Realms of Mist and Ash: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 2

by J. S. Malcom

  As soon as she says it, I know. My breath catches in my throat as my heart starts beating faster.

  Lily reads my expression and she nods. “I thought it would take me back home, but it didn’t. I came here instead, and I never made it back.”

  She stops there, but I don’t need to know the details. They don’t really matter. I feel my jaw set hard as I think about what happened. Someone saw a little girl and took her away from everything she knew and loved. The circumstances were entirely different, but the same thing happened to me. Someone stole her childhood and, no matter what happens, she’ll never get it back.

  In that moment, I make a promise to myself. I’m going to survive, and I’m going to escape. And it’s not just Julia who I’m going to rescue. Not anymore.

  “I’ll find a way to help you.” The words just come out before I have a chance to stop them. It’s not fair making that promise, I know. Not when I have no idea how, or if I even can.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Lily says. “I’m fine. Really. It’s not so bad here. There’s Helen, and Mitch and Beth.”

  “Who’s Beth?”

  “She looks after Erdella mostly. We almost never see her, but she seems nice enough. And now I have you as a roommate. I’ve never had a roommate.”

  It’s sad to think that there’s yet another half-blood trapped in this house. And who can say how many more have been taken, and kept in other houses just like this one? But I prop myself up on my elbows again. I try to smile. “I’ve never had a roommate either.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, really.” And it’s true. I guess, in a weird way, Julia would count, but the circumstances are just too much to go into now. Besides, what matters is that Lily has gone back to smiling.

  “I think it will be fun,” she says. “But, first, you need to take care of yourself and get some rest. We’ll have plenty to do in the morning.”

  Lily reaches over and turns out the light.

  I must fall asleep fast, since I don’t remember another thing until I wake up later to see the ghost beside my bed.

  CHAPTER 22

  She’s young, maybe ten years old, and at first I think I’m dreaming about Lily’s story of her past. But the girl has long black hair, pale green eyes and slender pointed ears. She also flickers as she stands a few feet away, surrounded by a luminous aura, telling me that ghosts are the same in this realm as within my own. The girl is both here and not at the same time.

  She flickers forward, then remains still, becoming less transparent as she continues to manifest. I’m too used to ghosts now to react with much in the way of surprise. I don’t jump up or gasp. My eyes don’t go wide. Instead, I remain lying on my side, watching as she steps closer and holds a finger to pursed lips. She motions for me to get up, and then steps back.

  I get out of bed as quietly as possible. The last thing I need is being heard. The room is now lit by only a sliver of moonlight, but I see Lily sleeping soundly, her mouth parted as she dreams. Good. Stay asleep, girl. Dream of the times before you came here, or of those you’ll know after you leave. I creep past her bed as the ghost waits by the door. She motions again, this time for me to follow. I do as I’m told, part of me thinking this is the one power they can’t know about, or take away. This part of being a veil witch involves no magic. It can’t be learned or withheld. Veil witches see ghosts, and ghosts tell us things. We were born for that purpose.

  She passes through the door and I stop, assuming I’ll find it locked. But ghosts know things we don’t. I’ve experienced that many times. I try the knob and it turns. The door opens onto a dark tunnel of a hall, lit by torches glowing dimly and without flame. A hall lit by magic. I close the door behind me.

  Again, the ghost stands waiting. Then she flickers forward. She doesn’t have to walk, but if she did her footsteps would make no sound. I do my best to be sure mine don’t either as I scurry along the stone floor of the lower level. The ghost girl, further on now, stops and waits. She regards me with a serious expression, her child’s brow furrowed. With what? Annoyance? Worry? I can’t tell.

  I no sooner start to catch up when she flickers forward again, this time up a staircase. She waits at a landing halfway up. I may not fear ghosts, but I fear where she’s taking me. Should I trust her? I’ve met many ghosts, not all of them kind. Is this dead fae girl leading me into a trap?

  She waits, her aura softly pulsing around her. I have to make a decision, and it seems I have very few choices. I start climbing the stairs.

