by Sarah Tobias
I struggled with her words, teetering on the brink of insanity—for what else could this be, if my mother’s actions made sense?
“It was only when you turned seven. Yes, I believe that’s the age, when you displayed human tendencies. You breathed, your heart began beating. You resembled a human.”
Ettie told me, so matter-of-factly, about the one thing that had been my personal torment for years.
“My mother…” I said.
“Yes, your mother must have known you weren’t human. She stored you away, probably for your own protection, because if anybody saw you, if anybody else realized what you were, well, the humans would probably have taken you away and tested you, drained you.” She paused. “But the Warriors, they would have found you first. They would’ve killed on sight.”
“But how…?” I asked, shaking with so much emotion, I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“Ah.” Ettie nodded, understanding where my question was going. “She’s your mother. She gave birth to you. You’re wondering how she created something inhuman? Well, you should be able to come to that conclusion without my help.” She waited for me to speak, and when I didn’t, she finished with, “She had to have been intimate with a fae in its original form.”
Revulsion spiked through me.
“Oh, honey, don’t look like that,” she said. “Truly, there’s only one sect of fae that seduces humans instead of outright consuming them. Have you heard of a Succubus? Or a Siren?”
I nodded, vaguely remembering Macy mentioning the topic after her mythology class. “I feel if I ever have to come back to Earth as a mythical creature,” she had said, nursing her steaming cocoa, “that would be the perfect little monster. I’d be hot. More importantly, I’d hot men would satisfy me all day. You might as well just call me Macubus.”
“They … seduce men,” I said.
“Right. They’re female fae that take the form of an alluring female human—they don’t have to find human shells—and lure men in. Sucking out pieces of their souls and leaving deterioration in their wake. After they have their way with them, of course,” Ettie said. “Their male counterpart is an Incubus.”
“Are you saying my mother was intimate with an Incubus?” I asked incredulously.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. She wouldn’t have been able to resist, love. These are powerful fae I’m talking about, though they’ve been eradicated.” Her voice lowered. “Because of what they were creating.”
“Things like me,” I finished for her. “They were creating things like me.”
“Yes. Human lore describes an Incubus as an angel who fell from grace and became a demon with an insatiable lust for women. Humans love putting a romantic spin on things.” She shook her head before continuing, “But they’re not wrong. Human women are lured in by an Incubus, but it’s when they freely admit an Incubus into their lives, into their souls, that Cursed Fae are created.”
“My mother was in love with him,” I surmised, my voice surprisingly strong despite this sickening revelation.
“Very much so. And that’s what ultimately led to her demise. An Incubus deserts a human female once he loses interest in her. The woman is never the same. She deteriorates, mentally dissolves right before your eyes.” Ettie trailed off, staring at me, her expression all-too-knowing.
It made me want to change the topic and stop talking about my mother. My haunted, tormented mother.
“Tell me about the Cursed Fae,” I said.
“You probably understand by now that you’re half-human, half-fae.”
I nodded.
“You’re the offspring of an Incubus,” she continued, “and a human woman. As a young child, you were supernatural. It was only on your seventh birthday that you resembled a mortal child, and therefore, you were increasingly difficult to pick out by the Warriors. When you turned seven, you could safely enter the human world.”
She paused, allowing the meaning of her words to sink in. My mother must have known, I thought. She must have known it was okay for me to enter the real world, allowing her to release her pain and stop her torment. I was seven when she left and tried to kill herself.
“The fae in you settled down, allowing you to be human and therefore remain undetected while your powers grew within you,” Ettie said. “Essentially, the Cursed can go their entire lives never knowing what they really are. Resembling a human and never using their powers. Living a contented, normal life. If they ever made it past their seventh birthday, that is. And the Warriors rarely failed in their mission.”
I met Ettie’s eyes, my torment swimming behind them. “Why wasn’t that me?”
“Honey, I’m afraid there was no chance of that happening with you. Not once you moved to New York City. Not when the Hunter made his home here.”
There it was. That dreaded word, the Hunter, being described to me with trepidation once again.
“He’s in our midst, and he’s killing mercilessly,” Ettie continued, her little body quaking with her words.
“How would the Hunter’s presence affect me, though? I am—I was—just a kid. My biggest problem was trying to be as fashionable as my best friend!”
Ettie straightened. I heard the sounds of the other staff returning, their voices wafting through the doors to the kitchen. Her eyes were alert as she attempted to finish telling me as much as she could before we were interrupted. “The fae-half of a Cursed one must be triggered to awaken. Usually, that trigger is coming across another fae.”
My thoughts immediately shot to Rob. “Another fae confronted me. A—a Melix. At a party a little over a month ago.”
“I see. But you’re how old? Nineteen? At that point another fae shouldn’t have affected you, especially such a low-sect one. You were well into settling down as a human. To sense him, you must have already been in a heightened state. Tell me, were you feeling okay when this fae approached you? Were you feeling like it was just a normal night?” Ettie stood, brushing at her slacks as she glanced at the door.
