Page 2

Chapter

Two

T he caverns were dark and smelled like dirty wolves, rats, and something very dead.

What was I doing there again? I was perched on a ledge, overlooking the main cavern that someone wanted to use werewolf blood to terraform, with shadows wrapped around me like a cloak. That is, I wore a literal cloak made out of my people’s blood and cobwebs of despair that turned me into an unnoticeable shadow.

The trip from Fairyland to the land of Ohio, and then the ride to Singsong City on the top of the train, clinging for hours, had brought more and more of my mind awake. What was I doing here? I was going to stop an idiot from poisoning werewolves and triggering another invasion. Yes. That part made sense, but actually being here, on earth, in the Undercity of Singsong, crouched on a ledge while my whole body cramped, just didn’t seem that effective. Also, there were werewolves. The scent of them was everywhere, and as already noted, I am not, nor ever will be, a fan of those deadly shifters. I should go back home and organize a search party. Maybe Vervain had spies here. If not, he could make some. I didn’t feel great. No, I felt absolutely awful. My medicine took away the edge of the death sickness, but that edge was growing sharper and sharper with every second away from my cocoon bed.

Down below, a girl crept stealthily through the cavern, distracting me from my cramping stomach and general self-pity. I’d never seen a girl wolf before. It was so strange to see a wolf that looked innocent and mischievous instead of evil. Werewolves were evil, but she seemed like any fairy youngling off on an adventure. Me. She reminded me of myself when I was young and carefree. More carefree than I should have been. Maybe she wasn’t a wolf, but something else.

Singsong City was full of all kinds of creatures. I’d almost run into a lamppost when I saw the green-skinned, enormous ogre, walking through the crowd in broad daylight like it was normal. He’d also stared at me like I was some kind of apparition, so the feeling was mutual. I’d let my cloak slip, but even with it firmly on, many creatures could see past the darkness.

The girl crept past me, down on the floor, pressing deeper into the caverns. She took the left fork, which smelled worse than the right. I stayed where I was, trying to think through this mission. I definitely should have had Vervain take care of it for me. He was my bodyguard. My mother had wanted him to be my consort because he was so sober and respectable, and hoped it might rub off on me, her flaky daughter, who avoided responsibility and court functions like the plague.

Vervain would say, ‘And that’s why you’re still alive.’ And I’d say, ‘Yes. Because I wanted this life.’ And then he’d sniff and look away, because he can’t stand self-pity. No, I’d have to explain to Vervain what I’d heard, and then he’d ask why I didn’t trace those words, and I’d say because I was blocked, and he’d say it was impossible, and was I sure it wasn’t just a dream? My medicine gave me some very vivid dreams. He didn’t approve of my medicine, either. Or my illness. Or me. I should make him my consort just to torture him.

I smiled slightly and then the screech of owls came from that left fork, and there was the girl, running full-out, with a flock of large owls chasing her.

I rose up slightly so I could get a better view. She was fast, but the owls were faster. They dropped on her in a mass, knocking her to the earth, until the sound of growls gave me goosebumps. She must have summoned her beast. Now I’d see the monster and feel the familiar hatred.

The flock of owls scattered, circling her so I could see the dusky-skinned creature with patchy fur on top of her head. She had summoned her beast, not the wolf. Interesting. Come to think of it, all the werewolves from the invasion had been male. That must be why the sight of her amused me instead of infuriated me. She just looked so lanky and clumsy, with enormous paws and patchy fur, awkwardly trying to be a beast she hadn’t grown into. She got up and ran for the exit, but the sound of beating wings filled the caverns, echoing in the most ominous manner possible.

A white owl came into my cavern, enormous, with a wingspan of at least twenty feet. It dropped down and grabbed her, pecking at her face while the claws sliced at her limbs. The scent of werewolf blood wasn’t something I’d ever forget, but it didn’t make me happy now. The owl turned, its pale feathers almost brushing the wall as it rounded to return to that left fork with its prey.

It wasn’t any of my business. I wasn’t here to stop some random girl from becoming owl pellets, but at the same time, I was here to protect werewolves, and that girl needed someone to save her. When was the last time I’d saved someone?

