When the Fae Come

Irvette wrapped her cloak (made of a light-as-air, shimmering fabric few humans had ever touched, let alone worn) tight around her sore, tired body. It offered no relief from the chill in her bones.

She sighed, wishing to start a fire. But Irvette was in her caravan’s camping grounds and couldn’t risk the smoke drawing curiosity.

To her right, the sound of twigs snapping underfoot was soft, yet Irvette’s ears picked up the distinctive noise. She flinched and moved closer to the enormous tree she’d spent the night propped up against.

Her hand grasped the bone dagger that hung at her hips, a habit born of necessity. A mixture of fright and eagerness gripped her heart, made it beat like the wings of a startled bee.

She’d dreamed of this moment for days and had imagined every outcome of the coming encounter. Irvette had rehearsed her words until she could repeat them backward. She’d prepared for nothing in her life as she had for this conversation.

Irvette peeked around the tree at the wooded area before her. She spotted the approaching person.

The man.

Her insides twisted. Bitter bile crept up her throat.

God once again proved He had no kindness. Nor did He resist reminding her of all she’d sacrificed.

Is this how He declared her a fool?

The sun shone through the overhead canopy and illuminated the man’s square, ruddy face. Kelvin, the man Irvette had planned to marry before she’d abandoned her future for heroism, was solemn as he surveyed their caravan’s territory. His muddy brown eyes, so sharp and penetrating, took in his surroundings. He was a terrifying force to reckon with.

The urge to cry swept over Irvette. She’d done that to him.

Before she’d fled, Kelvin had been a sweet man. He’d always been strong and impressive in stature, but his caring nature had tempered his imposing presence. That’s what had drawn her to him, and what had made her agree to his marriage proposal.

The man she saw now differed from the one she’d fallen in love with. She hated herself for changing him so.

Kelvin overtook her hiding spot. Irvette held her breath and huddled against the tree so firmly the jagged bark dug into her skin.

Though she wanted to reach out, to chip away his hard exterior until she found his true self, Irvette didn’t make a move that would alert him to her presence. She hadn’t come for him. She’d have to return later if she survived the task that had brought her back from Faery and salvage what she could with Kelvin.

Kelvin wandered out of sight.

Irvette rested her forehead on the tree’s damp, rough trunk. Her heart still raced, and her pounding blood deafened the sounds of life waking around her. A trembling started at her core and spread until every part of Irvette shook.

She cursed as she willed her body to calm. She couldn’t afford to turn into a mess, not so close to finishing her mission.

To draw her attention away from Kelvin, Irvette tipped her head back to stare at the pastel blue sky. Despite her crushed feelings, the incredibleness of the human world dumbfounded her. She marveled at the dull, muddled way of the realm. She drew comfort from being where she belonged. Shame she had such a limited time to enjoy it.

Shallow breathing behind her startled Irvette. She unsheathed her dagger and whirled to meet her attacker. She had the blade against the person’s throat before her mind registered the person.

Irvette dropped her hand and stepped back. Her face flushed.

“I’m so sorry,” she told her older sister, Darby.

Darby nodded, her dark blue eyes round. “No, I—It’s fine.” She gulped. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

“How—How have you been?”

Irvette regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth. One glance at her sister said everything.

Darby’s once healthy complexion now resembled sour milk. The skin under her eyes had turned so black it looked like she’d rubbed coals there. She’d lost the weight she’d had that had kept her frame willowy instead of skeletal, and her hair hung in matted clumps around her gaunt face.

Irvette opened her arms. “Oh, Darby.”

Darby stepped into Irvette’s embrace.

She cradled her sister, and Darby’s brittleness horrified her. Her sister was more like a creature Irvette had come across in her adventures. The comparison sickened Irvette, and she almost shoved Darby away.

God, how she hated the monsters—faeries—she’d given her service to. If it would work, she’d sell her soul to kill them all and protect humans from their cruel ways.

As if she sensed Irvette’s troubled thoughts, Darby backed away. She took in her younger sister’s appearance, only a shade better than her own. Darby’s cracked, swollen lips pursed as a furious glint hardened her eyes.

“Where is she?”

The coldness of Darby’s tone surprised Irvette. She couldn’t understand her sister’s sudden change of mood. Did Darby blame her for last year?

But why would she?

She knew Irvette loved her niece, that Irvette had delighted in every moment she’d spent with Mackensie. Would Irvette have entered an unknown world, done unspeakable acts, risked her life for a child she’d endangered?

“I don’t have her yet.”

Admitting this, all the excitement she’d had earlier disappeared. The painful truth she’d avoided since Lurhue, the Seelie King, had given his last order, surfaced.

Irvette’s plan was impossible. She would fail.

She’d tricked herself into thinking she had a chance. Irvette should have acted like everyone else and turned a blind eye to the actions of faeries. Humans were powerless against them, and to think she could confront them and come out the victor made her denser than a newborn babe.

Little surprise why God mocked her.

