by E. M. Fitch
But the roots that poked through the crumbling soil recognized one of their own falling. That, or Laney had unconsciously summoned them; she wasn’t sure. A net of stringy root systems sprang around her, and from deep below a tree sprang forth, catching Laney in the midst of woven branches and thrusting her upward. The dark hole shrank below her as she squinted into the sun.
Aidan knelt where she had left him, and she alighted from the canopy that had caught her, brushing dirt from her arms as she narrowed her eyes at him. The tree continued its ascension, settling in the forest as the earth sealed around its base.
“You let her go,” he wailed, reaching toward the path that had remained. Laney could feel the energy bleeding from him as quickly as the blood that pumped from his chest. She breathed rapidly through clenched teeth. She stepped toward him, intent on finishing Cassie’s task. Without having to voice her need, she stretched her arm out, and the iron dagger was brought to her in a tangle of shrubbery. The forest recognized what Laney couldn’t see, and it was obeying.
Before she could grab hold of the dagger, burnt skin be damned, a shuffle of energy invaded that clearing. Jude, Gaia, Ruari and Moira raced past the newly rooted oak shards, looking from the king who was bleeding out to Laney who towered above him, enraged and murderous. Lucas followed the rest at a distance, but it was he who spoke first.
“We should get him to shelter,” the oldest Fae murmured. The rest moved toward Aidan, hands outstretched to carry and cradle him. Aidan looked up at Laney, bloody spittle staining his lips.
“You bitch,” he muttered before falling on his face and passing out.
“We have to leave now,” Gaia murmured over the dying embers. “He’s left us no choice.”
“Agreed,” Jude said, uncharacteristically quiet.
There was a small gathering of Fae. The Boys sat off to the side, gnawing on what looked like fresh deer bones. Every once in a while there was a crack and a sucking sound as they feasted on the warm marrow. It turned Laney’s stomach. She had moved as far away from the little beasts as she could manage, sitting on her own at the edge of their riverbed clearing, and still she couldn’t escape their chewing.
She didn’t want to come back to the clearing with them, not at first. It was Lucas who convinced her.
“You must come,” he had whispered urgently as the others gathered Aidan into their arms. “It’s the only way to keep protecting her.”
Laney had stood, covered in dirt, the steel of resolution keeping her jaw gritted, but she nodded. Yes, she would come. She would go home with her kind and trust that they would protect her. Though why they should, she wasn’t sure. Lucas was sure, she could feel it, and so she trusted. She followed them as they brought their broken king home—tolerated the suspicious glances and never said a word.
“I don’t want to go to sleep for a thousand years,” Moira muttered, kicking a stone into the rushing water. A general murmur rose at this—nodding and agreement. No one wanted that.
“It isn’t like that,” Lucas corrected gently. “I’ve told you before—”
“Old men think all rest is peaceful and necessary,” Jude interrupted. “Age forgets the needs of youth.”
“It goes by in the blink of an eye—less than that. You don’t understand,” Lucas argued. His tone was soft and easily forgotten.
“Don’t any of you remember it?” Laney asked from the outskirts. Several eyes blinked over at her, as though they had forgotten she existed. Ruari shook her head. Jude shrugged. Laney hadn’t spoken since they had settled Aidan there, so it wasn’t surprising the rest had forgotten about their newest ex-human. Lucas stared intently, a smile curving his lips.
“I am the only one left who has ever really been,” Lucas answered for the whole. “Well, myself and Aidan, though he was such a youth to our ways he seems to have forgotten it himself.”
“Corra knew it,” Laney protested. “How can Aidan not?”
“Corra respected us more than many of us respected ourselves,” Lucas answered simply, “and she grew up in the old country, where the stories of Tír na n-Óg weren’t so deeply buried yet.”
“It doesn’t have to be there, though,” Gaia interrupted. “I was born in the wilds along the bank of the Mississippi River. Why not travel south?”
“Mosquitoes,” Jude answered seriously. “And that was hundreds of years ago. It doesn’t look the same now. We need room to move.”
