Authors: Melinda Hellert
If it were in her nature I swear she would have stomped out the door. But she doesn’t. The door slams behind her as she leaves in a flurry of cloth.
Unfortunately she also takes the antidote with her.
Which means. . .?
Panic grips me as my mind comprehends that there’s
poison
coursing through my veins
right now
. And the only way to fix that just walked out the door with the wretched Queen.
Derek emerges, shaking his head. “Of all the bone-headed things you could do. Why didn’t you just tell her what she wanted to hear? Unless your version of a slow and painful death is different than mine.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I should have gotten here sooner. I knew she would try something like this.” He starts pacing.
It doesn’t help me much.
“Derek,” I breathe.
Figures crowd the room that definitely weren’t there two seconds ago. Familiar figures; the guards, Breen, Miruna, Ceara, random
Faeries
I’d seen in the gathering in the doorway to the Apple Tree. They bear down on me, flying in the air, surrounding my bed. They’re
everywhere
. All of their mouths are moving, demanding things from me that I can’t hear. The buzz of wings fill my ears. Instead of the beautiful appendages that once were, they’re decaying. Gray and flaking off disgustingly to the floor. Blood mars their faces which have become gaunt and devilish. Razor sharp teeth gnash at me. Hair is replaced by wicked vines and thorny branches in snarled masses atop their crowns. Maggie and the others are there, too. Full bodied this time.
I gape in horror as they’re attacked by the gruesome bunch of Fair Folk. I watch unblinkingly as my family and friends are slain one by one by the horrible creatures.
A shriek echoes through the chaos as Derek, the last one standing, falls in defeat.
Pressure on my mouth muffles my cries.
“Kate! Katie, it’s not real, snap out of it! Kate!”
None of it matters anymore. No
ne of it— Everything goes dark.
I fade in and out of consciousness for a while. It’s all very confusing.
First I see Derek and Maggie’s worried faces before I go out again. Then a flash of a corridor as we’re rushing down it. Next is a starlit heaven threaded through with branches. The inside of a vehicle. . .
Until I’m fully awake, laying on a bed in a room that’s foreign to me. The first
thing
I see are those accursed shapes, not a nice thing to see when you first open your eyes. Hushed voices are conversing nearby. I lay still to better hear and stay unnoticed for curiosities sake.
“I am able to brew the remedy, but it will take too much time,” a female says.
“How long?” It’s Derek.
“A few weeks in the least.”
A whistle of air being sucked in between teeth. Most likely Derek.
“She doesn’t have—”
“That long. This I know. I am most grievous my friend but it is the best I can do.”
A thoughtful silence.
“Chrysantha has the antidote,” he says slowly.
“Derek,” the woman says in a warning tone. “I know what you are thinking. It is too risky.”
“What am I supposed to do, Nyla? Just let her die?”
There is a loud crash of glass shattering. I flinch.
“Derek, I would appreciate if you did not break my possessions. Especially the valuable ones.”
“Sorry,” he doesn’t sound apologetic, though. He sounds angry and . . . . tormented.
A sigh. “If you must. Have caution Derek Carson. Who knows what that woman will do if you are found out.”
“Take care of her for me, Nyla, please.”
Footsteps as Derek leaves. This is odd because he usually treads oh so quietly. I’ve noticed. And I hate that I’ve noticed.
Despite wanting to get up and tell everyone that I’m OK, that Derek doesn’t need to risk his neck for me, my eyelids grow lethargic and before I can protest I’m back in dreamland.
My mom and dad are pushing me as a baby on a swing set at the park. Higher always higher. I giggle with delight, watching as my parents hold hands and smile at their only daughter. It’s a perfect day. Full of happiness and love. No one knows what my conscious mind does.
It fast-forwards to when I’m five. It’s my birthday. The three of us are at Chuck-E-Cheese’s, gathered around a colorful cake. I blow out the little candles to discover they’re trick wicks. My mom and dad help, with a huff of air the pink candles finally go out. I clap as I’m smothered in elated kisses and joyful laughter.
My dad teaches me how to
ride
a bike, promising never to let go. He’s just taken the training wheels off and I’m terrified of falling. But daddy’s there. “Nothing can harm you,” he says. He runs along behind me, one hand holding the back of my seat.
“Don’t let go!”
“I won’t,” he promises.
But he does and I’m flying. Peddling myself without knowing it until I look back and find he’s several yards away. Unfortunately the distraction makes me lose my balance and I topple over.
He rushes over and kisses my stinging hands.
