TWELVE
Donovan’s saunter becomes a fast dash. He makes it to his truck in no time. I glimpse a flash of green and then he is Andrew again, sitting in the driver’s seat. I can see his mop of black hair above the headrest, sans the smoky snakes.
Watching him drive off, I continue to think about what I can possibly do to stop him. And where I am going to go … and do. I don’t even know where I am. What I do know is that I need water—something liquid. That scare drove my body completely out of whack; my mouth is dry along with fifty other things that feel different.
I so wish Covetina had been wrong about just one thing—that I can’t change my surroundings. There has to be a way, it just hasn’t been figured out yet. Mother Nature might be up for a good compromise. A little give and take, if you will.
Walking to the side of the road and into the giant maze of maples and oaks, I rack my brain for ideas. I am supposed to have such special powers – maybe I can do more than anyone knows.
“Wait, trees need water, right?” I blurt this out loud, and then cover my mouth and look around me.
I see no one and shrug. “Hell, if no one’s here, then what’s the harm in talking to myself? I can figure out something, I’m sure.
“OK, I know if I just follow this path, I’ll find water somewhere. Oh, wait—water bottle. Purse. Yes!”
I race back to the road where I dropped my stuff. Somehow I am right back where I started; by Hollie’s truck. I produce a full bottle of Fuji after digging around inside my big bag for a minute. “Look—I found some water!” I say to no one in particular.
Lifting both bags onto my shoulder, I venture back into the forest. “Now I just need something to put this in. Crap, I wonder if it matters that it’s not rain water.”
I shake my head and close my eyes to focus. “No. I can do this no matter what. No negative thinking.”
I trudge ahead until I find a fairly clear area. The sun is acting up, though. Everything looks shimmery and sparkly and it’s all so bright; I only see blurred pictures in front of me. I have to touch each tree I pass in order to stay stable.
The farther I go into the woods, the worse my vision gets. I remember Bonnie telling me that forests and such are where it’s easier to enter the fae realm, so I shrug it off as a weird mesh of the two realms and figure that once I adjust it will clear up.
But nothing clears up. Everything starts glistening more, just like in Hollie’s room. I am slammed with the feeling that I’m not in the human realm anymore.
“No way! I did that without scrying? Well look at that, Donovan. You just did me a favor.” I smile and stick my tongue out at an imagined Donovan.
The sound of crunching leaves grabs my attention. It was silent three seconds prior. And why are the leaves dry? It’s only May…
Turning around, I see a couple walking toward me. I stop talking to myself … at least out loud. And I don’t just think—I know—that they are not human.
Two faeries, a guy and a girl, who match each other with their blue-ish skin and platinum hair, make their way toward me, not veering off their path on my account. They appear to be walking with a purpose.
I feel almost twitchy-like and falter back a step. A tree catches first my elbow, and then my back.
“Damn it.” That felt wonderful.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you. But where did you come from, out of nowhere like that?” The girl speaks softly, cautiously.
These faeries seem nice enough but I have no clue whom I can trust anymore. I give a vague response while weighing my day in my head.
“Am I—” I need to clear my throat. “Am I in the faery realm? I mean, have I left where Donovan is?”
These are potential friends, sure, but it is more than possible they are part of The Depraved.
“You were with Donovan?!” The male faery’s eyes widen. “And you’re still all right? Where did he go? Praise to the gods that you are not hurt.” He pauses a second, hand over his mouth, and then apologizes for bombarding me with questions, all the while looking around the area.
OK, nix that. Donovan is a threat to them, too—so they’re probably not Depraved. But I still don’t know them. Hell, I don’t know anyone… Hollie is forgoing this adventure, which I get. But Bonnie is gone after having lied to me my entire life, kind of like, oh yeah – my parents. I’m starting to believe almost everyone is a liar and a coward. I don’t even have Blake. Olivia is clueless. So this is what I have—these two right here.
