by Sarah Tobias
There was power in my veins, deep at my core. The dark flame kept begging me for more, more, more. I held the sides of my head, crying out, “Stop, just stop!”
I sat on the floor at the foot of my bed for what seemed like hours, surrounded by my aunt’s tasteful additions to my life, like my plush rose comforter and scented candles of honeysuckle and cloves, staring at nothing but thinking of everything.
Glancing at the clock my nightstand, it was nearing three in the afternoon. I’d have to go to Butterfield soon and pull an extra-late shift to make my absence up to Ettie. Her potential disappointment in me didn’t trigger my conscience, however. There were suddenly much more important issues, problems a nineteen-year-old should never have to experience: monsters, fae and, most especially, self-destructive power.
Ettie wouldn’t understand, Macy wouldn’t be able to deal, and Aunt Sandy didn’t know. I must walk this infected path alone. I had to protect them.
I pulled myself out of my cross-legged position, my muscles stiff with neglect, raising my arms for a quick stretch to shake out the stiffness, but the dark flame uncoiled and stretched along with me.
I dropped my arms to my side.
Locking my door behind me, I descended the five flights, enjoying the damp breeze once I stepped outside and noticing with relief that Gwyn wasn’t around. It was misting rain, those in-between droplets where you feel the moisture, but not enough to push up your umbrella and protect yourself. I imagined my skin sizzling, sending out steaming tendrils of smoke as the cool water touched the heat within me, cleansing and cooling.
The streets were fairly crowded, rush hour deadlock just beginning. School was letting out, students clustered in crowds at the intersections, hoisting up their backpacks, pushing at each other, friendly insults being traded back and forth. I hoped wouldn’t run into anyone. Not Asher, not Macy.
I picked up my pace once Cream of the Cup came into view. It was tempting to blur by without being seen, but I’d just draw unwanted attention.
As I was contemplating the pros and cons of going out of my way and walking down another avenue, I saw him.
Asher’s back was to me, leaning against his black truck with his phone pressed against his ear. Gwyn was beside him, hands on her hips, her face tense with fury as she listened to his side of the conversation. His head bobbed with his words. They were both rigid, their body language showing something was wrong.
I’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to watch them, and Gwyn noticed me, her eyes flashing with anger. Her diverted attention caused Asher to follow her gaze, and I hurriedly resumed walking.
Gwyn barked something at Asher and he broke his study of me to converse with her. He moved to the drivers’ side. They got into the truck and it roared to life, backing up and almost hitting the car behind it. As they merged, they drove by, and when Asher passed, our eyes met through the window.
In those mere seconds, we exchanged forever. He'd looked at me with just as much longing, just as much emptiness, that I had exposed so nakedly to him.
Gwyn and Asher were following me, yes. Attempting to intimidate me, maybe. But he and I shared an electrical current even he couldn’t fight.
The black wooden door to Butterfield creaked as I pulled it open, the familiar smell of fresh-baked bread wafting over me. A sense of calm traveled with the smell, a small comfort.
“Hey, hun,” Ettie said as she passed, her hands piled with dirty plates as she headed to the back.
Her voice was normal, her lips smiling as she walked by, which was a relief. She didn’t have the look of wanting to fire me, and more importantly, she didn’t seem disappointed.
“Ettie, I’m sorry,” I said as I followed behind her to the kitchen. “For being so erratic lately.”
“Sweetheart, it’s all right.” She backed into the swinging doors, facing me as she pushed into the kitchen. “You know you can come here no matter what, right? You’re not just my server, you know.”
She dropped the plates near the washing station, wiping her hands on a towel.
“I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” I told her, wincing at the hollowness in my voice.
Ettie’s expression was somber as she said, “I’ve been noticing your pain. You’ve been searching for something, haven’t you? And looking hard.”
I paused at the knowledge I heard, and Ettie’s sudden awareness. Her understanding was unsettling, but caring enough for me to respond. “I don’t think I’ll ever find it, Ettie.”
“Oh, honey.” Her tiny body enveloped me in her arms. “Don’t be thinking like that. Maybe … maybe you’ve been riffling through all the wrong cupboards.”
“I don’t know where else to look.” Burnout and stress settled in, and my shoulders showed it, collapsing under her grip.
She held me at arm’s length and stared. I grew uncomfortable, but she didn’t relent. Ettie’s brows drew together, her fingers tensing around my forearms. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. She finally broke away, glancing around the kitchen, and I realized she was making sure we were alone. The dinner rush hadn’t started, and most of the staff was on break. Yet, she kept holding onto me.
At last, she spoke. “Come. Sit.”
Ettie pulled me to the middle counter, its stainless steel surface shining under the overhead lights. I sat, but I felt like I was under a spotlight. The kitchen had become too harsh, the lights too bright, the surrounding surfaces too clean. I clenched my hands on my lap, waiting for Ettie to drag a stool to the corner of the table and take a seat diagonal to mine.
“Ettie, what’s going on? You look so serious.” I stiffened when I realized what it could be. “Are—are you firing me? I’m so sorry, I know I haven’t been myself lately, but I’m just—”
“Emily, honey, no.” She reached over the counter and rubbed my shoulder. “I’m not firing you. You know how much I love you. I’m…” she took a breath, her chest expanding with the effort. “I’m trying to drum up the nerve to tell you something.”
