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Jon

S ylvia’s shock stretched out for a painful moment. Chaotic bursts from the surrounding hunt pierced her silence—howls of pain both human and siren, gunshots echoing, the acrid smell of spellwork. For a moment, even Cliff’s distant shouts of protests accumulated into a dull, distant roar in my ears.

“No. No, fuck you , I’m not doing that,” she hissed, her voice wobbling.

“You really want to start our special partnership by insulting me?” Rhett clicked his tongue, shooting her a mockingly reproachful look. “Don’t be coy. We don’t got all day, if you haven’t noticed.” He stole a mindful look toward the bank.

Thirty feet away, two hunters were prying the bloodied remains of their teammate away from a siren, her hands and face covered in his entrails. A pair of snapping turtles with iridescent shells sampled the trailing gore, unshaken by the chaos.

Sylvia covered her face with her hands—couldn’t bear to look at me. Rhett’s arrogant expression flickered. He ground his boot on my injury, the added weight making a shout escape me. Through my red haze of anger, I saw his thumb pulling back the hammer on his semi-automatic. A small metallic click pierced the air—small but certain. All Rhett had to do was twitch, and there would be a bullet in my head.

“Lemme be clear,” Rhett said. “Look at me. LOOK! ” His voice jumped to a roar when Sylvia continued to sob. She flinched her wet eyes up to meet his gaze. “If you don’t kill him right now, I’ll kill you both. I’ll have you and his faggot friend watch as I skin him for parts while he’s still begging for death. After that, I’ll see how long it takes for iron to burn a hole right through that pert little waist of yours.”

Rhett stared down at Sylvia, schooling the bloodlust back into something honeyed that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Or, you can do what I fucking say,” he added, softer. “You can end Nowak’s life quickly and painlessly. Doesn’t that sound a touch kinder, darling?”

Sylvia stared down at me from Rhett’s grasp, locks of her hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. Her expression fell with resignation. Mourning me. My pulse pounded as she whispered something— I’m sorry.

“Move the iron,” Sylvia said, glancing at Rhett. “It’s too close.”

He balked before letting the rod tucked under his arm drop to the ground. “If even a snowflake touches me, I’ll pluck your wings off one by one. See how quick you can heal that.”

The world sharpened and blurred around me. As she raised her trembling hands, spellwork shimmering between her palms, my rage fled. There was no time to be angry in these last precious moments.

I watched Sylvia, memorizing her form even as frost blossomed at her palms, forging the weapon that would end me.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I wish I’d done it when I had the chance, to tell her how much hope and light she had given me for the first time in so many years. I loved her, and it didn’t matter what she was or where she was, I would keep loving her—it was suddenly so simple.

But I didn’t dare open my mouth. I wouldn’t make this any harder for her. Countless times, I had made my peace that a monster’s salivating, fanged muzzle might be my last sight on earth. All things considered, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, dying at her hands, if she was the last thing I got to see.

My world narrowed to a point as Sylvia sent the icicle, sharp as a blade, hurtling toward me. I braced.

But instead of blazing pain, the blade embedded itself in the earth just inches from my head. My brow creased with confusion a split second before I caught her eye.This was no missed shot—it was a weapon.

I didn’t waste a second.

I wrenched the frozen blade from the earth and plunged it into Rhett’s thigh as hard as I could. He seized up in shock, loosing a strangled curse. My arm blazed with pain as I pivoted on the ground—one swift kick, and Rhett’s legs buckled, sending him crashing to the ground.

A shriek pierced the air. I whipped my head to the left in time to see Sylvia hit the mud, her drenched wings splayed out around her. The sound of her pain hit me like a jolt, but I couldn’t go to her yet. Rhett was scrambling to reach her, to reclaim his leverage.

No —not again.Not while I was still breathing.

I threw my body onto his and wrenched him away from Sylvia. He struggled as I wrestled him onto his back, desperately pawing for his handgun. I knocked it under the pickup truck.

He cursed, trying to buck me off, but I restrained his arms under my knees to keep him from reaching any other weapons he had hidden away. In an instant, it became clear that he was no match for me hand-to-hand. No weapons or leverage at his disposal. So he tried for words instead.

“You’d kill one of your own for that thing ?” he spat. “I heard whispers that you were fucked up in the head, but I didn’t think—”

I clamped my hands around his throat, tightening until not even a wheeze could escape.

My nerves sang with triumph as I glared down at him, waiting for the inevitable fear to enter his eyes. But it didn’t. Even as Rhett fought for breath, face purpling, unbridled rage poured from his glare.

A soft gasp made my gaze snap in Sylvia’s direction. She flinched as we made eye contact, her hands clamped over her mouth and perfectly still like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Look away,” I uttered.

But she wouldn’t. She was about to see me kill right in front of her— again . I had never killed another human with my bare hands, and she would be here to witness it.

This one’s a monster—human or not , I thought viciously.

But why do it myself when there were other options? An animal like him didn’t deserve a swift end. My gaze snapped to the churning water. Sylvia wouldn’t even have to watch it happen.

I released Rhett’s throat long enough to grab the iron bar he’d threatened Sylvia with. Just as he was gasping in his first breath, I swung the bar across his temple, and he was out like a light. Catching sight of the zip ties in his pocket, I knew exactly what to do.

The shoreline whipped about madly. I worked quickly, dragging him to a tree stationed near the water. Thick roots looped in and out of the soft soil, providing the perfect anchor to zip tie his wrists to. His eyelids were beginning to twitch as I finished. A darker part of me roared in satisfaction at the thought of him being awake when the sirens came to collect.

“Cliff!” I called into the din, looking along the shoreline. He had been pulled further away, but between the sirens and fairies attacking, his captors had all but abandoned him to defend themselves.

