by E. M. Fitch
“It’s too late,” Aidan sneered. “You already have.”
“Let’s ask the forest what it thinks,” Laney replied, quiet once more and smiling in a way that drew hope into Cassie’s chest—hope tinged with the bitter desire for revenge—and struck fear in Aidan’s heart. Cassie could see it in the way he reacted, stepping back and instinctively putting his hands out in front of him.
In the end, no other battle was necessary. Laney lifted her hands, and as though shaking away errant drops of rainwater from her fingertips, she flicked her wrists in a shooing motion. Every tree flew backward, landing in a pattern of chaos all along the road, the Town Green, and smashing the iron fence of the cemetery. The moss receded from the pavement; the bramble snuck back to the forest. From the deep chasm Aidan had created in the world behind Cassie, water was drawn forth. It bubbled over the lip of the earth’s rupture and went racing toward the fire, soaking the trees that had not yet been scorched and moving forward in a spray like a swarm of a million bees. Smoke turned gray and then white, and the scent of steam overtook the scent of burning destruction. The crack in the earth’s surface drew together, and the two sides of the world combined.
Not a single faery had moved, but every hobgoblin raced into the forest like whimpering dogs. Laney let them go with a smile on her face. Mist descended on the group, but it wasn’t the magic of seduction and persuasion that Aidan used; it was the damp air that drifted from the library and town hall. It circled around them like a cloud, and Cassie could no longer see the rest of the world, only the faeries, and then Ryan and Gibbons and Samantha, Jon, and Anna—all of whom rushed forward and threw their arms around Cassie, looking as one at the faery queen they had known all their lives.
“Aidan,” Laney whispered to the cowering king before her, “prepare yourself.” Turning to Cassie, she nodded her head, weary and sad with the power she now contained. “Cassie, he’s all yours.”
“Laney, please, a moment.”
Laney watched as Lucas emerged as one of the shadows from the forest. He hadn’t been in the center of the battle, but he hadn’t been far, either. Laney felt she understood why, finally.
Flying through the forest, from the back woods of the hospital to the overrun Town Green, had been illuminating and terrifying. The trees didn’t just obey; they embraced her. Flying like a shadow from life to life, it felt as though she finally belonged. Gaia could sense it as well, Laney knew. Laney could feel her emotion, just as she could feel the life of the trees, more acutely and more poignantly than ever.
It is because I am queen, Laney thought. She had whispered those words to the deer, and bowing their heads, they accepted it. Her new feline friend, Finn, knew so as well. And now the trees bowed to her command. The weight of this responsibility dragged her down, rooted her to the earth. And more than ever, the feeling of immortality enveloped her.
The humans were mortal; they would die. Whether now or in a couple dozen years, both seemed like a blink of an eye to Laney. Her own existence stretched so far beyond, it was nearly impossible to see what difference the span of a few years meant. But there was Liam, who meant the world to Laney still, and there was Cassie. She loved them both. Their lives mattered. And if their lives mattered, the rest of humanity mattered, too.
She had a sudden and sharp urge for both to join her now and forever, but she tamped it down. It wasn’t right to take away their wills. It wasn’t honest.
“Laney, dear?” Lucas called. He moved to her side. She blinked and looked up at him, her hand resting on Cassie’s forearm. Even with just the casual touch, she could still feel the iron embedded in her friend’s flesh from the scrape of the cemetery fence. She could also taste the wild fear and anger. Laney tried to push some of her own calm at Cassie, hoping her friend could receive it.
“Yes, Lucas? Speak,” Laney murmured. Across the clearing, Aidan struggled to his feet. The rest of the faeries hadn’t moved, though jaws hung slightly open and glazed eyes watched warily as their new queen began her reign.
“Spare him,” Lucas whispered roughly, bending low and catching Laney’s eye. “Corra would want that. Please.”
“I can’t,” Laney said, shaking her head. “How can I? He will never listen. Never.”