“Tír na n-Óg is safest,” Lucas said.
“Well, you’re not king, are you?” Jude barked, dismissing the elder with a wave of his meaty hand. “It’s not up to you, and there’s no way Aidan is taking us to the land of eternal sleep.”
“It’s where we all end up eventually,” Lucas warned. “Corey will be there … ”
“A thousand years from now!” Gaia burst out. “Maybe!”
“ … and Corra,” Lucas continued forcefully.
“All the more reason to skip it, I say,” Jude snarled. “You think Aidan wants to face her again, after stabbing her in the back?”
“For that matter, do any of us?” Gaia asked quietly. “When we all knew what he was planning?”
A grunt interrupted the argument, and then a keening that drew shivers up Laney’s spine. She was reminded of a fairytale story of a banshee, a ghostly woman who wailed when death approached. But this was no woman, Aidan moaned from his place in the woods, wounds packed with moss and arms tangled in undergrowth, feeding from the strength of the forest as humans feed from IV tubing. Jude scrambled to his feet and went to his king, followed by one of the Boys. The Red Cap chewed on gristle; it popped and cracked between his teeth. Laney shuddered.
The sun hovered behind Aidan. It wasn’t ready to make its descent yet. The entire earth blazed with light as their king stood from his bed of moss and blood. He staggered his first few steps, and Jude was there to steady him. Aidan accepted his arm with a grunt, and moved until he was in their midst, sitting on a stone chair summoned from the earth by Gaia.
Lucas inched closer to Laney, settling himself just in front of her. She was grateful for the barrier he created between her and her king. She found it difficult to even look in his direction. Fear wormed its way through her gut.
“You let it stay,” Aidan said to Jude. Confusion twisted Jude’s features. Gaia rolled her eyes from beside the massive faery and answered for him.
“We’re not killing another of our own, Aidan,” she said, with a darting glance at Laney.
“She defied me,” Aidan hissed. He didn’t even glance in Laney’s direction. Beside her, a cropping of white flowers burst from the floor and sprang up her wrists. Lucas noticed; his eyebrows rose at the sight.
“We’re not killing another,” Jude said simply. “Laney stays. And we should go, Aidan.”
“No,” the king whispered. “We’re not going anywhere.”
A palpable tension wove through the group. Fae shifted where they sat, murmured to each other. Even the Boys stopped crunching on deer bone.
“Aidan, brother,” Jude said, “you’ve left us very little choice.”
“That town is ours,” Aidan hissed, clutching his chest as though each word physically pained him. “She is mine. Mine, or no one’s. I’ve already called for them.”
“For who, Aidan?” Gaia asked through wooden lips. Her gaze flitted from Jude to Aidan to Lucas. Every face paled, and everybody froze.
“You can’t possibly mean—”
“The hobgoblins should arrive shortly.”
“Aidan, you’re not serious,” Lucas whispered. Laney leaned forward, trying to capture the elder Fae’s expression. His voice held sheer terror.
“They’ll be here soon.”
“What exactly are hobgoblins?” Laney asked. The group ignored her completely. The Red Caps giggled in their corner of the clearing, maniacally grinning. Jude stood and paced away from Aidan, his back to the rest. Ruari and Moira shifted nervously, and Gaia caught
her lower lip between her teeth and chewed in restless agitation.
“It’s too late,” Aidan said, clearing his throat. “It’s done.”
“To what end?” Gaia asked in a whisper. “If you want to win her—”
“Cassie Harris is lost to me,” Aidan said cuttingly. “And so, this town, and everyone in it, will be lost for eternity. Let the hobgoblins have it! Let each and every one of you have it.” His voice grew in volume, until Gaia covered her ears with her dainty fingers and the trees shook with the force. Tracks of green raced up Aidan’s arms, where a human’s veins would run. He raised his arms to the sky; his fingers resembled bark. “Do you hear me, creatures of the forest?” he bellowed up into the trees. “It is yours! Take it!”
