwood didn’t reply. He looked pained and confused.

  “So what’s real?” I asked. “What I’m seeing right now?” I gestured around. “Or what I see when the whole world flickers black?”

  “Both, in a sense,” he said.

  “Don’t give me your cryptic answers,” I snapped. “I am so not in the mood.”

  He swallowed, staring over my head.

  I prodded him in the chest with one of my fingers. “What is going on here, Lockwood? Why do I keep seeing these scenes of horror and death?”

  “It’s the war,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You know,” I said. “You know what’s happening to me.”

  “I do,” he said at last.

  “
Lockwood, tell me,” I said. “I deserve to know why I keep seeing these awful things. Is this something that’s happened before? Something that’s about to happen? I mean, if it’s a glamour, then … is it how things are now?”

  “I agree, you do deserve to understand,” Lockwood said, craning his neck to stare past me. He seemed desperate to not have this conversation right now. And I wasn’t even sure if he could answer my questions. The anxiety emanating from him was making that pretty clear. “And I promise you that I will help you understand what is happening. But for right now—”

  He grabbed onto my wrist and yanked me around the corner of the pillar. The warm, golden sunlight pouring in through the great, tall windows beside us washed over us both. I squinted against the sudden brightness.

  “What the—”

  “We need to hide,” Lockwood said. “Someone just walked in that could ruin everything for us if he were to see me.”

  “Who is it?” I asked, my heart sinking.

  “He’s …” Lockwood said.

  I carefully peered around the corner of the pillar, and saw a group of faeries standing beside the foyer stuffed with greenery, and it was obvious who Lockwood was talking about. Standing there was a tall faerie with deep green wings, dark hair, and a pointed, narrow face. His wide grin showed off perfect, pearly white teeth. He was incredibly handsome, in a dark, mysterious sort of way, but was dressed oddly, in a black jacket with tails that stretched all the way to the floor. His tunic and trousers resembled the Seelie guards’ armor, though it was made of far more luxurious material.

  Nurses in their red-trimmed tunics and some of the ambulatory patients were gathered around him as if he were a celebrity. He seemed to take little note of the clamor, focusing on one person at a time and giving them all his attention.

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  Lockwood had not looked around the pillar with me. His back was against the pillar, flat, and he was looking in the exact opposite direction, stone-faced. “He’s a member of the Seelie court.”

  “Like … one of the people who run things in Summer?” I asked, peering up at Lockwood, withdrawing my head from around the pillar.

  “Yes,” Lockwood said. “That he is.”

  “What’s he doing all the way out here?”

  “I really am not—”

  But then a ringing voice pierced through the dull murmurs.

  “No, no, that’s quite all right,” the voice said, with a warm laugh. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t stay very long. We are moving on to the eastern side of the territory, evaluating the situation there.”

  “But Master Calvor,” came a higher voice, probably one of the nurses, “surely you will stay for something to eat? It must have been a long journey, and you are welcome to rest for a spell.”

  There was a sound of scuffling feet, and I peered around the corner once more to see a few more nurses appear with trays in their hands, all laden with teapots, cups, bowls overflowing with fruits and sparkling treats. It was a lavish display, fit for a king.

  Master Calvor waved his hands and laughed. “No, please. I wished to serve on my visit here, not be served.”

  “But you have done so very much for us,” came the voice of Lady Albus. She had appeared within the gathering crowd, and made her way to the front to speak to Master Calvor. “Those healing here have much to thank you for.”

  The image of the dying patients flashed across my mind. I shook the thought away.

  “I hope that bringing some fresh snowbells is a worthy offering?” Master Calvor said. He lifted a small, silk satchel from the pocket of his tunic and passed it to Lady Albus. “I ensured they were picked fresh, right before my departure.”

  “You are far too kind, Master Calvor,” Lady Albus said, bowing deeply.

  “Ah, Master Calvor. I am glad you are here.”

  Yet another faerie appeared, this time an elegant woman who looked more like my idea of an elf than a faerie. She had long, pointed ears that were adorned with glimmering jewels, wore a long white shapeless dress with pointed shoulders, and her eyes were slanted and heavy lidded. Her wings were nearly transparent, as white as fresh snow.

  “Mistress Sana. What a pleasure it is.”

  The others who were gathered around Master Calvor parted like a zipper, and Mistress Sana approached him.

  “I take it she’s part of the court, too?” I hissed over my shoulder at Lockwood.

  He glanced away, looking like he would rather be anywhere than here. He nodded his head all the same.

  “I was hoping that I might catch you,” she said. “Come. Let us speak in private.”

