“After I visited you yesterday, I went to the Huntsman to talk to Lochlan.” Ash's eyes got big and she leaned forward. “And?”
“And, he and his 'associates' are like a police force for the Fae.”
“He confirmed, the creatures are Fae?”
I described the conversation in detail, leaving out my getting hot and bothered and the whole scenting me part.
“Well you're in luck. If we know it's Fae that we're dealing with, I'm a veritable encyclopedia on the Fae. I can give you a rundown of the basics. First, you can't eat or drink anything from Faery because it will mess you up.” She began to tick off on her fingers all of her acquired knowledge of Fae lore. “They can't lie but they can be super tricky when you talk to them.”
“Yeah, I got a taste of that one already.” I grumbled and received a raised brow in response before she continued.
“There's the gentry, they are the sophisticated, more people-like Faeries but there’s loads of other kinds, too. The scary part about them is they tend to be the ones that go after sex, whether just because they're extremely sexual or because they feed off of humans’ sexual energy.”
“Lochlan mentioned something about feeding on sexual energy, but I'm not sure what that means.”
“I’m not certain how it works but it means they sometimes ensnare humans to feed from them. They use their power to make you so turned on that you don’t know which way is up or down and you basically become a sex slave.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, it's all you can think about. Sex becomes your world and you lose yourself.”
The Fae could manipulate your hormones or whatever their magic did to make you compliant and unable to think clearly—that sounded awfully familiar. Fucking Lochlan. That had to be why I got so horny and stupid every time I was near him.
I was going to kill him.
Unaware of my internal revelations, she continued. “Most books say there's a Seelie Court and an Unseelie Court, but sometimes they call them Day Court and Night Court or Summer and Winter Courts—it seems like each book has the courts set up differently so I'm not sure on that one. The Unseelie are nasty but essentially the Seelie aren't much better because they all like to screw with humans. One book that I read had some kind of water horse that dragged people into lakes and ate them, but I'm not sure if that was Seelie or Unseelie. Let’s see … they usually can’t use technology because of their Fae energy, or something like that.”
“I think that one must not be true because when I got to Lochlan’s office he was working on a laptop.”
“Okay, we can take that off the list. Across the board though, every book has some variation that the Fae cannot tolerate iron, that has to be true.”
“How on earth do remember all this?” My head was starting to spin at all the information and the rate at which she was throwing it at me.
“You know fantasy is my thing—most books follow the same general principals, depending on the creatures involved. Read enough of them and these fantasy worlds become familiar.”
“I guess I've mostly stuck to classics or mysteries,” I said with a bit of a frown, wishing I had branched out more in my reading selections.
“No worries, that's what I'm here for. What else can I drudge up ... some of them can trace or fade or sift—whatever you want to call it when they teleport from one place to another. Oh! And time spent in Faery is almost never the same as earth time.”
“What is Faery? Like a whole other planet?”
“That's another one of those things that changes with everything you read, so I'm not sure. Sometimes it's a whole other planet, sometimes just a different realm or dimension.” She paused, casting unseeing eyes at the ceiling. “Most of the Fae use glamour to hide what they are—I'm sure that's what that vampire girl was using but I'm not sure how you were able to see past it. My understanding is that us normal humans shouldn't be able to see past a glamour.”
“I'm telling you, it's the necklace. I think it's magical and it's the reason I can see these things.”
“I just think we need to hold off judgment on that until we get more information.”
“Ok, Fae-guru, moving on. What do you know about the Wild Hunt?”
Ash didn't answer immediately but her eyes grew round and her jaw fell open. “Oh my God. The Huntsman.”
I nodded in confirmation as the realization hit her that Ronan and Lochlan were Fae and they were part of the Wild Hunt.
“Becca,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “you're in danger. The Fae of the Wild Hunt, they're almost never good. They're hunters, they take humans and Fae and kill them, for fun.”
“I know, honey. Neither Lochlan nor Ronan has indicated they have any intentions of hurting me, but I'm definitely staying on my guard. I'm not telling them anything that I don't feel is absolutely necessary.” What I didn’t say was that I wasn't going to tell her everything either.
“Well, maybe this whole thing will blow over. Yes, there are Fae here, but that doesn't have to change anything. If they've been here forever, then everything is normal, it's just a different normal than before.”
I was pretty sure that she was trying to convince herself that when she left, I wouldn't be in danger here by myself. I was all for that line of thinking so I encouraged her. “Absolutely, I haven't seen any Fae since the other night and if I watch where I'm going, make sure I have my phone on me, it's no different than living in New York City. We survived having Angry Arnold living outside our apartment building for two years, this is not all that different.” We both snickered at the reminder of the man we knew from our daily commutes, but we quickly sobered, and Ash turned to me with a grave expression.
“Becca, the Fae are immortal, I don’t even know if they can be killed. Please be careful.” I nodded and the back of my throat tightened as I gave her a shaky smile.
