About the Myth and Science Universe
The Myth and Science universe is a tale composed of flash fictions and short stories that twist together to make one story that blends mythological creatures, time travel, and refugees from outside our solar system. Each story begins with a random first line prompt and was originally published as part of the Flash Fiction Friday series, which is still continuing. This, of course, has resulted in several of the stories being printed out of order, so this page was made to collect them all in chronological order.
New stories are added to this page a week after they run on the blog, so if you enjoy this story, this is a page you'll want to bookmark and come back to every couple of months for new additions.
New stories are added to this page a week after they run on the blog, so if you enjoy this story, this is a page you'll want to bookmark and come back to every couple of months for new additions.
Running from Nightmares
The air tasted like dust, and her feet were killing her. Still Mab ran down the dark corridor, chasing the pale ball of light she’d conjured to show the way, as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. It darted right, and she skidded around the corner after it.
She hoped it wasn’t leading her in circles. How many times had she turned right without a change? She couldn’t remember.
Mab’s heart was beating so loud, it sounded like drums, and her lungs were beginning to burn as badly as her feet. There wasn’t much she wanted more at the moment than to sit down and rest, but getting home to Mama and Papa was all she’d wanted for weeks.
That and to get away from the hateful man who’d taken her away from them. It’s why she’d stayed as quiet as a wisp until the others had forgotten she was there. Then she studied as they’d cast their spells until she was able to produce her own guide. Mama’d never let her play with magic, saying she’d have to wait until she was older, but Mab thought Mama would forgive her for breaking the rules if it helped her get home.
If not, well, she’d rather take a whooping than some of the things she’d heard the others whispering about. The memory of some of them sent a shiver down her spine.
The baying of a barghest echoed in the tunnel. Mab whipped her head around to look behind. Her hair got all in her eyes, and she tripped over a stone she didn’t see because she wasn’t looking where she was running anymore.
She landed on her side hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare cry out even though her side ached as she pushed herself up off the dusty stone floor. Her feet burned and throbbed inside the tattered remains of the flimsy cloth shoes she’d been given to wear.
She couldn’t ignore it as well as she was even just a few minutes ago, and she limped as she started back down the twisting halls. Mab wiped a hand over her face, trying to stem the tears enough to see as she desperately tried to catch back up with the little yellow ball of light. It’d gotten so far ahead when she fell, she could just barely see its glow speeding around the next corner.
The barghest howled.
It sounded so close! Mab gasped and sobbed, pushing her legs to go faster despite how raw her feet felt in shoes that were suspiciously wet. Her breath came in ragged pants, and the ache in her side was fast becoming a stabbing pain as she ran.
She thought she might hear something big getting closer, but after what happened last time, she was too afraid to look back. If the barghest didn’t eat her up, the man would make sure she’d never get another chance to run if she was caught. Following the light and getting back to Mama and Papa was her only hope. She just had to keep running.
Mab chased the guiding light around another turn, and her heart leapt to feel a breeze blow over her. A breeze meant outside. Outside meant she’d gotten out of the castle!
The barghest howled again. The sound of it echoed off the walls and rang in her ears. Mab didn’t look back, but she knew it couldn’t be far behind her.
She dashed more tears from her eyes, clearing her vision in time to see something move in the light of her guide up ahead. The glow flashed off sharp teeth and reflected in the cold eyes of a big, black hound peering down into the tunnel as it exited the tor.
Yelping even as she choked back more sobs, Mab dodged away as she tore out of the tunnel. She slipped on wet leaves, but something caught her by the scruff of her dress before she could tumble to the ground again.
She hoped it wasn’t leading her in circles. How many times had she turned right without a change? She couldn’t remember.
Mab’s heart was beating so loud, it sounded like drums, and her lungs were beginning to burn as badly as her feet. There wasn’t much she wanted more at the moment than to sit down and rest, but getting home to Mama and Papa was all she’d wanted for weeks.
That and to get away from the hateful man who’d taken her away from them. It’s why she’d stayed as quiet as a wisp until the others had forgotten she was there. Then she studied as they’d cast their spells until she was able to produce her own guide. Mama’d never let her play with magic, saying she’d have to wait until she was older, but Mab thought Mama would forgive her for breaking the rules if it helped her get home.
If not, well, she’d rather take a whooping than some of the things she’d heard the others whispering about. The memory of some of them sent a shiver down her spine.
The baying of a barghest echoed in the tunnel. Mab whipped her head around to look behind. Her hair got all in her eyes, and she tripped over a stone she didn’t see because she wasn’t looking where she was running anymore.
She landed on her side hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare cry out even though her side ached as she pushed herself up off the dusty stone floor. Her feet burned and throbbed inside the tattered remains of the flimsy cloth shoes she’d been given to wear.
She couldn’t ignore it as well as she was even just a few minutes ago, and she limped as she started back down the twisting halls. Mab wiped a hand over her face, trying to stem the tears enough to see as she desperately tried to catch back up with the little yellow ball of light. It’d gotten so far ahead when she fell, she could just barely see its glow speeding around the next corner.
The barghest howled.
It sounded so close! Mab gasped and sobbed, pushing her legs to go faster despite how raw her feet felt in shoes that were suspiciously wet. Her breath came in ragged pants, and the ache in her side was fast becoming a stabbing pain as she ran.
She thought she might hear something big getting closer, but after what happened last time, she was too afraid to look back. If the barghest didn’t eat her up, the man would make sure she’d never get another chance to run if she was caught. Following the light and getting back to Mama and Papa was her only hope. She just had to keep running.
Mab chased the guiding light around another turn, and her heart leapt to feel a breeze blow over her. A breeze meant outside. Outside meant she’d gotten out of the castle!
The barghest howled again. The sound of it echoed off the walls and rang in her ears. Mab didn’t look back, but she knew it couldn’t be far behind her.
She dashed more tears from her eyes, clearing her vision in time to see something move in the light of her guide up ahead. The glow flashed off sharp teeth and reflected in the cold eyes of a big, black hound peering down into the tunnel as it exited the tor.
Yelping even as she choked back more sobs, Mab dodged away as she tore out of the tunnel. She slipped on wet leaves, but something caught her by the scruff of her dress before she could tumble to the ground again.
The Accord is Struck
This wasn’t a little girl. This was something else. It might look like a little girl and talk like a little girl, but it was far from being one.
Thaddeus blinked up at whatever it was from the bottom of the well he’d been digging. Water seeped in under his boots, rising fast, and his ladder hovered several feet above his head, just far enough where he couldn’t reach no matter how high he jumped.
The girl smirked and shook her head, causing her long, black pigtails to swing and curl in the wind like wisps of smoke. “You broke the ring, Thaddeus Brown,” she said.
Hands shaking, Thaddeus pulled his tattered cap from his head and bowed as deeply as the confines of the well allowed.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he stammered.
“Your Majesty, if you please,” the girl said with a prim sniff. “That is how you address a queen, is it not, Mr. Brown?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Thaddeus said a silent prayer as he crushed his cap and curled farther into himself. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“You had clear warning this land was mine,” said the little queen. “Why should I forgive such an insult?”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was taught the fair folk were stories meant to keep children out of the woods,” Thaddeus explained. “If I’d known you were real and the ring was more than just a bunch of mushrooms, I swear I wouldn’t have trespassed on your land.”
“Just stories!”
The pitch of the little queen’s voice dropped as she spoke and a feeling of immense power spiked from the place where she stood, causing Thaddeus to look up despite his terror. Wind swirled fallen leaves and scattered flower petals around her figure as it pulsed and stretched. Moments later, the wind died and an unnaturally beautiful woman stood where the girl was moments before.
She turned green eyes so bright they seemed to glow down to Thaddeus. They flashed, and Thaddeus found himself lifted from the muck by intangible hands. His ladder rose ahead of him before some unseen force threw it to the side, and Thaddeus hung suspended in the air, eye-to-eye with a being of power.
“Do I look like a story to you?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s expression softened, but the smile she wore as she tilted her head to consider him wasn’t a kind one. “How many of your kind believe as you did?”
“Most all of ‘em, Your Majesty.”
Thaddeus’ boots dripped, and he shivered where he hung above the well as the queen mulled over his words. The muscles at her jaw twitched, and her eyes narrowed.
“If I forgive your trespass, what do you offer in return?”
“Anything I can.”
The woman’s smile changed again, less predatory but still not quite friendly as the invisible hands began to lower him to the ground beside the well.
“You and your descendants shall serve as the guardians of this entrance into my kingdom,” the queen declared. She waved her hand and a contract unrolled before Thaddeus complete with an inked quill hovering just before it.
“The well is mine,” she continued. “Its waters are those of my kingdom, and no mortal is to drink of it. None are to trespass here again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Thaddeus agreed with another deep bow.
“Fulfill your duties well, and the land on which you live will prosper,” the queen continued. “Failure will be punished, both for you and the trespasser.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Be warned, Thaddeus Brown, should you or any of your line trespass on my land again, the offender and all your household will belong to me from that day until judgment.”
After he’d agreed again, the queen motioned for him to sign their contract, and he did so. The moment he lifted the quill from the paper, the terrible queen, contract, and quill all vanished into the ether. Only a single note that read, “Welcome to the service of Queen Mab and the Seelie Court,” was left behind as proof it was anything more than a dream.
Thaddeus blinked up at whatever it was from the bottom of the well he’d been digging. Water seeped in under his boots, rising fast, and his ladder hovered several feet above his head, just far enough where he couldn’t reach no matter how high he jumped.
The girl smirked and shook her head, causing her long, black pigtails to swing and curl in the wind like wisps of smoke. “You broke the ring, Thaddeus Brown,” she said.
Hands shaking, Thaddeus pulled his tattered cap from his head and bowed as deeply as the confines of the well allowed.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he stammered.
“Your Majesty, if you please,” the girl said with a prim sniff. “That is how you address a queen, is it not, Mr. Brown?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Thaddeus said a silent prayer as he crushed his cap and curled farther into himself. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“You had clear warning this land was mine,” said the little queen. “Why should I forgive such an insult?”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was taught the fair folk were stories meant to keep children out of the woods,” Thaddeus explained. “If I’d known you were real and the ring was more than just a bunch of mushrooms, I swear I wouldn’t have trespassed on your land.”
“Just stories!”
The pitch of the little queen’s voice dropped as she spoke and a feeling of immense power spiked from the place where she stood, causing Thaddeus to look up despite his terror. Wind swirled fallen leaves and scattered flower petals around her figure as it pulsed and stretched. Moments later, the wind died and an unnaturally beautiful woman stood where the girl was moments before.
She turned green eyes so bright they seemed to glow down to Thaddeus. They flashed, and Thaddeus found himself lifted from the muck by intangible hands. His ladder rose ahead of him before some unseen force threw it to the side, and Thaddeus hung suspended in the air, eye-to-eye with a being of power.
“Do I look like a story to you?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s expression softened, but the smile she wore as she tilted her head to consider him wasn’t a kind one. “How many of your kind believe as you did?”
“Most all of ‘em, Your Majesty.”
Thaddeus’ boots dripped, and he shivered where he hung above the well as the queen mulled over his words. The muscles at her jaw twitched, and her eyes narrowed.
“If I forgive your trespass, what do you offer in return?”
“Anything I can.”
The woman’s smile changed again, less predatory but still not quite friendly as the invisible hands began to lower him to the ground beside the well.
“You and your descendants shall serve as the guardians of this entrance into my kingdom,” the queen declared. She waved her hand and a contract unrolled before Thaddeus complete with an inked quill hovering just before it.
“The well is mine,” she continued. “Its waters are those of my kingdom, and no mortal is to drink of it. None are to trespass here again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Thaddeus agreed with another deep bow.
“Fulfill your duties well, and the land on which you live will prosper,” the queen continued. “Failure will be punished, both for you and the trespasser.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Be warned, Thaddeus Brown, should you or any of your line trespass on my land again, the offender and all your household will belong to me from that day until judgment.”
After he’d agreed again, the queen motioned for him to sign their contract, and he did so. The moment he lifted the quill from the paper, the terrible queen, contract, and quill all vanished into the ether. Only a single note that read, “Welcome to the service of Queen Mab and the Seelie Court,” was left behind as proof it was anything more than a dream.
Don't Go Near the Well
There was a legend about the well in the garden. Isaac didn’t believe it, of course. It was just a silly story adults told their children to scare them away from it. Everyone knew fairies weren’t real. So there was no reason whatsoever he should feel guilty about daring Mary to go sit inside the fairy ring beside it.
“But that’d make Queen Mab mad at me!” she’d cried.
“Well then, I guess you’re too little to play with us,” he said in return.
Mary had looked up at Isaac and his friends with her big, brown eyes brimming with tears. Her lower lip quivered, but she managed not to start crying somehow.
“Fine!” Mary said. She turned around and stomped off toward the old, overgrown garden. “But if I get stolen away, I’m telling Mama!” she shouted over her shoulder.
Isaac turned back to his friends. They laughed at Mary’s childish belief as they resumed their game.
He didn’t notice Mary never came back until Mama asked where she was at dinner.
“But that’d make Queen Mab mad at me!” she’d cried.
“Well then, I guess you’re too little to play with us,” he said in return.
Mary had looked up at Isaac and his friends with her big, brown eyes brimming with tears. Her lower lip quivered, but she managed not to start crying somehow.
“Fine!” Mary said. She turned around and stomped off toward the old, overgrown garden. “But if I get stolen away, I’m telling Mama!” she shouted over her shoulder.
Isaac turned back to his friends. They laughed at Mary’s childish belief as they resumed their game.
He didn’t notice Mary never came back until Mama asked where she was at dinner.
Birth of a Believer
“They laughed at your Granny for putting out a saucer of milk ‘for the fairies,’ but sometimes the old ways are not without reason.” As she spoke, Mother’s eyes never strayed from the half finished dress she was making, and her needle flashed as it wove over and under the material.
“What does that have to do with Uncle Peter and his family?” Penelope asked.
“You know the legend about that well, same as Peter and Rosalind,” Mother said.
Penelope stopped cutting the vegetables for the night’s stew and frowned at her mother. “You’ve always said fairies were nothing but stories,” she said. “Now you’re saying they’re the reason for their disappearance?”
“Skeptic I may be, but I know enough to believe when there’s evidence in front of me.” Mother tied off her work and cut the thread. She picked up the next piece and began pinning it in place.
Still confused but not wanting dinner to be late, Penelope went back to chopping the onion she’d just peeled. The knife had gone dull weeks ago, so she had to be careful, which slowed her down. Father and her older brothers worked so late, she didn’t have the heart to ask one of them to sharpen it, and the thought of scraping it over the whetstone frightened her too much to try it herself.
The blade wobbled and slipped over the onion’s curved edge toward her fingers. Jerking her left hand back, she missed slicing herself by a hair’s breadth. Penelope’s heart thundered in her ears, and she took a shaky breath as she went back to preparing dinner. Maybe sharpening the knife wasn’t so scary an idea after all.