Lucas nodded, smiling. “But there is a way,” he murmured, leaning close to her ear and whispering. Laney felt his words rush over her, and her eyes widened. Something in her soul—it felt a lot like Corra—soared in appreciation, giggling. Her heart pounded faster, and she wet her lips, the fingers staying Cassie’s hand tightening inadvertently. She heard her friend’s hiss as though from underwater. Everything seemed unreal, especially the possibility Lucas now whispered in her ear.
“But can I?” Laney wondered aloud, looking to her old friend as he stopped whispering and leaned back. He smiled, a secret smile.
“As queen? There’s nothing you couldn’t do,” he urged. Laney nodded, believing him completely. Her fingers left Cassie’s arm.
“Laney, no,” Cassie whispered, “let me—”
“Trust, Cass,” Laney said, smiling. She didn’t look back as she stepped toward her brother.
“Aidan,” she called, her words echoing in the stillness of the mist, “you are sentenced to guard this wood for a thousand years, at which time you may return to the land of Tír na n-Óg to be united with brother, mother, and I, your queen. Be a faithful guardian to this place and protect it well.”
Aidan scoffed, offended. His bruised face twisted at her words, and he spat on the forest floor. But before words of contempt could leave his mouth, he cried out in fear. From his forehead, bloody protuberances grew. He toppled forward with their weight, landing on his knees, hands braced on the ground in front of him. From his bare skin, deep brown fur grew. His shoulders popped and cracked as the contour of his skull shifted and antlers thrust out from his forehead. Bones stretched and muscles thickened.
Laney kept her gaze on her shifting brother, breathing this new life into him from the outstretched fingers she pointed toward him. But her mind threw itself into the forest, calling for them. They came, waiting at the edge of the mist, as Aidan’s transformation became complete.
The stags drew closer, huffing their misty breaths and disturbing the air around them. They encircled Aidan, watching as he rose on wobbly, thin legs, testing muscles he hadn’t had previously. He opened his new mouth, a braying noise echoed forth, and then he reared back on two legs, a magnificent stag with a soft brown pelt and full rack of antlers. His hooves kicked wildly in the air and then landed. He stilled, huffing quietly, unable to charge because the rest of the deer of the forest encircled him, keeping the faeries from harm, and keeping Aidan from harming himself.
“One thousand years, dear brother,” Laney murmured, “and then we’ll meet again. I’m sure you’ll have words for me.” She ended on a soft laugh she couldn’t help, not one of contempt and anger, but one of love. After all, for her, a thousand years wasn’t so long. But long enough to keep Liam and Cassie from harm, long enough for their descendants to be scattered to the winds.
Aidan snorted, throwing his head in anger, and the circle of deer closed in. He would lead them in time, teach them to be the majestic guardians of the forest they were, but for now, he was new, and smaller than they. They herded him toward the woods and goaded him until he ran.
“The rest of you,” Laney said, “go.”
Wordlessly, the faeries drifted into the woods, Lucas among them, and Laney turned to her human friends.
“I must go, too,” she whispered, locking eyes with Cassie as she nodded goodbye. Then she turned and fled like a shadow being chased by the sun. Tears threatened and then spilled. Her chest heaved with emotion the trees could feel. They sang soft lullabies as she flew past. She didn’t stop running until the humans were far behind her. And when she did stop, Finn still on her heels, she wiped her eyes. There was no room for tears, not now. A legion of faeries waited for the return of their quee
n.
“I don’t know if she’ll come, Cassie,” Ryan murmured, gripping his girlfriend’s fingers tightly as he led his car out of town. Jon’s truck had been destroyed in the event the state weather forecasters were calling “the strongest freak earthquake the Northeast has ever seen.” The truck now lay in the bottom of the chasm Laney had repaired. Most of the witnesses had foggy memories at best, and the six humans who recalled with perfect clarity weren’t telling. Cassie’s parents were waiting for her at home, where she went after weeping herself dry in Ryan’s arms. She walked into her home a bloody mess, her mom’s tunic torn and dirty beyond repair, her arm bandaged hastily, covered in tree sap and glass fragments.
Her mother rushed her immediately to the hospital, where she was treated for superficial lacerations, and she put on a damn good show of being normal, just in shock. The last thing she wanted was a trip to the eighth floor, the psychiatric wing.