Cassie ran along the path her best friend created for her. She had no idea where she was headed. She hadn’t been that far from home, and she should know her surroundings, but the forest looked foreign to her. Nothing made sense. She followed the path laid out for her blindly, trusting in Laney’s judgment.
Behind her, she could hear the ominous creaking of the trees as roots slithered and snatched at her heels, but nothing was truly able to grasp hold. Still, she couldn’t slow; she felt the wrath that crept along the path behind her. Aidan was hurt, but he was also furious, angrier than Cassie had ever seen him. There would be no tricks now, no fooling him. The only question in Cassie’s mind was his retaliation. Would he want her still? Would he steal her away despite her running? Or would he kill her?
And, beyond those terrifying questions, one more snaked its way into Cassie’s consciousness. Would he kill Laney? He had proved himself capable of killing his own before. Was her best friend in danger now? The thought caused Cassie to stumble. Her footsteps slowed, and she chanced a peek over her shoulder. A branch split overhead, and parts went careening down, breaking everything in their path. Crows cawed behind her, and a thrill of fear sparked again in Cassie’s heart.
She turned and ran.
The path brought her straight to her own backyard. She burst through the tree line, stumbling onto the grass. She flipped over and crab-walked backward, skittering away from the weaving trees. But there was nothing chasing her anymore. The birds that called and sang were only songbirds, and the breeze that fluttered the grass held no hint of danger. It was like waking from a nightmare, and the cold sweat that lingered on Cassie’s brow reminded her of the same.
She heard a car approach on the road behind her, and, looking over one shoulder, she saw Mrs. Blake pulling into her driveway. The older woman got out of her car and looked over the roof at Cassie, her head cocked in question. Just as her mouth opened, Cassie heard another voice call out.
“Cassie!” Ryan yelled. He appeared around the side of her house, blocking Mrs. Blake from view. “Cassie? Where the hell have you been?”
“I was—”
“Your parents called me two hours ago, frantic. Your therapist called them, said you’ve missed two appointments now. What the hell is going on?” Ryan moved until he was right beside her, kneeling in the grass. He reached for her hand and noticed she was trembling. “What is it, Cass?”
“Two appointments?” she asked, her gaze darting back to the forest. “I hadn’t realized … ”
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Ryan asked softly. He reached forward and picked a stray twig out of her hair. Cassie jerked away from his touch, and he frowned, showing her the bit of bark before dropping it on the lawn between them. “What’s going on?”
Cassie shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what you—”
“No, Cass,” Ryan interrupted. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked as he stood, his hands thrust in his pockets. He wore a collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of cargo shorts. Cassie scrambled to her feet and went to adjust her own clothing. Her tank top was streaked with mossy stains, and the hem was dirty. Her shorts had a fine red mist spattered over them but were so smeared with dirt that she was sure he wouldn’t notice. She pulled the folds of her mother’s flowing cardigan around her, noticing the tear in the seam for the first time.
“Cassie, you’re a mess,” Ryan started, stating the obvious. “You’ve been out in the woods alone again, and … is that … ” Ryan leaned forward, staring at her face. Cassie self-consciously brought her hand to her mouth, wiping at her skin with an almost bruising force. Her lips still felt swollen, and the pit of her stomach filled with leaden guilt at the memory of why that was. “You’re bleeding,” Ryan finished simply. He pulled a bandanna from his pocket, offering the folded square of bright red to her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, pressing the freshly laundered fabric to her face. She wondered if it was her own blood, or Aidan’s, that Ryan had spotted.
“What happened?” Ryan asked. “Your dad is out there trying to find you. You didn’t answer your cell. He called me looking for you.”
“My cell?” Cassie asked blankly, wondering where she had put that. She reached for her pockets, shoving her hands inside the tight fabric. Her keys were in one pocket, and she found her phone in the other. When she pulled it free, it was obvious the battery had died. Cassie wondered when that had happened. “I didn’t realize it had died,” she said eventually. She jerked her thumb toward her house. “Maybe we should—”
“Talk?” Ryan asked pointedly. Cassie blinked up at him.