  We emerge into another vast sitting room, but not the one I saw. How many rooms are in this house? How many back staircases? I follow her past arched windows spilling moonlight and into yet another hall. The ghost girl stops at a door. She points, and then vanishes.

  My heartbeat kicks up another notch as I stand there alone. What will I say if I’m caught? That I got lost? That I just happened to wander up the stairs and into this hall? All I know is that the ghost took me to this room, but I don’t know why. Nor do I know why she can’t tell me. There must be something in there she wants me to see. Then again, I can’t be sure if it’s a trap, a prank played on a human by a faerie ghost child. But why would she go to such lengths? And why me? I need to decide, so I do. Gently, I reach out and grasp the doorknob. It doesn’t turn, not even slightly. But that’s when I hear voices. Men, or older boys possibly. Oh, my God, she did, she tricked me! I hear footsteps approaching fast.

  I spin around to see the ghost girl again, now standing down the hall. Once again, she motions for me to follow as she holds a finger to her lips. Not that I need to be told, but I understand. No, she didn’t trap me, but she wanted me to know… something. I’m not sure what. She wanted me to know about that door. That much is for sure.

  I run, skimming my feet across the hallway carpet runner. My heart pounds in my ears, to the point where I can’t imagine it not being heard. The ghost is at the stairs, leading me down again. She guides me down the hall, past all those doors. She points once more, showing me where to go. I turn the knob and find myself back in the room where Lily remains sleeping.

  When I turn to see, the ghost is gone, but it seems that I’m safe for now. I climb quietly back into bed. Then I lie there listening to footsteps passing by above, along with the murmur of unfamiliar voices in a nightmare world.

  CHAPTER 23

  Lily nudges me awake in the morning. Well, technically it's morning, although the sun hasn't yet started to rise. I was dreaming about being at the Cauldron, playing a game with my friends. We were all laughing about something, but whatever that was fades as I remember where I am.

  “We should get started,” Lily says.

  Started at what she doesn't say, nor do I ask. It's not like I have an option, and I'm too tired to object anyway. Between nearly getting killed by Raakel's magic, and a restless night following my adventures with the ghost, I didn't get much sleep.

  “Come on, we'll get you some coffee,” Lily says. “I bet you need it.”

  Yes, I need coffee. I also need the pendant and my athame. Then I can get this party started. Something tells me I’ll have to settle for coffee and, frankly, I’m surprised at being allowed that. We walk down the hall in the opposite direction from the way I went last night. We climb a different set of stairs, one that brings us right into the kitchen. Access designed just for us, an especially nice touch.

  My gaze goes to the giant hearth, which glows low now while yesterday it burned like a furnace. The wall torches still cast light, but much less. Sensing my curiosity, Lily says, “That's how we'll know when the family wakes up. The hearth always dims when they go to bed. The torches too.”

  I gesture toward the fireplace. “Does magic keep it going?”

  Lily nods as she walks to the stove, where she ignites a burner beneath a kettle. “Isn't it amazing? The lights, the heat, almost everything they use is powered that way.”

  I guess in a way it is amazing, but I'm not sure I'd choose that word to describ
e it. More like wasteful. Selfish. Greedy. Although the sense I get is that Lily doesn't know about what Cade told me, how the Seelie are depleting their world of magic. So it’s understandable that, despite their cruelty, she remains in awe of their powers.

  We go to a work table in the center of the room, where Lily opens a jar of coffee beans. The aroma rises to my nose, and I ask about what crossed my mind before. “I’m sort of surprised it’s even allowed. I figured we were lucky to get water.”

  Lily pours coffee beans into a metal cylinder with a crank handle that I assume to be a coffee grinder. Weird. The Seelie burn magic to light empty rooms, but grind coffee by hand. Then again, they don't, do they? They have their prisoners do it.

  “As long as we do what's expected, we’re allowed certain privileges,” Lily says. “We get to eat the leftovers. We can walk about the fields and gardens. We can—”

  “Wait, we can go outside?”