Screams pierced the air as two of Rhett’s buddies were swarmed by sirens. One of them was dragged under, while the other managed to escape—at least for a second. As a fresh melody hit him, he staggered to a stop, face going blank. He drew his gun and pointed it at Cliff, who hurriedly took cover behind a tree, wrists bound behind his back.

The hunter fired his gun until it was empty, then dropped it. He turned and walked calmly into the water. The churning water gushed with red.

I caught a glimpse of Cliff in the foliage. He angled himself forward and gritted his teeth, raising his wrists and bringing them down on the small of his back. The ties didn’t break.

As he raised his wrists to try again, I set my sights on finding Sylvia, desperate to ensure she was safe before going to Cliff’s aid.

Leaving Rhett behind, I hurried back to find her by the truck. Her bloodied form stood unsteadily by the pickup truck. Relief flooded her face when she saw me.

“Thank the stars you’re alright!” she cried when I dropped to my knees before her. “W-where’s Cliff? Where—I have to help!” She spread her wings, her voice choking off in a pained whimper. The way she held her arm told me her iron wound must have been flaring from the extra damage. Her wings were still soaked, splattered with mud now, too.

“You have to hide,” I ordered breathlessly. “I’ll get you to that tree—stay underneath, out of sight.”

I reached for her, and she staggered back, hysteria bleeding into her words. “No! I need a higher vantage point for my magic!”

“You’re in no shape to fight!” I snapped. “The gemstone’s gone, Sylv—you need to lie low!”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Absolutely not! I have to—”

“ No —no, you need to listen, Sylv. If you go out there, you’ll die! Do you understand me? Cliff needs me too, so you’re going to—”

I lashed my hand toward her, but before my fingertips came within inches of her, cerulean burst from her palms. Pain ripped across my forearm—needle-like icicles embedding into the skin. I cursed, reeling back.

“Sylvia,” I breathed, knowing full well that she would strike again if needed.

She gave me a dirty look, skittering backward from me. Her wings flitted to shake off moisture, desperately preparing for flight as though she was entirely unconcerned about becoming another corpse on the shoreline. It didn’t matter what I said. I refused to go back to the night of the werewolf hunt, when I wasn’t sure if she’d ever open her eyes again.

I was not going to lose her.

In my mounting panic, I spotted supplies that had been tossed from the bed of another nearby truck, littering the ground. Harpoons, knives, nets… and a couple of small cages. These hunters knew what they were hoping to find by tracking us down. The cages were undoubtedly iron, perhaps originally intended for small reptiles or birds, but perfectly suitable for fairies.

Time whirred to a halt as my plan connected, cruel and perfect . I scrambled to the nearest cage, turning it over in my hands. It was a sturdy construction, its wiry bars webbed too close together for even a lizard to wriggle through. The base was a thin metal plate—no bolts. I grabbed hold of the edge and wrenched as hard as I could. The metal groaned, resisting—but it bent. At my third vicious pull, the bottom plate came free, leaving the interior open and exposed.

By then, Sylvia was fully behind the truck, sidestepping stalks of foliage while she attempted to dry her wings and put distance between us. She had less than a second to peer at the cage with glassy, terrified eyes before I slammed it over her, embedding the bars firmly into the soft earth. Her shriek of alarm softened into a groaned “oh” like the sound of someone who had just been punched in the gut.

Breathing heavily, I pulled my hands away and cautiously leaned down to watch. Sylvia stood at the center of the darkened space. She gaped at her hands as she swept her frantic gaze around the interior of the cage around her—then to me.

“Jon, what the hell are you doing?” Sylvia’s furious shout cracked with terror.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed. The wound she’d inflicted on my arm throbbed.

She charged toward me, only to resist the awful aura of the metal webbing separating us like she had run into an invisible wall. Her expression twisted, teeth gritted.

Sylvia paced the perimeter frantically, flexing her hands into casting formations, whispering familiar spells under her breath. Nothing happened. Trying to cast spells surrounded by iron was like trying to light a candle underwater—confirming what we both already knew: she was trapped.

Trapped, but safe. She was well hidden behind the truck, in the shadow of the tree line.

Her flats shuffled on the forest floor as she positioned herself as close to me as she could tolerate. The shock and horror on her face twisted into something else, something that sent chills racing up my bare arms. Rage —a raw anger she hadn’t fixed on me since our first meeting.

“Let me out. Get this damn thing off— NOW !”

“I can’t,” I panted.

Her breathing was labored and trembling, and the betrayal in her eyes stabbed deeper than any weapon. “You are not doing this to me,” Sylvia snarled—it was a command. “I am not some helpless trinket you can stow away. Let me out, or I’ll—” She tapered off, swallowing a threat.

I reached out, touching the cold iron mesh that separated us. This had to happen. And later, when she was warm and alive and we were far away from this hellscape, she would understand.

I muscled down the emotion in my voice, my gaze hardening. “I can’t watch you martyr yourself, Sylv. I won’t. I’m sorry. I’ll come back with Cliff, and we’ll get the fuck out of here.”

I forced myself to my feet. I dug Rhett’s handgun from beneath the truck nearby, checking its magazine. I glanced across the tangle of multi-colored cypress trees. There was a shotgun abandoned in the mud near a Jeep parked thirty feet away, if I could reach it.

“No, Jon—wait! Don’t do this, please. Please !” As I stepped away from her, Sylvia’s demands broke into begging. I didn’t look back at her—couldn’t bear to.

“Don’t touch the bars,” I told her in a tight voice. I knew how horrible she felt now—and how infinitely worse it would be if she made physical contact.

Sylvia's anguished scream tore through the forest—raw and utterly animal. It burned my mind like a brand as I strode back into the hunt.