Facets of Feyrie Box Set, page 44
part #1 of Facets of Feyrie Series
“Put your foot on the brake and move the gear shift to the D,” Phobe explains patiently.
With a small jerk, I manage to do this. Aha.
“Gas pedal time?”
“Yes, you lightly—” I floor it. The crunching of metal brings us to a jarring halt.
“Lightly, Iza.”
“I did!” I defend. Even though I didn’t, this time when I put the gear shift on the R, I lightly tap the gas. We crash into another truck. Perhaps my version of lightly and his version of lightly aren’t the same?
“Now you—Iza, do you need me to drive?”
Frowning at him, I put the gear shift back to D. “No, I’m driving, and you’re going to deal with it.”
“I’m very glad I can’t die from a car accident.”
“Why do you think there will be an—oops.” The tree came out of nowhere, I swear.
“Iza.”
“The car still moves so I’m driving, Phobe.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Iza driving is more disastrous than any other experience I’ve ever had in a vehicle. She’s managing to drive worse than I suspected she would. It’s the closest thing to fear that I’ve ever felt. The handle above the window is the first casualty of this blessedly short adventure with her.
The second is more than likely going to be the law enforcement vehicle currently following us. Something Iza is aware of, but refuses to pull over for, until the truck dies. If the noises coming from it now are any indication, its in the process of doing so. Considering she has struck at least five cars and a couple of trees since this started I’m surprised it is moving at all.
“Why haven’t they gone away yet?” she mutters under her breath.
“They will pursue you until you stop.”
She sighs dramatically and says, “Fine. I’ll pull over.” With a shudder and a mechanical cough, the truck dies the minute she puts it into park. With an annoyed smack at the steering wheel, she climbs out of the truck.
‘I recommend using your glamour. You are covered in—never mind.’ There’s already a gun in her face and an officer yelling at her to get down on the ground. Iza is staring at him in confusion. This isn’t going to end well.
Frowning at the officer, Iza grabs his gun and crushes it then hands it back to the shocked man. In reaction, he sprays something noxious at her. Mace, they call it mace. She staggers and leans against the truck rubbing at her eyes. I suppose I should help her. Otherwise, we are going to be here for hours.
“Get out of the car with your hands up!” someone yells through the window.
“Don’t hurt them Phobe no matter how much I kinda want to. They’re just doing their jobs,’ Iza says, still rubbing at her eyes with the hem of her shirt. She knows me well enough to know I was about to eat him.
Fine.
Opening the door with enough force to knock him down, I climb out of the truck. Grabbing a bottle of water off the floor, I walk around the front to Iza. Her face is beet-red, and her eyes are bloodshot. Opening the bottle, I turn it up and dump the entire bottle on her face. That should help.
“On the ground or I will open fire,” yells the officer who maced her.
“Okay, that’s enough of this shit. Let’s go,” Iza says blinking to clear her vision some more.
I grab her around the waist and run.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gods, my eyes are still burning. What kind of torture device is this mace? Do I need to get some for the assholes who keep coming here trying to kill me?
“Iza, you can stop whining now. I’ve healed the actual injuries,” Nika chastises. Apparently, I was complaining out loud. Again.
“It still stings.”
“It will for a few hours. There’s no way to get it off your skin completely. Not even with Magiks,” she answers, smacking me on the arm as I walk off.
“Did you get the new Feyrie fed? I need to ask them questions and I’d rather they have some comfort first,” I ask Jameson as he catches up to me. I’m already heading towards the wing the Sidhe made for them. I ask for Auryn to be summoned.
“Yes, and the healers have already been to see them as well. Arista is asking for you,” he answers, sliding his finger across the screen of the brand new iPad he’s carrying.
I sort of miss the sound of the pages flipping.
The Sidhe makes my walk a fast one, thankfully, taking me straight to their wing by forming passages for me to walk the most direct route. I find several of the healing Feyrie there, hovering—especially over the small ones.