“I wrote to my old friends the day after we got word they were missing,” Mother continued once he fabric was secured. “A couple of their boys said Isaac had dared little Mary to sit inside the fairy ring the day before.” She tutted and shook her head. “The police dismissed it as childish foolishness, but that’s no coincidence, I tell you.”
“Mother.”
“Don’t you ‘mother’ me, young lady,” Penelope’s mother snapped.
Penelope jumped at her sharp tone and sat the knife down beside the cutting board. She didn’t dare talk back as she scooped the slices of onion up and dumped them in the pot.
“Your great-great-grandfather was warned never to return to that well,” Mother continued. “He signed an agreement with Queen Mab herself that any within the house forfeited their freedom if any of his household did so. Peter knew that. Rosalind knew that. Mother made sure of it!”
Penelope’s heart clenched as she watched her mother’s expression turn sad. Her mother sighed and returned to sewing the sleeves onto the dress she was making.
“But time makes fools of us all,” she murmured.
Penelope’s attention slid from her mother to the collection of her Granny’s books on the shelf beyond. She chewed her bottom lip as an idea began forming in the back of her mind.
“What does that have to do with Uncle Peter and his family?” Penelope asked.
“You know the legend about that well, same as Peter and Rosalind,” Mother said.
Penelope stopped cutting the vegetables for the night’s stew and frowned at her mother. “You’ve always said fairies were nothing but stories,” she said. “Now you’re saying they’re the reason for their disappearance?”
“Skeptic I may be, but I know enough to believe when there’s evidence in front of me.” Mother tied off her work and cut the thread. She picked up the next piece and began pinning it in place.
Still confused but not wanting dinner to be late, Penelope went back to chopping the onion she’d just peeled. The knife had gone dull weeks ago, so she had to be careful, which slowed her down. Father and her older brothers worked so late, she didn’t have the heart to ask one of them to sharpen it, and the thought of scraping it over the whetstone frightened her too much to try it herself.
The blade wobbled and slipped over the onion’s curved edge toward her fingers. Jerking her left hand back, she missed slicing herself by a hair’s breadth. Penelope’s heart thundered in her ears, and she took a shaky breath as she went back to preparing dinner. Maybe sharpening the knife wasn’t so scary an idea after all.
“I wrote to my old friends the day after we got word they were missing,” Mother continued once he fabric was secured. “A couple of their boys said Isaac had dared little Mary to sit inside the fairy ring the day before.” She tutted and shook her head. “The police dismissed it as childish foolishness, but that’s no coincidence, I tell you.”
“Mother.”
“Don’t you ‘mother’ me, young lady,” Penelope’s mother snapped.
Penelope jumped at her sharp tone and sat the knife down beside the cutting board. She didn’t dare talk back as she scooped the slices of onion up and dumped them in the pot.
“Your great-great-grandfather was warned never to return to that well,” Mother continued. “He signed an agreement with Queen Mab herself that any within the house forfeited their freedom if any of his household did so. Peter knew that. Rosalind knew that. Mother made sure of it!”
Penelope’s heart clenched as she watched her mother’s expression turn sad. Her mother sighed and returned to sewing the sleeves onto the dress she was making.
“But time makes fools of us all,” she murmured.
Penelope’s attention slid from her mother to the collection of her Granny’s books on the shelf beyond. She chewed her bottom lip as an idea began forming in the back of her mind.
Trial by Fear
He was terrified of small spaces, and she knew that was what’d get them caught. Their tree had a hidden nook, but her brother had refused to go near it since his experience with the little girl.
The baying grew louder as the hunters neared. Dewdrop grabbed Bristle by the hand and fluttered off the branch they were on, tugging on his arm.
“Stop it!” he protested.
“We’ve gotta hide now, or they’re going to find us,” Dewdrop hissed. “Do you want to end up in a shoebox again?”
Bristle quit fighting and allowed her to pull him toward the top of their tree. He’d stopped fighting, but he didn’t do much more than just hover and allow himself to be pulled along either.
With the way he was acting, someone would think she was the older one. One look at the two of them would prove that notion false, though. Despite the way he acted, Bristle was a grown pixie. Dewdrop was just an adolescent of five hundred. She was almost half his size.
“Fly with your own wings,” Dewdrop whined as she strained to hurry.
“Let’s lose them in the trees,” Bristle suggested and tugged Dewdrop to the right.
She yelped as the tendons in her shoulder pulled, and she let go.
“And what?” she asked. “Do you want to lead them back home?”
Bristle’s shoulders drooped. “No.”
“You just had to go see what the humans are up to at the forest’s edge,” she continued scolding him. The dogs sounded so close, they’d see their shimmer soon. “You got caught a year ago, and even after we helped you escape, you still kept going back!”
One of the dogs howled, and it sounded like it was almost to their tree. Bristle and Dewdrop startled.
“Come hide with me, or go get yourself caught.” Dewdrop sighed. “But don’t you dare put the others in danger, and don’t expect a second rescue.”
Bristle nodded. His eyes were wide, and he trembled. But he followed Dewdrop to their hiding place on his own volition.
Once inside and settled as deep in the shadows as they could go, Dewdrop sat next to her big brother and wrapped her small hand around his larger one. He was panting, and she could feel his heartbeat hammering away in terror as they dampened their shimmer as much as they could.
They could hear the dogs under their tree now. Their paws crunched the dried leaves that’d fallen weeks before, and they snuffled around the base of the tree.
“I can’t go back to the box,” Bristle whimpered.
Dewdrop shushed him. “Just keep calm, and they’ll give up in a minute.”
Bristle nodded, but his breathing became more ragged.
“Tell me about what they’re doing,” Dewdrop said, hoping to keep him distracted. “What’s so fascinating?”
As he told her stories of mechanical marvels the humans had invented, Bristle calmed. Dewdrop’s own heartbeat and breathing leveled out too as the dogs’ led the humans far away.
The baying grew louder as the hunters neared. Dewdrop grabbed Bristle by the hand and fluttered off the branch they were on, tugging on his arm.
“Stop it!” he protested.
“We’ve gotta hide now, or they’re going to find us,” Dewdrop hissed. “Do you want to end up in a shoebox again?”
Bristle quit fighting and allowed her to pull him toward the top of their tree. He’d stopped fighting, but he didn’t do much more than just hover and allow himself to be pulled along either.
With the way he was acting, someone would think she was the older one. One look at the two of them would prove that notion false, though. Despite the way he acted, Bristle was a grown pixie. Dewdrop was just an adolescent of five hundred. She was almost half his size.
“Fly with your own wings,” Dewdrop whined as she strained to hurry.
“Let’s lose them in the trees,” Bristle suggested and tugged Dewdrop to the right.
She yelped as the tendons in her shoulder pulled, and she let go.
“And what?” she asked. “Do you want to lead them back home?”
Bristle’s shoulders drooped. “No.”
“You just had to go see what the humans are up to at the forest’s edge,” she continued scolding him. The dogs sounded so close, they’d see their shimmer soon. “You got caught a year ago, and even after we helped you escape, you still kept going back!”
One of the dogs howled, and it sounded like it was almost to their tree. Bristle and Dewdrop startled.
“Come hide with me, or go get yourself caught.” Dewdrop sighed. “But don’t you dare put the others in danger, and don’t expect a second rescue.”
Bristle nodded. His eyes were wide, and he trembled. But he followed Dewdrop to their hiding place on his own volition.
Once inside and settled as deep in the shadows as they could go, Dewdrop sat next to her big brother and wrapped her small hand around his larger one. He was panting, and she could feel his heartbeat hammering away in terror as they dampened their shimmer as much as they could.
They could hear the dogs under their tree now. Their paws crunched the dried leaves that’d fallen weeks before, and they snuffled around the base of the tree.
“I can’t go back to the box,” Bristle whimpered.
Dewdrop shushed him. “Just keep calm, and they’ll give up in a minute.”
Bristle nodded, but his breathing became more ragged.
“Tell me about what they’re doing,” Dewdrop said, hoping to keep him distracted. “What’s so fascinating?”
As he told her stories of mechanical marvels the humans had invented, Bristle calmed. Dewdrop’s own heartbeat and breathing leveled out too as the dogs’ led the humans far away.
The Monster You Know
You haven’t learned anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too.
Rosalind liked to think she had a decent education for a woman of her station. She did well through all eight years of her schooling, and she continued to read her family’s Bible and any other book she could get her hands on. Then Mary didn’t come home in time for supper, and a host of fair folk burst in and carried them all away.
Sure there’d been the usual stories. Peter’s grandfather even claimed he’d cut a deal with Queen Mab over that cursed well on his property. Everyone knew them, but everyone knew they were just stories to frighten children into behaving.
Everyone was wrong.
Queen Mab was as real as anything, and now their whole family was obliged to serve as her “trained human pets” for the rest of their days. How Rosalind hated her!
Little Mary was a beautiful child, all rosy cheeks, big eyes as blue as the sky in summer, and soft curls the rich, deep brown of fertile soil when it’s freshly tilled. She had a ready mind and sweet, high voice she used to make mischief and then talk her way out of a switching in the next breath. The Fae Queen might have taken Mary and her family because of the breached contract, but she refused to let the girl out of her sight because she’d taken to the child’s mischievous nature and lovely appearance.
The fact Rosalind was allowed to serve as Mab’s personal serving woman and Mary’s nursemaid was small consolation. The queen had placed Mary under some strange bit of fairy magic that made the babe forget her own mother. She saw her child, held her child every day, but Mary didn’t know her. That alone made Mab monster enough in Rosalind’s eyes. Never mind the horrors she committed on a daily basis as she ruled her kingdom.
As Mab sat Mary on her hip to speak with her, the neckline of her gown shifted, revealing a fine, silvery scar ringing her neck. Rosalind averted her eyes before the queen’s attention fell upon her lest she receive another beating for insolence. She avoided Mab’s notice, but Mary saw more.
“You saw Mummy’s scar,” Mary said several minutes after Mab left the two of them alone.
She kept playing as she spoke, but she’d heard her use that tone before. It was deceptively off handed yet cold and full of frightening intent. It wasn’t a tone that ought to be coming from the mouth of a child of five, and it sent shivers down Rosalind’s spine.
“Mummy doesn’t like it when people see it,” said Mary. “She gets mad.”
“Please don’t tell her, Miss Mary,” Rosalind pleaded. “I didn’t mean too.”
Mary paused in her game, hands still outstretched but no longer tugging the magical strings that made the puppet dance. She tilted her head to one side, and dark ringlets slid over her shoulders. “Will you mention it to her?” Mary asked. “It hurts Mummy when people talk about her scars. They burn so much, she cries sometimes.” Mary blinked and resumed playing. “I don’t like it when Mummy hurts.”
“Of course you don’t,” Rosalind said. “I promise I won’t say anything about them again.”
Mary nodded, accepting her word, and Rosalind’s breath came easier. A glimmer of hope flickered to life in her heart. She didn’t know what it was, but the queen had a weakness. If she could discover what it was, they might outsmart her yet.
Rosalind liked to think she had a decent education for a woman of her station. She did well through all eight years of her schooling, and she continued to read her family’s Bible and any other book she could get her hands on. Then Mary didn’t come home in time for supper, and a host of fair folk burst in and carried them all away.
Sure there’d been the usual stories. Peter’s grandfather even claimed he’d cut a deal with Queen Mab over that cursed well on his property. Everyone knew them, but everyone knew they were just stories to frighten children into behaving.
Everyone was wrong.
Queen Mab was as real as anything, and now their whole family was obliged to serve as her “trained human pets” for the rest of their days. How Rosalind hated her!
Little Mary was a beautiful child, all rosy cheeks, big eyes as blue as the sky in summer, and soft curls the rich, deep brown of fertile soil when it’s freshly tilled. She had a ready mind and sweet, high voice she used to make mischief and then talk her way out of a switching in the next breath. The Fae Queen might have taken Mary and her family because of the breached contract, but she refused to let the girl out of her sight because she’d taken to the child’s mischievous nature and lovely appearance.
The fact Rosalind was allowed to serve as Mab’s personal serving woman and Mary’s nursemaid was small consolation. The queen had placed Mary under some strange bit of fairy magic that made the babe forget her own mother. She saw her child, held her child every day, but Mary didn’t know her. That alone made Mab monster enough in Rosalind’s eyes. Never mind the horrors she committed on a daily basis as she ruled her kingdom.
As Mab sat Mary on her hip to speak with her, the neckline of her gown shifted, revealing a fine, silvery scar ringing her neck. Rosalind averted her eyes before the queen’s attention fell upon her lest she receive another beating for insolence. She avoided Mab’s notice, but Mary saw more.
“You saw Mummy’s scar,” Mary said several minutes after Mab left the two of them alone.
She kept playing as she spoke, but she’d heard her use that tone before. It was deceptively off handed yet cold and full of frightening intent. It wasn’t a tone that ought to be coming from the mouth of a child of five, and it sent shivers down Rosalind’s spine.
“Mummy doesn’t like it when people see it,” said Mary. “She gets mad.”
“Please don’t tell her, Miss Mary,” Rosalind pleaded. “I didn’t mean too.”
Mary paused in her game, hands still outstretched but no longer tugging the magical strings that made the puppet dance. She tilted her head to one side, and dark ringlets slid over her shoulders. “Will you mention it to her?” Mary asked. “It hurts Mummy when people talk about her scars. They burn so much, she cries sometimes.” Mary blinked and resumed playing. “I don’t like it when Mummy hurts.”
“Of course you don’t,” Rosalind said. “I promise I won’t say anything about them again.”
Mary nodded, accepting her word, and Rosalind’s breath came easier. A glimmer of hope flickered to life in her heart. She didn’t know what it was, but the queen had a weakness. If she could discover what it was, they might outsmart her yet.
Another Day at the Office
As he opened the car door, there was a loud blast nearby. Agent Lee ducked and crouched on reflex as screams rose up in the general vicinity of what he supposed was an explosion.
He stood back up and craned his neck to see what’d happened. A plume of dust and smoke coiled from the side of a high-rise in downtown.
“It looks like the Techmedia building,” said Agent DuBois.
Lee looked across the car’s roof to where his partner stood at the driver’s side door. Her lips were pursed as she strained to make out details from a couple blocks away. “You think it was our guys?” he asked.
“We did trace them to this general area,” she said. DuBois’ brow furrowed. “But it doesn’t fit their M.O.”
“They could have decided to up the ante, or things went sideways.”
“Point,” DuBois agreed.
She shut her door, and she locked the vehicle once Lee did the same. The two took off at a run toward the explosion. Lee called it in and sent a request for backup as they ran.
The first rush of evacuees cleared the building as the agents arrived on scene. Lee and DuBois flashed their badges as they ran by staff security. Pushing past the flow of terrified workers still making their way out slowed them down once they entered the stairwell.
DuBois and Lee were panting and sweating by the time they reached the twenty-seventh floor. Dust and who knew what else lingered in the air, making them cough as they reached the landing.
“What was that?” said a feminine voice from the other side of the door.
