by Elle Casey
“Have you been pixied?”
“That is not funny.”
I giggled. “Yeah, it kinda was. Admit it.”
“No. I know people who have been pixied, and it is not funny at all. Not really.” He tried valiantly to keep his smile from emerging, clearing his throat several times.
“I saw that. You smiled.”
“No, I did not. This is serious business.”
“Well, do you think there’s a chance that you and the pixies just have some sort of misunderstanding?”
“No, there is no misunderstanding. Pixies have charmed hundreds of fae over the centuries, always with the same result. They are not to be trusted. Whenever they are discovered in an area inhabited by other fae, they are captured and bell-jarred until they can be relocated.”
“Where do you send them? To a leper colony or something?”
“No. To a pixie colony.”
I laughed. “Of course you do.”
“You find all of this so amusing.”
“Yes, I really do. I mean, the parallels to my human world are there, but they’re like, sick and funny at the same time. I’ve always been a fan of sick humor.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“Okay, so Mr. Know-it-all, what do you think would have happened if I had released that pixie?”
“He would have flown out, pixied you, me, and everyone else in the compound he could before he was caught again – and the witches would have had their hands full trying to get us back from the land of eternal playtime.”
“I think we have the same thing in Florida, only it’s called daycare and the little kids eventually grow out of the pixie charm – what with all the adults around them telling them to behave and stop acting that way all the time. Maybe the witches should just try a heavy dose of scolding and time-outs as a remedy.”
Gregale brushed me off with a simple shake of his head.
Oh well, whatever. I wasn’t happy about the pixie story – it still didn’t seem right to capture him just because he wanted everyone to be happy all the time. I wondered if he would have talked to me or just pixied the shit out of me first if I had lifted that jar. I couldn’t get him totally out of my mind, even though Gregale moved on to other topics.
I later stopped his two-hour discourse on the lifespan and natures of the various elf races to ask him about psychological warfare.
“So, my friend Finn, who’s a green elf, mentioned that there’s some psychological warfare going on right now.”
Gregale’s eyes nearly glowed with excitement over this change of subject. “Oh yes, for certain. It is a very effective tactic in modern warfare.”
“Do you think it’s actually happening to people we know? Even us?”
“It could be. Why do you ask?”
“Because there’s been something going on that’s really bothering me. Psychologically you could say.”
“Tell me.”
I could see that I had his complete attention. I quickly gave him the basics about the situation with Tony. He nodded his head in all the right places. When I finished he stood still for a minute – I could almost see the ideas sifting through his head.
“You say that this person Ben just appeared in your town? You are sure he wasn’t there before?”
“I’m sure. Tony even said it. And the guy lives right down the street from Tony. From my family too, actually.”
“Can you get a physical description from Tony? A picture even? Many fae can disguise themselves, but not all of them. Perhaps we could do a search of our contacts to determine if he has been seen before.”
“Do you think he could be fae?”
Gregale shrugged. “It is possible. Not likely, but possible. Like we discussed earlier, you have been targeted. This means you are considered high value by the Dark Fae. If they thought they could get to you through your friend, they would do it. It is fair to say that the Dark Fae will stop at nothing in their campaign to win.”
I looked Gregale right in the eye. “Tony means everything to me. If they mess with Tony, they mess with me.”
Gregale looked around fearfully and then moved closer to me. “Shhh! Do not reveal such things about yourself out in the open like this. It is not safe.”
I backed up a little bit, confused. “What do you mean, it’s not safe? I thought we were in the Green Forest.”
“We are. But we are not always alone.”
“Do you mean there are Dark Fae here?” I whispered fearfully, wondering why I didn’t have a daemon with me. Chase was down, but surely they had substitute daemon body-guards around.
“There could be. Or there can be charms or spells left here by Dark Fae witches that capture and report information back to the Dark.”
“Then why are we allowed out here at all?”
“Well, for one we need to be out in the forest. We are fae. And second, we are not defenseless. Only the unaware can be taken by surprise.”
“Well, maybe you’re not defenseless, but I pretty much am.”
“Don’t be silly. I have been told that your powers are quite substantial.” He looked pointedly at my leg. “And you wield the Dark of Blackthorn. That is no trifling weapon.”
I looked down at my stick, pulling it from its sheath and holding it out in front of me.
Gregale took a small step backwards.
“It’s very small. It’s basically just a sharp stick. Why is everyone so afraid of it?”
Gregale laughed. Gently at first and then louder and longer, until eventually he was in full-on guffaws, tears streaming down his face.
“What?” I asked, half laughing myself. Something I said had been really funny, but I had no idea what. “Gregale, shut the hell up for a second and tell me.” I stepped towards him to put my hand on his shoulder, but the movement put him in an instant state of panic.
He swallowed his laughter and looked at me cautiously. “You really do not know what you have in your hand, do you?”
