THIRTEEN
“All right, so before I get to all the strange events that have been going on,” Landon starts, “I’m going to tell a rhyme that I promise you every faery in the land knows. And with this rhyme comes a story and a warning.
“I always thought it was a fun tale. Just like the others we were told, albeit darker, but still… I’ve heard more often than not that it is part of a prophecy. It reads as one and, well—like I said, there is a theory running around in my head and I think it is coming true … possibly.”
Again with that word—prophecy. I reallyreally do not like hearing it. I’m crossing my fingers and my toes that this rhyme has nothing to do with me.
Landon begins reciting:
The evil stirs, a generation kept at bay
Hell’s angel will not rest till he kills, his last day.
Each moment he is free while he is released,
Dawned for a moon’s cycle, no fae will know peace.
Alas, he will come and stalk; he will hunt and crave,
Ruin your emotions, haunt your dreams – please try to be brave.
Kind child, he desires fear, but he will be unable
On her own, she will keep you safe in your cradle;
Nothing can stop him except this changeling unknown
Ending him with her return, he’ll live in the dark, alone.
“Wow,” I say, wondering how many times that word has been uttered today as well. I mull over the rhyme in my head. “That is pretty heavy, I can’t deny that. But like I said … we had the same stuff when we were younger. Songs and chants like Bloody Mary that are supposed to raise the dead or some other crazy crap. It sounds like a creepy rhyme made up for fun.”
But if it is true, and about me—if I’m the ‘changeling’—what the hell does it mean? Am I trying to convince myself not to believe the truth? Or is it a plain rhyme and nothing more?
“I mean, seriously, how do you guys know if it really means anything?”
“Because it does,” Zoë replies, coming back into the main room, having finished washing the dishes. “It is the only thing that makes sense. You see, we have found faeries hurt, all over. That’s not supposed to happen. But it is and I am beginning to agree with Landon that something big is happening.
“I have heard that royalty do horrific physical things to each other and unsuspecting innocents, but if it does happen it isn’t like we would ever see even a small portion of that reality. What we are seeing though, loud and clear—it all has to do with that creepy rhyme.”
The scene when Donovan attempted to kill Olivia and Preston flashes through my mind. And the shadows in the hallway and at Hollie’s. I still haven’t figured out if they were there to hurt me specifically, or just anything that crosses their paths.
Landon takes Zoë’s hand as he nods in agreement with her. “It’s true, Kellyn. We can’t get hurt easily and we most definitely don’t die.” He looks down; I already know him well enough to understand this is something he does when he’s uncomfortable, but he looks up again and starts, “Well, except for…” And then his head lowers back down.
He’s been so open with everything so far, so I can’t imagine what could be so hard for him to talk about. He loves talking about anything; he could probably make grass growing a stimulating conversation.
“Except for what? What happened?” My tone demands the answer more than asks for it.
“There was one faery who died right after giving birth; the babe never to be found. But that was only the one time. Or so we thought. We know no specifics of any others, nor have we heard of such a thing happening again. The rhyme does makes it seem like it has happened before the one we do know about, though—based on the word ‘generation.’ It was more than likely the most recent occurrence.”
Damn it if a lot of what Landon says doesn’t make my mind wander. At least only as far as to things which are somewhat related, but still … ‘Generation?’ That was one of many things I didn’t understand while Donovan was spouting off in the road. I rub my arms to calm the goosebumps as I sit in a room that’s a perfect temperature.
“It is happening again, Kellyn. Or at least it looks like it’s leading that way. If that’s the case, then you might not be the only changeling coming out of the woodwork. This faery’s child, a girl, must be the one in the prophecy.”
Sadness spreads across his face, looking at the floor as he speaks the final part. I am rather surprised I’m capable of processing this much… It must be the strength I have that I am still unaware of because I’m quite sure I should have passed out at this point.
When Landon lifts his head and sees me, his eyes scream that he can tell what I am feeling. I don’t need a mirror or any psychic powers to know my face is devoid of all color.
“What’s wrong?” The sadness becomes concern and he leans forward, as if he might need to jump up and help me at any given second.
I swallow down a huge lump in my throat. “That—that faery was … my mother. That’s why I’m back, I think. I mean, I’m not sure, but yeah. The child—me—was found. By humans. And now here I am.” Did I really just say all of that? Did it make sense?