I angled my head.
“Emily,” she began, “You’ve been here countless times, immersing yourself in work, struggling with your troubles on your own. But not once have you asked me to help find what you’re looking for.”
I peered closer. “I don’t think you can help me with this. What I’ve been dealing with … I can barely comprehend it. I don’t think anyone else could, either.”
She leaned forward, her voice low. “Hun, that kind of outlook only prevents you from finding any answers. It blinds you from seeing what’s right in front of you.”
I held back, unsure what to make of her words. Was she trying to tell me something? Or was my desperate need for answers causing me to see only what I hoped to find?
“Now.” She folded her arms on the counter. “Tell me what’s going on and maybe I can help you.”
I figured there’d be no harm in asking her one question, considering every other avenue I’d pursued had failed. I hoped I wouldn’t give her a heart attack. “I need to figure out stuff about … fairies.”
Her eyebrows jumped above her glasses. “You mean, fairy tale legends? Myths?”
For a reason that I couldn’t fathom, I sensed she was testing me.
My blurred face stared out from the stainless steel countertop, my eyes smearing with my skin, my features imperceptible. So akin to what I felt on the inside. I pressed my fingers to the cold, bleary reflection.
“Ah,” Ettie said. I looked up. “You don’t mean pretend.”
I shook my head, but I didn’t want Ettie to think I was crazy, or unhinged. She was one of the few people I had in my life, and I was so afraid to lose her. But I needed help, and not just from another fae. I needed help from someone who loved me.
“Not religious or spiritual, either,” Ettie continued. “You mean the creatures. The dark ones that walk among us. Possess us and eat our souls.”
My mouth hung open.
Ettie said it with such calm a
cceptance, almost as if she’d heard it countless times before.
She slapped her hands on the countertop, startling me even further. “Finally, you tell me the truth! It took you long enough to get around to it, honey.”
“You ... you know what I’m talking about?”
“Of course! I may be old and a little distracted, but that doesn’t mean I’m dim. People see what they want to see and deny all the rest. They couldn’t be more unsafe,” she said. “I know what this world harbors.”
Ettie enunciated the last sentence, her face, so serious now, finding shadow even in the kitchen’s bright overhead lights.
“You aren’t one of those people,” she said. “You strike me as a lost, tortured soul.”
“Yes,” I replied, the dark flame shimmering within, rising and falling with every breath I took. Tears pooled in my eyes as I raised them to meet hers.
“I see it now,” she said, staring hard. “I had an inkling a few weeks ago, but now it’s clear.”
“See what?” I asked, feeling so vulnerable, so exposed. This woman I cherished was showing a whole new side to herself, and I had no idea what to do about it.
She smiled, but it was melancholy. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
Ettie raised her hand to rest it on my forearm. “My poor, sweet girl. You weren’t supposed to know the truth. There are so few of you left. You were meant to stay hidden, to stay safe.”
I stared at her blankly.
Ettie chose her next words carefully. “Because he wants to destroy you.”
She lowered her hand, moving it from the sleeve of my arm and clasped my fingers.
The burn blossomed, sharp and strong. Fire slammed up and into my face, and I fought savagely to keep it at bay.
Ettie let go, deftly avoiding my golden gaze as she righted herself on the stool.
“You’re a—you’re a fae,” I said, struggling to speak through the hot flames licking at my throat. I shook, holding the hand she touched to my chest, and stared at her, my heart hellbent on ripping through my ribcage.
I remembered all the times Ettie touched me, never grazing my skin, always reaching for the fabric of my clothing. How she would avoid looking at me whenever my emotions were running high, busying herself, talking to me normally but never getting too close.
Oh, my…
Tears glittered in her eyes as Ettie maintained her distance, her arms folded on her lap. “I haven’t been called that in a very long time. I must admit, it feels good to tell someone again.” She paused. “Even in these circumstances. I’m not a danger to you, sweetie. I’m retired.”
I breathed deeply, shutting the dark flame down as much as I could. She thundered for release. “Fae r-retire?”
Amid so many questions, under the weight of such a crushing revelation, it was stunning to learn faes could pack up their soul-eating lives and call it a day.
“Few of us, but we do.” She motioned to her chest. “She and I came to an agreement, long ago. We live peacefully together now.” Ettie stopped, reading my expression before I could change it. “I see you’re appalled by that, but there’s so much you don’t know.”
Anger boiled with my dark flame, both of them hissing in my head.
“This entire time, you knew. You watched me.” I stabbed the air, pointing at the door behind me. “You saw what was going on. And you did nothing.” My voice caught on the last word and it came out hoarse. I was breaking. “You let me become this—you let me get to where I can’t…” I had to stop again, my breath hitching. But I finished, the last words bursting out of me with such pain that tears coursed down my cheeks along with it. “Live with myself.”
“Sweetheart—”
“No.” I stood, towering over her. “You don’t get to call me that.”
