Hidden Deep (20 page)

I had a feeling he wasn’t just referring to his rebellious ideas. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

Lad rolled his lips in then out, stalling before he answered. “He’s afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me? Why on earth would he be afraid of
me
?” I pictured the intimidating man who made the atmosphere in a room quiver with the sheer force of his personality.

“You’re an outsider, so in his eyes, you’re dangerous. You represent discovery and doom as far as he’s concerned, and…” He stopped there and looked uncertain.

“And?”

“And he’s wondering if he made the wrong decision about you ten years ago.”

“Decision about me? What does that mean?”

“I keep waiting for you to remember, but I guess you’re not going to.” He shook his head, his eyes glinting with disbelief. “You’ve been here before, Ryann.”

“When? The night I was lost? You brought me here?”

“Yes. I was only seven myself. You needed more help than I could give you. I didn’t know what else to do. It turned out to be a mistake, though. My father has never let me forget my disobedience almost led to… your death.”

I drew back, blinking in shock. “No. You
saved
my life. I was freezing. I would have died.”

“The searchers probably would have found you shortly if I hadn’t brought you home. And when I brought you here, it caused an uproar. The High Council met for hours discussing what to do with you. Some wanted to put you back outside and make sure you
did
freeze to death. Others voted to kill you outright. A couple of the pacifists thought we should
keep
you here so you couldn’t go back and tell anyone.”

“What happened? How come they let me go?”

“That was my father’s call. He’s… pretty influential around here, and he decided on mercy. He said they’d make sure you didn’t remember much—even if you did recall something, whatever you said wouldn’t be believed because of your age. Come closer. Sit with me.”

Lad pulled at my fingers until I sat on the edge of his bed. I was careful not to jostle him, afraid of aggravating his wound.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he assured with a sweet smile.

Stroking his arm lightly, I thought about the random images that still sometimes came to me in dreams about that night. I glanced over at the aelflute in the corner. “I was in this room before. And you played that for me.”

Lad’s face flushed. He nodded. “And I was terrible. But it seemed to make you happy.”

“Yes. I definitely remember being happy, which never made any sense to my parents. They couldn’t seem to handle the fact that I always had such positive feelings about that night, when it was so painful for them to remember. I think they were worried the whole experience had left me kind of unhinged.”

Lad smiled and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

I reflected on what he’d said. “You know, I understand your people wanting their privacy and everything—but to actually consider killing a child over it? It’s so extreme. I don’t get what would be so bad about others knowing your people are here. It’s not like you’re hurting anyone… you have amazing talents. People would be excited to know about you.”

Lad sat up a little in the bed, his face going severe. “No, Ryann. They wouldn’t. It’s not about privacy—it’s about survival. Your people wouldn’t be able to deal with the knowledge. It would alter their understanding of reality, and when that happens, humans don’t react well. I’ve read countless history books that prove it. In 1576 Scotland, a midwife named Bessie Dunlop was accused of sorcery and witchcraft after displaying unusual knowledge and healing talents. She defended herself, claiming to have learned these things from a woman known as the Queen of Elphame—one of us. Bessie was burned at the stake in Dalry. In 1588, Allison Peirson was burned as a witch in Fife, Scotland after prescribing potions and treatments she claimed to have gotten from the same mythical Queen. And, of course, you’ve heard of the Salem witch hunts, haven’t you?”

“Of course.” I tried to process what he was telling me. I looked down at the bedcovering then back at his face. “You mean you’re… witches?”

“No!” He laughed. “I’m making the point that people are often afraid of what they don’t understand, and sometimes when they’re afraid, they react violently. We haven’t always been so unfriendly and secretive. We
have
reached out to your kind in the past. It usually ends badly for everyone involved, for the people like Bessie and Allison. And… there are far more of you than there are of us. Your kind are much more successful at reproducing. It’s very possible there would be a repeat of some of the lower points in human history if your people ever confirm we exist and discover who we really are.”

Cold dread prevented me from breaking the silence for a few moments. I studied the wall, mapping its bumps and crevices, trying to master the unsettled feeling in my stomach. It was finally hitting me that I was dealing with something so far beyond the ordinary, I might not even
want
to know the answer.

But I had to. My throat was dry, and a whisper was all I could manage to produce. “So, you’re not human then.”

Lad’s eyes locked onto mine in a wordless plea, begging me not to make him answer. But I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. I couldn’t. Even if I never saw him again and had to spend the rest of my life questioning my own sanity, I had to at least know this much about him—who he was.
What
he was.

Meeting his stare, I waited, wondering if he had enough faith in me to confess the truth. Lad’s gaze dropped to our clasped hands. He moved his strong fingers over mine in a slow, gentle massage as conflicting emotions warred across his face. Finally, he looked at the ceiling and let out a tortured sigh. His eyes met mine again, and I saw his decision had been made.

He spoke softly, his tone serious. “We were here for at least eight thousand years before your people ever ventured to this continent. My kind live in the desert, in the mountains, in the forests, anywhere there’s unpopulated, undisturbed land. A few of us still live near the oceans, though most have been driven out of those habitats because of extensive human development. Wherever we live, we exist in harmony with the land, and in hiding.”

My brain was buzzing like I’d chugged a dozen Cokes. I wasn’t sure what Lad was leading to, but I knew it would be shocking, maybe even frightening.