“Yeah. I do. A fucking sharp stick. Sure, it’s burned a couple people ... but most of the time it just sits there being a stupid stick, not much good for anything but kindling.”
Gregale breathed out a deep sigh of disbelief. “Put it away and I will tell you about the Dark of Blackthorn. This could be the most important lesson you learn today. Maybe ever. But first, tell me, how did you come to be in possession of this weapon?”
“When the changeling test started we were given our choice of weapons.”
“And you chose this one?”
“No, it was chosen for me.”
“By whom?”
“By default really. Everyone picked a different weapon and I was the last one to pick and this stick was the only thing left on the table.”
“So it picked you then.”
I looked at him like he was nuts. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Gregale ignored me. “Well, remember how I told you that in the fae word, ‘small’ doesn’t mean ‘weak’ it often means ‘concentrated’?”
I nodded my head.
“Well, that is the case with pixies and it is definitely the case with the Dark of Blackthorn.”
“Why do you keep calling it that – the Dark of Blackthorn?”
“Well, because that is its name. A weapon of this stature, of this notoriety, always has a name. This particular weapon is named for its original ... owner, The Dark.”
“The Dark? That was his name?”
“Not ‘his’ name. ‘Its’ name.”
“It who?”
“I don’t understand. It was The Dark.”
“Shit, here we go again. You fae love to mess with me. Okay, tell me this. Who is Blackthorn?”
“The more interesting question is how are you associated with the Blackthorn? Because the Dark of Blackthorn only works for the members of the Blackthorn line, and from what I saw in Dardennes’ office when you used it on Ivar, you are of the line.”
“My mother’s maiden name is Blackthorn.”
“No!” gasped Gregale.
“Yes!” I fake-gasped back.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Um, yes I can.”
Gregale smiled, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “Dardennes never ceases to amaze me. None of the gray elves believed his changeling recruiting plan had any merit, but we went along with it just to give him enough rope to hang himself. And yet here you stand. The first in a group of fae recruited to our cause. A true Blackthorn, actually wielding the Dark of Blackthorn.” Gregale continued speaking, but it seemed more like he was talking to himself than to me. “Oh my brethren are going to be tickled pink to hear of my day. And to think I was taunted for having to spend the day with a changeling.” His attention snapped back to me. “Remind me to shake his hand at dinner later, will you please?”
I rested my hand on the end of Blackie, making sure Gregale saw me do it. “Listen you crazy elf, you have five seconds to start explaining to me what the hell you’re talking about before I get super pissed. I’m tired and I’m hungry and that is a bad combination. I get seriously cranky when I’m tired and hungry.”
Gregale held up his hands in supplication. “Okay, okay, no need to get upset. It is a bit early for lunch, but we can stop for now. What do you say we take our lunch break now and then we can come back after lunch and I will explain everything to you? Is that acceptable to you?”
I pulled my hand away from my stick, folding my arms across my chest. “Fine.”
“Good. Come ... follow me.” He started walking back in the direction we had come hours previously. “You know, this day went a lot differently than I had expected.”
I smiled to myself. “Yeah, me too. I’m glad to find out you weren’t planning to kill me and my friends.”
Gregale laughed. “We would never waste resources like that.”
Great. I’m a resource. Somehow that didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but something told me it was a compliment when coming from a gray elf.
We arrived at the lunchroom and my friends were already there. I rushed to get my lunch so we could talk about our days so far.
I sat down with my plate and Becky was the first to ask me, “So, what was he like? Dish, baby, dish.”
I shoved food in my mouth and tried to talk around it. I saw Becky cringe, so I knew it wasn’t pretty, but I was anxious to check my email before I went out again. “He’s cool. I misunderstood him. He’s a gray elf. They are the war strategy makers. He’s giving me a fae education. I’ll have to tell you about it later. I need to go check my email.”
We all agreed to regroup later at dinner. I rushed from the dining hall to go to the computer room. Once there I logged on and opened my email account. There were no new messages.
I couldn’t believe it. Tony was blowing me off. I tried not to think about the idea of psychological warfare, because if I considered that it was in fact happening to me, then I knew my best friend was stuck in the middle of the Dark versus the Light and could very well become collateral damage, even though he had specifically chosen to stay out of it.
Chapter 16
I was back out in the butterfly clearing with Gregale and we were both sitting. He told me it was kind of a long story, this tale of the Dark of Blackthorn, so I figured I should get comfortable.
“The Blackthorns are a long line of fae that come from the area known as Blackthorn. It is in Ireland, in your world, I believe. They are all Dark Fae, which makes it very interesting that you are here with us. I promise you, the gray elves will be discussing this long into the coming nights.”
I gave him a stern look that meant ‘get back on track’ and he understood me perfectly.
