by E. M. Fitch
“I was waiting for you!” her father called back, still grinning mischievously at his daughter. A small twist of panic flared in Cassie’s gut. It felt similar to the feeling that arose whenever anyone told her they “had to talk.” But her father was smiling, and her mother wasn’t rushing from the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked. Her mother ushered past her into the living room, two green mugs steaming in her hands. She handed one to her husband, and then perched on the arm of his chair.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart,” her mother said as her father teased, “Why? Suspicious much?”
Cathy shot her husband a reproving look, and Cassie squirmed. They hadn’t always been so careful around her. The past year had changed so many things.
“We’ve decided we’re giving you Mom’s car,” her father said. He tossed the keys back at Cassie, who fumbled them midair. They fell with a dull thud on the carpet. Her father laughed. “Some softball player you are.”
Cassie couldn’t help but grin, bending to pick the jumble of keys off the floor. “Why?” she asked.
“You’re going to be busy this year, taking college classes and all, and you’re going to need a way to get to and from the campus. It won’t be like high school,” her mother explained. She paused, blowing on her tea. Steam spirals rose in front of her face.
“I had meant to get a job,” Cassie murmured, looking at the keys in her hand. She felt guilt, that overwhelming guilt, swirl in her gut. She had meant to get a job this summer; she had wanted to save. She didn’t even want to go to the community college. Only a year ago, she had big plans of dorm life and maybe a sorority. She thought about playing softball after high school—not seriously, but it had entered her mind. Now it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not, if she was any good or completely lousy. Her life was slowly coming back under her control. Her panic attacks had lessened, and she was able to sleep throughout the entire night—most nights, at least. But still, it felt like a magical six months had passed her right by. In those six months, her friends applied for colleges, completed finals, met recruiters, got summer jobs. There was so much, so many deadlines, that had flown right by her. In her numb state after the fair, she hadn’t cared. Now, with all her friends getting ready to leave, with Ryan shopping for dorm supplies, with the entire year ahead looming and her staying put in the same bedroom she’d had since she was a little girl, she felt lost, lonely, and on the brink of being left behind.
And now guilt. She felt guilty for not being able to move along with the rest of them, for needing her parents as much as she did.
“Cassie,” her mother said gently, setting her teacup down. She gestured for her daughter to come closer. Like a child, Cassie did. Mother and daughter sank onto the couch together, and Cathy pulled Cassie into her. “We are so proud of you. This year was horrific, for you more than anyone, and you’ve done an amazing job holding yourself together.”
Despite not wanting to in the slightest, Cassie burst into tears and hugged her mother back, her new car keys still gripped tightly in one hand.
Cassie swatted at Ryan’s knee. “Watch the upholstery,” she teased, brushing the invisible dust from the console his foot had just knocked into. He laughed and grabbed for her hand, entwining their fingers and pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles.
“It’s awesome they gave it to you; it’s practically brand new!” Ryan said before sighing. “I’m gonna be rolling up to the dorms in that rust bucket I bought with lawn-mowing money. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“You should be!” Cassie said, pulling her hand back to turn into the parking lot. “I’m incredibly jealous, actually.” She paused and drew a deep breath. Honesty was still costly for her, something she was working on with Lucy.
“You can join me in a year, if you want,” Ryan said softly. He reached over, squeezing just above her knee. Cassie felt a smile pull at her lips.
“I know,” she said. “It’s not the same, though.”
“It was a shitty year,” he said. Cassie sighed and nodded. Everyone kept saying that. “But you can pick out all my dorm stuff today, including a … ” he paused and looked to the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand, “mini refrigerator and a hot plate.”
“A hot plate?” Cassie asked, her brow rising.
“I know, right?”
“Do people even use hot plates anymore?”
“Bradley insisted,” Ryan said, laughing. Cassie burst out laughing, too. Ryan’s roommate for the coming year was a kid named Bradley Newington. Bradley—and he had insisted on Bradley, not Brad—had called Ryan seven times so far and emailed several times as well. Cassie smirked every time she thought about it; her boyfriend was not a talk-on-the-phone kind of guy.