“I honestly don’t know where he is. He just left me and I ran into the woods and now, here I am. I was planning to scry but I must have just walked through a door or portal of some sort—if there is such a thing…”
I shrug my shoulders, wince, and grab my right elbow in an attempt to work out the pain. It is fading quickly, but it happens to be the same arm I fell on when I jumped out of that asshole’s truck.
“Well we’re glad you’re here, however it happened. And yes, there are doorways between the realms but they are usually hard to access, especially if you’re not trying…” The girl looks at me with eyes as wide as her guys’ just were, both confusion and awe radiating from them.
“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Zoë, and this is Landon.” Zoë shakes her head a bit as if to clear it and then extends her arm to shake my hand.
I accept the outstretched arm, held out with slight reservation, and introduce myself, as well.
“Well I was Alexis, but I just learned my true name is Kellyn. So that’s what I’ve decided to go by. It’s a long story, but yeah, I’m Kellyn. It’s nice to meet the two of you.”
And with that, my mother enters my head. I lost her before I even had her and now I am fairly sure I must avenge her death. I’m unsure how I know this, but I know I am right. So there’s that.
But there’s more (isn’t there always?), and everything negative floods my mind at this most inopportune moment.
I take note and count on my fingers:
Nanny I have known since birth is not human.
Best friend is only half-human.
Best friend and I are separated right now for the first time ever.
Boyfriend of three years is not human.
Boyfriend’s best friend is not human.
Boyfriend’s best friend is evil-slash-psychotic and apparently wants me dead.
Boyfriend himself is now dead. I got to watch.
Birth mother died the day I was born. To save my life.
Evil creature who killed my birth mother also wants me dead.
Adoptive parents (at least they are human) have been lying to me for seventeen years.
Aforementioned nanny has also been lying. Yet I must admit I still trust her.
Friend I’d like to talk to but can’t is also human so she would flip. Because …
… I am not human!
One identity lost; another gained. Still not sure about it all.
One shiny new job-prophecy-calling is waiting just for me and my new identity. Not a clue about that, either.
I have more than run out of fingers, but not things to count. I have no answers. I have no one to go to for answers. I’ve gained this life that could, and should, be amazing – only to be left alone and afraid.
My mind is too muddled to think of any more and my knees are about to buckle. These two blue people, I mean faeries, are staring at me like I’ve lost my mind and I suppose that is altogether possible.
I slide down against a tree until I feel my butt hit the ground, legs muscles relaxing. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and wonder why I didn’t do this before all the recapping.
I feel their quiet, yet probing, eyes on me. They allow me my silence—I sense caring and confusion mixed with a tinge of fear. I suppose I should speak. Who knows how long my thought process has lasted. I open my eyes and look over at them.
“So you guys know about Donovan, too? What do you know about him? He’s kind of after me and I have no—” I m
ake myself stop speaking.
I am so pathetically desperate for anyone to talk to, now that I have no one, that I don’t seem to care whom I ask for help. But damn it if Sloane doesn’t enter my head yet again when I think about having no one. He is really persistent, I must say. I semi-smirk to myself about my obvious infatuation. But, just like these two in front of me, I have no idea if he is, for lack of another way of thinking, good or bad.
Maybe I should talk to them. I need to find out how to stop Donovan from hurting my friends or me—or both. He could be off doing anything right now while I sit here whining about my new existence. I have to find him and these guys might know how to help.
I feel I have no choice but to risk it. They are pretty much my only option at moving any of this forward. Any other faery I find here will be the same—I won’t know him or her; I won’t know who is trustworthy.
Zoë breaks into my thoughts. “He’s after you specifically? Do you know why? What did you do to make him angry?” She shoots a scared look at Landon.
I shrug and hold up my hands, letting my face tell all. The truth. That I flat out haven’t the slightest.
My heart rate speeds and my body tingles as I realize how messed up and different my life has recently become. Deep breaths are needed again while the word prophecy swirls in my mind over and over, nagging me.
