Shot in the Dark (Shot in the Dark Trilogy Book 1)

by Mary Dublin

  "Pretty much," he replied readily, not seeming to have a conflicted conscience in the slightest about the concept. Cliff arched an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to argue more.

  The bathroom door opened and Jon walked out with a towel around his waist.

  "Forgot to grab clothes. That's not awkward at all," he muttered, hastening to gather up some clothes at random. His voice was friendly enough, but it wasn't enough to conceal the embarrassment on his face. He shot her a brief, pink-cheeked smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the closet to change.

  The amused smile wavering on Sylvia's face dropped completely the moment Jon disappeared behind the door. She glowered at Cliff.

  "Jon will let me go," she said with renewed confidence. "He'll actually listen to me. He'll understand that I can take care of myself. Wings or not, I don't belong around humans."

  "I don't know…" Preventing her attempts to retreat, Cliff pinched her waist and hoisted her up to the palm of his other hand. "The guy gets attached too easily to things. Has a hard time letting go," he murmured, tilting his hand this way and that to view different angles of her.

  Icy fear drenched her once again. She wanted to leap off his hand, damn the fall. He could just snatch her back up anyway. Cliff really knew what he was doing as far as scare tactics went, she realized. Refusing to make eye contact with him, she sat on her knees atop his palm. Despite her inward resolve to not let his words get to her, she found herself worrying about when she would be able to see home again. The humans taking her directly to the village was out of the question. She gritted her teeth, seething.

  "And what about you?" she said, still keeping her eyes lowered away from the giant man's face. Her tone was more careful, seeing as she was sitting in the palm of his hand. "You're not letting me go either. Do you get attached to things, Cliff?"

  "Would it make you feel better if I said no?" Cliff said in a bored voice.

  Jon opened the closet door, fully dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

  "I heard my name." He raised an eyebrow at them, walking over to toss the damp towel over the tub.

  Cliff spoke up before she could get a word in. "I was just explaining how we're protecting her by not letting her go until we catch whatever has been killing people near the house."

  Jon gave Sylvia a guilty look that immediately made her heart sink.

  "I… yeah," he admitted. "I'm sorry about that. Once we catch this thing, we'll put you back where we found you. We'll be nothing but a bad memory."

  "Great," she huffed. "Well, at least I know how good you are with a gun," she added coldly, glancing at Cliff.

  If the thing wasn't caught tonight, she would be looking at another day in comfortable captivity. Her family, her entire village, would undoubtedly think she was dead. She had never disappeared for more than one night. The thought of what her mother and sister were going through made her sick. She looked at both humans with a fresh sense of urgency.

  "Are we going now?" she asked.

  "Right after breakfast." Cliff rose to his feet. He pressed Sylvia into Jon's surprised hands on his way out. "She wants you," he informed him gruffly.

  Agitated by Cliff's careless handling, Sylvia had to refrain from hurling tantrum-like remarks at him. Both humans may have been keeping her against her will, but at least Jon seemed a little sorry about it. Her scathing gaze never left Cliff until he disappeared through the door. Jon's hands adjusted. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Jon staring questioningly with raised eyebrows.

  "It's fine," she assured, forcing a softened expression. "So, breakfast? I'm starving."

  "Yeah. What do you like? We've got cereal, fruit… I think Cliff still has a few pop-tarts around here."

  She hardly flinched when he curled his fingers around her while he walked to the kitchen. Feeling bold, Sylvia placed her hands on his fingertips and stood on his palm to look around the room. She was curious about what pop-tarts were, but hesitant about eating something that belonged to Cliff. Maybe it would annoy him. Which she realized she wouldn't mind at all.

  "Pop-tarts?" Sylvia frowned. "I've never heard of those. I think I'll give it a try."

  Damp tendrils of brown hair fell into Jon's eyes when he leaned forward to grab a decorative blue package off a high shelf. She only caught a glimpse of the pantry, but she knew her eyes had to be playing tricks on her with the sheer amount of food she thought she saw.