  “As long as we're not needed at the time.”

  Which begs the obvious question. “How do you know when you're not needed?”

  The corner of Lily's mouth lifts in a smile. “That's the tricky part.”

  I wait as she goes to the stove and comes back with the kettle. Lily scoops the ground coffee into a large French press, then adds boiling water.

  “What's to keep you from running away?”

  “They know if you try.” Lily says. “I don't know how, but they do.”

  “Probably charms of some sort.” I regret it as soon as I say it. Right now, it’s safest if Lily doesn’t know I’m a witch. Safest for me, that’s for sure.

  But she just presses down the filter plunger. “I guess you must know a few things about magic. Most of us do, but I never got to use mine.”

  I want to tell her that she’ll have that chance when I get her out of here, but I won’t be able to do that unless I can figure out how. And for some reason, I feel sure that what happened last night factors in. How, I have no idea. I try to keep my voice casual, as if it’s natural to ask. “Hey, is there a ghost in this house?”

  Lily gets two mugs from a shelf and brings them back to the work table. “A ghost? Why?”

  I hesitate, not sure how much I should say. Then I make up a revised version of the truth. “I got up last night to use the bathroom, and had sort of a strange experience. I thought I saw someone in the hall. Then she was just gone, like she vanished.”

  Lily’s eyes meet mine. “A little girl?”

  “I think so. Like I said, it happened fast. Have you seen her?”

  Lily pours coffee into our mugs. “No, but Simone used to say she could see her.”

  This is the third time Simone has been mentioned, but right now I need to learn about the ghost. “Did Simone ever say who she thought the girl was?”

  Lily lowers her voice to a whisper. “Simone thought it might be Fashenan, the Ferndelm’s first daughter.”

  “Oh.” Despite what I've experienced here so far, it's still impossible not to feel sad at the thought of a young girl dying. “What happened to her, do you know?”

  Suddenly, Helen comes bustling into the kitchen, tying on an apron as she approaches. “Good morning to you both. My apologies for sleeping in.”

  I glance at the window, which is only now starting to brighten, and I look at Helen again to see the weariness in her eyes. I can’t help but wonder. How long has she considered sleeping until daybreak sleeping in? Something tells me a long time.

  “We should get moving on the biscuits,” Helen says. “If not, they’ll skin us alive.”

  Sadly, that’s probably not an exaggeration.

  Helen looks around the kitchen. “And the little one was asking after tarts last night, so we'd be smart to whip up a batch of those too while we're at it. I reckon we're lucky if we have an hour. Two, tops.”

  Right. The little one. Don’t get me started.

  Despite her call to action, Helen gets herself a mug and joins us at the table. She fills her mug as we pass milk and honey around. I finally take a sip, and it might be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. Then again, right now I could probably lap at a mud puddle and give it a thumbs up. When was the last time I had something to eat or drink?

  Helen looks back and forth between us. “So, what are you two gabbing about?”

  Lily speaks softly. “Fashenan. Do you know what happened to her?”

  Helen sighs. “That's a sad story, that is. Fashenan was their first. That was what, twenty years ago? I'd imagine that's about right.”

  A sense of shock ripples through me at the thought of Helen being here that long. It's worse than I thought, but I manage keeping my thoughts to myself. There's no reason to make her feel even worse about her situation.

  Helen sips her coffee and lets out another tired sigh. “Fashenan was a caring girl, and very bright. Especially for her age. She didn’t like the way we were treated, not one bit. One day, just before sunset, she caught her mother venting her anger on one of us. Actually, it was Simone, come to think of it.” Helen glances away for a moment, and then resumes. “Well, it was too much for Fashenan, and she ran off in tears. She took to the woods on the south side of the property, and they couldn’t manage to find her. They got the dogs out, and all the men on their horses, blazing their magic torches so bright it lit up the night. Even so, it wasn’t until morning that they found her. She’d run off a cliff in the dark, apparently. Trying to find her way home maybe. Maybe not. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The poor thing.”