Most especially Minos.
Goblins are flashing in and out of existence, bringing supplies and tending to the ones who need tending. I look around at all of them, but my eyes are drawn again to Minos. He’s sitting up in a baby seat his red eyes following me.
I feel the smile form on my face while bending down to pick him up. “Well, hello there, handsome. I have someone I want you to meet.”
“My lady, I was told you—gods, is that a Nightmare child?” Right on time.
“Yes, Auryn. I have a feeling he’s connected to you. All things considering.”
Eyes wide, she puts a shaking hand out for Minos to wrap his tiny one around her finger. Clearing her throat, she says, “One of my daughters disappeared. This—this is her child.”
“His name is Minos. I think that he wants to be with Grandma.” I hand him over to her and look for Arista. Minos will be taken care of incredibly well. He needs to be with his family.
Arista isn’t wingless, so it’s strange that Kael gave her up to the humans. There’s a story there, and I want to hear it. In clean clothes, she steps out of a room off to the side and smiles at me hesitantly. I smile back and hope it’s kindly. I’m still working on that part of this job.
“I need you to tell me how—” I indicate the room full of people. “—this happened.”
“The king came to me a year ago…” Arista looks around and hesitates. The room blurs around us as the Sidhe, sensing my need for privacy, obliges, and forms a privacy shield around us. Well, that’s neat.
“Continue,” I urge.
“He came to me a year ago and said I needed to go into town and meet a man who was going to provide some much needed supplies for our colony. I was surprised by the request. I’d never been asked to leave before, but I went because he ordered me to.” For a moment, her eyes burn amber with anger.
Then she continues, “They knew exactly what I was. They were prepared for a fight, and I didn’t even shift before I was knocked out cold. I woke up in that place surrounded by other Feyrie.” She clenches her jaw a few times and continues.
“There were other dragons at the beginning—special ones. The wingless. They’re supposed to be revered by dragon-kin, but our king insisted that none survived birth since his father’s reign. He lied to all of us. Wingless cannot shift, but they wield potent Magiks. Some of them are children, my lady.”
“How many?” I ask.
“Eleven. They moved them somewhere else a few days ago. Our king, he betrayed them. He betrayed us all.” He’s the one who told them about me. That sonofabitch bartered people—I’ll get them back, and then I’ll deal with Kael. Or perhaps it isn’t me that will deal with him.
“You’re safe here. Kael can’t hurt you. I’ll find the wingless.”
And I will.
“My lady, in the time I’ve been there—there have been hundreds of Feyrie brought there.”
This brings me up short. Hundreds?
“Where are they?” I demand.
“They’ve sent them to other facilities spread throughout the world. I heard the humans talking.”
“Do you know of any specifically?”
She wrings her hands in anxiety as she answers. “I know some of the towns.”
“That’s a start. Can you please give them all to Jameson?” She nods, and because I have no idea how to help her feel better, I stand there awkwardly.
“Come, Arista, let’s get you some hot food.” Nika to the rescue.
The adrenaline that’s been sustaining me for the last month is gone I think. And the mental momentum I’ve managed to keep up falls around me in broken shards. I’m shaky, and the image of the dead Feyrie in some of those cells is haunting me. They were murdered, only an hour from the Sidhe. From safety.
Minos’s mother is dead.
My mother is dead.
At damn near a run, I head outside. The crunch of leaves beneath my tired feet doesn’t have the happy effect it normally carries. The heat of a tear sliding down my cheek is quickly followed by another. I shove my hands in my pockets and keep walking. And the tears keep falling, just like the leaves.
For the first time since I escaped I have no will to fight it anymore, the healthy choice is to let go and truly grieve. For my mother, for the childhood ripped away from me and for the pure injustice of it all. Something I haven’t let myself do. This will be my choice!