“Okay,” she said, pulling into a parking space and throwing the car into park. “Let’s go get you that hot plate, and I promise not to pick out hot pink for a bedspread cover.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Ryan teased.
“Purple is more your style.”
“Aidan, you don’t understand. You never have.” Lucas’s cautious words rushed from between the tree trunks before her. Laney halted on her walk back from Liam’s. She had meant to slip through the forest unnoticed and join the others without question. There was some urgency to the hushed whispers, though, and Laney halted, listening for Aidan’s inevitable response.
“She wants to bury us, Lucas,” he hissed. Laney felt for the oak tree in front of her. Her hands caressed the bark as she peeked around. Lucas sat on a mossy bank, appearing perfectly at ease. His long hands folded together and lay in his lap; his ancient face, nearly devoid of wrinkles, looked up. Aidan paced before him.
“No, Aidan, the land of Tír na n-Óg is not like that; it is something you haven’t experienced since—”
“Like the winter sleep, we lie dormant, underground, and time flies.” The muscles in Aidan’s back tensed; even from where she stood hidden, Laney could see the fibrous cords tighten along his neck.
“Time doesn’t fly, young one,” Lucas murmured. Laney saw Aidan stiffen at the endearment. “It’s precisely those details that you don’t understand. You’ve lived only a linear life, always moving forward, surrounding by death and dying, so very human in its way.”
“I was never human,” Aidan spat.
“No, never, but you might as well have been. You’ve lived as one. In a way, Corra understands far better than you ever did.”
“Don’t,” Aidan warned through gritted teeth.
“It will be your undoing, young Aidan,” Lucas murmured as he stood. Laney peeked from around the bark and saw the elder’s gaze flit from Aidan to her hiding spot. She gasped and pulled back, completely sure she was not supposed to be overhearing their conversation. But Lucas said nothing, and after a brief stillness, she heard his soft retreat into the forest.
Aidan stayed, rooted to the spot, and Laney didn’t dare try and peek again. She heard his huff of annoyance, his muttered, “It won’t be my undoing.” And with a shudder of the forest floor, she felt the breaking of roots and soil as Aidan wrenched a tree from the earth and threw it into its neighbors. The crash echoed and reverberated throughout the forest. Birds scattered, and Laney couldn’t help the yelp that released.
“Sister?” Aidan called, and though he sounded breathless, he was calm and even, as well. Laney stepped from around the tree, eyes wide. “I didn’t see you there, sorry.”
She shrugged, and he walked forward, holding out his hand. When she grasped his fingers, he squeezed and offered a grin. She looked up at her brother-in-law, at Aidan. A smile bloomed on impulse, not really connected to the unsettling weight in her gut.
He tugged, and she followed, neither speaking as they wove their way through the forest to the grotto they had made their home—though there was no home for them, not really. They were wandering nomads for eternity. It didn’t really matter, though; every part of the forest felt like home to Laney. The trees sa
ng to her, and the forest floor molded around each footprint, as though welcoming her each step further into its embrace.
“We’ll be leaving shortly. You’re coming,” Aidan said once they stepped into their clearing. It wasn’t a question, though it wasn’t really a command, either. All the Fae were equals, all except Corra. She looked over the small group from her perch in a hollow log, looking every inch the queen she was. The bark molded and shifted whenever she moved, even by the barest of degrees. Above her head of wild red hair, tiny white blossoms sat like a crown. The vines twisted themselves closer to their queen.
“Where are you going tonight, son?”
Aidan tensed. Laney didn’t think Corra noticed. If she did, she gave no indication. Laney herself was more attuned to her brother-in-law’s moods, especially at the moment. He answered her with flair, though, joking and boisterous, the way he acted when he hid pain or irritation. He gave no indication that he was upset by his talk with Lucas. The elder Fae greeted Aidan passively before returning to the conversation he was having with Corra.