“Someone coughed,” came the irritated response. “We’ve all been hacking since the kid goofed. You ought to be used to it now.”
“It sounded human,” the first protested.
“So what if it is?”
Lee nudged DuBois’ shoulder. “Did she just say human like she isn’t one?” he whispered.
DuBois nodded, looking shaken but determined as she shrugged. “Delusional or not, they’re still thieves and terrorists now, I suppose,” she whispered back.
She nodded toward the door separating them from the group of technology thieves they’d been tracking for weeks and pulled her sidearm. Lee signaled his understanding and did the same before they slammed the door.
“Federal agents,” DuBois announced as the door swung open, and she trained her gun on the first suspect.
Lee almost lost his grip on his in shock as they found the entire group of ten instead of the two lookouts they’d expected. Yet their numbers weren’t what stunned him the most. That honor went to the fact at least a couple of them indeed weren’t human. The creatures working on some piece of tech he couldn’t identify looked more like some kind of squid.
One of the cephalopod creatures’ form rippled and morphed into the appearance of a man with his arms raised. “Please,” it said. “We mean you no harm. We just want to go home.”
He stood back up and craned his neck to see what’d happened. A plume of dust and smoke coiled from the side of a high-rise in downtown.
“It looks like the Techmedia building,” said Agent DuBois.
Lee looked across the car’s roof to where his partner stood at the driver’s side door. Her lips were pursed as she strained to make out details from a couple blocks away. “You think it was our guys?” he asked.
“We did trace them to this general area,” she said. DuBois’ brow furrowed. “But it doesn’t fit their M.O.”
“They could have decided to up the ante, or things went sideways.”
“Point,” DuBois agreed.
She shut her door, and she locked the vehicle once Lee did the same. The two took off at a run toward the explosion. Lee called it in and sent a request for backup as they ran.
The first rush of evacuees cleared the building as the agents arrived on scene. Lee and DuBois flashed their badges as they ran by staff security. Pushing past the flow of terrified workers still making their way out slowed them down once they entered the stairwell.
DuBois and Lee were panting and sweating by the time they reached the twenty-seventh floor. Dust and who knew what else lingered in the air, making them cough as they reached the landing.
“What was that?” said a feminine voice from the other side of the door.
“Someone coughed,” came the irritated response. “We’ve all been hacking since the kid goofed. You ought to be used to it now.”
“It sounded human,” the first protested.
“So what if it is?”
Lee nudged DuBois’ shoulder. “Did she just say human like she isn’t one?” he whispered.
DuBois nodded, looking shaken but determined as she shrugged. “Delusional or not, they’re still thieves and terrorists now, I suppose,” she whispered back.
She nodded toward the door separating them from the group of technology thieves they’d been tracking for weeks and pulled her sidearm. Lee signaled his understanding and did the same before they slammed the door.
“Federal agents,” DuBois announced as the door swung open, and she trained her gun on the first suspect.
Lee almost lost his grip on his in shock as they found the entire group of ten instead of the two lookouts they’d expected. Yet their numbers weren’t what stunned him the most. That honor went to the fact at least a couple of them indeed weren’t human. The creatures working on some piece of tech he couldn’t identify looked more like some kind of squid.
One of the cephalopod creatures’ form rippled and morphed into the appearance of a man with his arms raised. “Please,” it said. “We mean you no harm. We just want to go home.”
Culture Shock
“I could cook quite well, in my century at least.” Penelope frowned down at the washed out mess on her plate. Her attempts at cooking had refused to turn out right since she’d returned from the Fae realm. The vegetables had turned into a pale, soggy mush, and the meat looked tough and dry.
Jenn looked over Penelope’s shoulder, and she chuckled. “Nuking leftovers’ll do that,” she said. The young woman patted Penelope’s back. “I get why the microwave is a problem, but have ovens changed that much since 1829?”
“Yes, they have,” Penelope opined. She speared a few vegetables with her fork and choked them down, unwilling to allow food to go to waste no matter how poorly cooked. “I learned using a wood burning, cast iron stove.”
“Oh,” was all Jenn managed to mutter in response. Her eyes were wide as she watched Penelope force herself to eat the food she’d warmed up. She plopped down onto one of the stools tucked up under the breakfast bar and swung her legs. “Stoves have always seemed the same,” she mused. “I forget sometimes how new electric appliances are compared to how long we’ve been around.”
Penelope grinned. “That is part and parcel to being an adolescent, I think,” she said. “The world feels like it has always been the same as it is until you’re old enough to witness it change.”
“I guess.”
Jenn rested her elbows on the counter before using her hands to prop up her head. Penelope bit the inside of her cheek to keep from scolding the girl on her lack of manners. Much had changed in the almost two hundred years she’d missed in the human realm, ideals of propriety among them. Penelope wondered, not for the first time, if it would have been better if she’d gone searching for her lost aunt a bit less prepared. Maybe remaining stuck in the Fae world would have been a kinder fate than being flung into a future she neither liked nor understood.
“Maybe you could relearn how to cook, using an electric oven this time.” Jenn’s suggestion broke the silence and startled Penelope out of her reverie.
“You remember the baking incident, do you not?” Penelope sighed.
Jenn laughed. “You made rock cakes!”
Penelope frowned. The younger girl’s outburst confused her, and she was not sure if she should laugh at some unknown joke or feel insulted. “Food has changed. Fruits and vegetables look the same, but they taste bland. Even flour is different. It’s too easy to overwork the dough now.”
“That’s what cookbooks and cooking shows are for though, Penny.”
Grimacing at the diminutive, Penelope attempted to cut through what was once a nice cut of beef. It was too tough to make decent jerky now.
Jenn jumped down off the stool and pulled open one of the kitchen’s upper cabinets. It was stuffed full of books with colorful spines. “Mama has lots of ‘em.”
Jenn looked over Penelope’s shoulder, and she chuckled. “Nuking leftovers’ll do that,” she said. The young woman patted Penelope’s back. “I get why the microwave is a problem, but have ovens changed that much since 1829?”
“Yes, they have,” Penelope opined. She speared a few vegetables with her fork and choked them down, unwilling to allow food to go to waste no matter how poorly cooked. “I learned using a wood burning, cast iron stove.”
“Oh,” was all Jenn managed to mutter in response. Her eyes were wide as she watched Penelope force herself to eat the food she’d warmed up. She plopped down onto one of the stools tucked up under the breakfast bar and swung her legs. “Stoves have always seemed the same,” she mused. “I forget sometimes how new electric appliances are compared to how long we’ve been around.”
Penelope grinned. “That is part and parcel to being an adolescent, I think,” she said. “The world feels like it has always been the same as it is until you’re old enough to witness it change.”
“I guess.”
Jenn rested her elbows on the counter before using her hands to prop up her head. Penelope bit the inside of her cheek to keep from scolding the girl on her lack of manners. Much had changed in the almost two hundred years she’d missed in the human realm, ideals of propriety among them. Penelope wondered, not for the first time, if it would have been better if she’d gone searching for her lost aunt a bit less prepared. Maybe remaining stuck in the Fae world would have been a kinder fate than being flung into a future she neither liked nor understood.
“Maybe you could relearn how to cook, using an electric oven this time.” Jenn’s suggestion broke the silence and startled Penelope out of her reverie.
“You remember the baking incident, do you not?” Penelope sighed.
Jenn laughed. “You made rock cakes!”
Penelope frowned. The younger girl’s outburst confused her, and she was not sure if she should laugh at some unknown joke or feel insulted. “Food has changed. Fruits and vegetables look the same, but they taste bland. Even flour is different. It’s too easy to overwork the dough now.”
“That’s what cookbooks and cooking shows are for though, Penny.”
Grimacing at the diminutive, Penelope attempted to cut through what was once a nice cut of beef. It was too tough to make decent jerky now.
Jenn jumped down off the stool and pulled open one of the kitchen’s upper cabinets. It was stuffed full of books with colorful spines. “Mama has lots of ‘em.”
The Move
That summer seemed to last forever. Warm, sunny days melted together in a bittersweet haze of playing outside and planning a future as frightening as it was alluring. But time passes, and nothing lasts forever.
“New school, new town,” Lily whispered to herself upon perfecting a trendy new hairstyle. She smiled at herself in the mirror. “New me.”
The move that last week before the school year started wasn’t pleasant. They traveled by shuttle with what little they were able to carry with them stashed in the cargo hold. The cabin was crammed as full as possible. As they traveled, it became warmer and smellier and more uncomfortable.
“It smells weird,” Lily said when they arrived at last.
“Having this many restaurants packed so close together always smells a little weird,” Mom agreed. “It’ll be better at our new place.”
Lily and her family spent the rest of the week replacing everything they’d left behind and learning their new town. Until then, she’d lived in the same place all her life, so it all seemed alien to Lily. She reveled in the novelty of it and the minuscule knot of ever-present fear in her gut it brought.
Monday arrived. Dad dropped Lily by her new school on his way to his own first day at a new job. She wished him a good day and then spent a moment just standing and staring at the building. It was bigger than her school back home and teeming with people. Lily took a deep breath, ignored the fluttering sensation in her stomach, and walked inside.
The crush of students in the hall was disorienting. Lily wished she’d arrived much earlier as she wove her way past groups of teens catching up after months apart. Their conversations melded together into a deafening drone that made her ears ache.
Lily’s school day lasted all of ten minutes before her homeroom teacher sent her to the office. The principal took one look at her and had the secretary call her parents. Lily sat in one of the hard, plastic chairs as she was instructed. She studied the ragged groves cut into the plastic as she waited for her mother to come pick her up.
“I’m sorry dear,” Mom said once they were outside the school. “We saw all the new hair colors popping up and thought it was safe.”
“After all those surgeries back home, I’ve got to dye my hair too,” Lily pouted. She kicked a rock and watched as it bounced down the sidewalk.
“It’s just until you graduate,” her mother said. She ran her fingers down Lily’s blue locks. “Then we can remove the dye.”
“Their natural range is so boring!” She pouted. “Isn’t it bad enough we had to have our chromatophores locked?”
“Humans are a very drab species compared to us, but what did they say before we came?” Mom asked, warning clear in her tone.
“When on Earth, do as the humans do,” Lily grumbled.
“New school, new town,” Lily whispered to herself upon perfecting a trendy new hairstyle. She smiled at herself in the mirror. “New me.”
The move that last week before the school year started wasn’t pleasant. They traveled by shuttle with what little they were able to carry with them stashed in the cargo hold. The cabin was crammed as full as possible. As they traveled, it became warmer and smellier and more uncomfortable.
“It smells weird,” Lily said when they arrived at last.
“Having this many restaurants packed so close together always smells a little weird,” Mom agreed. “It’ll be better at our new place.”
Lily and her family spent the rest of the week replacing everything they’d left behind and learning their new town. Until then, she’d lived in the same place all her life, so it all seemed alien to Lily. She reveled in the novelty of it and the minuscule knot of ever-present fear in her gut it brought.
Monday arrived. Dad dropped Lily by her new school on his way to his own first day at a new job. She wished him a good day and then spent a moment just standing and staring at the building. It was bigger than her school back home and teeming with people. Lily took a deep breath, ignored the fluttering sensation in her stomach, and walked inside.
The crush of students in the hall was disorienting. Lily wished she’d arrived much earlier as she wove her way past groups of teens catching up after months apart. Their conversations melded together into a deafening drone that made her ears ache.
Lily’s school day lasted all of ten minutes before her homeroom teacher sent her to the office. The principal took one look at her and had the secretary call her parents. Lily sat in one of the hard, plastic chairs as she was instructed. She studied the ragged groves cut into the plastic as she waited for her mother to come pick her up.
“I’m sorry dear,” Mom said once they were outside the school. “We saw all the new hair colors popping up and thought it was safe.”
“After all those surgeries back home, I’ve got to dye my hair too,” Lily pouted. She kicked a rock and watched as it bounced down the sidewalk.
“It’s just until you graduate,” her mother said. She ran her fingers down Lily’s blue locks. “Then we can remove the dye.”
“Their natural range is so boring!” She pouted. “Isn’t it bad enough we had to have our chromatophores locked?”
“Humans are a very drab species compared to us, but what did they say before we came?” Mom asked, warning clear in her tone.
“When on Earth, do as the humans do,” Lily grumbled.
Strange Neighbors
My family moved next door to the landlord. It wasn’t a move my parents were happy about making, but with the baby coming, we needed someplace bigger. The house beside the landlord was the only one available.
Mama spent months telling us to quiet down and to be careful we didn’t toss a toy over the fence. Daddy didn’t worry so much about us talking a little loud, but we didn’t get to play outside at all when he was home.
Eddie and I thought our landlady must be some kind of witch like you heard about in fairy tales or something with the way Mama and Daddy acted. The fact the landlady’s house stood still and quiet all the time with no one ever coming or leaving just made the whole thing spookier. Miss Rose was like a ghost. We only ever saw her when Daddy went to pay our rent.
One night, the sound of a band tuning up woke me from a sound sleep. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock and yawned. The glowing, red numbers read thirteen minutes after midnight.
“Just a dream,” I groaned and flopped my head back down on the pillow.
I was just starting to drift back off when the band I’d heard tuning up launched into a song. Confused, I opened one eye and checked the time again. The clock said a quarter after midnight. I rolled onto my back and pinched my arm, wincing when it hurt.
“Turn the radio off, Sam,” Eddie mumbled.
I sighed. If Eddie was hearing the same thing and a pinch hurt, this couldn’t be a dream. Climbing out of bed, I stepped into my slippers and walked over to the window and peeked outside.
The music sounded like it was coming from our landlady’s house. Her back garden was decked out for a party with torches and twinkle lights and tables covered in food, but I couldn’t see any people.
Giving up on the idea of sleeping with the racket, I shuffled to the door, grabbing my housecoat along the way. I felt my way to the back door without turning on any lights. I snuck outside as quietly as I could.
The music was louder, and I could hear voices. I moved as fast and quiet as I could all hunched over. There was a big knothole in the side of one of the boards, and I used it to peer into Miss Rose’s garden.
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth. What I’d thought were twinkle lights were little flying people playing music and eating. The back door opened, and I shook to see Miss Rose walk out looking cross. She started glowing so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut.
The light dimmed, and I opened my eyes again to see Miss Rose dissolve, leaving behind another one of those funny flying people. She stretched her neck, smiled, and flew off to join her friends.
Mama spent months telling us to quiet down and to be careful we didn’t toss a toy over the fence. Daddy didn’t worry so much about us talking a little loud, but we didn’t get to play outside at all when he was home.
Eddie and I thought our landlady must be some kind of witch like you heard about in fairy tales or something with the way Mama and Daddy acted. The fact the landlady’s house stood still and quiet all the time with no one ever coming or leaving just made the whole thing spookier. Miss Rose was like a ghost. We only ever saw her when Daddy went to pay our rent.
One night, the sound of a band tuning up woke me from a sound sleep. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock and yawned. The glowing, red numbers read thirteen minutes after midnight.
“Just a dream,” I groaned and flopped my head back down on the pillow.