“Oh yes, so where was I? Right, the Blackthorn. That area of our world is called Blackthorn because there is an abundance of these trees there, Blackthorns. They have a particularly dark wood and very nasty thorns. Actually, some call them shrubs or bushes because they can grow in all forms. This tree or bush and its wood and thorns are said to have magical properties, even by the humans who live there.”
I pulled my stick out and looked at it. “So this is a thorn from a big tree?”
Gregale laughed. “No, no, no, that is not a thorn from a tree. Have you ever seen a thorn that big before?”
“No. But maybe it’s some sort of magic tree. You said it was.”
“Well, it has magical properties, yes, but it looks like a regular old tree or bush. Much like all the trees around here look.”
“But none of the trees here are like the trees back home. Here they have energy and they speak to me.”
“Your trees in Florida are exactly the same as the trees here. Same energy, same connection. They are all connected, all over planet Earth. One big, giant network of Green Energy.”
“I was never able to talk to trees before.”
Gregale pointed to my ring. “You never wore the amulet of the Blackthorn before.”
“Yeah, but I was able to do it in the Green Forest before I had the amulet.”
“Being in the Green Forest helped you tap into your fae blood while you were there. Going through the change now makes it possible for you to do it anywhere.”
I looked down at the crystal ring I had kind of forgotten. “This is the amulet of the Blackthorn? How come Dardennes had it? I thought the Blackthorn were always Dark Fae. Doesn’t that mean they would have it?”
“You were right. You are a fast learner.”
I smiled at his hard-won compliment.
“I do not have answers to all of your questions, unfortunately. How Dardennes came into its possession is a mystery to me. Perhaps you can ask him and get a straight answer. I doubt that I could – get a straight answer, that is.”
“So if my stick isn’t a thorn, what is it then? Part of a Blackthorn tree all whittled down?”
“No, not at all. To explain what you hold in your hand – a thing I wish you would stop waving around so carelessly like that – I must tell you about some ancient fae.”
He moved just a few inches farther away from me, since I didn’t respond to his request to put Blackie down. I liked holding it in my hand though; but to help him feel less nervous, I did stop waving it in front of him.
“You have met many different fae here, of many different races – elves, ogres, werewolves, dwarves, sprites, etcetera. However, there are many more fae you have not yet met, and then other fae you will never meet.”
“Why, because they’re shy or something? Or because you’ve banished them to colonies because they’re too happy.”
Gregale frowned at me. “No. Not because we have banished them. Yes, some are shy. But several others are extinct. Their numbers dwindled and then either because of a disease or, more likely, fae interference, they disappeared from the Earth entirely.”
“That’s sad. So what has that got to do with my stick?”
“Well, you see, your ‘stick’ is not a stick. Your weapon is a remnant of a long extinct fae race.”
I held my stick that was not a stick out in front of me, a look of disgust on my face. “A remnant? As in a bone or something?”
“No. As in a tooth. To be more precise, a fang.”
“This? Is a fucking fang? No way. Not possible. It’s a stupid stick. Look!”
I thrust it towards him in the palm of my hand. He nearly did a back flip getting away from it.
“You do that one more time, and I will refuse to help you ever again!” His face was flushed bright red, and sweat droplets had broken out across his forehead.
I pulled the stick back to me, holding it up close to my face, getting a better look at it.
“And I know the Dark does not affect you like it does other fae, but you are making me very nervous, holding it that close to your face.”
“What? Like this?” I asked, as I brushed it up and down my cheek.
“Blessed Mother Earth, Moon and Sky, would you please put that thing down!”
I smiled. “Did you just swe
ar at me?”
Gregale shifted uncomfortably. “I might have. But you forced me into it.”
“Seriously Gregale, what is the big deal with this thing? And don’t try to tell me it’s some big friggin’ ogre tooth or I’m going to hit you with it.”
“Do not be silly. It is not an ogre tooth. Ogres are not nearly big enough to have incisors that big.”
“Then what kind of tooth is it?”
“It is the tooth of The Dark.”
“The Dark being its name, right?” I was finally catching on to his manner of speaking.
“Yes.”
“And The Dark was what race?”
“The Dark was a Dark Fae dragon. And you are holding his tooth. A tooth that was taken from him by the fae who slayed him over one thousand years ago – Shayla Blackthorn.”
Chapter 17
I looked at Gregale incredulously. “No fucking way! It is not!” How cool is that? – I have a dragon tooth weapon! And it had been the last weapon left on Niles’ table. I guess I lucked out.
“Yes. It is. Any fae can recognize that weapon instantly. There is no other like it. Except for another tooth of course. Every dragon had two fangs, of course. One on each side, on the top part of its mouth. I know that yours belonged to The Dark because it is black. He was the only dragon with black teeth.”
“The orcs didn’t recognize it when they captured me in the Green Forest during the test.”
“Orcs are not the smartest or most observant of beasts on their best days. And if the stories are true, those orcs were awakened after a very long period of ... er ... forced hibernation. So it is understandable they would not notice it.”