All in all, Aidan wasn’t so bad. Laney was head over heels for his brother, still, even in death, so it was hard to think of Aidan as anything other than family. He had an awful temper, and he was impulsive. Still, when he was loud and funny and energetic, she could see the attraction. She wondered at Cassie, wondered what her best friend would think, every time Aidan donned his charming facade. If she could only see the happy, boisterous, youthful, funny side of Aidan, she might be tempted to join them. She might be tempted to come to the trees and indulge herself in the forest’s embrace.
Laney nourished herself with the fantasy of running free with her sister at her side—their hair wild and loose, feet bare, living for eternity, untouchable by the elements—until it crumbled. No, Laney had promised she wouldn’t let that happen. Besides, Cassie didn’t want it, and who would watch over Liam for her?
“Laney,” Aidan said, his voice gentle. She blinked and looked up, startling at his closeness. “C’mon, the Boys have found us a party.”
“Is Corra coming?” Laney asked, startled out of her daydream. The trees shook behind her, and underneath her feet, deep below in the soil, she felt the slither of restless roots. Aidan raised his eyebrow, noticing.
“No, when does Mother ever come along?” he asked. He pressed his lips together, suppressing a sneer, Laney was sure. She fell into step beside him, walking through the clearing. She nodded at Corra as she passed, and the queen inclined her head gently, her gaze sweeping over Laney. A pained smile surfaced on her otherwise frozen face. Corra had recently started looking at her in this way, a way Laney was afraid she recognized.
The undergrowth parted as Laney and Aidan stepped into the lush forest that surrounded them. The Boys skipped ahead, their hats dull pink blurs. They were hungry, impatient. Jude laughed when one went sprawling over a root he had shot in his path. Another Fae, a woman named Gaia who Laney had first met at the Homecoming dance what felt like a lifetime ago, shook her head, growling.
“Stop messing around!” she snarled at Jude. The big Fae shot her a confident grin, shrugging his shoulders. Carefree but cruel, as was his standard. “Save it for the humans.”
“There’ll be plenty left for them, don’t you worry,” he said through a smile. Laney shivered. Only Aidan noticed.
“You go ahead,” he said to the small group of Fae trailing after the Red Caps. “Sister and I will join you soon.”
“Don’t let her flake,” Jude said, pointing directly in Laney’s face. “It’s time.”
“Time to join, young Laney,” Gaia whispered, picking up a lock of Laney’s hair and twirling it about her delicate finger. “Time to embrace.” She tugged gently, bringing Laney’s face even with her own. She blew her a kiss, dropped her silky hair, and skipped off after Jude and the rest. Soon, only the whispering of the trees could be heard.
“They notice,” Aidan said. “They notice how much you’re gone.”
“I can’t help it,” Laney murmured. She expected judgment. Anxiety caused the undergrowth to grow and swell; a young sapling sprang up around her feet and twisted around her bare ankles. Soil pressed between her naked toes. Bramble edged its way underneath the loose tunic she wore, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm the responses of the forest as Corey had tried to teach her.
The caress of the forest receded, leaving her untouched save for the cloth that she still wore tightly wrapped around her. Aidan watched her with concern, and … something else. Much as Corra gazed at her in mutual sorrow, Aidan hid a yearning behind his piercing blue eyes. Laney instinctively took a step back.
“I know you can’t help but want to see your child. I know about Liam,” Aidan said, watching for a reaction. Laney stared blankly ahead. “Corra wants to leave, you know,” he pressed. “She wants to go home, to Ireland. She wants us to be gone for a thousand years, or more. She thinks that will help, because it’s what they did for her.”
“What who did?”
“My father.” Laney’s gaze shifted to Aidan’s face. “Sit, Laney. Let me explain.”
The ground was mossy and soft, and Laney couldn’t help but think of Lucas, sitting just as she was, only minutes ago. She must have looked nervous, because Aidan smiled softly and sat beside her.
“I’m sorry about that tree,” he said. “Lucas and I were arguing.”