“Let's watch our movie. The Fae will still be there tomorrow and I could use a break.”
We curled up on the couch and put on one of my all-time favorite movies, Night and Day. It was funny and light hearted, and exactly what I needed to escape the questions running through my mind.
11
Not long after I dozed off, lost somewhere in the early stages of sleep, I recognized the feeling of being watched. Sensing his familiar presence, I rolled over in bed and took in the ominous shadow man looming over me in the darkness. Instead of screaming like I wanted to, this time I lay still and studied his presence.
I analyzed the absence of facial features and the swirling of dense smoke-like particles that made up his shape. But just as I started to relax in my observations, his gaseous arms slowly lifted toward me and the edges of his form began to blur until I could no longer recognize the shape of a man. My heartrate skyrocketed as the inky mass in front of me seemed to vibrate with energy and in a sudden rush, the thick cloud shot toward my face and funneled into my mouth and nose.
The parasite filtered into my paralyzed body, lungs screaming for air while I helplessly watched in horror as the darkness filled me. A fullness grew in my chest, like a balloon filled just shy of bursting. Before the blackness swallowed me whole, I bolted upright in bed.
I attempted to inhale ragged breaths in a futile struggle for more oxygen. My lungs were frozen tight in a painful contraction and not until I sat on the edge of the bed, dropping my head between my knees, was I able to get a taste of air. I did my best to exhale slowly and entice my lungs into relaxing back into normal breathing. My hands began to shake, and my body broke out in a fine sweat as the adrenaline drained from my system.
I had been asleep the whole time.
I wrapped a blanket around me and took stock of my surroundings. Ash had fallen asleep on the couch during the movie and I had covered her in blankets before I had gone to bed. A glance at my clock told me it was just after midnight and everything else seemed to be in order. The dream had been so disorienting that I felt as if there should be signs of the shadow man's presence ling
ering in the room, but everything looked as it should be.
In the past, the dream had always been exactly the same, each time it occurred.
Not once had there been a single variation.
Without the events of the last week, I would have dismissed the mutation of the dream as a product of watching too many horror movies, and gone back to bed. As it was, the dream had me worried and it would be a while before I could go back to sleep. I sat back on the bed and lowered my head onto my raised knees when I sensed a drip trickle from my nose. My fingers dabbed gently at my upper lip and even in the darkened room, I could see that they were now smeared in blood.
Seeing the blood after the dream was still so fresh in my mind made my head swim with dizziness and I was suddenly dangerously close to getting sick. I stumbled for the bathroom and stood for some time over the toilet while my stomach churned. Once the nausea had settled, I splashed my face with water and stared into my reflection in the mirror. Aside from the unnatural paleness of my features, nothing about my appearance was any different than it had been before the dream. I wasn't sure what I was searching for, but I needed the assurance that nothing about me had changed.
I switched off the light and went back to bed, burrowing under the covers. I lay awake for some time weighed down by the feeling that regardless of what the mirror showed, everything was different.
Throughout the day that followed, I couldn’t shake the melancholy that had come over me after the dream. I went through the motions at work but was lost in my head, attempting to reconcile my entire belief system with the events of the last week. Suddenly things that were important to me before were now minor in comparison to finding out that there was a magical race of beings in the world. Were any of them friendly? What could we learn from them? Would they try to take over Earth? My questions were endless, and the potential answers were a lead weight resting on my shoulders.
At noon I took my packed lunch to the small break room and warmed up my leftovers. I had only taken a couple of bites when Cat came in with her sack lunch and asked to join me at the table.
“Of course, have a seat,” I said with less enthusiasm than I meant.
“Are you sure? I can just head to the café if you’d prefer to be on your own.”
She started to turn but I quickly reassured her. “No, please sit. I just had a rough night’s sleep and I’m dragging today, I’d love for you to join me.”
She sat and spread out her lunch. “So, did you make it to the Huntsman on Friday?” she asked, with a curious glance in my direction.
“Yeah, we did, but you were right, we should probably have listened to you and found somewhere else to go that night.”
“What happened? I hope nothing too bad.”
“Well, it wasn’t necessarily the club’s fault. We just happened on bad luck after we left. When Ash and I were leaving, we were pulled into a nearby alley and got mugged. She ended up with a broken arm but otherwise we’re okay—it was just a pretty upsetting experience.”
“Oh my goodness, Rebecca, I’m so sorry! I hope Ashley’s okay.”
I could tell she was genuinely upset and her concern made me feel bad that I couldn't tell her the truth, and at the same time warmed that I had a friend here when Ash headed home. At least not everyone was out to intimidate or harm me.
“Thanks, Cat. I’m sure in the future I’ll be much more careful.”
“Actually, that reminds me.” She dug in the bag that she had carried in with her. “Here it is. I dabble in making jewelry and this was a little something I made, it’s yours if you want it.”
She slid her hand across the table and inside was a soft, light brown leather bracelet with ties on either end. The band was about half an inch wide and decorated with a repeating design of lines and dots that had been artfully burned into the leather.