  Lily’s eyes glisten as she wipes a tear from her cheek. “That’s so sad.”

  And it is sad. It’s tragic. Still, I have to say it. “But it didn’t change anything, did it?”

  Helen’s eyes meet mine. “No, love, it didn’t. If anything, we were treated worse for a while. Even when Lord Ferndelm tried to put a stop to it, she continued. She blamed us for what happened.”

  I have no doubt who Helen means. “How old are they, anyway?” I bite back my distaste and add, “Lord and Lady Ferndelm, I mean.”

  If Fashenan died twenty years ago, and she was ten or so, then she would have been at least thirty now. At the same time, Erdella isn’t much more than a toddler.

  “Lord knows,” Helen says. “A hundred, at least. They look young, the fae. Once they mature, they barely age.”

  I think of the other kids I’ve seen here, trying to recall their names. Erdella, of course. Then there was Perth. Oh, and Weylar. His name, I have no trouble remembering. “Was Fashenan their only child at the time?”

  Helen shakes her head. “No, there was Esras. You haven’t seen him yet, but he was just a year younger at the time. But enough about this. We need to get a move on. Lily, hon, will you fetch the flour? I’ll get some pans ready.” She turns to me and adds, “We better start teaching you the ways of this house, if you’re going to survive.”

  I prepare to follow Helen without saying what’s on my mind. Namely, that I don’t plan on just surviving. I plan on finding a way to take this house down. In that moment, it occurs to me that maybe Fashanen has the exact same intention.

  CHAPTER 24

  We spend the next few hours preparing food for the coming day, as I learn all kinds of things I soon hope to forget. I learn how the Ferndelms expect certain items to be baked fresh each morning, including bread, muffins, pastries and, of course tarts. The types vary from day to day, and failing to predict which will be preferred on a given morning results in disapproval. What ‘disapproval’ entails, exactly, Helen doesn’t say, and I don’t ask. I learn how the Ferndelms expect to choose from at least two types of fresh parfaits, preferably three. I learn that they drink only fresh hand-squeezed juice—several kinds, of course—and that Lady Ferndelm prefers tea and Lord Ferndelm coffee, which can never be more than an hour old. And that’s the fun stuff.

  I also learn that there’s a room off the kitchen with tiled walls and a drain in the floor, where we’re required to skin and gut animals. What they are, exactly, I’m not
always sure. Some look like rabbits, although they’re closer in size to small dogs. Some resemble chickens, but they have four eyes and rows of razor sharp teeth within their beaks. Others look like furry pigs with wings—so, I guess the old “when pigs fly” line is meaningless here. We wear leather aprons as we perform these tasks, to keep the blood—which we hose down the drain—from splashing onto our clothes. Evidently, such a stain is a punishable offence. No, I don’t ask about the punishment either. Presumably Raakel cuts your ears off or something similarly reasonable in her view.

  By the time the hearth fully flares to life, and lights throughout the kitchen suddenly triple their intensity, Helen reports that she thinks we’ll be okay. At least as far as breakfast and lunch are concerned. We’ll start the preliminaries for dinner shortly, then start cleaning the house once family members either go on their way, or return upstairs. This part rings strangely to my ear but, evidently, the house has four floors. We inhabit the bottom floor, where there are also laundry rooms, storage rooms and supposedly a dungeon. Helen claims never to have seen it, so I have to wonder if its existence was invented as a scare tactic. The floor we’re presently on is mostly comprised of sitting rooms and dining areas, although apparently Lord Ferndelm keeps a study there as well. The floor above is where family members relax, and there’s yet another above that where they sleep. Yes, I just can’t wait to start cleaning.

  At one point, as we finish scrubbing a sink full of pots, Helen gives me a once over. Maybe I look as bad as I feel after getting so little sleep, or maybe she just sees that I’m soaked with sweat. Amazingly, she still looks pretty fresh.

  “You should take a break, love,” she says. “You’re not used to this sort of thing.”