My teeth were chattering as I stood, took a breath and then leapt into the air, spreading my wings and dropping my cloak of invisibility. I hit the owl’s back and then slid down the silky feathers, struggling for purchase, until I hit the werewolf girl and knocked her free from one of the talons. The owl’s flight was thrown off as it tried to peck and claw at us. Ow. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tried to dodge an owl beak.

The werewolf girl, still in her beast form, slashed at the owl’s leg, the one that was holding us. The owl dropped us with a cry of pain. The sound of its screeching filled my ears and my head in an echo that went on and on forever as we tumbled towards the hard stone below.

I’m a fairy. Fairies have gorgeous wings that are also functional, right? Not when you shred them during a war and then you’re too sick to have beautiful new wings grow in after that set comes off. My wings were spindly, tattered, and dull. Still, I stretched them out and did my best to break our fall. A pity werewolves were so ridiculously heavy.

We hit hard, first her and then me, rolling across the jagged rocks and shredding my poor wings, shoulders, and knees, like my skin was as delicate as a flower petal.

The werewolf was on top of me, her beast’s elbow in my gut as the smaller owls started circling closer and closer, screeching louder and louder.

I sighed heavily and turned so I could frown at the beast girl. It was time to solve this problem I’d jumped into without considering what it would do to my mission. I was here to find the fairy who wanted to poison werewolves so I could stop them, not get entangled, literally and figuratively, with a massive monster that smelled like candied melons.

“What did you do?” I demanded, trying desperately to sound like I wasn’t afraid of wolves, or beasts, or little girls. Honestly, all three of those were terrifying.

She blinked and then the beast melted away and I was faced with the humanoid version. “I wanted a baby owl for a pet. I put the egg in a helmet, so it should still be safe,” she said quickly, nodding over her shoulder, and the backpack she wore.

“You stole that monster’s egg?” That’s exactly what I’d done at a certain age. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen. But I’m not a kid.”

She was thirteen? She wasn’t any older than that mama owl’s baby. Owl talons raked across her head, sending fresh runnels of blood streaming down her pale skin.

I pulled her backpack off, pushed her to her feet, and threw my shadow cloak over her. “Run!” I said as I put the backpack between my feet and stood up, facing the owls.

Apparently, I was here to protect all the wolves, even if the threat wasn’t from fairies. I was clearly still addled from my medicine, or I wouldn’t be about to fight an army of birds for a beast.

I took a deep breath and channeled the light and movement that I’d need to fight off the owls. Correction. I tried to channel light and movement, but failed miserably. I was slow, heavy, cut, bruised, and lethargic, both from my medication and the sickness. Apparently, I needed different medication if it made me this weak. No, the weakness was from the death sickness. The slowness was from the medication. Or maybe it was the opposite.

I did my best, but I wasn’t fighting those feathery beasts long before the sheer mass of them made it impossible to do anything other than duck and cover my head with my arms, and hope they got bored and went away.

A roar echoed through the cavern, not just a werewolf roar, but the roar of a werewolf warrior gathering his troops. A monster. A beast. The enemy.

The owls fled, leaving me there, wishing they’d come back so I didn’t have to face one of the real nightmares.

I started for the nearest exit, wishing with all my heart for my cloak while I stumbled along, my dark, sparkly blood leaving a toxic trail behind me. I didn’t even see the werewolf coming. He lunged out of the darkness, grabbed me by the base of my wings, and dragged me around to face him. He scowled at me through his dark beard, eyes like slivers of the golden moon beneath dark, disapproving brows. He looked so human, but he smelled of wolves. Of beasts. Of death and pain and losing everything you were supposed to protect.

I kicked at him, aiming for his knee, but he shifted so I got his thigh instead. I kicked again, thrashing, punching at him, but unable to hit anything other than his arm as he held me away from him, dangling by my wings.

“Let me go, you big, stupid, furry monster!” I screeched, kicking and thrashing like that would help. The way he looked at me was mostly irritated, but with a flash of amusement that made me kick harder. “I’m not a joke, you beastly beast! Let me down!”

He tsked, which was a far cry from the roar, holding me a little higher so he could look into my eyes. “You came to my territory to steal from the owl god and to insult the werewolves?” He nudged the backpack with one foot, shaking his head at me, like I was the young wolf who had so little sense. Also, the words, the tone, they were all so… commanding. Like he was in charge of an irritating child who didn’t understand sense or duty. He sounded like every bodyguard I’d ever had before my mother died.