  "If you like sugar, you'll love these things." Jon set his hand flat on the countertop and waited for her to step off.

  Cliff emerged from around the fridge door, eating half a sandwich wrapped in cellophane and holding a carton marked "Orange Juice." When he saw Jon breaking off a piece of the frosting-covered pop-tart, Sylvia noticed Cliff's eyes lit up with an idle curiosity. She ignored him, disappointed that he was unbothered by her eating his food.

  A different kind of curiosity gleamed in her eyes soon after, though. She accepted the unfamiliar chunk of food from Jon's fingertips, turning the piece over in her hands. Everything she'd ever eaten came from the ground. She knew humans made all kinds of artificial food, and she'd often wondered what it would taste like.

  "This… wow!" Sylvia exclaimed through a full mouth. The strange, sweet sensation was jarring, unlike she'd ever experienced before. She grinned. Wiping some red fruit filling from the sides of her mouth, she eagerly took another bite. "This is really good!"

  A wide smile creased Jon's handsome face. "There's more where that came from."

  He waved the remaining pastry sticking out of the silver wrapper and took a bite out of the other one. She didn't protest. There was no way she would eat both anyway, at her size.

  Cliff tilted back the last of the orange juice, tossing the carton into the garbage bin in a smooth arc across the room. She silently rooted for him to miss, but was disappointed.

  "What's it like?" Cliff spoke up suddenly, wiping his mouth on a hand-towel. "Your home, I mean. Don't tell me you live under those rotting floorboards back at the old Dottage house."

  She looked up from her meal to scoff at him. The unnatural sugar loosened her tongue and made her talk a little faster. "Of course not! I don't live in the house at all. Home is already boring enough without having to hide under floorboards all day. Who wants that? Besides, my kind wouldn't dare live there, with the way they turn their noses up at practically everything human-made."

  "Except for pop-tarts, obviously," Cliff pointed out with a wry smile.

  "What were you doing in the house, then?" Jon asked curiously, breaking off another piece for her and taking a bite of his own.

  "Oh, just doing a little exploring." She took the piece from him with a confident smile, sitting at the edge of the counter with her legs dangling. "That's nothing new, really. I think humans are pretty interesting, actually."

  Every word tumbled out without much thought. She rolled her eyes.

  "Other fairies would die before going near something made by humans," Sylvia went on. "My little sister nearly fainted when she found out I've been going out looking for human things to explore. I'm just lucky she can keep a sec—" She halted, eyes wide with horror at what she'd allowed herself to say. She felt the weight of the hunters' gazes and knew she had to say something. "Anyway, that's why I-I was there." She decided it was the ideal moment to take another bite, lowering her gaze and praying that she hadn't just thrown her little sister into direct danger.

  "What's your little sister's name?" Cliff took the conversation in an unexpected direction. "I have a younger sis, too. That's why I ask."

  Sylvia hesitated, giving him a timid glance. Something told her to stop talking right there. But… what was the harm in saying her sister's name? Maybe it would even end the conversation quicker and more painlessly.

  "Hazel," she finally murmured, feeling her heart ache. "Her name is Hazel."

  His eyes lit up in recognition, likely recalling how she had called out for a "Hazel" that morning. Without a word,
Cliff exited the room and returned with a slab of folded leather. He opened and fiddled with it, finally withdrawing a tiny glossy photo.

  "This is Anna." With a single finger, he pushed the wallet-sized photo of an early-teenaged girl with blonde hair and the same green eyes as her big brother.

  Sylvia leaned over the photo curiously, still fascinated with the way humans could capture images on a paper without paint. Running her hand along the edge of the photo, a soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips despite herself.

  "She's pretty," Sylvia murmured.

  Thoughts of her own sister surfaced. She remembered the last thing she'd said to Hazel: a harsh guilt trip to not to tell anyone she was sneaking out to explore the old house. If she wasn't careful, that could very well be the last thing she said to her. Tears pricked at the back of Sylvia's eyes, but she rubbed them away hastily, despising the slip of emotion.

  "I'm full," she said, holding up what was left of her piece of pop-tart toward Jon and not even flinching as his fingers drew near in response.

