Chapter 50

I was back in Faerie.

I could hear the distant sound of water, the air whipping through my fingers then rolling through the trees. It spun then came back to me, carrying the gentle songs of little faerie voices as they danced among the trees.

Around me loomed the Willo Forest, only a version of it as it once was, before the Hunt. Faces peered out at me from the trees, smiling and singing, flitting and leaping from branch to branch. Tall beautiful women with skin the deep brown of oak bark looked down at me with long willowy hair. I spun around on my toes, smiling and dancing with them, my head thrown back. My hair cascaded down from my head, brushing against my skin.

"This is how it was, and how it could be," whispered a deep voice, the sound of it carrying on the wind. "What it could be like, with you."

I felt a flutter at my back and I looked to see a pair of large graceful wings. They shifted as I did, long and sweeping, a dark violet color. At a single thought, they shifted, moving back and forth and lifting me from the ground.

I smiled, pure euphoric joy filling my veins. I lifted higher and higher until I was among the clouds. The air was cool and damp, the currents leading me through the sky. I flew then, flying high over Faerie. Over rivers and fields of endless flowers, to wide sprawling valleys that were filled with beautiful creatures I had only ever imagined. In the distance I could see The Ashthorn Mountains, their tall icy peaks. But then the air shifted, and a foul scent prickled at my nose.

Smoke.

I followed the mountains down to its base, then to the darkened forests of the Dark Courts. Plumes of smoke spread from there, flames flickering up from the forest. I flew closer, tears filling my eyes, cries of agony filling the air.

No, no, no.

I followed the cry, falling down to the nighttime jungle. Only now the fire was gone, a lone figure standing in the shadows. Curious, I pushed past long hanging branches to reach them. Just as I entered a patch of moonlight, a flock of pixies took to the air, screaming out shrill cries of warning. Before I could heed it, the figure shifted, moving forward from the shadows, holding a long sword, his body covered in blood that dripped down from his hair, his dark curls sticking to his golden skin. Fiery red eyes met mine in the moonlight, a wide macabre smile on his face.

I backed away.

"No, not you."

I turned and ran, skipping over roots and branches, my bare feet digging into the slick muddy ground. I could hear his footsteps behind me and panic filled my veins. Around me vicious snarls sounded at every turn, cornering me with blood-red eyes. I tried to take back to the air, but my wings were gone. When I looked down at my hands they were slick with blood, but not my own.

Up ahead a clearing parted, filled with glowing lights. I raced for it, scrambling through thick trees, clawing at them and fending them off as they tried to hold me back until finally, I was free. I stopped, gasping for breath.

Across from me was a waterfall, tricking bright cerulean water down into a small pool. The lights were hovering balls of fire. There was a splash and when I looked down there was Ronan, smiling up at me, droplets of water catching in his lashes. He leaned against the water's edge.

"Heather," he whispered, holding out a hand. "Come to me."

Mesmerized, I placed my hand in his and he pulled me into the water. It was warm against my skin, his body enveloping me with a familiar fiery heat. I tilted my head back and let out a relieved sigh, pleasure charging through my body in invigorating jolts. I forgot why I had been running, I forgot my fear, and I sunk down in the water, feeling the caress of Ronan's lips, soft and gentle against my neck. I lifted his head to mine, meeting his lips hungrily and soon his hands were entangled in my hair, his body pressing against mine.

He pulled back, murmuring, "I've missed you."

I opened my eyes and we were no longer in the water, but up on the same dais Queen Kiera had sat on during the revel. He pulled away from me holding out his hand, turning to the large ballroom, fires licking up the walls, bodies piled high and bloody, lifeless eyes staring back at me.

I choked back a scream, trying to free my hand from his grasp.

"For you, my Queen," he said. "All for you. I give you the world and my heart." He turned me back to him, his eyes holding a softness that didn't match the scene. "Stay with me, my love."

I parted my lips to reply, but then a voice called me. I turn from Ronan to see Oisin approaching clad entirely in white. He moved towards me, stepping over the bodies, and as he passed they all spring back to life, their limbs back where they belonged, their bodies cleaned of blood, and they started to dance around the room. Oisin held out his hand to me, beckoning me off the dais.

"That's not where you are meant to be, Heather," he said. "Come with me and we will find your true path."

But I hesitated, turning again to Ronan, only his smile was gone. He was now in the bloodied clothes from the revel. I let go of his hand, reaching instead for Oisin.

But I was too late. When I tried to reach for Oisin, he was holding his chest, bright red blooming at his fingers and spreading out to color his entire shirt red.

He fell, and so did everyone else. Ronan was standing behind him, holding a bloodied knife, the same look he had worn after killing Hekate taking over his face as he let out a laugh that chilled my entire body.

Fire filled the air until I choked and collapsed. Strong arms lifted me, and I looked up into Ronan's cold face. I cried out and clawed at him, but he didn't let go, he didn't even look at me, his gaze filled with flames.

