Page 15

Chapter

Fifteen

Whoever is outside has circled the cabin multiple times now. The craziness that is my palm hasn’t gone down any, even when they move from the door to the other side of the building. Why they haven’t tried the door is beyond me. Unless they can’t see it.

Crash!

Another crack forms, this time on the wall next to the window.

I wipe beads of sweat from my brow and suck in a harried breath. Even if the people or creatures outside can’t come in, it’s clear they’re going to keep trying.

It’s also clear I have a built-in weapon. I don’t have anyone to teach me about it, but I’m capable. I’m a strong woman who has already survived so much—a stepfather who hates me, never having met my actual father, my mother dying, finding out I’m a halfling.

I’m on my own in every way possible. My own nature is trying to tell me something.

Time to listen. My body knows what to do, so hopefully my brain will catch up.

Here goes nothing. I fling open the door with my non-magical hand.

It’s unnaturally dark. Like a storm or the night settling, but it’s too early for that. Must be fae who can control the weather.

I’m crazy to think I can hold my own against them. But they aren’t leaving me any other choice. I hide my right hand behind my back and creep around the side of the cabin toward the last noise I heard.

Thunk!

That wasn’t far. I’m going in the right direction, not that I could go the wrong way around this small square structure.

I’m tempted to turn around and run away when I round the corner.

Two tall, wart-covered fae with crooked noses and pointy ears spin my way. The taller one has hunched shoulders, and the shorter walks with a limp.

Maybe they won’t be so hard to scare away. They clearly aren’t at the top of their game.

The short one cackles. “Looky here. I knew there was someone inside the building.”

“She’ll fill us both up nice.” The tall one licks his lips, exposing sharp teeth. Part of a finger sticks between two of them.

A finger?

My stomach sinks. These two aren’t as weak as I gave them credit for. How am I going to fight off both of them?

“Come here, little girl.” The short one—who is still taller than me—looks me up and down with his beady eyes. “You’ll do just nice.”

The tall one snorts. “Better than the last one. She barely whetted my appetite for this one.”

I glance around. Where’s Harek when I need him?

Both of the creatures in front of me hold out fingers and bend them toward themselves. This is just another day of killing humans for them.

Except I’m not just a human. I’m a halfling, and they won’t see that coming. Not to mention my glow.

The tall one lunges for me, clearing the space between us in the blink of an eye.

My breath catches, and then almost without thinking, I whip out my right hand and hold it up.

He skids to a stop, close enough I take in his rancid breath. It makes my stomach roil. His face drains of color.

They both shriek, a doubly piercing wail that feels like knives on my skin and eardrums.

Instinctively, I aim my palm toward him and jut it out. The orange mist ball flies from my skin, right for the smelly fae.

His eyes widen with terror, and he holds up his hands. The force knocks him back. He stumbles, crashes into the cabin. Mutters and grumbles.

Another mist ball forms in my hand. I throw that at him too.

It hits him directly in the chest. He gasps. Flails about.

The short fae backs away even more.

I aim another orange mist ball at him. It flies directly into his face. He crumples to the ground, gasping and choking. I repeat the process on both of them until they’re both lying on their backs. They twitch for a moment before going still.

Did I kill them? Horror washes through me. I’ve never killed anything—not even a bug. I couldn’t have taken the lives of two fae. It’s not possible.

I glance at my right palm. It’s back to normal. There isn’t any glow, mist, or warmth.

This can’t be happening. I take a step closer to them. “Hello?”

Silence.

A black mist rises from the short one. It swirls around over the fae.

Then the same thing happens with the other guy.

I stumble back, trip over a branch, barely manage to remain standing. What’s going on? I’ve seen death before, but never anything like this. Gunnar often makes me watch when he slaughters animals for our meals. I just saw Mother die yesterday, and nothing like this happened.

This must be a fae thing. I’ve never seen one of them die before. The black swirls must be their magic leaving them. It’s the only explanation. Could I never see it because my own fae powers hadn’t been activated? Now I can see more?

I continue backing up, not daring to take my gaze from them. Why have I never heard about this before? Kids always whisper rumors about fae. I thought I’d heard everything, but nobody ever mentioned their magic leaving them upon dying. This seems like something people would talk about. It’s horrifying… yet fascinating.

Is it something only other fae can see? Since I’m a halfling, I must have the ability no human does. Still, how could this be kept secret so well? Surely a fae somewhere would spill it to a human.