  Jon pinched the small chunk and popped it in his mouth. Cliff took the picture back and tucked it away again. After a brief pause, he set his hand next to the fairy without a word.

  "Time to go," Cliff announced.

  Her heart began to race again. She stood up from the edge of the counter and climbed onto his offered hand as worries clustered in her mind. If they didn't find this rabid dog, or whatever was killing those people, she'd need to figure out how to get away. That was, if they even kept their word about letting her go.

  Biting her lip, she took a seat in the middle of Cliff's palm.

  "Let's go find us a killer," she said. She’d never thought she would be enthused by such a statement.

  Five

  Cliff sang along sporadically to the radio as he drove down the city streets. Sylvia raised her eyebrows, giving him a subtle once-over from her seat in Jon's lap. It was downright bizarre to think that the man humming off-key to this strange accompaniment was the was the same man who had shot her down last night.

  She shifted from time to time, still getting used to the feeling of a human's body being her seat. It was unnerving to feel the denim-clad muscle that supported her, to know that just a flick of the wrist for Jon would outmatch a warrior fairy who had trained his entire life. As if he picked up on her train of thought, Jon turned his head in Sylvia's direction. Her fidgeting must have been more noticeable than she gave herself credit for.

  "Hey, do you want a better view?" Jon asked. "You can't see much from my lap, can you?"

  "If it distracts me from his singing, then sure," she quipped, smirking. She was surprised she could produce anything resembling a smile under the circumstances. But she knew her situation wasn't as bleak as she first thought. With any luck, she would be back home and have her wing fixed before the day's end.

  Jon scoffed a quiet laugh as he lifted her to his shoulder, letting her climb up between the fold of his hoodie and his neck. One leg tucked awkwardly to the side, Sylvia settled in and focused on the window.

  The previous night's trip in the metal contraption had been too dark and terrifying to even think of looking out at the human city. Now, Sylvia was curious. The buildings were breathtaking, especially from her low vantage point. She had dreamed of venturing into the city many a time, though she had never worked up the nerve. It was even more overwhelming than she could have imagined, but it provoked more wonder than trepidation.

  "I'll never understand how you can build all these things without magic," she said.

  "From what I understand, it's just a lot of people working together," Jon replied.

  "—and money. Buckets of it," Cliff added.

  "Money," she said with a thoughtful frown. "That's the stuff you need to have in order to get things, right?" Sylvia hummed, bracing a hand against Jon's neck and drawing one leg up to her chest in an attempt to find a more agreeable position. "That sounds like such a hassle. But I guess a system like that makes sense, since there's loads of humans."

  "Yeah. It's a real pain in the ass if you ask me," Jon said nonchalantly.

  Sylvia continued staring at the buildings, fascinated despite how casually the humans were able to speak about their surroundings and practices. Everything through the window seemed to fly by in a blur, reiterating for her how fast human vehicles could travel.

  Pulling her gaze from the window, she gave the interior of the metal machine a glance. "What is this thing, anyway?" she asked, gesturing around her. "I've seen things like this from far away, but I've never been able to get a good look. They move too fast."

  "You mean the car?" There was a tone of perplexed amusement in Jon's tone.

  Blush crept to her cheeks, but he didn't seem to be making fun of her. He probably just had never needed to explain things like money or cars to someone before. Still, she half-expected one of the humans to roll their eyes and ask, "Don't you know anything?" But they didn't.

  "Car," she said with a frown. "That's what it's called?"

  "They come in a lot of shapes and sizes," Jon explained patiently. "They get us where we need to go. Distances that take hours to walk can be covered in minutes by car."

  "It does go fast." She watched the scenery whip by, becoming restless. "How much farther?"

  "About twenty-five minutes," Cliff answered. "You may as well get comfortable."

  Sylvia sighed impatiently and slumped her side against Jon's neck. She stiffened when she felt his accelerated pulse on her arm. She was sure it hadn't been going that fast when she first put her hand out for balance. Wondering if she was making him nervous with all her movement, she pulled away from his neck and tried to maintain her balance without him to lean on.

