I lunge ahead and make sure the tub is full, and my stool is ready. The house fae phases Barnabus through the wall and the tub instantly expands to a massive size and fills with hot water. Altair helps Barnabus into it, the rock fae’s body making a huge splash.
“May, hurry,” Altair says, a rare nervousness in his voice. And that makes me even more nervous. I look over the shelves, but I can’t smell anything distinct - is it because Barnabus is so weak? Or on the edge of death or something? That thought gets my anxiety working overtime.
“May -“
“I’m trying!” I interrupt Altair. “But nothing’s jumping out at me. And he needs the herbs, Vil said that. You need them for the feeding to work and if I don’t pick the right one he’ll die, won’t he? He won’t get fed and he’ll die and it’ll be my fault -“
I feel a hand on my shoulder, broad and warm. Altair smiles next to me, dark hair and olive face drenched with sweat.
“I know you can. Dane knows you can.”
“Dane’s going to take my head off -“
“He wouldn’t have left Barnabus’s feeding to you if he didn’t trust your abilities,” Altair corrects me gently.
“But -“
“He would’ve force-fed Barnabus some of Vil’s emergency Brightness. But he didn’t. He left him to you because he thinks you’re good.”
“And stupid.”
Altair chuckles. “Mostly good.”
I hear a soft squeak on my other side, the dried blood on the house fae’s feet showing me exactly where he stands. A pale pink face suddenly fades in, lined with a thousand wrinkles and framed with two long elfish ears. His bright blue eyes blink out at me, all four of them - almost like a spider - his faint pink eyebrows drawn as tight as his little bow-like red mouth.
He’s showing himself to me. To encourage me.
He’s counting on me. Barnabus and Altair and even Dane. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Smell. Smell alone, my gut alone, nothing else. No thoughts, no worries, just scents. I can smell coffee and honey and pepper and -
It hits me like a hook in a fish’s mouth; there! An overwhelmingly strong scent of oregano and tarragon and bay leaves and I reach out for the dish, dashing over to the tub and dumping it in. The scent disperses almost immediately, and I put my hands on what I think is Barnabus’s stone belly and splay my fingers wide. The urge to go fast is killing me, but I remember what Altair said; Vil does it too fast. It should be like an embrace, like a kiss all over. If I go fast it might not sink in, so I force myself to go slow and steady, covering as much as I can see - his stomach, his legs, his arms and thick neck. His tigers eyes are unmoving and dimmed, so dim I can barely see the beautiful streaks of amber and gold there. He’s not humanoid as much as he’s human-adjacent, like someone who’d never seen something walk on two legs before took a boulder and roughly chopped it into the shape of a monstrously bulky man. His skin is rough and cool no matter where I touch - worn smooth by rain and cracked apart in places by frost like any rock might be. He’s got moss patches everywhere, and in the center of his chest is a strange, closed bud. The moss that patches his skin feels pitted and tender, and I yelp in surprise when it starts to grow right before my eyes.
“Holy shit -“
Moss tendrils slither over my hands, not keeping me in place or stopping me or anything, but more like a passing handshake, or a curious poke.
“May, look,” Altair’s voice interrupts. I look up to him, where’s he’s pointing to - the giant bud in the center of Barnabus’s chest has come apart, unfurling slowly to reveal a deep orange flower with a cheery yellow center. And like it’s a cue, Barnabus’s tigers eyes flood back to life, all the color and luster in them returning at once. They swivel in their sockets, focusing on me.
“Oh,” His deep voice makes the water in the tub ripple like crazy. “That’s better. Thank you.”
Altair pats the top of Barnabus’s head. “You’re back, buddy.”
“Yes,” Barnabus sits up in the tub, the water sloughing off him and splashing all of us. “I’m sorry for worrying you. And getting you wet.”
Altair and I laugh, all our relief coming out at once. A string of frantic, high-pitched squeaks comes from the side of the tub, and Barnabus reaches out one of his three stone fingers to the house fae.
“Hello, little friend. Don’t worry anymore. I feel very good.”
The house fae lowers his voice until his squeaks are just grumpy titters.
“I know,” Barnabus sighs, the sound like a far-off avalanche. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Altair insists. “Dane went to get you some blood. Stay here until he comes for you, okay?”
“Okay.” Barnabus nods. Altair looks to me.
“Watch over him, alright? I have to patrol the perimeter.”
He makes for the door and I call out; “Be careful!”
“Sometimes,” He agrees cheerfully, the door sliding shut behind him.
“I should go too,” Barnabus starts to stand up.
“No way! You heard him - you have to rest. You need blood!”
“But I don’t want to make Altair face the shadow fae by himself.”
“Neither do I,” I flick my hand around in the tub water. “But we have to. I can’t fight and you’re in no condition to fight, so.”
Barnabus considers this, then stands up. “I go.”
I don’t have super strength - I can’t make him stop. But I can fling myself around his leg and yell.