I was just starting to drift back off when the band I’d heard tuning up launched into a song. Confused, I opened one eye and checked the time again. The clock said a quarter after midnight. I rolled onto my back and pinched my arm, wincing when it hurt.
“Turn the radio off, Sam,” Eddie mumbled.
I sighed. If Eddie was hearing the same thing and a pinch hurt, this couldn’t be a dream. Climbing out of bed, I stepped into my slippers and walked over to the window and peeked outside.
The music sounded like it was coming from our landlady’s house. Her back garden was decked out for a party with torches and twinkle lights and tables covered in food, but I couldn’t see any people.
Giving up on the idea of sleeping with the racket, I shuffled to the door, grabbing my housecoat along the way. I felt my way to the back door without turning on any lights. I snuck outside as quietly as I could.
The music was louder, and I could hear voices. I moved as fast and quiet as I could all hunched over. There was a big knothole in the side of one of the boards, and I used it to peer into Miss Rose’s garden.
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth. What I’d thought were twinkle lights were little flying people playing music and eating. The back door opened, and I shook to see Miss Rose walk out looking cross. She started glowing so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut.
The light dimmed, and I opened my eyes again to see Miss Rose dissolve, leaving behind another one of those funny flying people. She stretched her neck, smiled, and flew off to join her friends.
I Have the Weirdest Friends
When I first saw her, I didn’t really see her, just the pile of books she was carrying. It was almost as tall as she was, which is still pretty impressive even with as short as Lily is. I mean, can you carry a four foot stack of books?
I’m no slouch when it comes to reading. I downed the whole Harry Potter series in one month long binge back when I was nine, and I gave up going to the library at my high school last year. What’s the point when you’ve read every novel in the place? Okay fine, not every novel, just all the ones that sound halfway interesting.
Lils though, she’s something different. I could tell it even then. No one carries that many books all at once without there being a juicy story behind it somewhere. How could I not go say hi?
After the usual introductions and stuff, I asked her why she was trying to check out so many books all at once.
“I’m new to your country,” she says.
Her accent was strange too. My dad’s the same way with movies as I am with books. I mean he watches them all the time, and I must have heard most of the accents around at one point or another with that going on in the background all the time at home. But I’d never heard anyone speak quite like Lily did at first.
Of course, the librarian wouldn’t let her check out all those books. I mean, most of them were reference books, and no one is allowed to check those out ever. Even when it comes to fiction, we’re allowed a maximum of five at a time, and you have to earn that. You can’t just go up and check out half the library your first week in school, you know?
Lils was beyond bummed out she couldn’t get all of those books. I mean I thought she was going to have a panic attack kind of bummed, and all I could think about was Penny and the way she was when I first found her at the park last year. If I could take a girl from 1829 and teach her how to fit in at a public school in 2016, I figured I could help this foreign exchange student. No sweat. So, walked with her to class and invited her to join Penny and me for lunch in the school courtyard.
I swear I must be some kind of magnet for the strange and unusual, cause it turns out Lils is from a bit farther away than some tiny little country no one’s heard of on the other side of the globe. She and her family are refugees from a planet several solar systems over.
How’d I find out about that? Oh, that’s a whole other story. A long one, and I don’t have time to tell it right now. Sorry.
I’m no slouch when it comes to reading. I downed the whole Harry Potter series in one month long binge back when I was nine, and I gave up going to the library at my high school last year. What’s the point when you’ve read every novel in the place? Okay fine, not every novel, just all the ones that sound halfway interesting.
Lils though, she’s something different. I could tell it even then. No one carries that many books all at once without there being a juicy story behind it somewhere. How could I not go say hi?
After the usual introductions and stuff, I asked her why she was trying to check out so many books all at once.
“I’m new to your country,” she says.
Her accent was strange too. My dad’s the same way with movies as I am with books. I mean he watches them all the time, and I must have heard most of the accents around at one point or another with that going on in the background all the time at home. But I’d never heard anyone speak quite like Lily did at first.
Of course, the librarian wouldn’t let her check out all those books. I mean, most of them were reference books, and no one is allowed to check those out ever. Even when it comes to fiction, we’re allowed a maximum of five at a time, and you have to earn that. You can’t just go up and check out half the library your first week in school, you know?
Lils was beyond bummed out she couldn’t get all of those books. I mean I thought she was going to have a panic attack kind of bummed, and all I could think about was Penny and the way she was when I first found her at the park last year. If I could take a girl from 1829 and teach her how to fit in at a public school in 2016, I figured I could help this foreign exchange student. No sweat. So, walked with her to class and invited her to join Penny and me for lunch in the school courtyard.
I swear I must be some kind of magnet for the strange and unusual, cause it turns out Lils is from a bit farther away than some tiny little country no one’s heard of on the other side of the globe. She and her family are refugees from a planet several solar systems over.
How’d I find out about that? Oh, that’s a whole other story. A long one, and I don’t have time to tell it right now. Sorry.
Not from Around Here
“You mean you’re not from around here?” Jenn asked.
Her eyes were wide, and she looked considerably paler than usual. I wasn’t sure what all that meant, but something told me it wasn’t exactly good. Why, oh why, did my parents have to be arguing about whether or not we should have come to this planet when I came home from school? It’s not like we could go back.
“Nope,” I answered for lack of anything better to say.
“Like not,” Jenn started before trailing off and visibly floundering for what to say, “even Earth?”
“Nope.” Again, I didn’t know how else to answer considering she heard my parents’ argument that made it plain we weren’t human or from Earth at all. What was I supposed to do, pretend they were rehearsing for some play or something?
“Wow.” Jenn’s eyes glossed over, and she kind of stared off at nothing. Her voice had a tone to it I didn’t quite know how to interpret. “That’s just, wow!”
“Yep.”
I fidgeted in a desperate attempt to keep from panicking. Images from human’s movies and other stories regarding alien species plagued my nightmares from our first month here. A human had discovered our secret. If she didn’t react well, would my nightmares come true?
Jenn started laughing, and I jumped back, curling in on myself. I still didn’t quite understand humans, but one thing I’d learned is their expressions and sounds can mean all sorts of different things. Even the same action can have multiple meanings, and I was garbage at guessing which ones meant what. I had no idea if this was an amused laugh or a hysterical or angry one.
“I’m a weird magnet,” Jenn muttered.
One thing I was sure of, she didn’t think I would have heard that. Humans might be considerably stronger and more durable than we were, by and large, but their visual and auditory senses were limited by comparison. I decided pretending I hadn’t heard might be in my best interest, just in case things went sour.
“Are you okay with that fact?” I asked.
Jenn startled and shook herself before looking up at me from her seat on my bed. Her forehead scrunched before she asked, “Am I okay with what?”
“That I’m not from around here.”
Jenn’s brow smoothed, and she tilted her head to the side, considering me with eyes more focused they I generally saw her.
“Are you here to study us or take over?” she asked after a couple moments.
I shook my head in a gesture I’d been told meant negative. “We just came to live here,” I said. “I’ve been studying the way people talk and interact, sure, but that’s just so I can fit in better.”
“Of all the planets out there,” Jenn said, still considering me with those focused eyes, “why move to Earth?”
The truth was nearly out of my mouth before I remembered how dumb of an idea that would be. Jenn knew about my family already. There was nothing I could do about that now, and she wasn’t near as clueless as she liked to pretend. If I told her the real reason we were here, it wouldn’t take her long to figure out there were many more of us around. As much as I despise lies, I couldn’t tell her the real reason.
“It’s pretty,” I answered with a shrug.
Jenn’s eyes narrowed, and I could almost see her preparing a rebuttal. Knowing that excuse wasn’t enough, another idea came to mind. I smirked and leaned in like I was going to whisper a secret to her. Her expression shifted, and she leaned in to listen.
“Well, the environment is favorable for our species,” I admitted with emphasis on the word is. “But it’s your tech level that’s the real draw.”
Jenn leaned away, expression once more confused as she asked what I meant.
“We’re space fairing,” I explained. “You know how much we can cash in ‘inventing’ new tech here?”
Jenn’s expression went flat, and she muttered something about how she should have known. I’d the sinking suspicion I’d disappointed her, yet I was finally able to breathe again.
Her eyes were wide, and she looked considerably paler than usual. I wasn’t sure what all that meant, but something told me it wasn’t exactly good. Why, oh why, did my parents have to be arguing about whether or not we should have come to this planet when I came home from school? It’s not like we could go back.
“Nope,” I answered for lack of anything better to say.
“Like not,” Jenn started before trailing off and visibly floundering for what to say, “even Earth?”
“Nope.” Again, I didn’t know how else to answer considering she heard my parents’ argument that made it plain we weren’t human or from Earth at all. What was I supposed to do, pretend they were rehearsing for some play or something?
“Wow.” Jenn’s eyes glossed over, and she kind of stared off at nothing. Her voice had a tone to it I didn’t quite know how to interpret. “That’s just, wow!”
“Yep.”
I fidgeted in a desperate attempt to keep from panicking. Images from human’s movies and other stories regarding alien species plagued my nightmares from our first month here. A human had discovered our secret. If she didn’t react well, would my nightmares come true?
Jenn started laughing, and I jumped back, curling in on myself. I still didn’t quite understand humans, but one thing I’d learned is their expressions and sounds can mean all sorts of different things. Even the same action can have multiple meanings, and I was garbage at guessing which ones meant what. I had no idea if this was an amused laugh or a hysterical or angry one.
“I’m a weird magnet,” Jenn muttered.
One thing I was sure of, she didn’t think I would have heard that. Humans might be considerably stronger and more durable than we were, by and large, but their visual and auditory senses were limited by comparison. I decided pretending I hadn’t heard might be in my best interest, just in case things went sour.
“Are you okay with that fact?” I asked.
Jenn startled and shook herself before looking up at me from her seat on my bed. Her forehead scrunched before she asked, “Am I okay with what?”
“That I’m not from around here.”
Jenn’s brow smoothed, and she tilted her head to the side, considering me with eyes more focused they I generally saw her.
“Are you here to study us or take over?” she asked after a couple moments.
I shook my head in a gesture I’d been told meant negative. “We just came to live here,” I said. “I’ve been studying the way people talk and interact, sure, but that’s just so I can fit in better.”
“Of all the planets out there,” Jenn said, still considering me with those focused eyes, “why move to Earth?”
The truth was nearly out of my mouth before I remembered how dumb of an idea that would be. Jenn knew about my family already. There was nothing I could do about that now, and she wasn’t near as clueless as she liked to pretend. If I told her the real reason we were here, it wouldn’t take her long to figure out there were many more of us around. As much as I despise lies, I couldn’t tell her the real reason.
“It’s pretty,” I answered with a shrug.
Jenn’s eyes narrowed, and I could almost see her preparing a rebuttal. Knowing that excuse wasn’t enough, another idea came to mind. I smirked and leaned in like I was going to whisper a secret to her. Her expression shifted, and she leaned in to listen.
“Well, the environment is favorable for our species,” I admitted with emphasis on the word is. “But it’s your tech level that’s the real draw.”
Jenn leaned away, expression once more confused as she asked what I meant.
“We’re space fairing,” I explained. “You know how much we can cash in ‘inventing’ new tech here?”
Jenn’s expression went flat, and she muttered something about how she should have known. I’d the sinking suspicion I’d disappointed her, yet I was finally able to breathe again.
Making the List
She saw vampires rubbing elbows with goblins, elves, and everything in between. It was nothing like what her father had told her.
Aishling supposed she shouldn't be surprised. How would a country elf know anything of the High Queen’s court? Her family tended their ancestral forest and did the occasional favor for the few humans who still called to them.
The offerings began to decline since some humans started calling the Fae peoples superstitious fantasies. Then the notion of science came along, and the offerings all but stopped. After months without a call from the human realm, they hadn’t enough work to go around. So her father reached out to old friends in Mab’s court to have Aishling hired on at the castle.
Helping the kitchen staff and serving at a feast was her first assignment. The influx of Seelie and Unseelie aristocracy made Aishling’s head spin and her heart nearly beat out of her chest.
“What’s this I hear about your family establishing a human preserve?” an elegant water sprite asked a vampire couple. “Do tell me it’s a joke.”
Although she tried to ignore all that was said around her as she’d been instructed, the mention of humans caught Aishling’s attention as she filled their goblets. She didn’t dare look at them as she continued on working like she didn’t care what they said.
“Preserve isn’t quite the word for it, but it’s essentially correct,” one of the vampires replied.
“Whatever for?” The sprite gave a derisive chuckle. “The planet’s infested with the vermin.”
“Don’t you ever leave your river?” the other vampire said with a roll of her eyes. “Their numbers have been diminishing for years.”
“Really?” The sprite sat up straighter in her chair and sounded rather pleased by the news.
Aishling’s hands trembled as she heard confirmation of what her family feared the past several months, and she nearly knocked over one of the goblets she was filling. She managed to catch it before causing a mess, but her erratic movements caught the attention of the group. The vampires frowned at her, and the sprite raised an eyebrow. Feeling her face flush, Aishling bowed to them and mumbled an apology. The three accepted it without a word and turned away from her, forgetting her as fast as they’d noticed.
“Yes,” the first vampire grumbled. “We can hardly allow or favorite prey to go extinct, so we decided to begin raising them.”
“Oh, what a bother!” the sprite exclaimed. “There are less troublesome species.”
“True,” the second vampire agreed, “but none as tasty.” She shared a rather nasty grin with her friends. “They’re not so difficult to domesticate, if you understand the species.”
The first gestured to the room as a whole. “Every court has at least a dozen.” He scoffed. “Queen Mab alone keeps a small colony as trained pets.”
Aishling continued on with her duties, mulling over what she’d heard, and the beginnings of an idea started taking shape in the back of her mind.
Aishling supposed she shouldn't be surprised. How would a country elf know anything of the High Queen’s court? Her family tended their ancestral forest and did the occasional favor for the few humans who still called to them.
The offerings began to decline since some humans started calling the Fae peoples superstitious fantasies. Then the notion of science came along, and the offerings all but stopped. After months without a call from the human realm, they hadn’t enough work to go around. So her father reached out to old friends in Mab’s court to have Aishling hired on at the castle.
Helping the kitchen staff and serving at a feast was her first assignment. The influx of Seelie and Unseelie aristocracy made Aishling’s head spin and her heart nearly beat out of her chest.
“What’s this I hear about your family establishing a human preserve?” an elegant water sprite asked a vampire couple. “Do tell me it’s a joke.”
Although she tried to ignore all that was said around her as she’d been instructed, the mention of humans caught Aishling’s attention as she filled their goblets. She didn’t dare look at them as she continued on working like she didn’t care what they said.
“Preserve isn’t quite the word for it, but it’s essentially correct,” one of the vampires replied.
“Whatever for?” The sprite gave a derisive chuckle. “The planet’s infested with the vermin.”
“Don’t you ever leave your river?” the other vampire said with a roll of her eyes. “Their numbers have been diminishing for years.”