“I have always believed the story. I never doubted it once; but to know for real it is true…” I feel like I’m being probed, the way Landon’s eyes are taking me in. I’m glad I am sitting down. One, for the support. Two, it’s common knowledge what happens to those that are different and taken to other worlds to study. Of course I know that isn’t the case here but it almost feels that way…
Landon’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. “And then to have you here, well this is a lot to digest.”
“Tell me about it. This day has been pure insanity for me. And now I know there’s more going on and I’m supposedly the one who should stop it. I was told I have a so-called calling or a job to do but I could never have imagined it would be of this caliber.”
Landon is practically sweating sympathy for me. He is hot and distressed and keeps tugging at his t-shirt collar. “Well, someone has to, and I guess it makes sense because you are tied to it. Revenge or something—somehow.”
An avenging angel.
I honestly wish all these words and pictures would stop already. I have plenty to deal with as is. And besides, I’m a faerie, not an angel.
Pausing for a second, Landon is lost in deep, and what appears to be disturbing, thought. “The blood and skin and all the horror. And the shadows that are always creeping around…”
Zoë continues Landon’s thoughts, both of their expressions haunted by what they have seen of late. “If we hadn’t witnessed the poor fae with our own eyes…” She trails off before even really starting.
“Don’t worry guys, I won’t make you talk about it … I can imagine. The news in the human world is pretty bad with murders and beatings and so much more. It’s probably a lot alike. Except for that’s the nature of humans. But it’s not normal for Avalon, right?”
Both Zoë and Landon shake their bowed heads, neither of them looking at me. I look down, too, in an attempt to process the impossible. The impossible that I know deep down is not only possible but is also true. I lift my head back up when they do—I sense the movement even while in the dark recesses of my mind.
Zoë breaks the silence. “The problem is that fae want to be like humans so badly that our nature has started to become the same as theirs over time. We have turned darker and we like to cause problems, mostly testing our boundaries and pushing each other to find limits, but all in good fun. But look at The Depraved. They have taken it past being a mental game. We don’t go to the point of hurting our own kind. Or any kind, for that matter. But they do. And we hear about it but they keep it hidden. They don’t allow those who are uninvolved to witness anything.”
The lightness that was all around the house before the story-telling began can no longer be felt. A lonely, sad silence fills the room instead.
I lean back against the bark behind the stool I’m
on, stretching my legs in front of me and wondering why the dark side of humanity is what faeries are envious of. Is it possible that the dark just want to be darker? I have no idea if darkness equates power, but this idea makes some sense as I think about it.
Taking a deep breath that doesn’t come, I say, “Let me just think about this a minute, because I feel like I should know something here but it’s just not clicking. What was the thing you said about shadows being around?”
I cross my legs and play with my flippies as I wonder if the shadows they see are the same kind I feel are stalking me. One flippie falls off my foot when Zoë speaks, scaring me out of my silent vision.
“Sometimes—quite a lot lately, out of the corner of your eye you’ll see something dark slithering around. You know how you think you see something but when you turn your head nothing is there?”
“Yeah. Happens to me all the time. Well, except—never mind.” I want their full answer first. Or at least most of it. I haven’t had to share much of importance other than who my mother is and I’m sure after this I’ll know I can truly trust them—after all they’ve offered me so far. But there is still a part of me that is hungry for one last kibble of reassurance, after all I have been through.
“Never mind what?” Zoë asks me. “Is the same thing happening to you? That lately there is something there? Like a shade of something just staring you down, not leaving, sitting there―”
“Until you can’t stand it and you have to leave ’cause you have no clue what it is or what it’s doing—or about to do…” I interrupt without thinking, but I’m all right with that now. It’s a part of the new me. Or maybe it’s just the old me, amplified and secure.
Zoë bites her lower lip in thought and nods. “Exactly.”
“They must be part of the dark court, out to play, huh? Allowing others to watch?”
We both look at each other, rather frightened, and nod.
Landon seems to be half-listening to us talk, but is also in his own little world. He jumps in, ignoring the current topic.
“I know what it is you’re not getting, Kellyn.”
“What’s that?” I kick off my other slipper, glad to be free of them. And as much as I don’t want to hear a plan or an explanation, I know I need it. I will get exactly nowhere without it.