“Long ago in this place, we did have close contact with the other indigenous people,” he continued. “We shared the land, helped each other. The children played together. We even taught them how to obtain a version of saol water for their own use. But when your people came here, things changed for all of us. The Native Americans were bolder, more welcoming of your kind. We remained concealed and observed the interaction. We saw how their generosity and friendliness earned only persecution for them. Now, they’re gone from here, either killed or rounded up and herded onto small pieces of land. Meanwhile, our secrecy and separateness have served us well. Our lifestyle continues as it has for thousands of years.”

Thousands of years.
It was mind-boggling. People like Lad had lived among humans for thousands of years, and we’d had no idea. It didn’t seem possible.

“We’ve been largely successful at preserving our secret, though rumors and legends about us have persisted—the result of someone among us not being careful enough and being accidentally exposed. But so far, we’ve been able to happily remain a myth to you all.”

I sat silently for a long while, thinking over what he’d said, trying to match what little I’d learned about his people with the legends and myths in books I’d read. A name popped into my head, but I couldn’t make myself say it. Better to make him say it than be embarrassingly wrong again.

“What myth?” I barely breathed the question.

Lad gathered my fingers in his warm hand and gently squeezed. His expression said he was finally ready to tell me the whole truth.

“Your people call us… Elves.”

An explosion rocked my mind. It was impossible. It was crazy. And I knew it was true. “But… you’re not tiny.”

Lad gave me a gleaming smile. “That’s a very convenient misunderstanding… for us. We can thank the Elven playwright William Shakespeare for that. It’s why he masqueraded as a human in the first place. Before he wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream, most depictions of us were of human-sized beings, which of course, is dangerously accurate. Then Mr. Tolkein came along and got it almost right again. The myths are helpful though—it’s a lot better for us if people are looking for small cookie-making creatures and Snap, Crackle, and Pop.”

“There are a lot of you then—all over the world?”

“Our people live on most every continent, or at least they used to. Human cultures around the world have legends of encounters with our kind. Even the ancient Greeks and Romans told stories of Elves. In Iceland, they call us
Huldufólk
. In Germany they call us
Alb
or
Álfar.

They referred to us as
ælfe
in Old English
.
The Scots call us
Ghillie Dhu
. The Maylay people of Borneo, southern Thailand, and Sumatra refer to us as
Orang Bunian
. Their legends are so close to the truth it’s scary. Some Elves there must have been careless.” Lad chuckled.

“Roman mythology called us
Iele
. The ancient Greeks described us as
Nymphs
and
Dryads
and
Naiads
, depending on where they spotted us. The Japanese know us as
Erufu
. In Poland, we’ve been called
Psotnik
. The Irish call us
Aes Sídhe
. Finnish people know us as
Haltija
,
the Danish word is
Elver
, it’s
Alv
in Swedish. Many in Europe refer to us as Fae Folk. The names they gave us go on and on.”

Lad stopped and studied my face, waiting.

My skin was covered entirely in goose bumps. I suddenly understood how people must have felt when they thought they’d seen a ghost—the disconnect between what you believed was possible and what you saw before your eyes was soul-jarring.

“When you lay it all out, it’s obvious people have been running into Elves for centuries all over the world. Now that I think of it, it’s a little hard to understand how people could
not
know you exist.”

“Some well-placed glamour here and there has helped hide our existence.”

My head snapped back from shock. “Glamour? That’s real?”

“Absolutely—it’s one of our natural defenses. Usually, it’s not necessary, though. Most humans need proof of something to believe it.” Lad grew increasingly animated as he went on. “It’s good that people in modern times
are
so skeptical. Throughout history when we were accidentally revealed to people, their mass communication was limited to quills and parchment and word-of-mouth. Even so, the stories got around, becoming legends, without the aid of twenty-four hour news channels, smart phone cameras, and the Internet.”

“Wow. I can imagine what would happen if you were to be discovered in this day and age. The news would be all over the world in seconds.”

“That’s why my father’s so adamant about not interacting with humans. And why he’s so furious with me now. Our run-in with the rifle-toting booze brothers unfortunately confirms what he already believed about humans and the perils of the big bad world out there.” His tone was sarcastic.

“Well, he was right about those guys—they
were
bad news. And as far as I can tell, a parent’s main job is worrying, or it’s an engrossing hobby at the very least. My mom would be even worse.” Then the terrible realization hit me. “Oh no—my mom!”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at it as if any signal in the world could reach this far underground. Naturally, the screen was dark and lifeless.

“Lad, I have to get to the surface. I have to call my mother. She must’ve been trying to call me all night. She’s probably burning the road up from Atlanta right now because she hasn’t been able to reach me. What time is it?”

Without my phone, digital clocks, or even a helpful window, I’d lost all concept of the hour. I was pacing the room.

“It’s still early. She might still be sleeping.”

“She’s going to kill me. One of her conditions for leaving me here was that I stay in constant contact with her—oh no—I probably can’t even get a signal above ground way out here.”

“It’s okay.” Lad tried to calm me. “Someone will come any moment, I’m sure. They’ve undoubtedly heard your voice and will want to make sure the dangerous human isn’t doing me harm.” He held his hands up defensively, grinning and cringing in mock-helplessness as I glared at him. He laughed and motioned for me to come closer. “I’ll ask someone to take you up so you can call her. It will be all right—you’ll get a signal. I wish I could escort you myself, but…” He gestured to indicate his bed-ridden state.

In spite of his size, he looked like a little boy, rumpled and warm and sleepy. I was suddenly afraid to leave him. I went back to his bedside and placed the lightest of butterfly kisses on his lips.