I walk until the toes of my boots touch the edge of the lake. Looking down at the calm waters, my rage boils up. Letting the tears pour out of me, I scream into the night. Then I start kicking the ground. Over and over, I kick it, and with each strike, a little more pain comes out.
The pain for the people I didn’t save. For the people, I can’t save. For the mother who died because of me. For everything I’ve lost and will lose. The wind rips it away from me and pulls it into the cold waters of the lake.
“Why them?” I scream, into the night sky. “Why me?” I scream again, sobbing.
Tired of it all, I collapse onto my knees in the mud. Ignoring the cold wetness seeping into my pants, I say, “To whatever god is out there, I beg you. Help me. They can’t fight. If the Light Fey come, they will be slaughtered, and I can’t live with that. Please,” I sob, “help me save them.”
“Have you ever heard the story of creation?” The voice startles me. I look up to see the homeless man from the park. He’s still wearing the filthy orange coat and no hat. I hiccup, wipe my face to hide my shame and climb to my feet.
“No, can’t say I have,” I answer, pulling the hat off my head and putting it on his.
The Sidhe has no idea he’s here. A human who can sneak past the Sidhe is an interesting human. Or not a human at all. He doesn’t smell—well, he smells a lot, but he doesn’t smell non-human. Isn’t that interesting? He smiles at me, exposing the gap where his front teeth should be.
Hiccuping another sob—damn things don’t go away—I try to smile back.
“I have a shack just over the hill there with a fire. I hope you don’t mind it’s there. I don’t bother anyone.” He turns and starts shuffling along. Not really feeling like going back to the Sidhe—and incredibly curious about him—I follow.
“I heard all the yelling and came to make sure no one was fiddling about. When I saw you kneeling there, I figured you might need someone to pull you from the place you were heading to. Not a good road to travel, grief.” He pauses to catch his breath then continues, “Besides I kinda wanted some company.”
He does indeed have a little shack. It even has a small window in the front that has the glowing flicker of a fire inside. He opens the door and ushers me in. Closing it behind him, he dusts off one of the milk crates around the fire burning merrily in a large metal pan, and waves towards it.
Sitting, I watch him move around to hang up his coat and hat I gave him. He dusts off his crate and smiles that gap-toothed smile again before sitting down.
His home is small but surprisingly clean, and not what I’d expect by looking at him.
“That’s a fine hat. I appreciate you sharing it,” he says, rubbing his hands together beside the fire. Silently, I watch him. The feeling of calm I’m getting from being near him is nice, and I’m not going to question it. Not this time.
“Like I was saying—the story of creation. Strange that one like you has never heard it. But then again, not many care about it anymore. Shame that, it’s a good story.” He runs a wrinkled hand down his scruffy, bearded face then continues.
“When this world was born, there were three: Light, Life, and Darkness. Bored and curious, two of those three worked together and created the first five. The sun, water, air, earth, and of course, spirit. These first five were all given specific things to do, and because they were so happy doing it, they became the things they were born to be.” He pauses and blows his nose loudly into a worn handkerchief.
Then he resumes his story, “Life and Light, having made the first five, felt satisfied in their creations. But Darkness, who was the first to touch the worlds, didn’t know what to create. So, Darkness made nothing.” He pauses and opens up a can of sardines that he dug out of one of his pockets.
“One day, Life and Light go off to create in other places, other worlds. Darkness was left alone.” He takes a long drink out of a dirty cup and offers it to me. I take it, sip then hand it back. It’s the best water I’ve tasted in my life.
“Years later, Life stops in to check on Darkness and sees how empty his world is. After a bit of encouragement, Life shows him how to create, and that’s when Darkness made the Eldest, the second-born.” Slurping up a sardine, he smiles his gappy smile with bits of fish in his teeth and says, “Life was concerned about the strength of these creations; Darkness wasn’t as picky as he when creating, so he gave each of them a specific task much like the first.” He offers me a sardine, and of course, I take it—it’s food.