"Only you can stop him," said the same voice as before. "Come back, Heather, and stop this before it begins."

The world shifted with darkness on either side of me. It stretched out, never ending.

"Stop what?" I asked, spinning in search of the voice. I stopped when I saw a lone pale figure standing in the darkness. I remembered this place from when Hekate captured me. The figure loomed closer. I recognized his red rimmed eyes and the long graceful horns curving up off of his head.

"You," I said, stepping back. But Ankou didn't stop.

"Yes. My kind can influence dreams even in your realm."

He moved towards me, circling me before he stopped in front of me. I realized I stood there in the same bed clothes I had worn to my own bed that night when I went to sleep. I pressed my lips together and glared up at him.

"You're the reason for my nightmares."

Ankou tilted his head, his eyes closing as if weary. "The Trials begin, child. There is not much time. You must return."

I laughed. "You realize I'll just make him stronger, right? If I come back and he gets a hold of me, you are all doomed." I clenched my jaw. "Now get out of my head."

Ankou sighed with an air of impatience, closing his eyes. "You can make him stronger, yes. I have seen your abilities with my own eyes. Which is why you must return. You have a power in your veins that far exceeds my own."

I snorted, incredulous. "Get out."

"You are his weakness, Heather." He opened his eyes, and I was surprised to see a plea there. "He could use you, yes--but only if you let him. There is more to you than you know."

But I stepped back, turning my head. I left all of this behind, and having Ankou come back and intrude on my dreams just brought back the pain of those first few months after leaving Faerie. I held up my hands.

"I'm free from all of that now."

"Please, listen--"

"No," I said stonily, refusing to listen to another word. I backed away. My craft, Ronan, Oisin--it was all too much. I fisted my hands in my hair, feeling the same gaping loss as if it were the day I came through the portal all over again. I hated Ankou. I hated him for doing this, for reopening these wounds.

But Ankou didn't give up, following me with long sweeping steps. His voice was desperate."You must kill him--"

"Get. Out. Of. My. Head!" I screamed, unable to listen to another word.

#

Unable to sleep, I padded down the hallways of my home, tugging on a robe to fend off the chilly air. It had been like this since I returned, always cold. Even in the humid heat of summer, a chill lingered against my skin. I reached my kitchen, surprised to see a light on. I adjusted my sleeves making sure they covered my wrists, and the thick burning welts there.

They had started to form one month after I returned. I liked to think it meant Oisin was still alive.

I swallowed down my trembling breaths, sucking air into my tired and frail body. No one had been able to figure out what was wrong with me, most of all my mother, and I knew it troubled her to see me like that. I of course knew, but I couldn't tell anyone the truth.

Not that I could lie anymore either.

I peered into the kitchen to see my mother there, nursing a cup of wine. She stared down into it's clear depths and I licked my lips, the flavor of Faerie wine coming to me with a deep yearning. Mom swirled the contents of her glass and sighed, exhaustion engraved into her features. While I had been missing for those few months, my mother had appeared to age by years. She had never given up.

I parted from the shadows.

"Just get home?"

She started, looking up at me, and a gentle smile flitted across her lips. "Why are you up?"

I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and propping myself next to her where she leaned against the kitchen island, pouring some wine into my glass. I didn't want to trouble my mom further, but I also couldn't come up with a way to twist my words away from the truth without lying.

"Just bad dreams," I said, trying to keep my tone light, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. It wasn't the first time Ankou had visited me, nor was it the first time I had woken, screaming for him to get out of my head.

Mom sipped her wine, her expression turning distant. "How many more sessions do you have with the therapist?"

I looked away. When I had turned up in Ireland three months ago I had flummoxed all the officers on my case. As far as they knew, I had vanished. Along with hundreds of other girls around the world.

When they questioned me, all I could tell them was that I was kidnapped on my way home at night and kept against my will. It was the closest to the truth I could get without sounding like a mad woman. When pressed further, I repeated that I couldn't tell them more.

As a result, I have been seeing a therapist. Our sessions were draining at the best of times as I tried to dance around the truth without telling a lie. The minute I muttered the word "faeries" I knew I would be opening a whole new rabbit hole of complicated questions.

"Four more I think," I replied. "Though she said I can keep coming as long as I need."

My mom stared into her wine, her gaze still distant. "That's good."

I watched her and sighed. "It's not your fault, mom."

She glanced up at me, then pressed her lips together. I knew her well enough to know she was blaming herself. She had been since I had returned.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you. If I had been around more I could have--"

I shook my head. "If anyone is to blame, I should be for walking alone at night."

My mom's face collapsed. She shook her head. "Oh no." she held her arms to me, beckoning me closer. "Don't say that, baby."

She drew me into a warm hug, and I sighed leaning my head against her shoulder. "Sometimes I just feel so lost," I said honestly. "Like I don't know where I'm going."