Ettie swiped a hand across her face, smearing her heartache, but she didn’t cower. “You’re angry, I know. But you need to listen. Please.” Her hand trembled as she pointed to the stool I’d just vacated. “Please listen to me.”
My chest concaved as I bent over, bracing my body with my hands on the cool steel. “Why, Ettie? Why did it have to be you?”
Not again. Please, not again. I’ve already lost one mother. I can’t lose Ettie.
Ettie knew what I meant. She made a move towards me, wanting to comfort, but her face fell and she dropped her arms.
“I love you, Emily.” Ettie struggled in the resulting silence, trying to say the right words. “I didn’t enjoy any of this—but I had to do it. I was trying to keep you safe. The less you knew, the less danger you were in. When I finally figured out what you were … oh goodness, Emily, I was so scared. So frightened over what could happen to you. I hoped—” Ettie dared a step closer, even though I still leaned over the counter, breathing heavily, fighting her. “I hoped it wouldn’t progress this far. That maybe I was wrong. I prayed I had it wrong.”
I clenched my eyes shut.
“I didn’t want to believe it was true. That you, of all people, could be one of them,” she said.
My vision glowed through the tears. “One of what, Ettie?”
“Sit. Please. Let me tell you everything. Let me at least do that much for you. I’m—” Her words caught in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Emily.”
I sagged onto the stool, my hands never leaving the countertop, my head never rising.
“Did you have a strange childhood?” Ettie asked.
I hesitated before answering, speaking into my chest, “Yes.”
“Tell me,” she said, and before I could protest or get defensive, she continued, “I know I don’t deserve to know, but I need to to help you understand. Please.”
I told her. I began with my home life, the only one I knew, with a mother who seemed to want to destroy me one second and then love me the next. I told her of the uncertainty of death that poisoned my young life and the isolated loneliness that consumed every breath.
She nodded along, either unsurprised at my revelations or trying to process the information. Ettie was the first person I’d ever told, and I should be so angry with her for her deceit, but with her gaze upon me, so soft and understanding, all I instinctually did was trust.
“That makes complete sense.” Ettie nodded, staring off into the distance. “It explains how you survived for so long without so much as blipping on the faes’ radar. She isolated you, your mother, and rightfully so.”
“You agree with her tactics?” I asked, mortified. No longer thinking I should trust Ettie.
“Oh, honey no. I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead. Let’s start with something else. You probably want to know what you are.”
I desperately wanted a name for what I was, for what was consuming and torturing me. For what was changing me.
“Tell me,” I said, clutching at her words with excruciating yearning.
“Sweetheart,” she said, her voice filled with tenderness. “My poor lost soul, you are a Cursed Fae. One of the few left.”
Chapter 35
“Cursed Fae. That doesn’t sound too good,” I said, the foreign words rolling off my tongue with surprising skill. “Not the Hunter.”
Ettie seemed perplexed at my last statement. “Not even close. Sweetheart, did you think you were part of the Tryne?”
At my answering expression, Ettie’s eyes widened. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You hoped all this meant that you could … extinguish fae.”
“No.” I pushed away from the counter. “I wanted it because it meant that even though I’m being destroyed inside, even though my world is filling with blood, and death, and darkness, there was a reason for it. A pure purpose for why my soul was sacrificed. Something so fundamental it had to justify dying inside.” I raised my eyes to the ceiling even as my face crumbled. “I wanted it to mean I was protecting human souls.”
“Honey...”
“But I’m not, am I? I’m just killing them along with the fae. But—I don’t consume them. I don’t use human souls to sustai
n me. I just … waste them.”
Ettie sighed, her face mirroring mine when she said, “You don’t deserve this.”
She rose so she was beside me, her presence strangely calming despite the fae that lurked within her. “But you can’t pretend otherwise, either. I know it hurts to be told you’re not part of the Tryne, but you need to understand what you are, so you can stop it. You’re in extreme danger, Emily. You also are extreme danger,”
Ettie eyed me gravely. “In my entire life, I never thought I would come across your kind ever again.”
“Please,” I said. “Tell me everything you know. I’m so lost. I’m struggling so much.”
Ettie nodded. Her hand moved towards mine, but she seemed to think better of it and brought it back to her side. “They would come after your kind when you were young, when you had no power and therefore no way to defend yourselves. They would kill you instantly.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The Warriors. They work for the King of the Fae. Damos’s Circle. They’d search out your kind and swoop in, killing every other living thing around you. Including your parents, your siblings, everyone. They consider you a curse, a black death that must be destroyed. Because you can destroy us.”
I clenched the counter. “You fae are all too enigmatic. I need you to slow down and explain. Everything.”
My voice grated, but I didn’t care. I was beyond emotions. I was beyond anything.
“It’s a miracle you survived past childhood.” Ettie turned and sat back down, using my stool so she could face me. “You were born dead, honey.”
“I—what?”
“You heard me.” Ettie was just as harsh as I was. “When you were born, you had no pulse, no breath. And you continued to have no pulse and no breath, to essentially be the living dead, for years. From the outside, you looked like a regular baby, even acted like one. But you weren’t born human.” She cocked her head, waiting for my reaction.