“Really?” The sprite sat up straighter in her chair and sounded rather pleased by the news.
Aishling’s hands trembled as she heard confirmation of what her family feared the past several months, and she nearly knocked over one of the goblets she was filling. She managed to catch it before causing a mess, but her erratic movements caught the attention of the group. The vampires frowned at her, and the sprite raised an eyebrow. Feeling her face flush, Aishling bowed to them and mumbled an apology. The three accepted it without a word and turned away from her, forgetting her as fast as they’d noticed.
“Yes,” the first vampire grumbled. “We can hardly allow or favorite prey to go extinct, so we decided to begin raising them.”
“Oh, what a bother!” the sprite exclaimed. “There are less troublesome species.”
“True,” the second vampire agreed, “but none as tasty.” She shared a rather nasty grin with her friends. “They’re not so difficult to domesticate, if you understand the species.”
The first gestured to the room as a whole. “Every court has at least a dozen.” He scoffed. “Queen Mab alone keeps a small colony as trained pets.”
Aishling continued on with her duties, mulling over what she’d heard, and the beginnings of an idea started taking shape in the back of her mind.
Flight from Mab’s Castle
The entrance to the tunnel was his only way out.
Isaac gnawed on his lip as he considered snagging one of the fairy lights floating overhead. The tunnel was dark enough to make his heart skip beat. A light might give him away, but he was only human. Who knew what kind of weird turns or traps might lay down the tunnel, and he’d never see them coming without some sort of light.
He focused on the one closest to him and mumbled the light gather charm. The fuzzy, golden light drifted down to Isaac’s eye level, and he looped a thread around it. The fact it didn’t fall right through still boggled his mind even after three years serving in Queen Mab’s court.
Light secured, Isaac wasted no more time. He bolted down the tunnel, trying to put as much distance between himself and Mab’s castle as possible before he was missed.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he murmured to himself as he scurried down the tunnel. “I’ll come back for you and Papa and Mary. I promise.”
Isaac skidded to a stop as the tunnel forked into three separate directions. He panted and tried to decide which direction to take. The more charms he used, the easier it’d be for the Fae to track him, but he didn’t have a map. He’d never been this way before, and he didn’t fancy dying alone in a maze of dank, dark tunnels.
Feeling it was foolish, but not knowing what else to do, Isaac cast the point me charm he’d been taught his first day as Mab’s slave. When he asked for home, the stupid thing pointed him right back the way he came. Groaning, he tried again, asking this time for that cursed well that’d started the whole thing.
Isaac grinned and set off after the glowing blue arrow. It kept pace in front of him, leading him around turns and twists he’d have never figured out on his own.
He ran until his chest burned, and his legs felt like jelly. Isaac slowed to a walk, but he didn’t dare stop moving. Stubborn boy that he was, Isaac had made himself an annoyance from day one. The steward Mab placed him under was a creative fellow when it came to doling out punishment, but it’d just made him act up all the more.
Then he’d overheard the steward ask to sell him.
Mab had thought it over for a moment before replying. “The Goblin King is due to visit tomorrow,” she’d mused. “He takes such pleasure out of besting me at cards. I think it’d be much more fun to trick him into taking the boy off our hands.”
Isaac was running before she’d finished giggling at her own wit. He’d heard the stories. He didn’t know if it was based on the real Goblin King and his kingdom or not, but he wasn’t about to find out. A boy with his nose would never survive the bog.
Isaac gnawed on his lip as he considered snagging one of the fairy lights floating overhead. The tunnel was dark enough to make his heart skip beat. A light might give him away, but he was only human. Who knew what kind of weird turns or traps might lay down the tunnel, and he’d never see them coming without some sort of light.
He focused on the one closest to him and mumbled the light gather charm. The fuzzy, golden light drifted down to Isaac’s eye level, and he looped a thread around it. The fact it didn’t fall right through still boggled his mind even after three years serving in Queen Mab’s court.
Light secured, Isaac wasted no more time. He bolted down the tunnel, trying to put as much distance between himself and Mab’s castle as possible before he was missed.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he murmured to himself as he scurried down the tunnel. “I’ll come back for you and Papa and Mary. I promise.”
Isaac skidded to a stop as the tunnel forked into three separate directions. He panted and tried to decide which direction to take. The more charms he used, the easier it’d be for the Fae to track him, but he didn’t have a map. He’d never been this way before, and he didn’t fancy dying alone in a maze of dank, dark tunnels.
Feeling it was foolish, but not knowing what else to do, Isaac cast the point me charm he’d been taught his first day as Mab’s slave. When he asked for home, the stupid thing pointed him right back the way he came. Groaning, he tried again, asking this time for that cursed well that’d started the whole thing.
Isaac grinned and set off after the glowing blue arrow. It kept pace in front of him, leading him around turns and twists he’d have never figured out on his own.
He ran until his chest burned, and his legs felt like jelly. Isaac slowed to a walk, but he didn’t dare stop moving. Stubborn boy that he was, Isaac had made himself an annoyance from day one. The steward Mab placed him under was a creative fellow when it came to doling out punishment, but it’d just made him act up all the more.
Then he’d overheard the steward ask to sell him.
Mab had thought it over for a moment before replying. “The Goblin King is due to visit tomorrow,” she’d mused. “He takes such pleasure out of besting me at cards. I think it’d be much more fun to trick him into taking the boy off our hands.”
Isaac was running before she’d finished giggling at her own wit. He’d heard the stories. He didn’t know if it was based on the real Goblin King and his kingdom or not, but he wasn’t about to find out. A boy with his nose would never survive the bog.
Integrating Isn’t Easy
“The surgery was easy. Life after the surgery?” Lily grimaced and flopped back onto my bed. “That’s been torture.”
“How so?” I asked.
“We’re shifters by nature,” Lily said.
Her expression looked uncomfortable and a bit confused. She started to say something else a few times, but she just kept grimacing and making a few frustrated noises. Whatever it was, I had a sense would be difficult for me to understand, so I stayed quiet and waited for her to figure out how she wanted to explain it.
Sighing in frustration, Lily pushed herself back into a sitting position and ran a hand through her hair. “Variations in color and pattern, changing size and shape, shifts in texture all factor into our communication,” Lily explained. “We even had several digits and limbs more or less removed.”
“Really?”
I winced at the squeak in my voice, and I didn’t know where to look. All of a sudden, I was imagining Lily with six arms and four legs, all with a bunch more fingers and toes than normal. The mental image had the same blue hair she’d had that first day and purple skin with green polka dots. I was a little freaked. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But Lils is a great person, and I didn’t want to make her feel weird. I tried to hide the fact I was having trouble processing this information.
“Oh you poor dear,” Penelope murmured.
My “cousin” from a different century reached out to Lily. Penny’s history with the Fae means she doesn’t have the most open mind when it comes to nonhuman, sentient species. I was freaked to discover Lily was from outside our solar system, but Penny was terrified. She isn’t one to show her emotions that much, but I’ve gotten pretty good at reading her over the past several months. The stiff way she held herself and how closely she followed Lily’s every move since that moment were dead giveaways. And here she was getting over her own hangups and showing sympathy.
Guilt over the way I was handling everything hit me like a kick in the gut. So what if Lils wasn’t human? So what if she didn’t always look like she does now? That doesn’t change who she is.
Lily gave Penny a weak smile and accepted the hug she offered.
“Communicating after the surgeries is like,” Lily trailed off as she thought, trying to translate her experience into something we humans could understand. “Speaking with someone in a room so dark, you can’t see anything at all, after your tongue is cut out.”
Penny and I both winced at the analogy, and I felt like ten times more of a heel than I already did for being amused by and getting frustrated with Lily’s “accent” her first month or so here. Not only had she learned a whole new language, she did it after losing every means of communication she’d always known.
“I know it’s probably a poor substitute,” I said. “But Penny and I would be glad to help you learn more about human body language and expressions.” I grimaced at how awkward that sounded. “You know, since you’re kind of stuck looking like one of us and living with a bunch of us now, if that’d help.”
A strange expression crossed Lily’s face. If she were human, I’d think she was tearing up. She smiled. It looked wobbly, but it also looked genuine.
“More than you know.”
“How so?” I asked.
“We’re shifters by nature,” Lily said.
Her expression looked uncomfortable and a bit confused. She started to say something else a few times, but she just kept grimacing and making a few frustrated noises. Whatever it was, I had a sense would be difficult for me to understand, so I stayed quiet and waited for her to figure out how she wanted to explain it.
Sighing in frustration, Lily pushed herself back into a sitting position and ran a hand through her hair. “Variations in color and pattern, changing size and shape, shifts in texture all factor into our communication,” Lily explained. “We even had several digits and limbs more or less removed.”
“Really?”
I winced at the squeak in my voice, and I didn’t know where to look. All of a sudden, I was imagining Lily with six arms and four legs, all with a bunch more fingers and toes than normal. The mental image had the same blue hair she’d had that first day and purple skin with green polka dots. I was a little freaked. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But Lils is a great person, and I didn’t want to make her feel weird. I tried to hide the fact I was having trouble processing this information.
“Oh you poor dear,” Penelope murmured.
My “cousin” from a different century reached out to Lily. Penny’s history with the Fae means she doesn’t have the most open mind when it comes to nonhuman, sentient species. I was freaked to discover Lily was from outside our solar system, but Penny was terrified. She isn’t one to show her emotions that much, but I’ve gotten pretty good at reading her over the past several months. The stiff way she held herself and how closely she followed Lily’s every move since that moment were dead giveaways. And here she was getting over her own hangups and showing sympathy.
Guilt over the way I was handling everything hit me like a kick in the gut. So what if Lils wasn’t human? So what if she didn’t always look like she does now? That doesn’t change who she is.
Lily gave Penny a weak smile and accepted the hug she offered.
“Communicating after the surgeries is like,” Lily trailed off as she thought, trying to translate her experience into something we humans could understand. “Speaking with someone in a room so dark, you can’t see anything at all, after your tongue is cut out.”
Penny and I both winced at the analogy, and I felt like ten times more of a heel than I already did for being amused by and getting frustrated with Lily’s “accent” her first month or so here. Not only had she learned a whole new language, she did it after losing every means of communication she’d always known.
“I know it’s probably a poor substitute,” I said. “But Penny and I would be glad to help you learn more about human body language and expressions.” I grimaced at how awkward that sounded. “You know, since you’re kind of stuck looking like one of us and living with a bunch of us now, if that’d help.”
A strange expression crossed Lily’s face. If she were human, I’d think she was tearing up. She smiled. It looked wobbly, but it also looked genuine.
“More than you know.”
Conflict of Instinct
“He’s nothing but food,” I whispered. “Merely a human.”
You’d think working as a keeper at the preserve would be a dream, but it’s torture. Spending each day amongst humans, smelling the tang of their blood so close you can feel the heat of it radiating off of them, but being unable to strike is pure agony. You’d also think that would make becoming attached to any of them impossible, but again you’d be wrong.
Maybe it’s because we vampires are a parasitic race, no matter how much some want to deny the fact, but our very existence is tied to and dependent upon humanity. From our beginnings, we’ve depended upon their species not only as food but as our only means of reproduction, so it’s only logical our instincts regarding the species can become complicated and confused, especially in those of us who spend large amounts of time with them.
I’ve gone beyond the usual age for the first siring by a handful of decades, so I blame my biological clock for the mistake of getting attached.
My pen hovered over the paper. Olson’s marks were perfect, and there lay the problem. Master Ivan’s policies regarding human husbandry were absolute and built upon one universal truth all vampires understood. In humans, the genius and the profoundly stupid have one trait in common. They’re unpredictable, which makes them difficult to control. Ever since the founding of Ivan’s first human preserve, those few at either extreme were eaten young.
If I marked the test true to score, I’d never see Olson again. He’d be taken from the preserve and become someone’s dinner within the week.
It’s such a waste! He has a sweet temperament combined with a quick wit and a mind for science like none I’ve ever seen before. To think what one like him could do with a vampire’s gift for numbers and lengthened lifespan!
I dropped the pen and pushed away from the desk with a frustrated growl. Stalking out into the college’s abandoned hallways, I flexed and retracted my fangs several times.
The solution seemed so simple, but with the collapse of humanity, siring was outlawed. There were already too many mouths to feed and not enough humans to go around. Breaking that rule carried a sentence of death, not only for the sire but the fledgling as well.
“He’s just a human!” I mumbled aloud, but that contrary voice in the back of my mind argued, “So were you once.”
That right there is the problem with being a vampire. We feel superior to humans because they’re our food, but at the same time, we’re beholden to them because we’re born from them as well. This system can’t hold forever. Either way, both of our species are doomed.
The future stretched before me as realization hit. Countless centuries of teaching and evaluating intelligent cattle until I withered and died wasn’t appealing. Another possibility presented itself. It was far shorter and ended bloody, but oh the thrill of it while it lasted!
My fangs itched, and I flexed them before letting them retract once more as I sprinted for the dormitory.
You’d think working as a keeper at the preserve would be a dream, but it’s torture. Spending each day amongst humans, smelling the tang of their blood so close you can feel the heat of it radiating off of them, but being unable to strike is pure agony. You’d also think that would make becoming attached to any of them impossible, but again you’d be wrong.
Maybe it’s because we vampires are a parasitic race, no matter how much some want to deny the fact, but our very existence is tied to and dependent upon humanity. From our beginnings, we’ve depended upon their species not only as food but as our only means of reproduction, so it’s only logical our instincts regarding the species can become complicated and confused, especially in those of us who spend large amounts of time with them.
I’ve gone beyond the usual age for the first siring by a handful of decades, so I blame my biological clock for the mistake of getting attached.
My pen hovered over the paper. Olson’s marks were perfect, and there lay the problem. Master Ivan’s policies regarding human husbandry were absolute and built upon one universal truth all vampires understood. In humans, the genius and the profoundly stupid have one trait in common. They’re unpredictable, which makes them difficult to control. Ever since the founding of Ivan’s first human preserve, those few at either extreme were eaten young.
If I marked the test true to score, I’d never see Olson again. He’d be taken from the preserve and become someone’s dinner within the week.
It’s such a waste! He has a sweet temperament combined with a quick wit and a mind for science like none I’ve ever seen before. To think what one like him could do with a vampire’s gift for numbers and lengthened lifespan!
I dropped the pen and pushed away from the desk with a frustrated growl. Stalking out into the college’s abandoned hallways, I flexed and retracted my fangs several times.
The solution seemed so simple, but with the collapse of humanity, siring was outlawed. There were already too many mouths to feed and not enough humans to go around. Breaking that rule carried a sentence of death, not only for the sire but the fledgling as well.
“He’s just a human!” I mumbled aloud, but that contrary voice in the back of my mind argued, “So were you once.”
That right there is the problem with being a vampire. We feel superior to humans because they’re our food, but at the same time, we’re beholden to them because we’re born from them as well. This system can’t hold forever. Either way, both of our species are doomed.