It’s Christmas Eve. We’re putting up the ornaments on a real tree in the living room. It smells amazing. We wrap it in garland and the only thing left is the star for the very top. They both lift me up on their shoulders so I can reach. The three of us successfully place the star up on the highest branch; three sets of hands linger on the shiny gold ornament. I can’t wait for tomorrow and the gifts Santa will bring.
It skips forward to when I’m sixteen. My dad and I are in
my mom’s
beat up Pontiac Station Wagon. I’ve just gotten my learners permit and he is teaching me the rules of the road.
I’m nervous and excited about learning and eager to get started.
“Now, Katie. You don’t want to rush into this. A vehicle is not a toy,” he chastises as I bounce up and down in the driver’s seat and nag him for the dozenth time about going already.
It fades to black for a second.
Then the scene of his murder replays.
The Mark that is on the other man is on my father’s skin. It glints beneath his shirt collar, just under the hard line of his jaw.
My eyes focus on that as the act is committed again.
It’s burned into my mind.
What could it mean?
I wake with a start. My eyes are wet with fresh tears.
Before I can mull over my dream of what could have been I jump as something cold and wet lands on my forehead.
Unfortunately along with that a dull throb has started all over my body. And when I say all over, I mean
all over
. I wince as I feel for what’s on my head.
“Ah, you are awake. No, do not touch that. It is a cool cloth. You have a high fever.”
I drop my hand with a grimace, and nod. My skin feels like it’s on fire. Sweat coats anything that’s exposed and then some.
“Go back to sleep. This is only going to get worse.”
“No. I can’t sleep like this.” I protest, meaning the pain everywhere. How can anyone find peace in a state like that?
“You are going to want to change your mind in due time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, eyes slewing around for a glimpse of the mysterious woman. I take in my surroundings as well.
Before I thought I was on a bed, now I’ve realized I’m sprawled on a couch in the center of what seems to be a living room. Blankets upon blankets have been piled atop my legs and torso, which makes no sense because I’m burning up.
The smell of plants and dirt is all around me. As I look I see that there are potted plants all around. On top of tables, window sills, cabinets, any flat surface available has clay or glass containers of greenery crowded on them.
The ceiling is made entirely of grime smudged glass, similar to the kind you would find in a greenhouse. Thick brown curtains are gathered at the peak of the roof, a track runs down to the walls where a draw string hangs. For privacy I suppose. It’s pretty neat I think.
“It means until Derek returns you are only going to get worse. I do not mean to frighten you, miss, but it is the truth.”
Finally she comes into view. She’s knelt on the floor sweeping up a pile of soil and bits of glittering glass. A shoot of green lay crumpled among the wreckage. She sees me watching her. “Courtesy of Mr. Carson.” She gestures to the mess.
“Mr. Carson? Oh, you mean Derek.”
“Yes.” She straightens and I see her for the first time.
Her eyes are what strike me first. The irises are a strange lavender. I stop myself before I cringe away from her. She’s helping me, after all. Her hair is raven black with a purple shine to it; it’s pulled back in two long braids down her back. A fringe of bangs falls nearly to her eyes. She wears a moss green dress that falls to the floor at her feet. While she’s walking over to me she has to pick up the hem to avoid tripping over it. I’m not sure if she is a Faery or not because I see no visible evidence of wings jutting out from behind her. Her skin is a warm honey color, inviting after all the Fair Folk with super pale complexions. “Speaking of our young Mr. Carson, he owes me a Yarrow plant. They are very valuable and I am afraid this particular sprout did not like being uprooted so abruptly. If he keeps destroying my plants he is going to have a hard time coming across another willing to help in these sorts of situations.” She pauses, looking morosely at the bit of green in her enclosed hand. “Speaking of helping, how are we feeling?” Her unnerving eyes lift to me.
“Yarrow?” I ask, perplexed. I’ve never heard the word before.
“They are good healers. Which I am afraid is exactly what you need right now.” She makes a
tsk-tsk
sound and then, “come now, child. How bad is it?”
“A dull throb . . . nothing too dire yet. Where did Derek go?”
A short laugh. “There really is no deterring you, is there?”
I shake my head.
“Very well. Mr. Carson has gone back to get you the remedy.”
I blink. “
What?
Why would he do that? Is he crazy?”
“We very well cannot wait the week or so it would take to fix the blasted thing myself, now can we? He knows what he is doing. We must have faith in that.”
I want to tell her that Derek is the reason I’m in this situation in the first place. I want to tell her that he’s the one to blame. But I can’t find the words. Can’t open my mouth to speak them. Crazy, right?
“I guess,” I mutter.
The next strange thing I realize has happened is that the visions that have been harassing me have vanished. But after a few seconds of their absence, the pain has ramped up twofold. I give a gasp and fall back down onto the cushions.
“What is it?”