I kicked at him. “I’m not a child! And I didn’t steal some ridiculous owl egg!”

He gave me a look then glanced at the helmet with its enormous owl egg. “You’re telling me that I’m seeing things?”

I struggled to slice at him with my wings, but the way he grasped them made it impossible. The werewolf knew how to hold a fairy the way that didn’t get you killed. “I’m telling you to put me down!”

“You’re telling me?” he asked, shaking his head. “You don’t tell werewolves anything. You ask. You beg. You don’t tell. Do you know what werewolves do with fairies?” he asked, raising his brows.

I stared at him, remembering so many horrible things I’d seen werewolves do to fairies. Eating them was probably the worst. Alive. From the feet up. Screaming.

Everything was getting far away and weird. I should get out of his grasp and shove my claws in his chest until he bled out, but I couldn’t reach him, so I just swung there, dangling from his fist, swiping at him and noting how pointless it was. Why struggle?

I went limp in his grasp, dangling like a carrot he’d just pulled out by the tops. All the memories, all the pain, the burden of a broken people when I was so broken myself, it ate at me more painfully than a werewolf bite. Even the kind that almost chopped you in half.

He studied me for a moment longer before he nodded decisively. “We rehabilitate them.”

I blinked at him. I must have heard wrong. “Reha-what?” I asked, squinting. The cavern was dark, but I could see in the dark as well as a werewolf. I still couldn’t see what he meant by that word. I knew the word itself, but for a werewolf to use it in this case was nonsense.

“Therapy. If you were out of it enough to come to my cavern, you deserve what’s coming to you.”

I frowned up at him. “Therapy?” Again with the words not matching the context. I understood most languages very well, but maybe I should have spent some time actually speaking with the natives.

He slowly lowered me until my feet were on the ground and then released my wings. I immediately sprinted full-out towards the nearest exit. I made it two, no, one step and a stumble before he grabbed my shoulder and jerked me around to face him. “Where do you think you’re going, Sparkles?”

I bared my teeth at him. “I was going to the library to find out the definition of therapy,” I spat.

“How do you not know that word?”

“Let me go!” I clenched my hands, wanting to punch his sturdy jaw. How dare he hold me against my will? He was so strong and healthy, and I was so weak and sickly. The only chance I had at surviving this was in defeating him in a moment of surprise.

“That’s right. And the first part of that is retribution. That’s why we’re going to return the egg you stole.”

The werewolf girl darted out of the shadows. “Wait! It wasn’t her. She actually saved me when I…” She swallowed hard and winced, staring down at the ground like she’d been caught doing something truly shocking.

She’d come to save me from retribution? Why would she do that? Werewolves only cared about themselves. Everyone knew that.

“Ruin, you stole an egg from the owl god?” the warrior wolf asked soberly. He was so serious that in that moment, he almost reminded me of Vervain.

She glared up at him, finally meeting his eyes. “Max, you know it’s not a god. Just some poor creature that was experimented on by some bored sorcerer until it got free. You’ve let it stay in these caves, but what good is it? It attacks everything that comes in here, and you calling it a god doesn’t help the pack not think you’re insane.”

I blinked at her, then at Max, the warrior wolf. The name was appropriate. “It isn’t a god? Are you sure?” I wasn’t sure of anything. Maybe this was all an extremely vivid dream. That’s probably what it was. Some of my dreams were even more vivid than this. That explained why the warrior wolf hadn’t tried to rip me into pieces yet.

Ruin gave me a look of disbelief while Max’s expression softened into a slight smile. Soft shouldn’t be possible for a warrior wolf, but this man didn’t know that. He must be very young. He probably didn’t even know about the war or Malamech, not if he had that much softness in his eyes. No wonder someone wanted to poison him. He was easy prey. He didn’t know what he was capable of.

“Not a god,” he said. “What’s a fairy doing in the werewolf caves if she’s not trying to steal an owl egg? There isn’t anything else down here.”

I looked around at the desolate caverns, wracking my brains. There really wasn’t anything else in here, not yet, but after the terraform, it would be so beautiful. “I was just…”

“Just…what? Spill it, Sparkles,” he said, hand firmly on my shoulder as he pulled me towards the left fork, the pack with the precious egg dangling from his hand.

