“Who?” I ask.
The guy’s terrified brown eyes lock on Dane’s silhouette in the distance. “The guy who killed my friends.”
My whole world feels like it shrinks to a cold pinpoint. “What do you mean?”
“He killed them,” The guy swallows. “I don’t know how, but he and his friend killed my friends. They told me to leave the party and I did, I was so scared - and since that night I haven’t been able to get a hold of any of them. Not Tommy, or Alan, or Mendoza -“
He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Maybe they just…went on vacation?” I try.
“All of them? All of them at that party except me?” He wrings his hands. “No way. I called their parents, their girlfriends - but no one remembers them. No one except me. That silver-haired guy did something. I know it sounds crazy, but he killed ‘em and made everyone forget. You gotta get away from him - he’s dangerous.”
Lit from behind by the dying sunset, my eyes work their way up Dane’s shadow, to his boots, his long legs, his sinfully cut torso, to the hollows of his collarbone and finally - at last - his feral, unreadable, face.
-9-
“I’m your Brightness source, aren’t I? The least you could do is tell me what’s going on,” I shout, trying to keep pace with Dane as he lopes ahead of Quinn and I over the garden path. We pass the dragon statue, its huge teeth and wild eyes amplifying all the unsettling feelings that’ve come loose in me.
“There are some things your voracious human brain doesn’t need to know,” Dane calls back, his voice an irritated gout of flame in the cold night.
“Then I’ll just get Quinn to tell me.”
Dane rounds on us all of a sudden, holding one finger up at Quinn. “You will not tell her, or by the Bright Lady I will cross teeth with you.”
It must be a serious fae threat of some sort, because even stoic Quinn looks surprised at it. He inclines his head, blue curls bobbing.
“As you wish.”
“So no one’s gonna tell me?” I throw my hands up. “I’d love to know if you and Altair are actually gruesome murderers or not.”
“Which is exactly why you can’t know,” Dane throws my dress bag onto a chair roughly. “You’re here for one reason, and one reason only - to feed us. Our pasts, our presents - none of it matters. In the wild of the Bright Place we were able to survive fairly, but here, in Van Grier’s world, we have to hunt or we deteriorate. That’s the bottom line.”
“So you’d rather kill people than ‘deteriorate’?” I frown. “It doesn’t kill you, right? Vil said he can’t kill you, unless he links you to a human.”
“We don’t die,” Quinn says softly beside me. “But we can lose our minds.”
“Blood and Brightness,” Dane snarls. “Without Brightness we starve, but without blood we go mad.”
“Going without blood is much worse than going without Brightness,” Quinn agrees.
“Then you…you and Altair really did kill them.” I look at Dane, my stomach sinking, but before I can say anything more his head snaps up and his gaze is so sharp and furious I swear it cuts across the skin of my cheeks.
“You’re here to feed us. Judgments, opinions, meddling - anything else from you doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is your Brightness.”
It hurts. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Quinn doesn’t even try to deny it, just standing there with his passive face glued to a distant oil painting as Dane’s cruel words ring. I knew that’s how he thought of me all along - how they all think of me - but hearing it said in the open is more devastating than it should be. I clench my fist and draw an ounce of strength from it, enough to storm away with my bags - leaving the dress he bought me behind in the cold chair as a last, petty ‘fuck you’.
I throw everything on the bed and collapse face first on it, my whole body trembling.
Dane refused to admit it, but that’s as good as an admission. He and Altair killed my upstairs neighbors. They killed people. People I knew - hated, but knew. And how hard could I really hate someone, when all they did was play loud music and smoke? They weren’t bad people, they were just…people, in all their terrible, contradictory, fucked-up glory. I didn’t like them, but the thought of them dead -
A soft padding alerts me to Sir Charles coming in, and a soft ‘whuf’ as he puts his head on the bed beside me. A huge wet spot nudges my side. At least I have him. At least one fae in this place likes me for who I am, not what I can give.
I roll over to face him and cling to his warm, soft fur for a scrap of comfort among all the monsters in the garden.
****
In the morning I have work, and when I call for a fae it takes almost twice as long as usual. Finally, Altair comes to my rescue, whisking me away to the restaurant. As our shoes beat the morning pavement, I debate asking him about the upstairs neighbors. But the second I think it, I see his usual smile fall into a grim line.
“I’m sorry, May,” He starts. “Dane made me promise not to say anything about it.”
“Goddamn him!” I kick a stone as hard as I can. Altair sighs.
“I think he thinks he’s doing what’s best for you. Which is weird because Dane doesn’t actually care about anyone but -“
“ - Himself,” We both finish, and despite how serious the subject matter is, we manage to grin at each other.
“Why would he think it’s best for me?”
“Because humans don’t take well to the idea of us killing them,” He says. “Fae are more used to it, I think, because we live so long and have more time to incorporate it as part of our culture.”