She pulled back from me smoothing my hair, tears filling her eyes in a rare display of emotion. She had been like this a lot since I came back, and though I treasured moments like this with her, I couldn't help but feel guilty for being the cause of it.

"That's normal at your age," she replied. "I know I have tried to push you and maybe I shouldn't have. I just worry." She smiled softly looking over my face. "But you are stronger than I gave you credit for. I know whatever path you end up taking will lead you to places even I cannot imagine. I should have trusted you more."

I smiled back at her. It was moments like this that a part of the painful hole inside of me started to fill and become less noticeable. But it was still there, no matter what. I looked away.

"It means a lot for you to say that, Mom."

She patted my head, turning to finish off the last of her wine. She sighed deeply, then glanced over at the clock on the kitchen stove. "Ah, I am on call tomorrow so I better try to get some rest just in case they end up calling me back in. "She gave my hair one last stroke, then leaned over to plant a kiss on my head. "You should get some sleep too."

I nodded, watching as she left before I turned back to my wine. I took a sip, but the flavor just wasn't right. I swirled it and sighed. I hadn't drank much since coming back, much to Mom and Dad's befuddlement. Nat hadn't tried to talk to me once, and I had heard she broke up with Brody. He, of course, had tried to call me more than once, but I couldn't be bothered to return his calls.

Everything that had seemed so important before just felt so meaningless now.

I was still tired and considered going to sleep like mom had said, but I didn't want to risk Ankou trying to enter my Dreams again. There had been an air of desperation to him tonight, and I didn't doubt if I fell asleep again now I would be plagued by nightmares. Unlike when I had been in Faerie, I had no way of keeping him out. I had bought dreamcatchers, but every time I woke up it had fallen to the floor.

I took my glass and wandered into the living room. Boxes sat against the wall, my Gran's old things. Dad had brought them down from the attic when I asked if I could look through them. I only had time to look through a few boxes, mostly filled with trinkets and random things. Little figurines carved by hands, jewels and gems set into mismatched jewelry, always made of gold or silver. The most peculiar thing had been the box filled with clear shimmering stones that caught in the light, changing from blue to purple and pink.

I seated myself on the comfortable couch, pulling up the latest box, and sipping on my wine before I set it on the table. I opened it up, surprised to find it full of old frames and pictures, delicately wrapped in tissue paper.

I smiled, pulling one off the top. It was me and dad, next to the hazel tree on a bright sunny day. My dad's youthful appearance as he smiled, the wind rustling both of our hair made him look more like an older brother. He was blonde, like how Gran had been when she was younger, and mom always teased him about inheriting her good looks.

I placed it down, grabbing another frame to unwrap, this one featuring Grandad. It was before I had been born and he sat out on Gran's porch, rocking in the chair, looking out over the hillsides. I remembered the story Gran told me of how they met. He had been several years older than her, but that had mattered little. She said the first time she saw him, she had never seen a man so happy and so full of life. In this photo, he had already been well on in his years, but that same brightness twinkled in his soft eyes.

Eventually I moved on to the next, but when I unwrapped it, the photo was missing. I heard something hit the ground softly, and I bent down to see the photo had fallen to the ground, writing on its back.

I picked it up, frowning as I made sense of the words.

Dearest Mab,

You are the sweetest breeze I ever wished to guide me through my day. Seeing you last week was a pleasure I could not ever forget, even if it must remain only a dream. If you would have me, I would like to see you again.

With love,

Hugh Kelly.

I stared at if for several long moments, trying to make sense of what I had just read. I stared at the name it was addressed to, a sinking feeling lingering in my stomach. But not nearly as much surprise as I thought. My fingers shook, and I read it over and over. Maybe it was an old letter to another woman, one coincidentally had the same name as the long-lost Queen of Faerie.

But as soon as I tried to consider such a thing, my reason struck it down. I turned the picture over, my heart racing as the truth became clearer and clearer.

Since I had left Faerie, their mark on our world had been revealed to me. The man that lingered out in the trees near the bus stop was not just a homeless man, but a troll who had come to this world to watch over his horde. There were girls and boys with hair that shimmered a little too much, or eyes that glinted unnatural shades. Buzzing creatures that flew through my hair that weren't insects but small little women out to investigate me, likely sensing the latent blood still flowing through my veins.

It was picture of Gran and Grandad when they had been young. Though I had seen this image many times growing from where it had sat next to Gran's bed, I knew this was the first time I was really seeing it.

There, Grandad stood, tall and youthful a smile that matched Dad's lighting up his entire face. And next to him, a tall, willowy woman of astounding beauty. That part of the picture was the same as it had always been. Gran's flaxen hair shone through the faded black and white of the image, her luminous blue eyes holding secrets and wisdom that had always seemed beyond her years.

And behind her was a pair of wings. The same wings I had worn in my dreams.

Faerie wings.