“I meant go inside,” she stammered, looking back to the trees once more. She couldn’t feel the malevolence that was Aidan. He wasn’t coming for her yet. Cassie knew she had injured him; maybe he would need to take cover for a while. But how long?
“Cassie, I can’t do this,” Ryan said. She looked back to him. He stared at her hard, unflinching.
“Do what?” she asked in a whisper. He sighed.
“This isn’t high school anymore. I’m serious about you, about us, but I’ve told you before that I can’t stay in a lie.”
“We’re not a lie,” Cassie said.
“We are,” Ryan countered. “If we can’t be honest with each other, we are a lie.”
Cassie stiffened, though not in fear. Some part of her squirmed at standing so near the forest, but a deeper part—a part she had difficulty acknowledging—knew that there was no danger. She had come to be able to sense it in the energy of the trees, the invisible force that leaked from every living thing. There were no goose pimples, no shivers racing up and down her spine. Some base instinct whispered that she was safe, if only for the moment, and she was counting on that instinct to alert her when danger appeared.
And above all that instinctual knowing, anger simmered. She couldn’t place the source, heart still pounding from her run through the forest, blood still drying on her skin. Her mind grappled with the failed assassination attempt, and the horrible knowledge that yes, she was able to throw her entire being into a murderous strike. Beyond her connection to the forest, her human life called, and once again, she was frustrated with feeling half in one world and half in the other, not truly belonging to either, and attacked because of it.
“That’s ridiculous!” she sputtered. “I have to share everything with you, every sordid detail of my life? Or what? I’m not serious about how I feel about you?”
“Would you have told Laney?”
His question, his accusation, hung in the air between them. She stepped back, away from the forest, and away from Ryan.
“That’s not fair,” Cassie murmured.
“Isn’t it? Don’t you get what I’m looking for here?” Ryan asked.
Cassie shook her head. Beyond them, Mrs. Blake had returned outside; Cassie heard her front door open and close, and the grating of a garbage can being dragged back from the curb. Across the street, Randall and Quinn, the two little boys Cassie once babysat for, burst from their home with a combination of joyful shrieks. “I guess I don’t.”
“Maybe you never did,” he whispered. The muscles bunched at the crown of Ryan’s jaw. “I th
ought we were more. I thought we could be more. Cassie, you’re my best friend—”
“Jon—”
“No,” Ryan interrupted, moving forward and gripping her biceps. His fingers squeezed the warm flesh tenderly as his eyes bore into hers. “No, he’s not. You are. I don’t want Jon to know every thought that pops into my head, every time my heart clenches, every fear, every moment of soaring triumph. I want to share those things with you, Cass. I want you to know everything. I want to be your last thought at night and your first in the morning—because, Cassie Harris, that’s what you are to me. And if you don’t feel the same, you should tell me now and let me walk away.”
“And you would?” she asked, not breaking eye contact. “If I told you I couldn’t, would you walk away?”
He flinched, releasing his grip on her arms. He nodded. “It’s not fair,” he murmured, “not to you, or to me. We both deserve someone we can give ourselves to completely. I’m looking for a soulmate, Cassie, and if that’s not what you want from me, then yes, I’d walk away and let you find it elsewhere.”
There was a shimmering moment that existed in a minuscule space between breaths. It hung before them, stretched. Mrs. Blake disappeared back inside her home, though Cassie felt the glance she cast in her direction. The boys across the road played with trucks on their driveway; Cassie could hear the scrape of plastic wheels on asphalt. Somewhere, someone was watering their lawn; and further down the road, a lawn mower putt-putt-putted and then choked. A man cursed. In the endless loop of neighborhood monotony, fear lit Ryan’s face, danced behind his eyes. And indecision hovered like a cloud between Cassie’s lips and his, stifling her breath and causing a sharp pain to pierce her chest. His shoulders sagged, just a bit, before she shattered the stillness with three simple words.