The hospital was packed with earthquake survivors. At least, that’s what they were being told. When the other towns’ crews finally chopped their way through the massive trees felled to block all roads in and out of town, they drove into a scene of mass chaos and confusion. Of the hundreds of people milling around, most of them coming from a tennis court, no one seemed to know just what had happened. And the ones who thought maybe they did know what had happened weren’t about to tell the officers they had beat up a child in a red baseball hat or kicked a forest goblin clear across the Town Green.
“The earthquake, first of its kind in the Northeast, ruptured a natural gas line, flooding victims with natural gas and causing mass confusion. A water line was also destroyed, putting out a forest fire that had already consumed the town hall and library. Still, the freak natural occurrence took the lives of twelve, including, tragically, seven-year-old Willy Calhoun—” Ryan reached forward quickly and punched the radio knob off. He chanced a look at Cassie, who grimaced back at him. The child she had tried to revive hadn’t made it. Ryan’s fingers gave hers a reassuring squeeze.
Just before she was discharged from the hospital, Gibbons found Cassie sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for her parents to walk her out of the chaos of the ER. He moved toward her briskly, a mess himself, and without words stooped low and hugged her. She held onto him with everything she was worth.
“All this time, kid,” he mumbled against her ear. “All this time.”
“It’s all over now, for all of us,” she assured him.
He stood straight after a second, and Cassie smiled up at him. Her parents looked back and forth, first to their daughter, then to the cop hovering over her, and then to each other. Gibbons cleared his throat and said, “You’ve got one hell of a kid here,” and then he winked, turned on his heel, and led the way out of the hospital.
“I’m not disagreeing, but—” her father started.
“What happened today, Cassie?” her mother interrupted. She grabbed the wheelchair and pushed her daughter to the exit. “An earthquake? Here? There’s not even a fault line. And there’s something else, hon. I don’t know how to tell you—”
“Don’t, Mom,” Cassie sighed. “I already know. And so does Mrs. Blake, even if she can’t admit it to herself.”
Cathy Harris, for once, didn’t push. She let the knowledge settle with grim acceptance. Cassie knew the feeling.
Her father grunted his confusion, and his wife patted his hand. “Girl talk, darling,” her mother whispered. The subject was dropped.
Cassie had laughed, a hoarse, joyless sound, but as the late evening air hit her face, the sun already descended well past the tree line, she lost her words. Her attention was pinned past the parking lot, looking for a familiar face amongst the trees. She wasn’t there, though. The faery queen was gone.
“Are you going to see Lucy this afternoon?” Ryan asked, bringing Cassie back to the present moment and the interior of the car. She turned to look at him and nodded.
“It’ll make my parents feel better,” she said. “I still can’t tell them everything that happened that day, and they’re still freaked. That natural gas defense would have been pretty decent if my mom hadn’t seen Laney.”
“Silly, sneaky faery,” Ryan said, smiling gently. “She was never that good at keeping secrets.”
Cassie laughed, and the burst of joy brought tears to her eyes. “No, she wasn’t,” she admitted.
“And maybe seeing Lucy would make you feel better, too?” Ryan asked. She nodded.
“Yeah, I think it will.”
Ryan pulled the car into the lot and cut the engine. Cassie looked up to the forest trail ahead of her. It was the old piece of the Appalachian Trail, the last place Cassie could think to look for Laney. She wasn’t at Liam’s house when Cassie had been so sure she would be. She wasn’t in her own backyard, though her mother was, smoking silently into the empty night. She wasn’t in the park, on the bench Cassie had once seen her sitting on, entwined with Corey. And she wasn’t at the Gray Lady Cemetery, their old haunt. But she hadn’t left yet, Cassie was positive. She hadn’t said goodbye, not properly. And so this was the last spot Cassie could think to try—the trail she and Ryan, and occasionally Laney and Jon, had traveled in the summer before this madness, when they were all young and dumb and human.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Ryan asked, squeezing her fingers. Cassie turned to him.