“When Light saw what Darkness created, Light became angry with Life for showing Darkness how to create. You see, worshiped by all the Light creations thus far. Light considered themselves to be superior to Life and Darkness. So, when Darkness created the Feyrie, Light made ones opposite them. It became a competition to Light, you see? So were born the varied races of the Light Fey and the Dark Feyrie. Oddly enough, the Schoth were the first race of the Light Fey to be created. They call them elves here. Ya believe that?” He smiles at me again and eats the rest of his sardines.
“Life, seeing how Light was so jealous, decided to make other creations in other places. Including this world. Humans and every animal and insect that graces this planet.” He sighs. “The truth of it is, Life ran and hid like a coward.” He stares into the fire his blue eyes seeing something I can’t. I wait. I can sense the story isn’t over.
“It’s then that everything went wrong. The Light creatures began to fight the Dark ones. And in that war, a foolish, vain creature tried to capture and enslave his creator, the Darkness. So the Darkness ate him. And in eating him, Darkness became aware like a man and in that awareness, he began to hate, and as he hated, he destroyed.” A single crystal tear runs down his cheek.
“For the first time since he became aware of existence, Life touched his feet to the world. Saddened by the bloodshed that existed even before his brother took on the thoughts of the mortals, he came to try and stop it. And on his walk through the world, he found a Feyrie child dying on the road. A beautiful child with red eyes and wings. She was given a mortal wound from a Schoth arrow. She was days away from her sixth birthday.” Another tear falls down his cheek, and my chest gets tight.
“With a heavy heart, he sat and pulled the child onto his lap and discovered just how special the child was. “It was not the Darkness that caused this; she said to him.”
A shiver races up my spine. I know who this story is about.
“As she lay dying in his arms, she whispered words to him in a voice not her own, speaking the very first Prophecy. This senseless death made Life angry but, being the creature that he is, he can’t take a life. He can only give it. So he did the only thing he could do. He told another of the first Prophecy. And they told another. And so forth and so on. Until it’s taught to every Feyrie child born.”
He lights a cigarette and offers me one. I decline.
“The rules, always the rules, right? Stonewalled by his own rules, Life couldn’t change what was to come, but he could nudge it. So he did. So he does.” He smiles a sad smile and blows his nose on a stained tissue.
“Nice story,” I comment. Explains why there’s such a fixation on the prophecy too. I still have no idea what he is. Still smells human and I can’t detect any glamour or Magiks.
So I ask, “How did humans come to know it?” I’ll play along for a bit. My body is tired, and sitting next to this small fire is making me feel better.
“I’m an old man who likes to gather stories. I have a good memory, and I’ve lived a long life.” He smiles his gap-toothed smile, and I smile back.
And I’m a rocket scientist, bud.
“I heard you were asking for help, and I bet you’re not someone who asks for it often. So I’ll put my two cents in this. I wouldn’t be too surprised if the answer you’re looking for is waiting right outside that door,” he says with a rather smug smile on his face. Standing, I start to cross the small room to the window to see what’s outside the door.
“Just a little longer if you don’t mind. It’s been a long time since I had such pleasant company.” Laughing a little, I sit back down. Silly of me to think he meant literally.
“What kind of person do you think you are?”
I sigh. That’s a good question. “I kill things.” Oh, such eloquence I have.
“You know the girl at the prison? You gave her freedom from more suffering. She begged you for death, and you gave her the mercy of it. The others? They deserved what they got. Be what you were created to be.”
Shocked, I lift my eyes to meet his and find they are no longer just blue. They are the prettiest, brightest blue I have ever seen. And I know them. They were the eyes of the girl I killed in the cafeteria. And I thought of the few others that I tried to help over the years, all with identical blue eyes. How did I not notice the sameness?
“It wasn’t fair for you to suffer alone. So I tried to make sure that sometimes you had a little company or a way to show that heart you hide so deep. You gave everything you could to help others. Your food, water, and occasionally your laughter. That was the greatest gift of all. That despite all the shit you went through, you still laugh. And you shared those laughs with me.”