“Oh?” Laney murmured, not wanting to give away how much she had heard.
“He’s stuck in the old ways,” Aidan answered airily.
“Which is bad,” Laney said, a hint of a question hiding in her tone.
“Not bad, but not what I envision, either. Let me explain. You see, Corra wasn’t always our queen,” Aidan started. Laney shifted on the sloping ground; something poked her back, but she couldn’t seem to move it away. She gave up with a sigh, letting whatever outcrop of rock it was press beneath her left shoulder blade. Aidan didn’t seem to notice; she knew he’d have helped if she asked. She didn’t, sensing the story stole his attention.
“She was taken, centuries ago,” he continued. A small smile bloomed. “You know why? It was her hair. So lovely. On that, I agreed with him. She has lovely hair.”
“With whom?” Laney asked.
“My father,” Aidan continued. “A fool of a king, but a good man. Funny how the two don’t go hand in hand, isn’t it?
“He saw Corra as a young maiden, her fiery hair burning like a beacon through the mist, and he decided he had to have her as his own. We stole her away that night, the pixies did, luring her with music. She danced out the front door of her thatched-roof cottage, danced down the middle of the muddy road that led out of her her tiny town. She danced over streams and through fields. She danced all the way through the forest and into his arms. It took her all night, and he let it, not rushing her in the slightest and watching from a distance as the mist carried her mind, and her feet carried her body, and the forest embraced her as its own.”
“When she woke?” Laney asked tentatively.
“She was one of us, and not just one of us, she was a queen and mother,” Aidan responded. “My father died not long after, a hundred years or so, and she took on the mantle of queen with grace, I must admit.
“But she has a soft spot for them, the humans. It will be her downfall, all of our downfalls, if … ”
“If?” Laney prompted.
Aidan smiled secretively. “Never you mind, Laney, dear. It’s not important. What’s important is what happens next, what she decides for us. For it is you and I who will be most affected, don’t you doubt it. The rest may grumble or go along willingly, but it is you and I who lose our anchors.”
“Cassie,” Laney whispered.
“And Liam,” Aidan said, rising from his perch in the knot of a stubborn oak tree. “If we go to Ireland, we lose them for now and always. Think about it.”
With that, he darted ahead, a shadow amongst weaving trunks. With a
sigh, Laney rose and joined him.
The Boys should learn to be more picky.
That was all Laney could think, scanning the group that surrounded them. Aidan had already disappeared into the trees with some willing girl. She looked about high-school age, though she could have been older. She had that mousy look of poor self-esteem wrapped in a cardigan. Laney had a fleeting wish that he treat her gently. Aidan did mostly leave the humans alive. Then again, Laney knew it didn’t really matter. As Corra had once said: all humans eventually died, that’s just what they do.
Corra spoke those words to Cassie ages ago. Though, Laney couldn’t help but notice, her queen did not partake in the festivities as the rest of them did. She stayed in the deepest part of the forest, entwined with nature. It was only for the rarest of occasions that she ventured out, and then it was only with her guard, Lucas.
Lucas spoke for Corra, as he did when they confronted Cassie by the rock face on the trail. He was a tall, dominating creature, stately and refined. His cloak was moss-green, warm and soft as the plant it resembled, and his pale skin and pale hair shared the luminescence of moonlight. He was older than the rest, and it showed in his mannerisms and ways. Even as old as Judoc or Aidan were, they couldn’t come close to matching Lucas. Lucas existed before any of them, before Corra, before the Red Caps, before them all.
But still, he was only a guard. Corra was queen, and though she preferred to stay in the background, her word ruled.
Aidan emerged from the brush. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, pushing the disheveled locks off his forehead and picking out a stray leaf. He spotted Laney and strode purposively forward, ignoring the humans by the fire who called out to him. Jude opened a bottle of wine and sloshed some in their cups. One of the women rose from her seat, stood directly in front of him, and began to sway softly to music only she could hear. No one seemed disturbed by this at all.