“No,” I said, frowning. “I didn’t feel well at all. I felt sick, clammy. Like I would pass out any second. And then Rob touched me and I just … exploded. All I wanted was to destroy him.”
“Just as I thought,” Ettie muttered. “Something triggered you well before coming across the Melix. The fae within you was already priming itself for action.”
“I—I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would my fae-self be triggered to destroy another fae?”
“There you are. You’re finally getting to the meat of it. We don’t have a lot more time.” Ettie peered through the small opening into the main room at the other waitresses straightening the tables. So far, none were choosing to come into the kitchen, and for that I was thankful. I was even more grateful that the head chef was a smoker and was probably still outside getting in one last puff before coming in.
“Consider yourself the apocalypse, honey,” Ettie stated.
I shrank away from her. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I have to be fast. That’s why the Warriors are so, so interested in you. Why the Tryne wants you. You’ve noticed you consume fae souls like they’re the most delicious-tasting dessert you’ve ever had, right?”
I nodded mechanically.
“That’s because you’re absorbing them. You’re strengthening your fae. You’re consuming their evil and letting it flow through you. You are giving your fae power.”
“I … no. I can’t be.”
“Each time you consume one of us,” Ettie said, speaking slower for my benefit, “you are losing a piece of your humanity. You are giving more control over to your fae. Your fae doesn’t inhabit shells like most of us do.” Her voice trembled. “Your fae grows.”
We both jumped when the kitchen door flew open.
“Hi-ho!” one of the sous chefs said as he adjusted his jacket. “What’s cookin’?”
“Hi, Henry. Just a minute, okay?”
Ettie sounded so normal responding to Henry, as if s
he were simply explaining to me tonight’s specials. No wonder she could stay under the radar for so long.
“No,” I whispered to her when she turned back to me. But the dark flame circled with her smokey fins, insisting that Ettie was right.
“You’ve already been feasting. Look at you,” Ettie said. “You’ve vastly changed since the first time we met. You’re completely different than you were even a month ago.”
“I didn’t know … You didn’t tell me!”
She shushed me. Henry glanced over, but understanding the situation, busied himself with organizing vegetables.
“Be careful,” Ettie said. “If you continue consuming fae at the rate you are, you will no longer have any autonomy. You will go on a gluttonous rampage and consume everything. You will become so powerful that you will literally destroy fae-kind.”
“But—but, that’s good, right?” I asked, logic breaking through. “I’m ridding the world of evil. Saving humanity.”
Ettie gripped my arm, pulling me to the kitchen exit as more staff wandered in. She pasted a smile on her face even as her words became more and more sinister. “You will be unstoppable. When you’re finished with the fae, you will move onto something else.”
I didn’t have to hear her answer to know. My stomach sank, my heart crashing to the floor.
“I’ll go after humans,” I whispered.
“Yes. Honey,” she said, “you’re the faes’ worst enemy. Our curse. And you’re humankind’s greatest nightmare. You will destroy everything.”
Chapter 36
You are the apocalypse. And you’ll destroy everything.
I walked around the city with wooden limbs, unsure where I was going or where I’d end up. All I could feel were Ettie’s words, slithering across my skin, invading my soul.
Finally, I had answers. But those answers were terrifying.
I’d left Ettie in a blind panic, bolting out of the kitchen's exit and into the rain.
“There’s a way to stop it!” she called after me, and I halted by the trash cans.
I refused to let her see any weakness, or the little girl scrambling, panicking and pounding her bloodied fists inside me. Rain poured down my face.
“Destroy the Tryne,” Ettie said, her body framed in shadow as she stood in the back doorway.
I breathed in and out raggedly in response.
“Destroy the Tryne,” she repeated before adding, “And reclaim your humanity.”
“Why…” I started, but had to take another deep breath. “Why have you told me this?”
“Because I’m an old, tired soul,” Ettie replied. “I want peace. To do what’s right. You deserve what’s right.”
I fled then, winding down streets, blowing a deceptive wind across pedestrians’ faces as I whipped by them in despair. It was torrentially raining now.
You have your answers, the dark flame twinkled. Let me out…
“No. No,” I said. “I will not let you win. I won’t.”
But how could I stop it? Already my stomach was clenching with need, begging for another fae to fill it.
You must destroy the Tryne…
Ettie’s words hovered close. Destroy the only other people capable of exterminating fae? Kill all those who could eradicate them without bringing about the end of the world? How did that make sense? How was I supposed to move on from this?
You’re the Cursed Fae, the dark flame prodded. Embrace who you are … enjoy it…
“No, no, no,” I said again, before careening into Central Park and sprawling against a tree and sinking down. The old oak was cool against my cheek and I clutched at the wide trunk. The wood remained sturdy beneath my grip, offering me its strength, and that alone.
I curled into a ball and cried.
By the time I opened my eyes, it was dark, the moonlight pale compared to the city lights that bordered the park. The clouds remained high in the sky; dark sentries that shrouded the city.
I needed to go home.