With a small jerk, I manage to do this. Aha.
“Gas pedal time?”
“Yes, you lightly—” I floor it. The crunching of metal brings us to a jarring halt.
“Lightly, Iza.”
“I did!” I defend. Even though I didn’t, this time when I put the gear shift on the R, I lightly tap the gas. We crash into another truck. Perhaps my version of lightly and his version of lightly aren’t the same?
“Now you—Iza, do you need me to drive?”
Frowning at him, I put the gear shift back to D. “No, I’m driving, and you’re going to deal with it.”
“I’m very glad I can’t die from a car accident.”
“Why do you think there will be an—oops.” The tree came out of nowhere, I swear.
“Iza.”
“The car still moves so I’m driving, Phobe.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Iza driving is more disastrous than any other experience I’ve ever had in a vehicle. She’s managing to drive worse than I suspected she would. It’s the closest thing to fear that I’ve ever felt. The handle above the window is the first casualty of this blessedly short adventure with her.
The second is more than likely going to be the law enforcement vehicle currently following us. Something Iza is aware of, but refuses to pull over for, until the truck dies. If the noises coming from it now are any indication, its in the process of doing so. Considering she has struck at least five cars and a couple of trees since this started I’m surprised it is moving at all.
“Why haven’t they gone away yet?” she mutters under her breath.
“They will pursue you until you stop.”
She sighs dramatically and says, “Fine. I’ll pull over.” With a shudder and a mechanical cough, the truck dies the minute she puts it into park. With an annoyed smack at the steering wheel, she climbs out of the truck.
‘I recommend using your glamour. You are covered in—never mind.’ There’s already a gun in her face and an officer yelling at her to get down on the ground. Iza is staring at him in confusion. This isn’t going to end well.
Frowning at the officer, Iza grabs his gun and crushes it then hands it back to the shocked man. In reaction, he sprays something noxious at her. Mace, they call it mace. She staggers and leans against the truck rubbing at her eyes. I suppose I should help her. Otherwise, we are going to be here for hours.
“Get out of the car with your hands up!” someone yells through the window.
“Don’t hurt them Phobe no matter how much I kinda want to. They’re just doing their jobs,’ Iza says, still rubbing at her eyes with the hem of her shirt. She knows me well enough to know I was about to eat him.
Fine.
Opening the door with enough force to knock him down, I climb out of the truck. Grabbing a bottle of water off the floor, I walk around the front to Iza. Her face is beet-red, and her eyes are bloodshot. Opening the bottle, I turn it up and dump the entire bottle on her face. That should help.
“On the ground or I will open fire,” yells the officer who maced her.
“Okay, that’s enough of this shit. Let’s go,” Iza says blinking to clear her vision some more.
I grab her around the waist and run.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gods, my eyes are still burning. What kind of torture device is this mace? Do I need to get some for the assholes who keep coming here trying to kill me?
“Iza, you can stop whining now. I’ve healed the actual injuries,” Nika chastises. Apparently, I was complaining out loud. Again.
“It still stings.”
“It will for a few hours. There’s no way to get it off your skin completely. Not even with Magiks,” she answers, smacking me on the arm as I walk off.
“Did you get the new Feyrie fed? I need to ask them questions and I’d rather they have some comfort first,” I ask Jameson as he catches up to me. I’m already heading towards the wing the Sidhe made for them. I ask for Auryn to be summoned.
“Yes, and the healers have already been to see them as well. Arista is asking for you,” he answers, sliding his finger across the screen of the brand new iPad he’s carrying.
I sort of miss the sound of the pages flipping.
The Sidhe makes my walk a fast one, thankfully, taking me straight to their wing by forming passages for me to walk the most direct route. I find several of the healing Feyrie there, hovering—especially over the small ones.
Most especially Minos.