  And then they were heading right for us.

  “Of course,” I hissed under my breath. I leaned back around the pillar. “They’re coming this way.”

  Lockwood rolled his eyes and nodded his head in a resigned, I expected nothing less sort of way.

  The two faeries moved toward the windows where we were standing, and Lockwood and I appeared to be of the same mind as we continued to move around the pillar, ensuring we were always out of their sight. So far, neither of them seemed to suspect we were there. I kept a watchful eye for the entourage that had so recently crowded around Master Calvor, but they had seemed to already dissolve back to their duties, and none were looking in our direction.

  “Just … act naturally,” Lockwood said, leaning against the pillar in an unconvincing display of nonchalance.

  “Right, because you’re so cool,” I said.

  But he was right. It was best to not draw any unwanted attention to ourselves.

  The other two faeries stopped on the other side of the pillar. When I peered around it, I could see their reflections in the tall windows.

  “I apologize for all of the attention,” Mistress Sana said in her low, breathy sort of voice. She had folded her hands in front of herself, and was peering up into Master Calvor’s face.

  “There is no need,” Master Calvor said, inclining his head. “I am always happy to see those Seelie who are fighting for the cause. The hospital seems to be doing well.” He looked around, and I ducked back behind the pillar. “Everything seems to be … holding up.”

  “For now,” Mistress Sana said slowly. “I am sorry, Luther … I haven’t had a chance to really convey my sympathies since this all happened. How have you been holding up? How is Celestia?”

  Since what happened? I leaned a little closer, my ears straining to catch the words.

  “Thank you,” Master Calvor said. “It has been a most … trying time. The boy’s mother has been a wreck, and little aside from a mounting death toll of Unseelie will soothe her.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Mounting death toll sounded … rather ominous. And the outright hostility … with both of them being so open about it?

  “Completely understandable,” Mistress Sana said. “I would feel the same if I were in your shoes.”

  Master Calvor made a noise of assent. “Ensuring justice is all that matters now. Once that has been enacted, everything will be as it should be. Those filthy mongrels can go back to their open deceit and trickery, but they will always know that order shall triumph.”

  I chanced another look. Mistress Sana was peering out of the windows into the open fields beyond, children chasing each other back and forth among the tall grasses.

  “I heard the peace talks have broken down,” she murmured. “That isn’t good.”

  “No,” Master Calvor said, dipping his head. Clearly he didn’t want the conversation to move that way. “There have been too many innocent Seelie slain at the hands of those … heathens. They have pushed and forced us out. Did you hear what happened at Stormbreak?”

  Mistress Sana nodded. “The city itself was nearly captured. I wish it had been. We could have prevented the destruction of more homes belonging to the fae in the area. We have done all we could to provide them a place of shelter and rest. But even they have begun to suspect that things are …graver than they know.”
/>   “If that Unseelie girl had just—”

  Mistress Sana held up her hand to silence him. “There is no changing the past. I apologize for re-opening old wounds. I should not keep you from your duties, and I have responsibilities of my own to return to.”

  Master Calvor smoothed the front of his lapel and exhaled heavily through his nose. “You are correct. Thank you, Mistress Sana, for your hospitality. The court shall be glad to hear of your success here.”

  “Tell them I send my regards,” she said. “That I give them my permission to use my hand in whatever vote they need to. I trust that you will do the best for the court.”

  “The best for the court … yes.” Calvor started to pace away, his eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare.

  “Oh, and Master Calvor?” Mistress Sana said.

  “Yes?” His head rose, and he blinked at her a few times.

  “Do be careful.”

  “And you, Mistress.” His face crinkled about the eyes, as he smiled as he walked off.

  I lurched back around to stand beside Lockwood, whose face had paled.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked under my breath.

  He didn’t answer; he was too busy watching Master Calvor walk away.

  “Lockwood … are you okay?”

  He looked back at me, utterly ashen. “What?”

  “What they said … did it upset you that much?” I asked.

  He licked his lips and stared at his feet. “It is … not good.”

  “Well, I figured that much out,” I said. Mistress Sana had wandered down another extension of the tent, and Master Calvor had left the tent all together, a group of guards in tow.

  I leaned back against the pillar. “He was talking about a son … did something happen to a little boy?”

  Lockwood shook his head. “No, not a child. The boy was an adult by any definition.”

  My eyes widened. “What happened?”

  Lockwood stared at me, his jaw working. “He was Calvor’s son, and he was killed.”

  I blanched. “Wow. No wonder he sounded so bitter. But …” I looked around. “… Did his son’s death have something to do with the war?”