But no air comes, nor do the annoying body reactions leave. It’s just like when I met my mother. No air. I try to breathe simply to see what will happen. My chest doesn’t expand. My chest doesn’t contract. Nothing happens at all.
Is everything different here? I wonder if that’s why I couldn’t breathe earlier—if I am weaker in the human realm somehow…
Having no choice, I put the strangeness of the thought in the back of my mind to ponder later. I assess the situation at hand once more. I know I can use these two faeries to my advantage and that they are probably good and helpful. On top of it being my only choice, I am pleased when a gut feeling arrives to tell me so.
But I clearly remember my mother’s words, ‘Nothing is as is seems, dear Kellyn. Please remember that above all else—that knowledge shall keep you safe.’ It is the last thing she told me before leaving my mind.
I focus on the pastel faces of my new companions and smile in an attempt to reassure them I’m all right. Their gaping looks melt toward normalcy as they try to smile back. I know they are confused, and feel as awkward as I do.
“I’m so sorry. All this silence and no answers. You don’t know who I am. Hell, I don’t completely know who I am. Nor who you guys are. And I have no clue what my next move should be. But seriously, who exactly is Donovan and why did you react that way when I mentioned him?”
“Well, it is strange you truly don’t seem to know, but I can indulge you briefly.” Landon begins with caution. “Donovan is pretty much the epitome of all that we hate. He’s like the bully of the fae realm, picking on the weak and feeding on them. We even think—” He stops speaking with a wave of his hand.
“What? You even think what?” I stand up, legs semi-stable again with a feeling of forward movement coming into play. I step toward Landon, physically reaching for the information I need so badly.
Practically begging, I tell him, “Trust me, nothing you tell me can shock me today. It has been nonstop since last night and I’m up for anything new. Anything to help me with all of this. Yeah, I’m freaked, but I’m also OK. You don’t have to worry about scaring me or anything.”
“It’s not that,” Zoë answers for Landon, who has backed away a little and is now digging his foot in the dirt. “It’s just, well, we’ve seen some stuff lately that’s pretty creepy and it’s extremely bothersome. These things can happen from time to time, but usually only in stories and definitely not on this level or of this magnitude. Basically, we are rather afraid to talk about it.”
Zoë starts playing with her dark blue fingernail polish, mulling over her words.
“Why? Are you guys worried someone will hear or something? I promise I won’t tell anybody. I just need to know things, ya know?”
I drop my bags to show I am not leaving anytime soon. I want answers and these two can give them to me. I know this now.
“Zoë, seriously. I can see in your eyes you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. Maybe we can even help each other. If I know what’s going on, I can try to protect you.”
“Yeah, right. No one is safe,” Landon mumbles as he plops down on the forest floor.
Zoë shakes her head and walks over to Landon, kneeling when she reaches his side. “You know what? That might not be true. She was just with Donovan and she’s still here. That has to say something about her, right?”
Landon looks up into Zoë’s eyes and I notice a spark of light as what she said hits him. I just wish I knew what thoughts the spark ignited.
“All right,” Landon agrees. “We can talk to her, but we should go somewhere safe. We have no clue how changelings are treated—not a single one has ever come back before, at least not during my existence. And I don’t trust this open area at all. It’s going to be dusk soon…”
“Dusk? Wow. It is still light,” I say. “So much has happened today I feel like it should be night again. Like ‘time to go to sleep’ night.” I stop, something sinking in.
“Wait—did you say … changeling? How do you know that?”
“Well it’s pretty obvious you have no idea what is going on, and you’re fae, no doubt about it. But everything else about you screams human.”
“I’m really that transparent?”
Zoë and Landon both nod, trying not to laugh, and Zoë continues answering my questions. “As far as time, well, it works differently in each realm. Our days are a lot longer here than they are in your world. Or at least the world you’re used to.”
I know that shock and confusion spread across my face, but I don’t care to hide it. I am a lost puppy at the moment.