Goblins are flashing in and out of existence, bringing supplies and tending to the ones who need tending. I look around at all of them, but my eyes are drawn again to Minos. He’s sitting up in a baby seat his red eyes following me.
I feel the smile form on my face while bending down to pick him up. “Well, hello there, handsome. I have someone I want you to meet.”
“My lady, I was told you—gods, is that a Nightmare child?” Right on time.
“Yes, Auryn. I have a feeling he’s connected to you. All things considering.”
Eyes wide, she puts a shaking hand out for Minos to wrap his tiny one around her finger. Clearing her throat, she says, “One of my daughters disappeared. This—this is her child.”
“His name is Minos. I think that he wants to be with Grandma.” I hand him over to her and look for Arista. Minos will be taken care of incredibly well. He needs to be with his family.
Arista isn’t wingless, so it’s strange that Kael gave her up to the humans. There’s a story there, and I want to hear it. In clean clothes, she steps out of a room off to the side and smiles at me hesitantly. I smile back and hope it’s kindly. I’m still working on that part of this job.
“I need you to tell me how—” I indicate the room full of people. “—this happened.”
“The king came to me a year ago…” Arista looks around and hesitates. The room blurs around us as the Sidhe, sensing my need for privacy, obliges, and forms a privacy shield around us. Well, that’s neat.
“Continue,” I urge.
“He came to me a year ago and said I needed to go into town and meet a man who was going to provide some much needed supplies for our colony. I was surprised by the request. I’d never been asked to leave before, but I went because he ordered me to.” For a moment, her eyes burn amber with anger.
Then she continues, “They knew exactly what I was. They were prepared for a fight, and I didn’t even shift before I was knocked out cold. I woke up in that place surrounded by other Feyrie.” She clenches her jaw a few times and continues.
“There were other dragons at the beginning—special ones. The wingless. They’re supposed to be revered by dragon-kin, but our king insisted that none survived birth since his father’s reign. He lied to all of us. Wingless cannot shift, but they wield potent Magiks. Some of them are children, my lady.”
“How many?” I ask.
“Eleven. They moved them somewhere else a few days ago. Our king, he betrayed them. He betrayed us all.” He’s the one who told them about me. That sonofabitch bartered people—I’ll get them back, and then I’ll deal with Kael. Or perhaps it isn’t me that will deal with him.
“You’re safe here. Kael can’t hurt you. I’ll find the wingless.”
And I will.
“My lady, in the time I’ve been there—there have been hundreds of Feyrie brought there.”
This brings me up short. Hundreds?
“Where are they?” I demand.
“They’ve sent them to other facilities spread throughout the world. I heard the humans talking.”
“Do you know of any specifically?”
She wrings her hands in anxiety as she answers. “I know some of the towns.”
“That’s a start. Can you please give them all to Jameson?” She nods, and because I have no idea how to help her feel better, I stand there awkwardly.
“Come, Arista, let’s get you some hot food.” Nika to the rescue.
The adrenaline that’s been sustaining me for the last month is gone I think. And the mental momentum I’ve managed to keep up falls around me in broken shards. I’m shaky, and the image of the dead Feyrie in some of those cells is haunting me. They were murdered, only an hour from the Sidhe. From safety.
Minos’s mother is dead.
My mother is dead.
At damn near a run, I head outside. The crunch of leaves beneath my tired feet doesn’t have the happy effect it normally carries. The heat of a tear sliding down my cheek is quickly followed by another. I shove my hands in my pockets and keep walking. And the tears keep falling, just like the leaves.
For the first time since I escaped I have no will to fight it anymore, the healthy choice is to let go and truly grieve. For my mother, for the childhood ripped away from me and for the pure injustice of it all. Something I haven’t let myself do. This will be my choice!
I walk until the toes of my boots touch the edge of the lake. Looking down at the calm waters, my rage boils up. Letting the tears pour out of me, I scream into the night. Then I start kicking the ground. Over and over, I kick it, and with each strike, a little more pain comes out.