I sit back up and wrap my now bare feet over my legs, lotus style. If only I had a cool but dorky-slash-smart best friend who could help me just like all the TV shows seem to have. Like Veronica Mars had Wallace. Or wait—he had her. But V did have Mac, her computer whiz friend. Ooh, Stefan has Damon. I could certainly handle having my own personal Damon to do the things I’m just not able to do. And maybe he could do some other things, too… Point is, I need someone.
But I don’t and I am already tired of waiting around trying to understand everything. The idea is to get out and do something about all this hellish crap (again, just like ‘wow,’ I wonder how many times I have said or thought this today). So my full attention needs to be on Landon, my pseudo-Watson, while I am waiting for him to give me the answers I simply can’t figure out on my own.
Who knows what Donovan is up to while I’m sitting here chatting. I have to find him. And maybe Sloane will be with him. No. Shit. Not Sloane. What about Blake? Maybe he only died for effect. He could still be around. Donovan might have simply wanted to screw with my head; make me more vulnerable.
Hey, I can dream… Sadly it seems that’s all I’m doing, though.
“Donovan.” Landon says, which forces my head up to where it should be. “Donovan is the creature from the rhyme.”
He pauses, waiting for our reactions.
“No way!” Zoë pushes at Landon in a joking way. A split second later, though, realization washes over her face.
I feel my color drain again as I know, flat out know, that Landon isn’t just onto something. He is right. It’s the only thing that makes any sort of sense.
“So he’s after me because he killed my mother? From the vision Bonnie showed me, the creature was only able to kill her before being bound, or trapped again, or whatever… He had to leave me alone. And now he’s back and wants me.”
Sitting and staring at the table in front of me, I attempt to process. It feels like both ten hours and ten seconds.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.”
I leap up and sprint to the kitchen, not knowing where the bathroom is, and I throw up almost everything I just ate all over the freshly cleaned sink. A cold sweat runs from my forehead, down my temple, and around to the back of my neck.
Wiping my mouth with an open palm, I turn on the water to rinse off my dirty hand and clean out the sink. I find the soap and wash my hands. Precariously, I lean forward and splash my face, not quite sure I have my balance. I make it quick and stand up fully to find a towel.
Zoë is by my side, one in hand already, her other hand rubbing my back. I take the towel and blot my face dry.
“Ha ha, I guess I was wrong.” I smile weakly at my new friend. Because that must be what she is. To know who I am and the danger I might be causing her and her love this very instant. She is standing by my side; not kicking me out into the village to take care of myself and stay far, far away from them.
Only Hols has ever been there for me in this way before. A little more strength pushes its way into my jaw and forces a more genuine grin. “I thought I could handle more—pretty much anything—but I’m obviously having a rough time of it.”
“It’s all right. You’re handling your situation better than I would be—I can promise you that.”
“Ya think?” I like that she sees me as strong. “Well, I feel like a mess.”
I pause, a wave of nausea rolling over me again. But it passes before it can get too bad. “So … Donovan is the worst Depraved ever. The prophecy—the one telling of me, the changeling—says he is the evil I must stop. He is who I am supposed to fight. And somehow defeat. Brilliant.”
I don’t understand why I was even born if this is what’s to come of it all. But then I swear I feel a hand smack my brain from inside my head, and I know I can’t think like that. No self-pity emo crap allowed. I need to get my shit together. And now.
Zoë nods with a smile. “Yes. I suppose Landon has discovered what you must do. But we will help you in any way you need. The tale tells that you will win. I have faith that you will.”
“I sure hope so. Because I don’t know what’ll happen if I don’t.”
I look away from her, feeling ashamed that this is happening—that these beautiful fae are having to experience such horrifying things because of me.
Then a contradictory thought enters my mind. “Wait a minute… How can it possibly be Donovan? The tale says the creature-monster thing only leaves for one month every generation. I’ve known Donovan for years. So there’s no way it’s him!”
Every muscle in my body relaxes with relief and I slump down to the ground, allowing the cabinets to support my back and shoulders.
“But, if it’s not him then what does that mean? Are there two horrible creatures out there? Is this thing just made up for story’s sake?” I thunk my head against the cabinet a couple of times in exasperation.
Landon walks over to us in the kitchen and sits at the table. He rests his arms on his knees to better talk to me.