I slowly picked myself up off the ground, mud covering me and soaked strands of hair sticking to my face. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. I walked as a regular girl back to my apartment, refusing to draw upon the power. I just wanted to forget about my new, twisted truth that sloshed around like a slug in my brain.
“I should have let the Leiche’s venom kill me,” I murmured.
The dark flame laughed, its menace swirling. I’ll never let you die…
It took over an hour to get home from Midtown, but I didn’t register the walk, or the people passing by, or the cars and sirens blasting in the road. All I felt was her, reposed in her untroubled chasm, waiting.
With more strength than necessary, I shoved the front door of my apartment open, wincing at the splintering sound as a crack streaked its way across the wooden frame. I’d have to answer for that later.
Pale, artificial moonbeams greeted me. The city lights filtered into my two windows, dusky streaks that illuminated my bed and shadowed the rest of my furniture. Flicking on the bedside lamp, I went to the fridge, searching for a message from Macy.
Whenever one of us needed something and couldn’t get ahold of the other, either by phone or otherwise, we would go old school and slap a post-it note on the fridge with our whereabouts and any instructions.
Sure enough, I spotted Macy’s curlicue handwriting on a neon pink post-it, stuck precariously between my list of essentials and a Mickey Mouse magnet that I had fallen in love with during my first trip to Disneyland, barely eight years old. It had “EMILY” scrawled below Mickey’s dancing feet.
Seeing my name in print, seeing that I had existed, gave me such a feeling of belonging that I took it with me when I left Cold Spring at seventeen, despite the fading letters. The Y in my name had faded so much that it now looked like “EMIL.” Macy got such a kick out of it that for a full year after we met she would only refer to me as Emeel.
Came here with the goal of dragging your butt out of the apt, Macy wrote,
Even brought my make-up bag.
Consider yourself LUCKY.
For now.
Then, as an afterthought:
Call me.
Let me know u’re ok.
I could yell at Macy, slap her hand away, scare her, and yet she still showed up. Macy worried about me.
I pulled the post-it off the fridge, crumpling it in my damp hand, her words smearing as I searched for my phone, remembering I dropped my bag by the door. I walked the few feet, suddenly uncomfortable with the surrounding silence. The only noises were the muffled movements of other tenants, a random footstep or two, a quick thunk of something hitting another.
I checked the clock beside my bed. Nine in the evening. I’d totally bailed on my shift at Butterfield, but something told me that was what Ettie preferred right now. It was definitely what I wanted.
After texting Macy I was home, I prepared for her arrival by turning on the tiny television across from the foot of my bed and zoning out. A little forget-I’m-a-fae time with some scripted reality.
I bent down to pick the remote off my bed and my bedside lamp flickered. I instinctively looked toward it.
And screamed.
And chucked my remote at it.
Curled just above the lamp, caught in its tunnel of light, her head upside down and fangs gleaming, perched a Leiche on the wall. Her eyes flashed red out of the child’s body she inhabited.
I swore and lunged for my door, and slammed right into another Leiche.
While smaller than me, she could weave her arms around my waist, trapping mine at my sides. I cursed my luck for wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Protected by clothing, the Leiche could hold me with no burn.
I pulled at the dark flame and she slid up and into my throat like thick black tar, spreading out and coating my mind. As much as I hated her, as much as I despised what drawing upon her would do to me, she was good at decapitation.
My body surged with her power as I lurched backwards and onto the floor, the weight of
my back crushing the Leiche’s head. With the fae trapped under me, she couldn’t move her mouth into a position where she could bite and I pressed down harder, hoping to suffocate her. I reached behind me to touch her skin and begin her destruction.
The Leiche occupying the wall screeched and went airborne. I pushed myself off the ground and sprinted towards the bed, my momentum sending me colliding into the far wall beside the window.
A third Leiche hovered on my desk in the shadows, his eyes glowing a garish ruby in the darkness.
If I were still myself, if I were still the regular Emily Chaucer who was so obviously outnumbered by murderous ten-year-olds in her home, I would’ve scrambled across the floor until I reached the door and flung it open so hard it would rip off its hinges as I ran screaming for help in the stairwell.
Unfortunately, I was no longer in control, the dark flame seeing through my eyes and speaking through my mouth. She stood and faced the three Leiches who slowly crawled on four limbs toward me like spiders, these three supposed children with their gap teeth and baby-soft tendrils of hair.
My dark flame cocked a hip.
“Try to take me,” she said to them.
“You took one of ours,” the one on the desk said, his plump little arms creeping forward as he slithered down onto the chair. He couldn’t have been over eleven, his baby cheeks plump with innocence despite the evil nesting inside him.
“Now we will take you,” the other two chorused. They were two girls about the same age as the boy, identical twins with long brown hair hanging lankily across their shoulders. One crawled over my bed, her filthy hands leaving marks as she wove through the shadows. The other one remained at the foot of the bed, watching, the filtered light of the window behind me sparking her eyes with the color of blood.
My mouth smiled in anticipation. My body knifed through the air, crashing into the twins, all three of us hurtling into the small counter that separated my main room and the kitchenette.