“Cat, this is gorgeous—you made it?” Fingering the delicate markings, I wasn’t sure I had ever seen something so simple and yet so beautifully crafted in leather.
She nodded and offered hesitantly, “Would you like some help getting it on?”
“Definitely.” I extended my left wrist, and with deft fingers, she tied the strings into an intricate knot and then took out a small pocket knife from her bag to cut the excess strings.
“Thank you, Cat. I was thinking that I’d love to go get some coffee or have a drink after work with you. I want to hear more about your jewelry and any other hidden talents you might have,” I suggested in an attempt to return her offered token of friendship.
“I’d like that, but right now, I’d better hurry up and finish or Fergus will have my hide.”
“I don't think Fergus could harm a fly if his life depended on it. He certainly wouldn't get upset with you, you're like family to him.”
“You've just never been on his bad side, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, look out!” She shook her finger at me and I couldn’t help but laugh at her and the image of Fergus on the rampage. He was firm and had high expectations, but he was all marshmallow on the inside.
Not long after lunch, the man in question offered to finish my tour of the exhibits that had been cut short on my first day. I jumped at the chance to learn what he knew about the remaining artwork in the museum. We picked up at the bronze stallion sculpture that I had admired on my own walk through. Fergus explained that it was a permanent piece in the museum created in the Japanese Meiji Period in the late 1800s. From there we made our way to a temporary exhibit on loan from the National Galleries of Scotland as part of an ‘Artists of the UK’ exhibit.
“This first piece is The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania painted by one of my Scottish kinsmen, artist Joseph Noel Paton in 1849.”
“I remember this one from my studies, it’s a depiction of the argument between the king and queen of the Faeries from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I had not paid particular attention to the painting on my first trip through the museum, but in light of recent events, I was much more intrigued this time around. I quieted the questions bouncing around in my head to pay attention to what Fergus was teaching me.
“Indeed, the couple fought over the custody of a child. Each wanted to keep him for their own reasons and Oberon, doubting the veracity of Titania’s reason for wanting the child, tricked her into thinking she was in love with a man with a donkey’s head to punish and distract her. You can see the child, who was rumored to be an Indian king’s son, hiding behind Titania. Eventually the two reconcile and forgive one another but only after Oberon has taken the child.”
“To be his henchman, or knight, I believe.” I tried to recall the details of the story, but I had studied the literary elements more than the mythical legend, and would have to review the writing again to refresh my memory.
“Correct. The piece was painted around 300 years after Shakespeare wrote the play in the 1500s, so the imagery was impacted by the techniques and customs popular during Paton’s era. Nudity on a canvas would not have been tolerated in decent society, which meant his Faeries had to have wings to differentiate them from humans so as not to be seen as risqué.
“His work had a strong following and is unusual in its combination of a number of style elements from Rococo, to Romanticism, to Victorian landscapes. Oddly enough, he painted The Reconciliation of Oberon and Titania before he painted The Quarrel and perhaps the first painting set the stage for the second to garner the vast recognition that it did.
“You can see by the Faeries swarming the owl at the top of the painting, and in the more grotesque appearances of some of the characters in his depiction, that the Faeries were not entirely benevolent. This was thought to be representative of the violence occurring at the time in the Scottish Highlands.” As his summary came to a close, we both stood deep in concentration, taking in the many details of the painting.
My mind raced with questions—were Titania and Oberon the current king and queen of Faery? Was there any truth to the Shakespearean tale or was it merely fanciful imag
inings? If it had been real, how would Shakespeare have known about the Fae?
I made plans to see what I could dig up on Titania and Oberon when I got home, adding the names to my mental list of possible characters in this new world I was discovering.
Back at my apartment, that evening, I included Ash in my research endeavors as she was an excellent source for all things Fae. Plus, I was pretty sure hiding in my room to research alone was not going to go over well.
After we ate, I described the Quarrel painting to her and the background Fergus had imparted on me. She was familiar with the original literary work that was the inspiration of the painting, but like me, had not studied the play for its historical accuracy. I brought my laptop to the couch to see what I could uncover.
“Let’s start with Titania, she sounds as good a place as any.”
I googled her name and we gathered what information we could. It appeared that it was a common occurrence to give a Fae queen the name 'Titania' as there were any number of references in books, games, and comic books. There were even a number of sites that were dedicated fan pages for online games using Titania as a character but those seemed to have little historical lore and were more tied to the game storyline.
“Check this one out,” Ash said pointing to a site farther down the page. As I opened it, she read aloud. “Queen Titania ruled over the Summer Court, also known as the Shining Throne.” It went on to describe her minion Spriggan, and her possible ties to the Greek Goddess Hera.
“Good Lord, please don't tell me we are dealing with gods here as well. There's only so much I can take,” I said in exasperation.
“You've got to stop relying on your old constructs. This is our new reality, and anything is possible.”
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