  A particular curiosity surfaced, as it had been since that morning.

  "Jon, where's your girlfriend at?" she asked. She remembered her earlier conversation with Cliff, and despite firmly stating it was none of her business, she couldn't help but wonder how strange it was that two friends were sharing a bedroom when at least one of them was in a relationship. Maybe it wasn't an odd arrangement for humans.

  Looking up, she caught a glimpse of Jon trying to look at her on his shoulder before pointing his eyes back to the road instead.

  "She's visiting her sister in Dover," he said tonelessly.

  "Oh." She had no idea what Dover was. Nonetheless, it didn't sound good. Cliff had mentioned things were rocky, after all. Silence dragged out for a few uncomfortable seconds before she spoke up again. "How do you think she would, you know… react to seeing me?"

  Jon's intrigued hum vibrated through Sylvia's back. "She'd be way more shocked than us. Probably get all touchy-feely about you. But you don't have to worry about her. You'll be long gone by the time she gets back, right?"

  "Yeah," she said quickly. "Yes."

  Getting home meant parting with the humans for good, of course. Relief rushed through her at Jon's casual confirmation of that fact. She should have been positively overjoyed, but she had to admit her lifestyle back at the village was nothing to get excited about. She could only steal a few precious hours a week to go exploring out of bounds. At least she wouldn't have to fear for her life.

  At least?

  She shook off her ridiculous weighing of pros and cons. There couldn't be any cons about going home when the alternative meant being held captive by humans. She focused on what mattered: the determining factor of her freedom.

  "So, this thing at that house has been killing people, yet you two seem awfully confident going out there. Do you… kill things a lot, or something?"

  "You could say that," Cliff conceded grimly. He eased to a stop at a red light hanging over a crossroads, then turned to face her. "We come prepared, as you experienced first-hand."

  She leaned out and gave Cliff a sidelong look, feeling a sharp ache in her wing. To her surprise, his lips twitched in an apologetic expression before he turned back to the road.

  "It sounds grisly, but…" Jon faltered.
"Er… I guess it is grisly. But we're not lunatics, I promise."

  "Not lunatics?" She laughed, easing up against Jon's neck more fully for support as the car accelerated and made her waver. He gave off a weirdly comforting warmth, anyway. She supposed that was how she could have fallen asleep on him. "My village is going to believe worse than that if they see what you've done to my wing. I doubt my mother will let me out of her sight for weeks. Even without the wound, she'll be hysterical over me coming home so late. Oh, that's gonna be hell."

  "I'd offer to help explain the situation to them, but—" Jon paused sheepishly and turned his head in her direction, not that he could see her. "That would just make it worse, wouldn't it?" He chuckled wryly.

  "You, trying to talk to my mother?" Sylvia giggled, picturing the scene. "Um, yeah, that would make it worse than worse. She'd faint before you could get a word out." Or try to kill you. She decided to keep that to herself, shrugging as she added, "I'll be alright. She'll be furious, but I just want her to know that I'm okay. As long as she knows I'm alive…" She trailed off, smile fading. "That is, if I do go home today."

  Jon's eased tone vanished, replaced with seriousness. "We'll do everything we can to hunt this thing down, Sylvia. I promise."

  "I… believe you," she said uncertainly, then paused. "Sorry, I don't mean to be dreary. I'm sure it'll be fine." Staring through the windshield, she knew she wasn't being honest. Of course she wanted everything to be fine, but her optimism threatened to sink as she rambled on. "I mean, just the fact that you're trying to get me home instead of keeping me prisoner is more than I could have hoped for from humans. Thanks." Pausing once more, she forced a laugh. "Being dreary again, sorry."

  "Nah, you're fine," Jon assured her, a smile in his voice. "Besides, you hold up way better conversation than I'd expect from a fairy."

  Fabric beneath her shifted as he shrugged his shoulder. For a second, she thought it was some kind of uncomfortable reaction to her presence near his neck. Then she realized it was a playful gesture to nudge her closer.