“But wait, it was still light when I was with Donovan. And it shouldn’t have been ’cause it was darkish when I left Hollie’s…”
“It must be some confusion with you straddling both worlds.” She half shrugs as though thinking it through as she tries to explain. “It could have been dark but you saw it as light because it’s light in your home realm. You belong here even though it is new to you; you just visit there, even though you know it as home. That would make sense for any faery, but you’re one of a kind. Well almost—like Landon said, most changelings don’t come back. I’ve never met nor heard of one, so who knows what rules apply to you.”
“Huh. Guess that makes sense. Hell, I’m up for believing almost anything at this point.” I giggle awkwardly, hiding my half-truth (I’m not sure what I can and can’t believe so it’s definitely not a lie) while trying to decide what to make of everything.
“All right, let’s get away from here to a safer spot. We should be safe with you around if Donovan didn’t hurt you, but it’s still—”
I interrupt right here. “Well, that’s not exactly true. I mean, yeah, he didn’t hurt me. But he said he was going to. He actually said a lot more than that…” I have no plans to continue until I have heard more for myself, though.
“Well then, Landon’s right. We need to leave now. Especially if this is where you came through. He might follow you and, well, that’s not something we’re prepared to deal with.”
Zoë gives me a look as she says all of this. A look that still shows awe of some sort, but also that she senses danger. She nods firmly and the look disappears, just like that. Then she stands and reaches a hand out to help Landon. “Come on babe, let’s go.”
The two matching faeries keep their hands in each other’s once both are standing, and then move their heads toward the east in unison, directing me. They walk away without another word.
I pick up my bags for the thirty-seventh time today and follow.
We walk farther into the forest and come upon a village of sorts. It’s like a scene out of a movie or s
torybook, yet completely real. Not cartoonish at all, even though people literally have made houses out of trees, and chairs out of (giant!) mushrooms, and the like.
It seems a simple little community. It’s warm and inviting. Admittedly, everything is a tad surreal—sort of like what I might expect at a renaissance faire. Something made up to feel like a land of faeries.
But again, it’s real and feels like somewhere I have been before. A piece of myself I’ve never known. Or maybe I have forgotten…
I follow Zoë and Landon into a dwelling I can only assume is theirs since they don’t knock before entering.
Inside, it looks like any other house in Wales. The walls are different, of course, being part of the inside of an oak tree and not made of drywall, but the fae have made themselves a pleasant home.
Out of habit, I set down my bags by the door. Then I walk on in and wander around, touching pretty much everything in sight. I can’t seem to get over the fact this is all happening and how great the good parts are.
And I say so. Zoë nods and asks me if I want anything to drink.
“Sure. What do you have, though? I mean, do you have normal food and all?”
“Well what do you consider normal?”
“I don’t know. Chips. Pop. Pizza. Stuff like that. I guess raw veggies sound good, too.”
Zoë enters the kitchen, which I can see every part of with their open floor plan, and then rifles through the cabinets, grabbing things from here and there. She also pulls a few items from the fridge.
She laughs, not quite at me but not not at me. I don’t mind though. I know things must be entirely different here. It will take some getting used to is all.
“Yes,” she answers me, “we can get stuff like that if you want, but it’s not exactly what we’re used to eating. It is much simpler to make our own food. Are you up for trying something new?”
With a shrug and an odd glance at the combination of food sitting on the counter, I nod. “Yeah, sure. Why not? If I’m fae I probably like fae food, right? And it’s not like I’ll get stuck here like all the faery tales I heard as a kid,” I add with a laugh.
Landon was missing for a minute but comes back just as I say this.
“What faery tales are you talking about?”
Over the tinkering and clanging of pots and such in the kitchen, I find myself a spot on a rather comfortable tree root. It is covered with a cushion and fashioned like a bench.
I tell Landon about how, supposedly, if humans eat or drink anything while in the land of Faery, they will be stuck here forever, never to return back home.