The pain for the people I didn’t save. For the people, I can’t save. For the mother who died because of me. For everything I’ve lost and will lose. The wind rips it away from me and pulls it into the cold waters of the lake.
“Why them?” I scream, into the night sky. “Why me?” I scream again, sobbing.
Tired of it all, I collapse onto my knees in the mud. Ignoring the cold wetness seeping into my pants, I say, “To whatever god is out there, I beg you. Help me. They can’t fight. If the Light Fey come, they will be slaughtered, and I can’t live with that. Please,” I sob, “help me save them.”
“Have you ever heard the story of creation?” The voice startles me. I look up to see the homeless man from the park. He’s still wearing the filthy orange coat and no hat. I hiccup, wipe my face to hide my shame and climb to my feet.
“No, can’t say I have,” I answer, pulling the hat off my head and putting it on his.
The Sidhe has no idea he’s here. A human who can sneak past the Sidhe is an interesting human. Or not a human at all. He doesn’t smell—well, he smells a lot, but he doesn’t smell non-human. Isn’t that interesting? He smiles at me, exposing the gap where his front teeth should be.
Hiccuping another sob—damn things don’t go away—I try to smile back.
“I have a shack just over the hill there with a fire. I hope you don’t mind it’s there. I don’t bother anyone.” He turns and starts shuffling along. Not really feeling like going back to the Sidhe—and incredibly curious about him—I follow.
“I heard all the yelling and came to make sure no one was fiddling about. When I saw you kneeling there, I figured you might need someone to pull you from the place you were heading to. Not a good road to travel, grief.” He pauses to catch his breath then continues, “Besides I kinda wanted some company.”
He does indeed have a little shack. It even has a small window in the front that has the glowing flicker of a fire inside. He opens the door and ushers me in. Closing it behind him, he dusts off one of the milk crates around the fire burning merrily in a large metal pan, and waves towards it.
Sitting, I watch him move around to hang up his coat and hat I gave him. He dusts off his crate and smiles that gap-toothed smile again before sitting down.
His home is small but surprisingly clean, and not what I’d expect by looking at him.
“That’s a fine hat. I appreciate you sharing it,” he says, rubbing his hands together beside the fire. Silently, I watch him. The feeling of calm I’m getting from being near him is nice, and I’m not going to question it. Not this time.
“Like I was saying—the story of creation. Strange that one like you has never heard it. But then again, not many care about it anymore. Shame that, it’s a good story.” He runs a wrinkled hand down his scruffy, bearded face then continues.
“When this world was born, there were three: Light, Life, and Darkness. Bored and curious, two of those three worked together and created the first five. The sun, water, air, earth, and of course, spirit. These first five were all given specific things to do, and because they were so happy doing it, they became the things they were born to be.” He pauses and blows his nose loudly into a worn handkerchief.
Then he resumes his story, “Life and Light, having made the first five, felt satisfied in their creations. But Darkness, who was the first to touch the worlds, didn’t know what to create. So, Darkness made nothing.” He pauses and opens up a can of sardines that he dug out of one of his pockets.
“One day, Life and Light go off to create in other places, other worlds. Darkness was left alone.” He takes a long drink out of a dirty cup and offers it to me. I take it, sip then hand it back. It’s the best water I’ve tasted in my life.
“Years later, Life stops in to check on Darkness and sees how empty his world is. After a bit of encouragement, Life shows him how to create, and that’s when Darkness made the Eldest, the second-born.” Slurping up a sardine, he smiles his gappy smile with bits of fish in his teeth and says, “Life was concerned about the strength of these creations; Darkness wasn’t as picky as he when creating, so he gave each of them a specific task much like the first.” He offers me a sardine, and of course, I take it—it’s food.