“No, it’s safe now,” she said. “I can go alone.”
“Okay; I’ll be here when you’re done,” he answered simply. Cassie’s brow furrowed.
“Ry, why do you love me?” He seemed taken aback at the question, and she rushed to explain. “This entire year has been insane, and I’ve lied to you, gotten you into danger. There was Aidan—”
He moved forward, grabbed her face in his hands, and kissed her firmly on the mouth, cutting off her words. He kissed her briefly but thoroughly, the tip of his tongue just darting out to taste her. When he moved back, Cassie’s words had fled her.
“Listen, you,” he started gently, his face so near her own. She gazed up into his eyes, brown and deep and textured, and he looked back, a grin softening his expression. “I love you. I love you because you’re a good person; you care. I’ve known since nearly the beginning that you were hiding something, that some truth was stirring inside you, and that you couldn’t share it. I could have walked away a thousand times over, and you know, I was tempted. But I came back, every time. I chose to love you, and let you be you, and hope that you’d open up to me in time. I wanted that so badly, but I wanted it on your terms. I wanted you to feel safe enough to trust me, and no one can force that; it either happens or it doesn’t.” He leant forward again and placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose. Cassie laughed and wiped at her eyes. Ryan’s thumb came up and caught a teardrop on her cheekbone, brushing it aside.
“When I’m with you,” Ryan continued in a whisper, “all of me feels whole. It’s like you’ve caught a piece of my soul, and without you near, I’m always missing it. But most of all—and I want you to hear this, Cassie Harris—I love you because you’re worth loving.”
Cassie flew at him in an embrace, holding him tightly. She breathed deeply, inhaling a scent that felt like home. As broken as she felt, as scarred and as defective, Ryan didn’t see that. Finally, she could be her whole self with him; there were no secrets now. And, if Cassie had her way, there would be no secrets ever again.
“I love you, too, Ryan,” she whispered, kissing him hard before sitting back. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for loving you,” Ryan answered, rolling his eyes. He smiled brightly. Cassie shook her head.
“No, thank you for being patient, for waiting. Thank you for seeing me when no one else did.”
“And don’t thank me for that either, Cass. I needed you just as badly as you needed me,” he said, raising his eyebrows as though in question.
“I do need you,” Cassie answered.
“Good. We have each other. All is rig
ht in the world,” Ryan said. “Now, go check on that best friend of yours.”
Smiling, Cassie exited the car.
At the peak of the trail, overlooking a valley below, highlighted by a fierce sunset, Cassie finally found Laney.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Cassie asked, climbing to the top and sitting on the same rocky outcrop Laney was perched on. The rock shifted under Cassie, cradling her as though it was made specifically for her. Her friend took a moment, breathing in the life of the forest, watching the sunset behind the trees. The sky was a fierce orange; streaks of red bled up from the horizon. The pale lavender clouds kissed the sky, as though trying to soften the brilliance and violence of it all. They couldn’t; nothing could hold back the savagery of nature. Life moved on.
“It’s time,” Laney answered eventually, turning to look at Cassie. She smiled and shrugged. Her expression was screwed up, but only in sadness. No internal war raged inside. Some part of Cassie knew all along she would choose this, but it hurt.
“You don’t have to.” The words slipped past Cassie’s lips, and tears welled as they rang in the cooling air around the girls. “Aidan is safe for now. For a thousand years! You can stay.”
“You know I can’t,” Laney said. The words were simple enough, but Cassie crumpled inside. Laney leant toward her, knocking shoulders.
“Liam—”
“Is far better off without me near. You know this,” Laney interrupted, resting her head on her best friend’s shoulder.
“He’d want to know you,” Cassie argued, a soft flame of panic flaring in her chest, tensing her muscles.
“I wish I could go back and say goodbye … ” Laney paused, her voice choking on the words. “I can’t. I couldn’t bear it. Tell him about me, won’t you? Not now, not soon, but someday? Warn him that some might come looking for him, and tell him I want him to turn away. I want him to live a full life, a human life, full of love and meaning. I want him to die gracefully and move on. I will see him in eternity.”