“And because the blood from it is necessary to keep you sane,” I add.
“Yes,” Altair’s dark, star-streaked eyes get a little dim. “That too.”
“But,” I reach far back in my mind, to what Vil said. “The Bright Place was closed off from the human world at the turn of the century. So what did you guys do for blood during a hundred years without access to humans?”
“What we’ve always done. Kill each other.”
I blink at how casually he says that. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Each other,” Altair insists. “That’s our traditional source of blood.”
“And you…bathe in it like Lady Bathory?”
“We have to drink it,” Altair winces as I wince. “See? I told you humans don’t like hearing about it.”
“Vampires,” I muse, remembering what Quinn told me about all the names we have for fae. “That’s why Quinn said we call you guys vampires. How do you guys dictate who gets killed? Or is it random?”
Altair opens his mouth, then freezes. “Oh no, May, you’re not fooling me with that.”
“With what?” I play innocent. “It’s not like I’m asking you to betray Dane’s trust and tell me about my neighbors - I just want to know how you determine who dies in general. Call it morbid curiosity, or a desire to make sure I’m not next in line for the chopping block.”
“Please, May,” Altair sighs. “Not today. Or ever. Just let it lie, okay?”
“So you think I’m better off not knowing, too?”
“No,” He stops at the doors of the restaurant and ruffles my hair. “I just think if you don’t know, it’ll be easier on your soft heart, is all.”
“You’ve got a softer heart than I do.”
“Maybe,” His smile returns ever-so-slightly, and he waves. “Have a good day at work. I’ll come get you after.”
And he does, and when we get back I settle in the feeding room, the house fae coming in quietly and invisibly. I pick his herbs - dried lily and pink Himalayan salt and bergamot. It’s strange to see the house fae’s body in the water, the imprint of his legs and butt very clear there. He’s small, maybe half my size, with huge feet and hands he keeps to his sides. It’s even stranger to feel him - he’s done a great job of making sure he and I never physically touched or collided while we were together.
“The more I think
about it, the more you’re like Dane’s opposite in every way,” I laugh. “He dresses like he wants to be seen, you keep yourself invisible. He talks too much, you don’t talk at all. He always tries to touch me, and you don’t invade my space in any way. You respect me as a person, he doesn’t. You’re way better than him.”
The hands in the water give a nervous flop, and I brush my fingers over his long ears - real fae ears, the sort I expected to see on pretty much everyone here in the Bright Place, and yet saw on no one at all. Even now, I can only feel them - the tips of them long and soft but still pliable.
There’s a high, soft squeal, like a mouse surprised, and when I move to the other ear it happens again and I realize the house fae is doing it.
“Oh, so you like your ears being fed, huh? Good to know. It’s the least I can do after all the times you’ve fed me.”
The house fae is definitely the most polite fae I’ve fed, and when he leaves the same way he came - invisibly and quietly - I wait for Barnabus. He’s late, so I pace the feeding room back and forth and think.
Dane doesn’t control me. He tried to choke me, he’s been nothing but rude to me the whole time I’ve known him - he doesn’t get a say in what I can or can’t know. And that’s final. Accepting my upstairs neighbors were killed by Altair and Dane is one thing - knowing why they were killed is another. There has to be some metric by which the fae choose their blood; but deep down I know that’s just the human in me talking. I don’t want to think the fae choose random people to kill to survive, or even random other fae. That’s…too cruel.
It just shines a big fat spotlight on the fact the fae are so different from me, and I know so little about them. If I could actually read the fae books in the library I might get somewhere, but unless I get some Brightness that lets me do that or I get really smart overnight, that’s not happening.
The door suddenly bangs open, and an invisible hand grabs mine.
“Whoa, what’s going on?”
The house fae says nothing, but he yanks my hand towards the door, making high-pitched squeaking sounds. Something must be up - he’d never grab me otherwise.
“Okay, lead the way.”
The house fae tears out of the pool room and down the halls, running straight for a dead-end wall.
“Uh, Mr. House Fae?” I pant. “I’m a college sophomore - I don’t have that kind of insurance!”
He doesn’t veer off course, and I try to pull away but his hand is insanely damn strong for his size. I shut my eyes and dig my heels in and pray.
Nothing. Nothing hits me, and I open my eyes to another long hall in front of us. I whirl around as the house fae yanks on me to start moving again - there’s the wall we should’ve crashed into. But behind us, now.
“Did you make go through that?” I whisper. The house fae just squeaks so loud it hurts my ears and pulls at my hand, so I keep running with him. Whatever’s wrong must be very wrong.
The trail of blood on the marble floor of the main hall tells me it is. It seeps through the front door, spattering on the marble walls and statues and coming to a stop in one giant pool, where a huge, hulking thing that looks like a rock rests. But then I see it’s got legs, and arms - skin like granite and moss growing in spots.