The future stretched before me as realization hit. Countless centuries of teaching and evaluating intelligent cattle until I withered and died wasn’t appealing. Another possibility presented itself. It was far shorter and ended bloody, but oh the thrill of it while it lasted!
My fangs itched, and I flexed them before letting them retract once more as I sprinted for the dormitory.
Born of the Wall
It’s been so long, that no one knows why the walls were built. Nobody wants to leave. The classics they studied told of a wide world full of beauty and wonders, but others told of death and destruction. Most preferred to dream of the wonders that once were but dared not seek after things long lost. So to say it was a surprise to have Professor McLaggen knock on his dorm room door, urging him to pack a bag and follow his teacher beyond the wall, was a gross understatement.
McLaggen creeped Olson out, pushing his way into the dorm as he did, and they’d argued. The older man seemed unhinged, paranoid. It was so far out of character for the kindly professor, Olson worried some prankster or other slipped the old guy a hallucinogen. McLaggen seemed to calm down a bit when he played along with the man’s delusions, so Olson decided to humor the professor until whatever he was on wore off.
If he let the old man go off on his own and something happened… Well, Olson didn’t want that on his conscience. He began to rethink his position an hour later, with McLaggen still leading them toward the wall and refusing to be swayed.
Athletic, though never one for the outdoors, Olson had never ventured toward the wooded land that screened the walls from everyday view. His grandmother always said the forest had been planted as much as a way to fight the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped inside walls, even ones as vast as those surrounding their valley, as they were to help filter the air. He’d thought it funny until he was faced with weathered stone piled higher than anything he’d ever seen and stretching farther than the eye could see.
Olson’s pulse pounded in his ears as they neared the man-made monstrosity. The very sight of it made him feel minuscule, like he could strive all his life and never make a difference in anything. Memories of the stories told about what lay on the other side played through his mind’s eye, and every snapping twig had him glancing up in fear of the wall crumbling.
“We should head back,” Olson ventured yet again. McLaggan’s shoulders tensed, but he showed no other signs of having heard him. “It’s getting late, and I don’t know about you, Professor, but I’m getting hungry. Come on. The bar near campus has decent burgers.”
McLaggan finally stopped in his dogged trek and looked back toward Olson. The man’s complexion had taken on a waxy sheen, and he looked more gaunt than usual as he stood, hunched and wringing his hands. He looked at Olson with bloodshot eyes carrying a manic gleam to them.
“Yeah,” the professor murmured. He continued to fidget and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he seemed to swallow with some difficulty. “Hungry. We should eat.”
Relieved his teacher was finally listening to reason, Olson smiled and nodded. He turned and started back up the path they’d just walked, anxious to leave the woods and the walls it hid behind. He heard Professor McLaggan hurrying to catch up, and he breathed a bit easier knowing this whole weird afternoon would be behind him soon.
Relief turned to startled fear as McLaggan’s hurried steps sped too close, and Olson stumbled forward as the smaller man leapt on his back. A cold hand stifled his yell, and McLaggan wrenched him backward with far more strength than a man of his size ought to possess. The muscles in his neck and back strained as he fought to pull away even as he staggered off balance.
A rending sound sent creeping shivers up Olson’s spine, and the rumbling growl uttered by his professor made his blood run cold. McLaggan pulled Olson’s head to the side, and a searing pain tore into his neck faster than he could blink. Adrenaline spiked his heart rate, and Olson twisted and clawed, fighting to free himself of the crazed man. But he couldn’t get a good hold or shake the man loose.
Olson’s struggled slowed, and he dropped to his knees as the edges of his vision blurred and faded to black.
McLaggen creeped Olson out, pushing his way into the dorm as he did, and they’d argued. The older man seemed unhinged, paranoid. It was so far out of character for the kindly professor, Olson worried some prankster or other slipped the old guy a hallucinogen. McLaggen seemed to calm down a bit when he played along with the man’s delusions, so Olson decided to humor the professor until whatever he was on wore off.
If he let the old man go off on his own and something happened… Well, Olson didn’t want that on his conscience. He began to rethink his position an hour later, with McLaggen still leading them toward the wall and refusing to be swayed.
Athletic, though never one for the outdoors, Olson had never ventured toward the wooded land that screened the walls from everyday view. His grandmother always said the forest had been planted as much as a way to fight the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped inside walls, even ones as vast as those surrounding their valley, as they were to help filter the air. He’d thought it funny until he was faced with weathered stone piled higher than anything he’d ever seen and stretching farther than the eye could see.
Olson’s pulse pounded in his ears as they neared the man-made monstrosity. The very sight of it made him feel minuscule, like he could strive all his life and never make a difference in anything. Memories of the stories told about what lay on the other side played through his mind’s eye, and every snapping twig had him glancing up in fear of the wall crumbling.
“We should head back,” Olson ventured yet again. McLaggan’s shoulders tensed, but he showed no other signs of having heard him. “It’s getting late, and I don’t know about you, Professor, but I’m getting hungry. Come on. The bar near campus has decent burgers.”
McLaggan finally stopped in his dogged trek and looked back toward Olson. The man’s complexion had taken on a waxy sheen, and he looked more gaunt than usual as he stood, hunched and wringing his hands. He looked at Olson with bloodshot eyes carrying a manic gleam to them.
“Yeah,” the professor murmured. He continued to fidget and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he seemed to swallow with some difficulty. “Hungry. We should eat.”
Relieved his teacher was finally listening to reason, Olson smiled and nodded. He turned and started back up the path they’d just walked, anxious to leave the woods and the walls it hid behind. He heard Professor McLaggan hurrying to catch up, and he breathed a bit easier knowing this whole weird afternoon would be behind him soon.
Relief turned to startled fear as McLaggan’s hurried steps sped too close, and Olson stumbled forward as the smaller man leapt on his back. A cold hand stifled his yell, and McLaggan wrenched him backward with far more strength than a man of his size ought to possess. The muscles in his neck and back strained as he fought to pull away even as he staggered off balance.
A rending sound sent creeping shivers up Olson’s spine, and the rumbling growl uttered by his professor made his blood run cold. McLaggan pulled Olson’s head to the side, and a searing pain tore into his neck faster than he could blink. Adrenaline spiked his heart rate, and Olson twisted and clawed, fighting to free himself of the crazed man. But he couldn’t get a good hold or shake the man loose.
Olson’s struggled slowed, and he dropped to his knees as the edges of his vision blurred and faded to black.
Not Quite First Contact
“What is it?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think it’s human.”
Isaac’s heart thundered in his ears as unknown voices became intelligible. He lay still, barely daring to breathe, as he played dead. Something not quite sharp jabbed him in the hip.
“Might be a opossum,” said the first voice. “It’s playing dead like one.”
The second chuckled. “It doesn’t have a tail, and it’s wearing clothes.”
The pointy thing pressed against Isaac’s upper lip, pushing it back to expose his teeth. Reacting on instinct, he pushed the object away and skittered away from the speakers until his back hit a wall. Cuts and bruises began throbbing with the movement, and his ears started ringing.
Isaac’s vision was blurred, and he felt along the damp wall for a means of escape as he continued pushing himself away from the colorful blobs he figured were the speakers from before. They made shushing noises at him and took a couple steps forward.
“Stay away from me!” he snapped.
“It talks!” exclaimed the first speaker.
It was smaller than the other, sounded younger, and looked mostly purple. Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before squinting at the pair again, but it did nothing to help him focus. He thought the larger of the two might have raised its hands like someone trying to calm an angry animal, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Easy now,” they said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, pull the other one,” Isaac snapped. He’d scooted himself into a corner where there should only be trees. “Where am I?”
“New Tylebeckt,” said the larger one. “Our backyard to be exact.”
“How’d I get here?”
“You don’t know?”
“Would I be asking if I did?” Isaac answered back.
“Don’t know. Never met a whatever you are before.”
They took another step or two closer, and they finally came into focus for Isaac. His stomach did a flip, and his vision darkened around the edges. He’d seen some odd creatures during his time in the Seelie realm, but nothing like the two in front of him now. They resembled nothing more than gigantic, bipedal cuttlefish.
“Human,” Isaac stammered out. “I’m human.”
“I knew it!” The larger one pumped a couple tentacles in the air, and his skin flashed several colors before settling back to the original deep blue. “You’re not extinct!”
The pair of them rattled off a stream of questions Isaac couldn’t follow. His mind caught on the word extinct and everything else faded until a meaty tentacle waving in front of his face startled Isaac out of his reverie.
“What?” he asked, looking up at the smaller of the two.
“Told you it needs medical help,” it snapped at the other. “You heard that thud.”
The smaller, purplish creature turned to Isaac. “Come on, my brother and I will fix you up.”
“I can’t be sure, but I think it’s human.”
Isaac’s heart thundered in his ears as unknown voices became intelligible. He lay still, barely daring to breathe, as he played dead. Something not quite sharp jabbed him in the hip.
“Might be a opossum,” said the first voice. “It’s playing dead like one.”
The second chuckled. “It doesn’t have a tail, and it’s wearing clothes.”
The pointy thing pressed against Isaac’s upper lip, pushing it back to expose his teeth. Reacting on instinct, he pushed the object away and skittered away from the speakers until his back hit a wall. Cuts and bruises began throbbing with the movement, and his ears started ringing.
Isaac’s vision was blurred, and he felt along the damp wall for a means of escape as he continued pushing himself away from the colorful blobs he figured were the speakers from before. They made shushing noises at him and took a couple steps forward.
“Stay away from me!” he snapped.
“It talks!” exclaimed the first speaker.
It was smaller than the other, sounded younger, and looked mostly purple. Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before squinting at the pair again, but it did nothing to help him focus. He thought the larger of the two might have raised its hands like someone trying to calm an angry animal, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Easy now,” they said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, pull the other one,” Isaac snapped. He’d scooted himself into a corner where there should only be trees. “Where am I?”
“New Tylebeckt,” said the larger one. “Our backyard to be exact.”
“How’d I get here?”
“You don’t know?”
“Would I be asking if I did?” Isaac answered back.
“Don’t know. Never met a whatever you are before.”
They took another step or two closer, and they finally came into focus for Isaac. His stomach did a flip, and his vision darkened around the edges. He’d seen some odd creatures during his time in the Seelie realm, but nothing like the two in front of him now. They resembled nothing more than gigantic, bipedal cuttlefish.
“Human,” Isaac stammered out. “I’m human.”
“I knew it!” The larger one pumped a couple tentacles in the air, and his skin flashed several colors before settling back to the original deep blue. “You’re not extinct!”
The pair of them rattled off a stream of questions Isaac couldn’t follow. His mind caught on the word extinct and everything else faded until a meaty tentacle waving in front of his face startled Isaac out of his reverie.
“What?” he asked, looking up at the smaller of the two.
“Told you it needs medical help,” it snapped at the other. “You heard that thud.”
The smaller, purplish creature turned to Isaac. “Come on, my brother and I will fix you up.”
Return to the Wood
“No matter what you do, don’t drink the water.”
“Are you nuts? We’ve been without for almost two days, and it’ll be ages until we reach another well!”
“I don’t care. Do not drink the water.”
Ukira watched Isaac stalk off down the trail. She looked at the old, moss covered well and then to her big brother. “But we can’t last as long as you, Isaac,” she tried to reason. “Do you want Benari and me to get sick?”
Isaac stopped. His shoulders drooped, and he hung his head. “No,” he said. He sighed and turned back around. When he looked up, his eyes got big, and he ran toward them.
Ukira reeled back away from the flailing human as he flung himself at Benari. Isaac’s hands clamped down over Benari’s tentacle, stopping him from drawing up the bucket. Ukira shivered. Isaac was nice enough, and he was interesting. But there was something about human hands she found creepy.
“We’re in Fae territory,” Isaac hissed. “Don’t drink the water. Don’t eat the food.” He lifted his hands and gestured to himself. In the days since he’d popped out of nowhere in their back garden, he’d lost a lot of weight. His eyes were sunken, and his bones stood out in stark relief. “Do you want to end up like me?”
Ukira shook her head, and Benari let out an agitated burble. Her brother released the well’s crank and stepped away.
“We can only last another day or two at most,” he said.
“I know.” Isaac dropped his hands down by his sides and frowned. “That’s why I didn’t want you two to come,” he said. “I thought the warnings were just fables, even after I found out the fae were real, but just look at me! One bite, one sip, and mortal food and drink will never satisfy you again.”
His eyes slid to the side, and he gazed at the well with as much longing as Ukira and Benari. Isaac’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, and his fingers flexed before he curled them into fists. He sighed before drawing himself back to his full height again.
“I’ll walk you two back home,” he said and took off back in the direction they’d come.
Ukira quivered and looked at her big brother. Benari didn’t look happy either, but he followed along after the human. When she didn’t follow, he paused and reached out toward her. Ukira keened and wrapped her tentacle around his larger one, letting him lead her back toward home.
The three walked for hours through misty woods. The sun began to set, painting the path in burgundy and deep blues. They could see a small clearing ahead and trudged toward it, exhausted and longing to set up camp for the night. Yet when they arrived, all three shivered to see a quaint little well identical to the one they’d seen earlier in the day.
“Are you nuts? We’ve been without for almost two days, and it’ll be ages until we reach another well!”
“I don’t care. Do not drink the water.”
Ukira watched Isaac stalk off down the trail. She looked at the old, moss covered well and then to her big brother. “But we can’t last as long as you, Isaac,” she tried to reason. “Do you want Benari and me to get sick?”
Isaac stopped. His shoulders drooped, and he hung his head. “No,” he said. He sighed and turned back around. When he looked up, his eyes got big, and he ran toward them.
Ukira reeled back away from the flailing human as he flung himself at Benari. Isaac’s hands clamped down over Benari’s tentacle, stopping him from drawing up the bucket. Ukira shivered. Isaac was nice enough, and he was interesting. But there was something about human hands she found creepy.
“We’re in Fae territory,” Isaac hissed. “Don’t drink the water. Don’t eat the food.” He lifted his hands and gestured to himself. In the days since he’d popped out of nowhere in their back garden, he’d lost a lot of weight. His eyes were sunken, and his bones stood out in stark relief. “Do you want to end up like me?”
Ukira shook her head, and Benari let out an agitated burble. Her brother released the well’s crank and stepped away.
“We can only last another day or two at most,” he said.
“I know.” Isaac dropped his hands down by his sides and frowned. “That’s why I didn’t want you two to come,” he said. “I thought the warnings were just fables, even after I found out the fae were real, but just look at me! One bite, one sip, and mortal food and drink will never satisfy you again.”
His eyes slid to the side, and he gazed at the well with as much longing as Ukira and Benari. Isaac’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, and his fingers flexed before he curled them into fists. He sighed before drawing himself back to his full height again.
“I’ll walk you two back home,” he said and took off back in the direction they’d come.
Ukira quivered and looked at her big brother. Benari didn’t look happy either, but he followed along after the human. When she didn’t follow, he paused and reached out toward her. Ukira keened and wrapped her tentacle around his larger one, letting him lead her back toward home.