“When Light saw what Darkness created, Light became angry with Life for showing Darkness how to create. You see, worshiped by all the Light creations thus far. Light considered themselves to be superior to Life and Darkness. So, when Darkness created the Feyrie, Light made ones opposite them. It became a competition to Light, you see? So were born the varied races of the Light Fey and the Dark Feyrie. Oddly enough, the Schoth were the first race of the Light Fey to be created. They call them elves here. Ya believe that?” He smiles at me again and eats the rest of his sardines.
“Life, seeing how Light was so jealous, decided to make other creations in other places. Including this world. Humans and every animal and insect that graces this planet.” He sighs. “The truth of it is, Life ran and hid like a coward.” He stares into the fire his blue eyes seeing something I can’t. I wait. I can sense the story isn’t over.
“It’s then that everything went wrong. The Light creatures began to fight the Dark ones. And in that war, a foolish, vain creature tried to capture and enslave his creator, the Darkness. So the Darkness ate him. And in eating him, Darkness became aware like a man and in that awareness, he began to hate, and as he hated, he destroyed.” A single crystal tear runs down his cheek.
“For the first time since he became aware of existence, Life touched his feet to the world. Saddened by the bloodshed that existed even before his brother took on the thoughts of the mortals, he came to try and stop it. And on his walk through the world, he found a Feyrie child dying on the road. A beautiful child with red eyes and wings. She was given a mortal wound from a Schoth arrow. She was days away from her sixth birthday.” Another tear falls down his cheek, and my chest gets tight.
“With a heavy heart, he sat and pulled the child onto his lap and discovered just how special the child was. “It was not the Darkness that caused this; she said to him.”
A shiver races up my spine. I know who this story is about.
“As she lay dying in his arms, she whispered words to him in a voice not her own, speaking the very first Prophecy. This senseless death made Life angry but, being the creature that he is, he can’t take a life. He can only give it. So he did the only thing he could do. He told another of the first Prophecy. And they told another. And so forth and so on. Until it’s taught to every Feyrie child born.”
He lights a cigarette and offers me one. I decline.
“The rules, always the rules, right? Stonewalled by his own rules, Life couldn’t change what was to come, but he could nudge it. So he did. So he does.” He smiles a sad smile and blows his nose on a stained tissue.
“Nice story,” I comment. Explains why there’s such a fixation on the prophecy too. I still have no idea what he is. Still smells human and I can’t detect any glamour or Magiks.
So I ask, “How did humans come to know it?” I’ll play along for a bit. My body is tired, and sitting next to this small fire is making me feel better.
“I’m an old man who likes to gather stories. I have a good memory, and I’ve lived a long life.” He smiles his gap-toothed smile, and I smile back.
And I’m a rocket scientist, bud.
“I heard you were asking for help, and I bet you’re not someone who asks for it often. So I’ll put my two cents in this. I wouldn’t be too surprised if the answer you’re looking for is waiting right outside that door,” he says with a rather smug smile on his face. Standing, I start to cross the small room to the window to see what’s outside the door.
“Just a little longer if you don’t mind. It’s been a long time since I had such pleasant company.” Laughing a little, I sit back down. Silly of me to think he meant literally.
“What kind of person do you think you are?”
I sigh. That’s a good question. “I kill things.” Oh, such eloquence I have.
“You know the girl at the prison? You gave her freedom from more suffering. She begged you for death, and you gave her the mercy of it. The others? They deserved what they got. Be what you were created to be.”
Shocked, I lift my eyes to meet his and find they are no longer just blue. They are the prettiest, brightest blue I have ever seen. And I know them. They were the eyes of the girl I killed in the cafeteria. And I thought of the few others that I tried to help over the years, all with identical blue eyes. How did I not notice the sameness?
“It wasn’t fair for you to suffer alone. So I tried to make sure that sometimes you had a little company or a way to show that heart you hide so deep. You gave everything you could to help others. Your food, water, and occasionally your laughter. That was the greatest gift of all. That despite all the shit you went through, you still laugh. And you shared those laughs with me.”