“I’m not Sparkles. It was just…” I fished around in the minds of the fairies in Singsong City high above me, combing them for any reason a fairy would come to the wolf caves. None of them blocked me. “To write a dissertation on you,” I said brightly. What was a dissertation? I peered more closely into that mind, not paying attention to where Max was dragging me. A dissertation was an in-depth study on a subject that included a large piece of documentation written and presented to a group of peers. The definition didn’t help, only confused me more, because we didn’t have a lot of documentation in Fairyland. We put our memories in trees and plants, like the massive oak that had grown from the blood of the Queen and her court. It would always hold the memory of their death, their pain. I should go back on another pilgrimage to pay my respects.

“You’re a college student? Aren’t you a bit young for that?” Max asked.

I almost kicked him in the shin, but truly, that was the reaction of a child, so I just glowered at him instead.

Ruin snorted. “Come on, Max. Don’t be so hard on her. She came here for a nice, quiet place to do her pixie dust. She didn’t have to get involved with me, but she did. Why did you? Was it a bad trip? Fairies don’t usually help out other kinds. Or their own kinds. Sort of selfish usually as a whole.”

I stared at the girl. “I’d say the same about werewolves. And no, the trip wasn’t very bad, just cold.” Hanging onto the outside of the train while it went screaming through the night still had my hair standing on end. And my wings were more tattered than ever. It had been rather enjoyable despite all that.

“Max,” she said, turning to the oblivious warrior wolf. “She’s just trying to deal with reality the way she knows how.”

He snorted. “Reality? She did save you from your folly, which is more than you deserve, particularly when you are already in the middle of being punished for your last piece of idiocy. Sparkles, you are going to be well-rewarded for your sacrifice to save my little charge.”

Ruin inhaled sharply and turned panicked eyes on me, that softened into an apology. My skin prickled. How did the young warrior wolf reward fairies? Perhaps he was going to eat me after all. “She didn’t know what she was getting into, Max. I mean, yeah, punish me, but she’s a fairy. She doesn’t deserve your reward.”

He studied me, eyes glowing golden in a way that made me want to hyperventilate, but I was too tired for that. “It is my duty.”

At the word ‘duty,’ I kicked his shins, spun out of his grasp and ran. That time, Max, the warrior wolf, tackled me. I would have been crushed beneath his weight, but he rolled at the last second, so he took the fall while his arms and legs wrapped around me.

I kicked and thrashed, but he was all around me, slowly squeezing the life out of me. “Let me go, you big, stupid monster! I’m not your duty or anyone else’s. Never!”

He squeezed me tight for a second and then murmured in my ear, “You’re triggered by the weirdest things, Sparkles.”

I kicked backwards and managed to get his shin. Ow. That definitely hurt me more than him.

Ruin frowned at us from her place standing, hip cocked while she squinted at us. “Are you guys making out?” she finally asked.

Max rumbled a low laugh that I felt through my back, firmly pressed to his broad chest.

“Absolutely.” Max kissed my temple. Of all the shocking, nervy, preposterous things for a warrior wolf to do in this situation… “Ruin, get back to the Juvenile Detention Center and tell everyone that they have a new friend coming soon.”

I flung my head back, trying to smash his face with my skull, but it only thunked against his pectorals. They were well-padded with muscles that could take much more beating than my head.

She sent me another apologetic look, then turned and ran back towards the entrance to Song, leaving me with the warrior wolf wrapped around me like a barnacle. Surely this wasn’t dignified warrior wolf behavior, so why was he trying to restrain me? Okay, not trying. He knew how to capture fairies. Did this happen a lot to him? What exactly did his duty entail? I stopped struggling and went stiff instead.

“Warrior wolves don’t have duty,” I said, trying to channel the frost my aunt, Lady Dawn, used when she spoke to Vervain. They were from the same court, the House of the Rising Sun, so you’d think they’d be buddies, but no. She was probably the only person in existence who didn’t constantly tell me how perfect he was.

Max rolled to his feet, still holding me, and began a brisk jog towards the owl cavern. It was an awkward position to be carried, what with my jolting against him at every step. He had so many muscles that he could use to tear things limb from limb. So many muscles from the pectorals that padded my head to the abdominals against my back, pinning my wings flat. He made me feel so small and stupid. I was small and stupid, or I wouldn’t be in that incredibly ridiculous position. I curled up my knees so my legs wouldn’t bump against his thighs at every step.