“You can’t go!” I clutch the stone tight. “If you die out there Dane will take my head off! Please! I like my head! It gets dandruff sometimes and these killer frontal lobe migraines but I’m paying a lot of money for it to learn cool things so!! Pleaseeeee, Mr. Barnabus!”
It takes a second, but Barnabus finally sits back down, the water sloshing up my jeans and down my bra when I don’t let go of his leg fast enough.
“Just Barnabus is fine,” He rumbles. “No mister.”
“Barnabus,” I try. “You’re not a guard fae, are you?”
He shakes his rock head, which looks more like a slow pivot than anything else. “No. Land fae.”
“Oh, neat. Well, thanks for guarding us all this time,” I squeeze the water out of my shirt.
“This is my land,” Barnabus rumbles. “Not guarding you. Guarding land. From before Silvertongue came.”
“Silvertongue?” I cock my head to the side.
“Man who talks well, with the silver collars.” He points to his own throat, and a sliver collar just barely sticks out from between the rocks of his neck.
“Oh, you mean Van Grier. He fooled you into a contract too, huh?”
Barnabus’s geode mouth pulls into a distinct frown. “Yes.”
“How?” I’ve never asked how - the high fae never offered to tell me. I guess talking about your enslavement isn’t high on the list for most sentient beings, so I backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m just curious how he got so many of you. You’ve got to put the collar on of your own free will and all.”
Barnabus shuffles in the water, and next to him the blood-footed house fae makes a sound like someone hitting rock - he patted Barnabus, maybe? I perk up enough for the three of us.
“Vil’s giving me money. So I can go to school and get a degree in what I want.”
“What’s that?” Barnabus asks, his tigers’ eyes curious. “A degree?”
“It’s a little piece of paper that you sweat blood for,” I say. “You study really hard and take a lot of tests and show some experts you know what you’re talking about in a certain subject. Like, um, math! Or history! And then they give you a piece of paper that you can show other people that lets them know you know what you’re talking about.”
Barnabus’s geode mouth makes a big ‘o’, the orange crystals glittering like teeth. “I see. But…paper? They should mak
e it out of stone. Lasts longer.”
I laugh and lean against the tub, the last of my nerves working out of me. “I agree.”
“What do you want to get a degree about?”
“Psychology, mostly!” I exhale. “With a minor in law. Psychology is the study of the human psych; you know, our feelings and reactions to things, and how we remember stuff. Law is just….laws.”
“You like laws?”
“I like learning about them, mostly. And helping people. So.”
“You helped me,” Barnabus says. I wave my hand at him.
“Don’t mention it. It was your feeding time, anyway.”
“I was in a dark place,” He mutters. “I couldn’t hear or feel. And then I heard your voice. I was afraid you’d run away, but you went very slow and waited for me. Thank you.”
I was going to feed him fast, but I didn’t. I fought against my gut instincts, and hearing him say that makes me think it was the right thing to do. I’m so glad I chose right. I’m so glad I was able to chose at all, instead of being frozen by fear. I smile at him, a single wisp of a hot tear in my eye.
“You’re welcome.”
-10-
The house fae tries to go get me something to drink, but I won’t let him leave - too afraid the shadow fae are roaming the mansion to let him out of my sight. He could probably easily go through the wall, but he doesn’t, staying with me and Barnabus as we talk about Earth and human oddities, like trains and cookies and toasters. He can’t seem to get over the fact the toast jumps out on its own, even after I’ve explained what a spring is to him. I keep one eye on the door, every shadow and unexplained noise is a fae coming to kill us, but I try not to show it on my face, try to keep up the conversation if only to keep myself distracted.
My phone’s clock still works, mercifully, and I constantly check it. Ten minutes. Twenty. When Dane walks in a half-hour later, he’s covered in red. His tan outfit is soaked with dark, grim splatters of blood, but the places where he bares his marble skin - his biceps, his stomach - the blood there is so bright a red it hurts to look at. I recoil back instinctually. His chest heaves like he’d run here, and he wipes some blood off his chin with his fist, gemstone eyes skittering over me and settling immediately on Barnabus. Barnabus makes a slow geode-smile at him.
“Dane! Welcome back. This girl fed me.”
“I can see that,” Dane looks at the blooming flower in Barnabus’s chest. “Is the madness loud?”
“A little,” Barnabus shakes his head. “But talking with May has kept it quiet.”
Dane darts his eyes to me. “The only place you’ll be safe while we clear the perimeter is your room. Go. Don’t let anybody in.”
I want to snark something to him about how he sounds like my dad, but I’m so exhausted - my arms and legs feel like lead and my throat is sore from talking - that I just stand up and shuffle out past him. There’s no corpse behind him, so whoever he killed - whoever Barnabus is going to drink - is somewhere else. I can hear the house fae’s feet pattering behind me, and in a daze I barely make it to my room, the house fae righting me when I stagger and giving me his short shoulder to lean on. Once we get to my doorway though he stops, and I flash him a smile.