The three walked for hours through misty woods. The sun began to set, painting the path in burgundy and deep blues. They could see a small clearing ahead and trudged toward it, exhausted and longing to set up camp for the night. Yet when they arrived, all three shivered to see a quaint little well identical to the one they’d seen earlier in the day.
Fateful Meeting
The fall had cost her more than she was willing to admit. She had a rip in her wing that would take months to heal, even if she managed to rustle up a healer.
Eralee pushed herself up off the ground and got to her feet. She gave her wings an experimental flutter. The regret was immediate. Although the tear had stopped bleeding, the edges were still tender, and the flow of cold, winter air over the injury burned. Allowing her wings to hang limp, Eralee went in search of her basket.
No matter the circumstances, she’d be in for it if she returned to the colony empty handed. The wing wither was approaching epidemic proportions, and she’d been one of only four healers in training fit to fly out that morning. It was a pity Eralee only noticed the telltale weakness after a couple hours in the air.
When a search of the general area turned up nothing, she turned her eyes upward. Her heart felt like it dropped into her stomach when Eralee realized the basket’s carrying straps got snagged on a tree branch several yards above the ground. While the height was nothing when she had use of her wings, the basket might as well sit at the top of a mountain without it.
On second thought, Eralee’s luck must be better than she’d believed. A fall from such a height had killed pixies weakened by wing wither, and she’d scraped by with a ripped membrane.
Eralee examined the tree. It was a species with a rough bark that could provide sufficient hand and foot holds for a proficient climber, but she wasn’t one. No, she was an under-grown runt with a decidedly more cerebral skill set. She practically lived in the library for Mab’s sake!
Wringing her hands, Eralee dithered over whether or not she ought to try and climb for her basket. She was so focused on her conundrum, she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until she’d been spotted.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
Squealing in surprise, Eralee jumped and spun around. A mostly grown human boy and a pair of aquatic fae of a species she’d never met before watched her with curiosity and concern, judging by the wary way they carried themselves. The human boy’s eyes were sunken, and his clothes hung off him.
“Medicine run,” Eralee answered, “for a wing wither epidemic.”
The boy crouched down and held out a hand, palm up. Eralee’s first instinct was to run away, but something in the boy’s eyes gave her pause. What did she have to lose at this point anyway? It wasn’t like she could outrun such a giant without the use of her wings, so she took a chance and stepped up onto the offered hand. The boy raised his thumb, and she wrapped her arms around it to steady herself as he lifted her to his eye level.
“Let me guess, you’ve got it too, don’t you?”
Eralee pushed herself up off the ground and got to her feet. She gave her wings an experimental flutter. The regret was immediate. Although the tear had stopped bleeding, the edges were still tender, and the flow of cold, winter air over the injury burned. Allowing her wings to hang limp, Eralee went in search of her basket.
No matter the circumstances, she’d be in for it if she returned to the colony empty handed. The wing wither was approaching epidemic proportions, and she’d been one of only four healers in training fit to fly out that morning. It was a pity Eralee only noticed the telltale weakness after a couple hours in the air.
When a search of the general area turned up nothing, she turned her eyes upward. Her heart felt like it dropped into her stomach when Eralee realized the basket’s carrying straps got snagged on a tree branch several yards above the ground. While the height was nothing when she had use of her wings, the basket might as well sit at the top of a mountain without it.
On second thought, Eralee’s luck must be better than she’d believed. A fall from such a height had killed pixies weakened by wing wither, and she’d scraped by with a ripped membrane.
Eralee examined the tree. It was a species with a rough bark that could provide sufficient hand and foot holds for a proficient climber, but she wasn’t one. No, she was an under-grown runt with a decidedly more cerebral skill set. She practically lived in the library for Mab’s sake!
Wringing her hands, Eralee dithered over whether or not she ought to try and climb for her basket. She was so focused on her conundrum, she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until she’d been spotted.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
Squealing in surprise, Eralee jumped and spun around. A mostly grown human boy and a pair of aquatic fae of a species she’d never met before watched her with curiosity and concern, judging by the wary way they carried themselves. The human boy’s eyes were sunken, and his clothes hung off him.
“Medicine run,” Eralee answered, “for a wing wither epidemic.”
The boy crouched down and held out a hand, palm up. Eralee’s first instinct was to run away, but something in the boy’s eyes gave her pause. What did she have to lose at this point anyway? It wasn’t like she could outrun such a giant without the use of her wings, so she took a chance and stepped up onto the offered hand. The boy raised his thumb, and she wrapped her arms around it to steady herself as he lifted her to his eye level.
“Let me guess, you’ve got it too, don’t you?”
Friends at First Fight
“You can’t just call something magic and expect me to believe you.” Benari released an irritated burble, and the tentacles lining his jaw writhed. “We helped you make your medicine. You promised to tell us how to get back home.”
“I did tell you!” Eralee stomped her foot and planted her fists on her hips. “It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.” She pointed at Isaac. “This one served in Mab’s castle for three years. He can cast it.”
“I still don’t see how saying a few words and twisting your fingers about will make any sort of difference,” said Benari. “We need a map or a compass or something concrete to find our way out of this forest.”
Eralee laughed. “No mortal tool will get you out of a return to start spell.”
“There’s no spell. We’re just lost!” Benari tossed his major tentacles in the air.
“It’s been three days,” Isaac said. “No matter which way we go or how we mark the trail, we keep coming back to the same spot. We’re not just lost, Benari.”
“Who cares?” Ukira asked. Her usual pink had darkened to a maroon. Her facial tentacles were curled up close to jaw and cheeks, and she wrung her mains. “Who cares if it’s a spell or tech as long as we can go home? I miss Mama and Papa.”
“I’ve got to get back,” Eralee said. She slung the strap of her now full basket over her shoulder, careful of her torn wing.
“Thank you,” Isaac said, kneeling down to address the tiny, winged humanoid. “Are you sure you’re strong enough to get back on your own.”
The pixie looked down the darkening path with a frown, and an uncertain whine escaped her. “Not really, but I’ve got to get this medicine back as soon as possible. If wing wither goes untreated for too long…”
“The weakness becomes permanent,” Isaac finished.
Eralee turned to look back up at Isaac with wide eyes. Her lilac hair fanned out around her head for a moment before a breeze blew strands of it across her face, making her sputter and scrape it back. “How?”
“I overheard Mab’s advisers talking about another outbreak in the southern colony last winter,” Isaac answered. He gestured to one of the larger trees. “There’s a hollow there. You could camp there while I take these two home, and I’ll carry you back.”
Eralee’s eyes glimmered with what Benari could only guess were tears. He’d heard about crying, but he’d never seen anyone do it. Brablethracks didn’t have tear ducts, and Isaac was the only human he’d ever met.
“You’d do that?” she asked.
Isaac nodded. “I’m trapped in your realm now anyway,” he said. “Might as well make myself useful.”
Eralee’s eyes shifted to look at Benari and his sister. “They’re just as trapped as you are,” she said. “You know that.”
“I’m hoping Fae water doesn’t affect Brablethracks the same as it does us humans,” Isaac said.
She nodded before setting her basket back down and dashing over to a small bush across the path. Plucking a leaf, she murmured something over it, making a few complicated gestures. It glowed for a moment before the light died down.
Trotting back over to Benari, she held out the leaf. “I know you distrust anything to do with magic, but take this anyway,” she said. “If you experience the unquenchable thirst like mortals who taste Fae waters, return as you did before. Then hold the leaf in your palm and say, seek. It will lead you to me, and Isaac with me.”
“Why?” Benari asked the minuscule humanoid.
“No one should be lost and friendless,” she answered. “No matter how irritating they might be.
“I did tell you!” Eralee stomped her foot and planted her fists on her hips. “It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.” She pointed at Isaac. “This one served in Mab’s castle for three years. He can cast it.”
“I still don’t see how saying a few words and twisting your fingers about will make any sort of difference,” said Benari. “We need a map or a compass or something concrete to find our way out of this forest.”
Eralee laughed. “No mortal tool will get you out of a return to start spell.”
“There’s no spell. We’re just lost!” Benari tossed his major tentacles in the air.
“It’s been three days,” Isaac said. “No matter which way we go or how we mark the trail, we keep coming back to the same spot. We’re not just lost, Benari.”
“Who cares?” Ukira asked. Her usual pink had darkened to a maroon. Her facial tentacles were curled up close to jaw and cheeks, and she wrung her mains. “Who cares if it’s a spell or tech as long as we can go home? I miss Mama and Papa.”
“I’ve got to get back,” Eralee said. She slung the strap of her now full basket over her shoulder, careful of her torn wing.
“Thank you,” Isaac said, kneeling down to address the tiny, winged humanoid. “Are you sure you’re strong enough to get back on your own.”
The pixie looked down the darkening path with a frown, and an uncertain whine escaped her. “Not really, but I’ve got to get this medicine back as soon as possible. If wing wither goes untreated for too long…”
“The weakness becomes permanent,” Isaac finished.
Eralee turned to look back up at Isaac with wide eyes. Her lilac hair fanned out around her head for a moment before a breeze blew strands of it across her face, making her sputter and scrape it back. “How?”
“I overheard Mab’s advisers talking about another outbreak in the southern colony last winter,” Isaac answered. He gestured to one of the larger trees. “There’s a hollow there. You could camp there while I take these two home, and I’ll carry you back.”
Eralee’s eyes glimmered with what Benari could only guess were tears. He’d heard about crying, but he’d never seen anyone do it. Brablethracks didn’t have tear ducts, and Isaac was the only human he’d ever met.
“You’d do that?” she asked.
Isaac nodded. “I’m trapped in your realm now anyway,” he said. “Might as well make myself useful.”
Eralee’s eyes shifted to look at Benari and his sister. “They’re just as trapped as you are,” she said. “You know that.”
“I’m hoping Fae water doesn’t affect Brablethracks the same as it does us humans,” Isaac said.
She nodded before setting her basket back down and dashing over to a small bush across the path. Plucking a leaf, she murmured something over it, making a few complicated gestures. It glowed for a moment before the light died down.
Trotting back over to Benari, she held out the leaf. “I know you distrust anything to do with magic, but take this anyway,” she said. “If you experience the unquenchable thirst like mortals who taste Fae waters, return as you did before. Then hold the leaf in your palm and say, seek. It will lead you to me, and Isaac with me.”
“Why?” Benari asked the minuscule humanoid.
“No one should be lost and friendless,” she answered. “No matter how irritating they might be.
The More Things Change
“Silence is the best reply to a fool,” Eralee whispered in Isaac’s ear from where she rode on his shoulder.
Brow creasing in confusion, Isaac glanced her way, murmuring an articulate, “Huh?”
“Owyn’s a specist idiot,” Eralee explained, “but we’ll have to get past him if you want into Astrakane. So keep quiet, no matter what he says.” Eralee’s cheeks flushed a pale purple, and she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. “Or what I say,” she mumbled.
“Ah, I get it,” Isaac assured her at a whisper as they approached the hollow’s guard post.
From everything he’d learned during his time serving in Mab’s fortress, aside from the odd place like Mab’s capital city, the different Fae species seemed to live in settlements segregated by species. It made a fair amount of sense for a society whose peoples ranged from teeny vegetarians to massive hunters, but it also fostered a lot of interspecies conflict.
Being so far out from Garrigill, Isaac expected Astrakane to be a typical pixie village situated in the branches of an ancient tree. From the look of the massive, sprawling Yew twinkling up ahead, he wasn’t far off, but the guard stationed at its base certainly didn’t look like a pixie. He looked more like an elf or newly turned vampire, the more human looking among the Fae peoples he’d seen.
“Now ‘ere’s something you don’t see every day,” the guard rumbled as they reached the tree. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing with garbage like this ‘un, Era?”
The scared old elf, as Isaac could see now by the sloping points of the man’s ears, leaned in and peered at Eralee through narrowed eyes. She smoothed her hands over her clothes and scraped the hair ruffled by the elf’s rather heavy breathing back.
“You know perfectly well, it’s Eralee,” she said with a prim sniff. “And what I do with my property is my own affair, Captain. Now if you’d excuse us, these medicines won’t deliver themselves.”
“You went n’ got yerself a human then?” The elf’s attention slid from Eralee to Isaac, and he frowned. “What for?”
His eyes shifted enough to focus back on Eralee, and she stretched herself as tall as she could reach, which was maybe all of three inches. On a good day. Seeing the pixie facing down a rather tall elf was like seeing David’s stand against Goliath played out, but even then the size of the two was skewed to ludicrous proportions.
The thought Owyn could reach out and squash his new friend between fat fingers before he could react flashed through his mind with graphic clarity. Isaac’s heart rate picked up, and his pulse began to thunder in his ears. He didn’t dare breath as he waited for Eralee’s reply.
“I ripped a wing,” she grumbled, grimacing as she lifted the wing in question as proof. Eralee allowed it to fall and shrugged. “When a half grown human bumbled onto my path, well,” she trailed off. “I’m not one to look in the mouths of gift horses.”
Owyn’s expression smoothed, and he stood back up. The motion allowed Isaac to breathe a bit easier with the added distance, but it also served to prove how much larger this elf was than him. Isaac wondered if another millennium would pass in the outside world before he managed to hit puberty.
“Ah well then, I can deliver you the rest of the way, and you can be rid of it,” the guard offered.
“Thank you, Captain,” said Eralee, “but I must decline.” She turned her attention to Isaac, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting to the way she stroked his hair as one might a beloved pet. “I caught him, and I’m afraid I might have broke him.” Looking back at the elven captain, she continued. “I can’t just set him loose to die on his own, now can I? I’m responsible for the pup.”
Owyn frowned again, and his eyes flicked over Isaac before returning to Eralee. “Make sure you get it proper shots and papers if you’re going to keep it,” he grumbled. “I won’t be returning an unmarked runaway.”
Brow creasing in confusion, Isaac glanced her way, murmuring an articulate, “Huh?”
“Owyn’s a specist idiot,” Eralee explained, “but we’ll have to get past him if you want into Astrakane. So keep quiet, no matter what he says.” Eralee’s cheeks flushed a pale purple, and she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. “Or what I say,” she mumbled.
“Ah, I get it,” Isaac assured her at a whisper as they approached the hollow’s guard post.
From everything he’d learned during his time serving in Mab’s fortress, aside from the odd place like Mab’s capital city, the different Fae species seemed to live in settlements segregated by species. It made a fair amount of sense for a society whose peoples ranged from teeny vegetarians to massive hunters, but it also fostered a lot of interspecies conflict.
Being so far out from Garrigill, Isaac expected Astrakane to be a typical pixie village situated in the branches of an ancient tree. From the look of the massive, sprawling Yew twinkling up ahead, he wasn’t far off, but the guard stationed at its base certainly didn’t look like a pixie. He looked more like an elf or newly turned vampire, the more human looking among the Fae peoples he’d seen.
“Now ‘ere’s something you don’t see every day,” the guard rumbled as they reached the tree. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing with garbage like this ‘un, Era?”