We turned a corner in the cavern, and there were the owls, hundreds and thousands of the birds circling around the enormous rock that stretched up, with a large nest on top. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but the smell of bird droppings was what had me gasping.

“No?” he rumbled against my ear. “It sounds like you’re going to have to do a lot of studying if you’re going to come up with a groundbreaking dissertation on werewolves. Warrior wolves have duty. You are my duty.”

His words wrapped around me like golden tentacles of fate.

I stiffened up. What was that feeling? It was a binding, but how could a wolf be bound to me? Or vice versa. I never should have come here. I was bound to my people, not werewolves. My people, my land, it was enough. The last time they’d carried me on a litter to heal the land, I’d been sure I was going to die, it hurt so much. That was my duty, to suffer for my people, to take the death sickness from them and hold it inside of myself. I deserved it for dodging my responsibility in the first place, but I had absolutely no room for anyone else’s suffering, certainly not a werewolf’s. I shook my head rapidly, bumping his pectorals. “Take it back! Hurry!”

He rumbled a laugh. “It’s too late for that, little fairy.”

I struggled against him, wearing myself out for absolutely no reason since I already knew that he knew exactly how to stay out of range of every weapon I had on my person. I was a weapon, but he avoided all my edges, from my wing blades to my claws.

“I’m not little!” I tried for one last skull smash before slumping in his arms again. “What exactly is your duty towards me?” I asked, sounding too tired to care. I cared, but I was wearing myself out when I had barely any energy in the first place. That was really stupid.

He put me down, grasping my shoulder, but allowing me the dignity of walking on my shaky legs. “I’m going to help you get well. You can’t live on Pixie dust forever. I don’t take kindly to anyone getting lit in my territory. I thought all the fairies knew that. I’m not going to hurt you; I’m going to heal you.”

I snorted. “You can’t heal me. What kind of arrogant cur thinks he can heal someone from an entirely different species who can’t heal themselves?”

He patted my head like I was a cute little idiot fairy. “The kind that could rip off your head with one hand. That kind of arrogant cur. The term ‘cur,’ by the way, is extremely hurtful to werewolves. You might not want to use it around others who may take offense at your careless words. Is it arrogance if it’s based on experience? I’ve spent decades helping pixie dust addicts find their way to being whole.”

“I’m not a pixie dust addict,” I muttered, but he was right about the way I was speaking to him, antagonizing him while I was completely in his power. Was I suicidal? Maybe. I wanted so much not to hurt anymore.

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, proving I was still alive, when he gestured towards the massive owl rock. “Now you’re going to return the egg where it belongs.”

I swallowed hard as I looked at the circling birds. “I’m still bleeding from the last time, and you heard the girl. I didn’t take the egg.”

He rumbled low, “Do you want me to make her climb up and return the egg? True, she deserves that fate, but would you give it to her?”

I scowled over my shoulder at him. No. I wouldn’t make the cute little werewolf girl suffer. “I can’t climb while you’re holding onto me.”

He smiled and released me, gesturing towards the stone face. “After you. And just think how much gratitude you’ll earn from the owl god. You’ll have to write all about it in your dissertation.”

I frowned at him. The way he’d said that, he knew I was lying, but he’d still use it until I admitted that I was lying, and then he’d demand to know the truth. I could say I was doing Pixie-dust, whatever that was, but I was not going to claim something that wasn’t respectable or true. I already had enough of my own weaknesses he didn’t need to know about.

How was I supposed to keep the werewolves from being poisoned unless I was close enough to see the threat? That’s why I was here, to prevent another invasion. Also, it would be a pity if young girls like Ruin got slaughtered out of hand. Who would want these caverns? Did Max get regular visitors here? Were some of them scouting for a terraform?

This werewolf who could rip off my head with one hand was the perfect in to a close-knit, suspicious people who would ordinarily keep fairies at arm’s length. Teeth length. Such long teeth.

I took a deep breath that made all of my internal organs ache and smiled brightly at him.

“Perfect. I always wanted a lucky omen, particularly from an owl god. I’m a little shaky, though. I might fall to my death.”

His answering smile was as bright as mine, teeth flashing beneath the beard. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sparkles. Fairies don’t fall.”