An image of Mackensie, sobbing and pleading for Irvette to take her home, filled Irvette’s mind. The last Irvette had seen, bruises had covered Mackensie’s cheeks from where a fae had pinched her, and she’d appeared sickly, almost as bad off as her mother. She wouldn’t survive much longer. The poor child didn’t have it in her to fight anymore.

The memory shook away the hopelessness that had tried settling like tar on Irvette’s soul.

Before she’d left Faery, Lurhue had allowed Irvette a few precious moments with her niece. Irvette had promised (like she did whenever Lurhue let Irvette visit Mackensie) she would save her. Until God wrenched her final breath from her lungs, Irvette would keep her promise.

“I will get her back,” Irvette declared, her voice steady and sure.

Darby’s lips pursed. “You said when you came back, you’d have her.”

“You just have to wait a couple of more days.”

“I’ve waited two years!”

“Two years? No, it’s only been—”

Irvette had been warned things were different in Faery. Why had she never considered time didn’t pass the same? Faery was full of cruel tricks.

Red stained Darby’s face. She leaned toward Irvette, and the scent of whiskey wafted from her. Her eyes darkened with unshed tears. “You’ve played me.”

“What?”

“This has been a game for you. A disgusting game that—You’re crazy!”

Irvette winced.

There couldn’t be a notable distance between them and Kelvin. If he heard Darby shouting, he’d be back before Irvette could outrun him.

“Please don’t do that. If I’m caught, I lose Mackensie for good.”

Darby shook her head. “A wolf got my daughter, not some damn faeries,” she said, her voice as loud as ever. “I despise I let you convince me otherwise. I’ve wasted time praying for a lie.”

Tears dripped off either side of Darby’s jaw and dampened the front of her rumpled dress. “You’re a demon that’s haunted me for far too long. I hate you.”

A weak blow to Irvette’s shoulder followed Darby’s words. The pain it inflicted was all emotional. It pierced her unsuspecting heart. The attack affected her worse than seeing Kelvin after all that had happened.

Irvette and Darby had a strong bond. Less than two years separated them, and from the moment Irvette walked, the sisters had been bound as if by an invisible cord. Irvette would do anything for Darby. Darby couldn’t concoct a wild story she wouldn’t listen to, wouldn’t consider as truth.

If Darby were in Irvette’s shoes and vice versa, Irvette wouldn’t have turned on Darby. No matter the awful situation, Irvette would have trusted Darby was doing everything in her power and would have stood behind her until the very end.

Why couldn’t Darby be the same way? Why had she given up when Irvette had never failed her before?

“Darby, I’m about to get Mackensie back.” Irvette kept the heartache from her tone. She couldn’t overreact.

If she remained calm, her sister would see reason. She’d regain Darby’s faith.

Darby raked her ragged fingernails across Irvette’s right cheek. “Liar!”

This time, her sister’s attack hurt in the earthly sense. Irvette touched her cheek and pulled back a blood-coated palm. She gaped at it as if she’d never bled before. As if the scratches were the worst injuries she’d ever endured.

A ridiculous thought.

Faeries were the most disgusting, malicious beings in all existence, regardless of the court they belonged to. The ones Irvette had had the displeasure of meeting hadn’t been hesitant about inflicting their creative tortures on her.

She’d have nightmares for the rest of her life, never gain freedom from what she’d undergone. Even if she won back her niece, she’d still lose. Her time in Faery would linger in the back of her mind, ready to swallow her sanity whole and spiral her into madness.

But Darby drawing blood from her was a more daunting reality to deal with.

During many of her ordeals in Faery, Irvette had been on the cusp of breaking down, of giving in and accepting defeat. Somehow, she’d found the strength to overcome the desire and push on.

Irvette should have handled Darby’s behavior with little thought. Yet Darby’s simple, childish action left Irvette shattered.

“I...”

“Go!” Spittle dripped from Darby’s lips.

She shoved Irvette and Irvette stumbled. She tripped over a sizable branch and landed hard on her bottom.

Irvette sat, the world around her spinning, and the dew from the grass soaked her skirt. She focused through tears on the enraged, corpse-like figure standing over her that shared no resemblance to her sister.

The character, a brute as incapable of mercy as any fae, kicked at Irvette. Its muddy boot connected with Irvette’s left knee and she yelped.

“Leave, filth.” The figure launched another well-aimed kick. “Never come back.”

The pain of the first kick had shaken Irvette’s stunned conscience, and she scrambled away in time to avoid the second. She hoisted herself to her feet and turned away.

One more blow, this one a fist, found its mark between Irvette’s shoulder blades. It caused her first running steps to wobble, but she kept her balance.

Without a glance back, Irvette vanished.

Even with Mackensie returned alive, she couldn’t go home. Faeries had ruined everything for Irvette when they’d entered her life. She couldn’t fix the damage.

The truth tried to pull more whimpers from her, but Darby’s brutality had stolen them all. Irvette had become a withered husk of a human.

But she would forge ahead.

Until her last breath, she’d promised.