The scared old elf, as Isaac could see now by the sloping points of the man’s ears, leaned in and peered at Eralee through narrowed eyes. She smoothed her hands over her clothes and scraped the hair ruffled by the elf’s rather heavy breathing back.
“You know perfectly well, it’s Eralee,” she said with a prim sniff. “And what I do with my property is my own affair, Captain. Now if you’d excuse us, these medicines won’t deliver themselves.”
“You went n’ got yerself a human then?” The elf’s attention slid from Eralee to Isaac, and he frowned. “What for?”
His eyes shifted enough to focus back on Eralee, and she stretched herself as tall as she could reach, which was maybe all of three inches. On a good day. Seeing the pixie facing down a rather tall elf was like seeing David’s stand against Goliath played out, but even then the size of the two was skewed to ludicrous proportions.
The thought Owyn could reach out and squash his new friend between fat fingers before he could react flashed through his mind with graphic clarity. Isaac’s heart rate picked up, and his pulse began to thunder in his ears. He didn’t dare breath as he waited for Eralee’s reply.
“I ripped a wing,” she grumbled, grimacing as she lifted the wing in question as proof. Eralee allowed it to fall and shrugged. “When a half grown human bumbled onto my path, well,” she trailed off. “I’m not one to look in the mouths of gift horses.”
Owyn’s expression smoothed, and he stood back up. The motion allowed Isaac to breathe a bit easier with the added distance, but it also served to prove how much larger this elf was than him. Isaac wondered if another millennium would pass in the outside world before he managed to hit puberty.
“Ah well then, I can deliver you the rest of the way, and you can be rid of it,” the guard offered.
“Thank you, Captain,” said Eralee, “but I must decline.” She turned her attention to Isaac, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting to the way she stroked his hair as one might a beloved pet. “I caught him, and I’m afraid I might have broke him.” Looking back at the elven captain, she continued. “I can’t just set him loose to die on his own, now can I? I’m responsible for the pup.”
Owyn frowned again, and his eyes flicked over Isaac before returning to Eralee. “Make sure you get it proper shots and papers if you’re going to keep it,” he grumbled. “I won’t be returning an unmarked runaway.”
Change in Perspective
“I’ve got a weird feeling about that place,” Isaac murmured to Eralee.
The pixie glanced back at him over her shoulder, and his stomach did a little flip seeing her wide, violet eyes watching him. It was weird being a bit shorter than her now when she’d fit in the palm of his hand with room to spare not an hour before. If it weren’t for the residual pain of his bones bumping together as he was shrunk down, he wouldn’t believe such a thing was possible, even after years in the Fae realm.
Eralee winced and looked back toward the rather impressive doors ahead.
Isaac’s gait faltered, and a whole flock of butterflies started fluttering about in his stomach. Eralee kept walking, and the leash she’d put on him as he was recovering from the reduction spell snapped taut.
“What’s in there?” he asked, swallowing past a lump that’d formed in his throat. The unfamiliar and unwelcome collar that’d come with the leash felt tighter in that moment, and Isaac stepped back, tugging on the leash on reflex.
Eralee turned, pulling on the leash as she did. “I know you’re scared, Isaac, but you have to stop,” she said. The tone of her voice was weird, somewhere between a concerned friend and one someone might use with a spooked horse. She grasped the leash in her free hand, gripping it just enough to prevent Isaac from backing away as she walked forward. “I’m sorry, but Owyn wasn’t wrong. If you’re to stay in Astrakane, I’m going to have to get you the required vaccinations and papers, especially with an epidemic brewing.”
Confusion brought Isaac to a halt as he asked, “What’s a vaccination?”
Having gotten close enough, Eralee reached out toward Isaac’s arm. It wasn’t a quick movement, and until just now, she hadn’t given him any real reason not to trust her, humiliation aside. But nerves and confusion still had him flinching away from her touch.
“They’re a kind of medicine used to prevent the contraction of disease,” Eralee explained.
“Humans can’t catch wing whither,” Isaac argued. “We don’t have wings.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Eralee answered with a shake of her head. “The symptoms are different, of course, but a few cases of humans with the virus have been recorded.” She scrunched up her forehead and bit her bottom lip. The expression was so human it looked odd worn on the pixie’s delicate features and powder blue complexion. “There’s speculation it’s a human virus, and it wouldn’t even exist in the Fae realm if it’d remained cut off from yours,” she continued at a whisper. “You’ve already been exposed! Can’t you see, this is vital not only for you to stay in Astrakane, but for your continued health?”
“Is that all?” Isaac asked. He cast the doors a wary glance before looking back to Eralee. “Just go get this medicine,” he grimaced and sighed, “get the papers naming me your pet, and then I’m good?”
Eralee nodded and gave him a pained looking smile. “I know this is weird and humiliating for you,” she muttered. “I’m sorry about that, but there are strict rules regarding humans here, even those who’ve undergone the reduction spell.” Eralee grimaced. “It’s this, or you get dragged through those doors by enforcers. They’ll take you far past the little clinic just on the other side, way back beyond the hospital wing to where humans are used for testing.”
A chill shuddered down Isaac’s spine at the certainty in Eralee’s voice. He’d take being reduced to a pet over a lab rat any day. She at least seemed to be among the friendliest of her kind he’d met.
He sighed and moved forward just enough to let the leash he wore go slack. “You’re just trying to protect me?”
Eralee nodded.
“Alright then.” Isaac tugged at his collar, trying to loosen it enough to be at least a bit more comfortable, before dropping his hands to his sides. “Lead the way.”
The pixie glanced back at him over her shoulder, and his stomach did a little flip seeing her wide, violet eyes watching him. It was weird being a bit shorter than her now when she’d fit in the palm of his hand with room to spare not an hour before. If it weren’t for the residual pain of his bones bumping together as he was shrunk down, he wouldn’t believe such a thing was possible, even after years in the Fae realm.
Eralee winced and looked back toward the rather impressive doors ahead.
Isaac’s gait faltered, and a whole flock of butterflies started fluttering about in his stomach. Eralee kept walking, and the leash she’d put on him as he was recovering from the reduction spell snapped taut.
“What’s in there?” he asked, swallowing past a lump that’d formed in his throat. The unfamiliar and unwelcome collar that’d come with the leash felt tighter in that moment, and Isaac stepped back, tugging on the leash on reflex.
Eralee turned, pulling on the leash as she did. “I know you’re scared, Isaac, but you have to stop,” she said. The tone of her voice was weird, somewhere between a concerned friend and one someone might use with a spooked horse. She grasped the leash in her free hand, gripping it just enough to prevent Isaac from backing away as she walked forward. “I’m sorry, but Owyn wasn’t wrong. If you’re to stay in Astrakane, I’m going to have to get you the required vaccinations and papers, especially with an epidemic brewing.”
Confusion brought Isaac to a halt as he asked, “What’s a vaccination?”
Having gotten close enough, Eralee reached out toward Isaac’s arm. It wasn’t a quick movement, and until just now, she hadn’t given him any real reason not to trust her, humiliation aside. But nerves and confusion still had him flinching away from her touch.
“They’re a kind of medicine used to prevent the contraction of disease,” Eralee explained.
“Humans can’t catch wing whither,” Isaac argued. “We don’t have wings.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Eralee answered with a shake of her head. “The symptoms are different, of course, but a few cases of humans with the virus have been recorded.” She scrunched up her forehead and bit her bottom lip. The expression was so human it looked odd worn on the pixie’s delicate features and powder blue complexion. “There’s speculation it’s a human virus, and it wouldn’t even exist in the Fae realm if it’d remained cut off from yours,” she continued at a whisper. “You’ve already been exposed! Can’t you see, this is vital not only for you to stay in Astrakane, but for your continued health?”
“Is that all?” Isaac asked. He cast the doors a wary glance before looking back to Eralee. “Just go get this medicine,” he grimaced and sighed, “get the papers naming me your pet, and then I’m good?”
Eralee nodded and gave him a pained looking smile. “I know this is weird and humiliating for you,” she muttered. “I’m sorry about that, but there are strict rules regarding humans here, even those who’ve undergone the reduction spell.” Eralee grimaced. “It’s this, or you get dragged through those doors by enforcers. They’ll take you far past the little clinic just on the other side, way back beyond the hospital wing to where humans are used for testing.”
A chill shuddered down Isaac’s spine at the certainty in Eralee’s voice. He’d take being reduced to a pet over a lab rat any day. She at least seemed to be among the friendliest of her kind he’d met.
He sighed and moved forward just enough to let the leash he wore go slack. “You’re just trying to protect me?”
Eralee nodded.
“Alright then.” Isaac tugged at his collar, trying to loosen it enough to be at least a bit more comfortable, before dropping his hands to his sides. “Lead the way.”
Roommates and Strangers
“Don’t think your pity party has gone unnoticed.”
Isaac yawned as he roused from his makeshift bed. He stretched, attempting to ease the ache in his back to no effect. He rubbed his eyes and frowned at Eralee’s scowl.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I gave you a perfectly fine sofa to sleep on.” Eralee sneezed into a handkerchief she pulled from some pocket hidden in the wooly robe she wore and gave a few prim sniffs before continuing. “So why, pray tell, are you sleeping on the floor?”
“I slept on the rug, not the floor,” Isaac answered.
The pixie looked less than pleased by his irritable tone, and Isaac watched her face darken from periwinkle to violet in sleepy amazement. It didn’t happen often, but he’d learned some species of Fae blushed during his time in Mab’s castle. It was a cue he’d soon taken as his time to flee as they were more likely to do so from anger than embarrassment, and their embarrassment could be just as dangerous for those nearby. It looked considerably different for a pixie than one of the more humanoid elves and fairies, but it filled him with the same dread.
He sighed. “I know bare wood and magically preserved petals are perfectly comfortable for you, Eralee,” Isaac explained, “but we humans have much thinner skin.” He clambered off the floor, wincing at a twinge in his side. “Whatever moss this rug is made from was more comfortable, that’s all.”
“Thinner skin,” Eralee huffed and crossed her arms only to yelp and drop them back to her sides as the move shifted her broken wing. “You make me sound like a troll!”
“Well I didn’t mean it that way!” Isaac snapped back before he could think better of it. He felt sure his heart stopped at the way her eyes flashed, but he couldn’t back down now. “I’m not meant to be in this realm,” he hurried to explain. “We’re the only species that doesn't have to scrape, tooth and claw, for our food and shelter back home.”
He winced again as some of the things Benari told him about the human realm was now came to mind. “Or well, we were in any case,” he added. “We didn’t have other groups vying with us for everything like you Fae do, and it’s made us soft.”
Remembering all the wars he’d heard about in school and the fights he’d seen some of the boys and men get into back home, he wasn’t sure how much he believed that. But three years trapped in the Sidhe court was a brutal tutor in navigating Fae moods. They could shift on a dime at the best of times, and Eralee was sick and injured, a deadly combination. So he figured he’d better placate her quick before he meet a sticky end.
The scowl eased, and Eralee cocked her head to the side as her complexion lightened again. “It’s really uncomfortable for you?” she asked, confusion ringing in her tone. “But the petals are so soft.”
“They are,” Isaac agreed, “when I run my fingers over them. And the couch is comfortable enough for sitting. It’s actually similar to some of the chairs we had back home,” he explained. “But the petals aren’t squishy enough to be comfortable for sleeping, for a human at least. It hurts after a while.”
“I see,” Eralee murmured.
Isaac thought she said it more to herself than to him given the thoughtful expression she wore now. He wasn’t sure if he should feel encouraged or wary.
“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” she said a moment later. She considered him in a way that made him feel a little like a bug in a jar before nodding to herself. “I’ll find something more suitable…”
A hacking cough cut her off mid sentence. The force of it sounded painful, and Isaac could see her eyes beginning to water as the fit eased.
“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac said as he stepped around the table he’d moved last night to make room on the rug. “You’re sick and should be in bed. I’ll warm up some soup for you.”
Isaac yawned as he roused from his makeshift bed. He stretched, attempting to ease the ache in his back to no effect. He rubbed his eyes and frowned at Eralee’s scowl.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I gave you a perfectly fine sofa to sleep on.” Eralee sneezed into a handkerchief she pulled from some pocket hidden in the wooly robe she wore and gave a few prim sniffs before continuing. “So why, pray tell, are you sleeping on the floor?”
“I slept on the rug, not the floor,” Isaac answered.
The pixie looked less than pleased by his irritable tone, and Isaac watched her face darken from periwinkle to violet in sleepy amazement. It didn’t happen often, but he’d learned some species of Fae blushed during his time in Mab’s castle. It was a cue he’d soon taken as his time to flee as they were more likely to do so from anger than embarrassment, and their embarrassment could be just as dangerous for those nearby. It looked considerably different for a pixie than one of the more humanoid elves and fairies, but it filled him with the same dread.
He sighed. “I know bare wood and magically preserved petals are perfectly comfortable for you, Eralee,” Isaac explained, “but we humans have much thinner skin.” He clambered off the floor, wincing at a twinge in his side. “Whatever moss this rug is made from was more comfortable, that’s all.”
“Thinner skin,” Eralee huffed and crossed her arms only to yelp and drop them back to her sides as the move shifted her broken wing. “You make me sound like a troll!”
“Well I didn’t mean it that way!” Isaac snapped back before he could think better of it. He felt sure his heart stopped at the way her eyes flashed, but he couldn’t back down now. “I’m not meant to be in this realm,” he hurried to explain. “We’re the only species that doesn't have to scrape, tooth and claw, for our food and shelter back home.”
He winced again as some of the things Benari told him about the human realm was now came to mind. “Or well, we were in any case,” he added. “We didn’t have other groups vying with us for everything like you Fae do, and it’s made us soft.”
Remembering all the wars he’d heard about in school and the fights he’d seen some of the boys and men get into back home, he wasn’t sure how much he believed that. But three years trapped in the Sidhe court was a brutal tutor in navigating Fae moods. They could shift on a dime at the best of times, and Eralee was sick and injured, a deadly combination. So he figured he’d better placate her quick before he meet a sticky end.
The scowl eased, and Eralee cocked her head to the side as her complexion lightened again. “It’s really uncomfortable for you?” she asked, confusion ringing in her tone. “But the petals are so soft.”
“They are,” Isaac agreed, “when I run my fingers over them. And the couch is comfortable enough for sitting. It’s actually similar to some of the chairs we had back home,” he explained. “But the petals aren’t squishy enough to be comfortable for sleeping, for a human at least. It hurts after a while.”
“I see,” Eralee murmured.
Isaac thought she said it more to herself than to him given the thoughtful expression she wore now. He wasn’t sure if he should feel encouraged or wary.
“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” she said a moment later. She considered him in a way that made him feel a little like a bug in a jar before nodding to herself. “I’ll find something more suitable…”
A hacking cough cut her off mid sentence. The force of it sounded painful, and Isaac could see her eyes beginning to water as the fit eased.
“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac said as he stepped around the table he’d moved last night to make room on the rug. “You’re sick and should be in bed. I’ll warm up some soup for you.”
To be continued...
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