“I had to think about this part for a while. The thing is, Donovan is the leader of The Depraved. We all know that. He has his sidekicks and runs it like any other royal court. The other courts don’t make themselves as well known, but they’re there. Donovan likes to have the power, so he displays it.
“I have heard of some really strong fae who can take over others. Almost like a possession. I have also heard stories of fae cooperating together to make one single, stronger faery. So my theory isn’t as basic as ‘Donovan is the evil creature from the rhyme.’ I think Donovan may have learned more about the story’s background and found a way to free the creature. To make him a part of himself. That way they both can ha
ve the best of both worlds. He most certainly has the power to do so, more than any other fae out there … except maybe you once you realize your power.”
I inspect Landon’s face, trying to read if he really is right or just reaching for an answer from anywhere. Just to have it figured out. He believes he’s right, of that I’m sure. I shift my gaze to my feet to think about what I believe—what makes sense to me. After way too much silence, in the room and my head, I give up.
“OK, I’m overwhelmed now, I’ve gotta admit. I’m up and then down with thinking things are all right and then not. What the frack is the truth here?” I look back and forth from Landon to Zoë—tears about to spill, my eyes pleading.
“I don’t know—I wish I had an answer for you.” Zoë is the epitome of concerned and helpless and I want to kick myself for ever doubting her. “But I do know Donovan is an evil guy and what Landon is saying makes sense. If you had lived in Avalon this whole time, it wouldn’t seem so far-fetched. Almost anything is possible here. Especially with The Depraved.”
Landon’s excitement, tension, and also his frustration are so strong I feel both stupid and angry that he isn’t getting his point across. Our emotions mix together and blur inside of me, making this conversation all the more difficult. I attempt to clear my head—focus and really understand. I nod for him to keep talking.
“The rhyme stays the same, of course, which is why it is a rhyme—so fae can remember it. But the story changes from family to family and village to village, just as any other tale does over the years based on who is telling it. And this one is so old that no one can really know what exactly is supposed to happen. And therein lies the problem. Different beliefs and ideals change the meaning.”
“But do you really think two people can live as one? That Donovan has that much power to overturn the rule—or whatever—that this creature thing is only freed at certain times? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“It actually does.” I vaguely feel the pressure of Zoë putting her hand on my knee. She holds out a glass of milk with her other hand. Even with everything that is going on, I notice how graceful Zoë is. If I had made the same motions, milk would have been all over the place.
And then I decide I must be going crazy … thinking about such stupid stuff with the gravity of this situation I am in.
I take the milk and practically down the entire glass in about two seconds. Feeling better and somehow stronger, my mind goes back to my encounter with Donovan in Preston’s kitchen. How we both wanted milk. It must be another fae thing but not at all important enough for me to mention right now.
“Put yourself in Donovan’s shoes,” Zoë prompts, “if at all possible. You have amazing evil powers at your disposal. But you don’t have everything. There is something out there greater than you—no matter that it’s a creature only released around every twenty years, give or take. It is still an entity that can kill an immortal being. Someone as evil and power-hungry as the leader of The Depraved is going to want that power.”
Landon finishes up Zoë’s thought. “So what makes the most sense is that somehow, over the past few weeks, Donovan found a way to take over the creature from the rhyme. It had probably been released already, or at least was close to freedom. I am simply basing this on your age—or how old I believe you to be… Anyway, Donovan pulled the creature into his own being and is using its power. That would certainly explain why he is so desperate to get to you.”
“Huh.” I can’t believe I’m thinking about such nonsense rationally, but here I am, doing so. “I guess from what little I do know, that’s honestly believable. I didn’t tell you guys about my ex-boyfriend, Blake. He was a Golem that Donovan controlled. I dated him for years, obviously not knowing he wasn’t ‘real.’ He met his demise earlier today—not something I want to get into…”
I set my empty glass of milk beside me and push it away as though it holds the memory of Blake. The thought is almost enough to make me lunge for the glass and hold it against my heart. Forever. He enters my mind but I haven’t had the time to embrace how much I miss him. Which is good because I don’t believe I have the emotional or physical energy for that. So instead, I wrap both arms around my legs, pull my knees close, and rest my chin on them.
Tilting my head to the side, with my left knee digging into my cheekbone, allows me to see both Zoë and Landon. “Suffice it to say, I do know for sure Donovan has the power to control another being. And if he could do it for years, he definitely could do it for only a month, right? And he’s always hated me. We’ve hated each other, actually. He got on my nerves, constantly being a jackass.”