“A fae?” I wade through the blood pool - still warm. “Hello? Can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”
“Hurt,” A gravelly voice so deep and loud it shakes the flowers in their vases and my heart in my chest. The rock thing shifts, massive arms weakly trying to lift itself up, but collapsing under its own weight, sending a spray of blood and pebbles up. “Everywhere.”
Shit - this isn’t good. I don’t know crap about healing fae - only feeding them. I turn to where I think the house fae is - he’s left little footprints in the blood.
“Go get the high fae,” I say. “Quick!”
The bloody footprints sprint away down the hall, and I put my other hand on the rock fae.
“It’s okay, he’s gonna be back with help. Just hold on.”
“Who…” The gravelly voice struggles. “Are you?”
“I’m May,” I smile.
“The…Brightened feeder,” The voice sighs. “I am…Barnabus.”
“Nice to meet you, Barnabus. You’re, um, just in time for your appointment.”
A low rumble that almost sounds like a laugh vibrates the marble. I do my exam-trained best not to panic as we wait and he slowly bleeds out. Vil said Barnabus keeps Monster Garden protected from other fae - is that how he got these wounds? Protecting us?
“What in the Bright Lady -“ Altair’s voice. I whip my head around to the three pairs of footsteps coming down the hall; Dane and Altair, the house fae trailing behind them.
“Barnabus!” Dane’s eyes go wide, and he collapses in the blood next to the little rock outcrop that must be Barnabus’s head. Dane darts his gemstone eyes over to me with a snarl. “What happened?”
“I don’t know! The house fae came and got me - I found him like this.”
“Dane,” Barnabus groans. “Shadow fae.”
Altair walks around Barnabus with a serious look on his face, waving something like a glowing ball of light in his hands over Barnabus’s rock skin. Dane slams his fist in the blood puddle at his knees.
“Fuck! Why the hell are they coming after you?”
“Strange,” Barnabus croaks. “Collars.”
“Collars?” I frown. “Like ours?”
Barnabus shakes his head, and I can see his face now - his eyes two literal gemstones; two beautiful tiger’s eye gems. His mouth is a long gash in the stone, rimmed with orange crystals like a geode seam.
“Copper,” He says. “Copper and…spiky.”
“A Brightened,” Dane hisses, thinks, and then leans in to Barnabus. “Are you sure the collars weren’t platinum, with indents?”
“Sure,” Barnabus asserts. “Copper and spiky.”
“He’s been drained of almost all his Brightness by the shadow fae,” Altair says, extinguishing his light orb by crushing it in his hand, the light scattering in all directions. “Dane, we need to get him in the tub and have May feed him immediately. And he’ll need blood if he’s lost this much already.”
Dane rises to his feet, his long tan coat stained with blood on the ends and his beige leather pants likewise ruined. He narrows his eyes at Barnabus.
“Then I hunt.”
“Not alone,” Altair insists.
“Alone. You get him into the tub - it’ll take you and the house fae to do it. I’ll pray at the altar and find him blood. Just make sure he gets fed.”
“Dane, it’s too dangerous,” Altair argues. “If there’s a Brightened out there commanding shadow fae -“
“There’s no time,” Dane barks. “Bring him to the tub, and then patrol the perimeter. They could still be nearby.”
My own blood starts rushing like a pump - danger? Definitely danger, right? If a fae comes in here and tries to hurt me, or anybody else - all I know how to do is knee them in the balls. I never even got in a cat-fight in high school. Goddamnit, I should’ve taken that ten-dollar judo class! I expect Altair to argue with Dane’s commands, but he just gnaws his lip and finally bends, pulling Barnabus’s arm over his shoulder as the other arm rises, the house fae pulling that one up too. Dane shoots me a venomous look.
“If you fuck up, I’ll have your head.”
And with those gentle words of encouragement he draws his sword and furiously marches out the front door, leaving bloody footsteps behind.
****
I follow Altair and the house fae as they drag Barnabus’s huge body down the hallway to the pool. The house fae stops every so often and leads Altair to a wall, and with a wave of his bloodstained, half-invisible hand, we can all walk right through it. I expect it to feel cold, or at least hard, but it feels like nothing at all - just a wall one minute and a hall the next.
Both Altair and the house fae struggle audibly, t
heir breathing getting ragged.
“Is telekinesis not a fae power?” I ask, trying to pick up one of Barnabus’s huge stone legs to help and utterly failing. He’s almost as heavy as my student debt loans. Keyword here being almost.
“I’m not the best at it,” Altair grits through his teeth. “And even if I was, I’d be afraid of subjecting him to a violent magic while his body is in such a fragile state.”
We finally get to the pool room, and I dash in front of them and hold the door open. Except Barnabus is definitely not going to fit through the usual glass door. The house fae has them covered - phasing Barnabus’s huge shoulder through the glass door and the walls attached to it.