“Thanks.”
The house fae makes a faint chirp, and I push into my room. Sir Charles’s head shoots up from where he was sleeping on the rug, and I’m instantly grateful he wasn’t out fighting against those shadow fae with Barnabus. He noses my hand and I pet him with one tired stroke. I make it as far as stripping my filthy, blood-stained clothes off, filling the bath up, and sliding into it before my eyes start to rear back in my head. The steam, the hot water against my sore muscles - it all starts to fade to black.
“…beast….little beast! Wake…wake up!”
I groan, my eyes fluttering open to the sound of a voice and Sir Charles whining. Outside the window it’s night, and I’m freezing my ass off. Why is everything so cold - I look down into the cold bath. Right-o. Guess I’m the sort of girl who falls asleep in the tub, now. Sir Charles sits next to me, wagging his tail and flattening his ears to his head.
“Little beast!”
I follow the voice to the open bathroom door, and beyond it my open room door, where Dane’s tall frame stands, a single gemstone eye glaring out at me.
“What are you doing in there? The house fae said Sir Charles told him you’ve been in there for hours.”
Still drowsy and exhausted, I wave a hand for him to go away. “So what? Close my door, you perv.”
“If you’re going to sleep, get in bed.”
“You’re not my dad, dad,” I mutter, my eyes rolling back in my head again, and I lean on the enamel. I hate admitting it but he’s right - I should get out. I’m cold and pruney. But my body is so goddamn heavy - heavier than trying to lift Barnabus’s foot. Sir Charles nudges my hand, and I can’t even move it to pet and reassure him.
“You’re really going to sleep in a cold bath?”
“Why do you care?” I try to lift myself out with my arms, and I should care if Dane sees my naked ass but at this point I’m too tired and that should’ve been my first tip-off that something’s wrong, but it’s not because I’m dense as brick. My arms give out, and I slump back into the water.
I hear a footstep, and then a sizzling, and then Dane’s voice comes out all wrong - weird and desperate.
“Give me permission to come in.”
“No, because I’m going to get my period and then you’ll kill me.”
“Do you have it now?”
“No.”
“Then let me come in. You’re obviously not capable of getting to the bed on your own.”
“I’m not an old lady,” I snap. “I can do it. Just give me…a second…”
The blackness starts to creep again. Why am I so tired, and tense, and heavy? My brain tries to grasp at something from school - shock? Everything happened so fast, and I wasn’t even the one who was attacked - I didn’t see anyone attacked, I just kept watch in the feeding room. Maybe this is part shock, but not all of it; I’ve never in my life felt this tired before, not even when I was doing lacrosse for seven hours a day.
“I can’t get out,” I groan. “I’ll just drain the water and sleep here.”
“Don’t be moronic,” Dane snarls. “You’ll catch a cold! Let me in and I can help!”
“Fuck you,” I murmur, mustering all my energy just to pull the tub’s plug. I’ve got to look so fucking pathetic to him right now. “You can’t trick me.”
“It’s not a trick, Bright Lady damn you!”
With all that’s left in me I get to my knees, clinging to the side of the tub and pushing myself up. I’m almost there - one step and I’ll be out -
My foot slips on wet ceramic.
I feel myself falling in slow motion, but the second I hit the tub time speeds up; my ribs catch the worst of it, and my own cry sounds distant in my ringing ears. Pain like white lava in my ribs, and I curl up in the tub and cling to myself. Sir Charles loses it, whining and scrabbling his paws against the tub, like he’s trying to help me out of it.
I’d love help. I’d love for Dane to be anyone but Dane, to come in here as anyone but his cocky, arrogant, asshole self and help me out of this cold hell and to the warm, soft bed. I want nothing more than exactly that -
Someone drapes a towel over me, the dryness a welcome relief from the damp, and then I’m being lifted, the heat of someone pouring into my side as they carry me in a towel cocoon in their arms. I squint through the rapidly-forming bruises on my ribs - white hair with one lock hanging over the forehead, gemstone eyes, a profile like a dagger and a jaw like a razor.
“Dane?” I mutter. “How -“
“Intense want can be as good as permission,” He says, voice rumbling through his chest and into mine. “If you silently want a fae bad enough, they can breach the premises. For a limited time. It wears off, so don’t give me any shit.”
“Too late,” I bury my nose in the towel and chant; “Shit shit shit shit.”
“Thanks,” He scoffs.
“I’m heavy, aren’t I?”
“It’s taking all my fae strength just to keep both of us upright,” He drawls lightly.
“Screw you.”
“Are those the only two words you know? Fuck and screw?” He puts me down on the bed so gingerly I’m almost fooled into liking him as a person for a second. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were the dashingly handsome fae who haunts a particular club for the finest women the city can offer.”