I’m still trying to make sense of the black swirling mists when something terrifying happens.

They point toward me. How a mist can point is beyond me, but it’s happening. Like it wants me.

Ridiculous as it is, I close my eyes. Put my hands out in front of me.

Swoosh, swoosh.

That can’t be good.

I crack open one eye.

Both mists are rushing my way.

My feet move before I realize what’s going on. I nearly slam into a tree. The swooshing sounds behind me while a wind picks up. I run faster, glance back.

The swirls are chasing me. Are the two fae still trying to kill me, even in death? If they’re actually dead. Maybe they have some weird kind of magic that separates from their bodies.

I know so little about fae. Hopefully it doesn’t get me killed.

Something slams against my back. I fly forward. Crash into a tree. Scrape my eye down to my chin. Gasp in air. Turn around.

Both mists twirl and swirl, aiming right for me.

I can’t move, can’t get out of the way. Pressed against the trunk, bark digs into my body.

The cold air moves through my nose before my eyes register the black blurs entering into me. The icy cold chill runs down my nose, through my throat, and into my center. A chill spreads through my body, and I shudder. Shiver. My teeth chatter. It’s as if the temperature dropped, and it was already cold with the snow covering the ground.

I cough and gag, try to vomit out the mists.

Nothing. I try harder. Only manage to expunge the food I’d eaten earlier. Great, I need that. I shake and dance, but the mist refuses to leave. Like it wants to be part of me now.

I’m too cold to be outside, so I run. Nearly trip over the taller fae. Just as I’m about to dart inside, something catches my attention.

They’re melting into the ground, just like ice on a summer day.

This is too much. I can’t deal with this. I leap inside, slam the door behind me.

How could this have happened? I never wanted to kill anyone. Now those two fae are dead because of me. Worse, their black magic is inside of me.

It’s swirling around in there. Like the two fae are dancing and taunting me. Angry with me for taking their lives and making me pay. But that’s impossible.

Isn’t it? How would I know?

I’m going to have to ask Harek. He’s a werewolf, so surely he’s killed plenty of fae. This is probably old news to him, something he sees all the time. Do fae get more strength and magic from killing other fae? It seems if that was the case, there would be fae wars all the time. Never ending. It would be a battle to be the strongest by taking the most lives. Yet I’ve never heard anything like that.

Sure, there are plenty of power grabs. Power-hungry tyrants love to rule over everyone. Fae or human—it doesn’t matter. That’s why our establishment is where it is, walled off from the rest of the world. It’s why most humans don’t venture into the woods. But wars? Mass killings? Nothing like that.

It looks like I’m going to have to ask Harek when he gets back, and that means I’m going to have to wait for him. No running to the fae metropolis on my own.

I’m not feeling so great after killing those two fae, anyway. I may as well stick around here for a while. There’s still a little food I can eat, should my appetite return. For now, my insides feel like soup sloshing around.

I climb back onto the same bed as before, but this time I sit against the wall. I’m not going to let myself fall asleep again. I dig into my bag and pull out the one book I packed. Gunnar never wants us to have books, so I’ve only ever been able to have a few at a time. Even then, I have to tuck them into a loose floorboard. I’ve always dreamed of having an entire shelf I could fill. I’d run my fingers along the spines and smell the pages every chance I got. Maybe one day.

The sloshing gets worse as I try to read. I barely get through a few pages before I set the book down. I’m going to vomit again.

I hurry back outside and dry heave. Nothing comes, despite how gross I feel.

It’s starting to get dark, and Harek still isn’t back. What if more fae show up? I definitely don’t want to kill any more. The two I killed have completely disappeared now. I won’t have to tell Harek about this if I don’t want to. However, I can’t ignore this nausea. Not that it’s a normal stomach sickness. How could it be when a mist evaporated from two dead fae bodies and entered me through my nose?

What I need is my father. If my mother was here, she could tell me something. She clearly knew my father intimately and must know something. Known. She must’ve known something. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to wrap my mind around her being gone.

Crunch!

I groan. If that’s more fae, I may just surrender. Maybe they can take me to a medicine man who can tell me what’s going on then fix the problem. As unlikely as that is, I’m tempted to run toward the noise and beg whoever’s there to help me.

Footsteps.

Someone is definitely coming.