“Wow, that story is something humans actually tell each other? Kind of makes you wonder…”
“Wonder what? They’re just tales, like … Rumpelstiltskin and Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Or are they?” Zoë enters from the kitchen with a platter full of miniature sandwiches and cakes, along with different fruits and vegetables cut up with dips. She sets it all down on a low table, much like a coffee table, and goes back to the kitchen for a second, only to return with another tray—this one full of drinks. Different types of juices, it appears.
I simply smile and reach for a tiny piece of cake. Seeing food makes me realize how hungry I really am—it’s been a while since I have had anything to eat. The delectable cake tastes of pure honey.
“Wow, these are fantastic. You just made them now?”
“I did. It doesn’t take too long when you’re used to eating pretty much the same thing day in and day out. Like fruits, berries, or anything else we can find in the forest. We, of course, don’t kill anything and eat it like you are probably used to.”
“Oh, no,” I say through a mouthful. “I do not eat meat. Haven’t since I watched some show on Animal Planet when I was practically still a baby. Can’t touch the nasty fracking stuff.” I shiver just at the thought of eating a slaughtered animal.
Zoë gives me an odd glance but then changes topics back without a segue, obviously having something she needs to say. “So anyway, you were talking about faery tales. You don’t think any parts of them are real? I mean, look at this.” She waves her arm around her house.
“What do you make of everything you have been learning? Did you ever think there were faeries—let alone, you are one?”
“Well, no,” I reply after swirling a delicious juice all around my mouth, letting the taste absorb as much and as long as possible.
“No, I guess I didn’t. Like I told my housekeeper—well, the woman who’s always watched over me and told me what I am—I’ve always known I was different, but I didn’t know how different. And, no, I never would have expected any of this. But it makes sense now that I do know…”
“I guess my point is, if this can all be real, then why can’t Little Red Riding Hood—is that what you called it—be real as well?” Zoë asks.
Wiping my hands on a napkin, I take a breath. Well at least I try, having forgotten that I don’t need to breathe in Avalon.
I glance back and forth from Zoë to Landon, admiring the way they look so alike. I make a mental note to ask them about it when I get a chance.
“OK. So suppose you’re right. These stories stemmed from reality. What does it really matter, honestly? It’d be pretty cool to know it’s all real, but it doesn’t have much effect on our world. Well, that is, unless people really can’t come here and eat and drink.”
My two hosts stare at me stoically.
“What? You’re telling me it is true?”
Landon nods as Zoë says ‘yes.’
“Wow. Well, that’s something to think about, right? But I’m fae so it doesn’t pertain to me. Just like any of the tales my parents told me or ones I read when I was younger don’t, either.”
“That may be true,” Landon covers his mouth as he chews. “But what you don’t know about are the stories we heard as kids.”
My mouth slows. I want to devour this delicious whateveritis as quickly as I can, but I am entirely too curious now.
After a huge gulp of pear juice, which is odd but good, I lick my lips and prepare to learn even more about my past and my world. I figure some of this info can be useful and not just entertaining.
And I need to know all I can because a) I have this unknown job to do and, b) I should probably know how to do the job if it really is as important as I’ve been told. And I have the feeling it is, after having spoken with Covetina.
“Ah, how true.” I say. “Well how about you guys tell me one of them?”
“But of course,” Landon replies.
Zoë looks at him with her head tilted down and one eyebrow arched slightly.
Landon pleads with puppy dog eyes. “Oh, come on. It’s safe here. Our house keeps its secrets and besides, it’s just one story. Nothing different than what our parents told us, right? Plus I’m kind of working on a theory here. Why did we come here if not to talk?”
“Eh, I suppose so,” Zoë resigns easily, starting to pick up some of the dishes. “We did promise to tell of everything that has been happening of late.”
“Do you want help with those?” I ask before the storytelling can begin.
“Oh. No worries. Just relax and listen to Landon’s story. You’ll enjoy it … he likes to play things up.” Zoë walks toward the kitchen with a light, tinkling laugh trailing her.