“The thing is,” I continue, “for the past couple of months, Blake and I have been fighting. And I knew all along it was Donovan making it happen—well then I knew him as Andrew, confusing and strange as that is—but the point is that it was all Donovan’s fault. The fighting was … I could just sense it and even my friends could see he was manipulating Blake somehow.”
Zoë laughs a little and I raise my eyebrows, ready to be pissed off, wondering what could possibly be funny right now. “I bet none of you would have ever thought of how he was truly manipulating him.”
She gets a smile out of me. The girl deserves props.
I shake my head, possibly giving myself rug burn, or jean burn … whatever. But it doesn’t affect me any more than that fleeting thought. “No, that’s true. Definitely wouldn’t have figured that one out on our own.” I pause for a second before going on with my thoughts. “I don’t know, though—maybe he was planning this the whole time and using Blake. To build his own strength and to prepare me. To piss me off even more. ’Cause it seems that’s what makes Donovan happy, right? Any sort of torture—big or small…”
“Yes, he enjoys any kind of drama and hard, mean, raw emotion. He feeds off it, and those shady shadow things seem to, also,” Zoë answers.
I shudder involuntarily as I remember watching the creature suck in the black smoke when it was after my mother. Who would have imagined such pure evil existed? At least I’ve seen some good, though, too. I unwrap my arms from my body cocoon and stretch my legs straight out and my arms straight up. A yawn escapes me and I realize just how exhausted I am. The lack of sleep and the stress of all this is taking its toll.
Bringing my arms back down, I clasp them together in my lap, awkwardly unsure of what to do next. “Well then, I guess you guys are right about all this stuff with Donovan.” It’s too bad I know they are. The slight blip in my reasoning was only that—a slight blip. Me trying to make things less dark. But what was it Donovan said in the road—about a generation of solitude, waiting for me? Didn’t understand it then… Hell, this is all true.
I laugh, the weirdest sound coming out—half-deluded.
“Well, at least I got the throwing up out of the way. It’s not hitting me quite so heavily anymore. Or that could also be because this is all just so freaking surreal. Who the frack knows? All I know is I need to freshen up and try to process this a little more.”
I lift one hand out in front of my and watch it shake with weakness.
“Anyone want to help me up?”
Zoë stands up and extends her arm. I reach to grab it and she pulls it away.
I question her with my eyes, almost trying to force her to answer me.
“I will. On one condition.”
My arm is tired so I allow it to drop down by my side. “OK. What’s that?”
“Please explain to me what this ‘frack’ word is all about. I understand you speak a little differently than us, honestly not much, which is surprising, but that is a strange word I have certainly never heard before.” Zoë laughs and crosses her arms, waiting for an answer.
“Wow. Ha ha. Yeah, most people don’t even make fun of me anymore or bring it up. It’s kind of funny you mention it, though, because I was just thinking about the show I got it from. Like, a few minutes ago. Short version is, it’s from this science fiction show a bunch of people were, are, into. I wa
tched a show, Veronica Mars, where in one episode, the main girl needed help from a fan of the sci-fi show. He used the word; she asked about it. The guy told her it was from said show and is the curse word of the future. So she used the word later in the show and I thought it was funny. I suppose I find weird things funny…”
Even as I explain this to Zoë, I realize how silly it is but hey, most things in our lives are from pop culture—why should I be immune?
She reaches her arm out again and I tentatively sit up more and touch her hand, making sure she won’t change her mind. But she pulls me up, laughing all the while.
“I think we are going to learn a lot from each other and I think it’s going to be fun. I can already tell you will remain a close friend, Kellyn.”
Zoë looks like she wants to hug me but I feel a bit of confusion, as if she doesn’t know whether or not she should. So I take the pressure off of her and grab her for a quick hug, if for no other reason than to feel something—someone—solid so I don’t feel quite so alone.
“I agree with you, Zo. Your home almost feels like my own.”
Pulling back, I realize how this sounds. I laugh and tell her, “I’m totally not saying I’m gonna beg you to move in. I just mean that you and Landon have been my introduction into this world and nothing, and no one, can ever replace that. You two pretty much rock.”
Zoë nods and smiles, and then looks at the hallway, speaking with her eyes.