Chapter 5
M y first coherent thought in Faery is that I’m thankful I wore the jacket.
There’s a chill in the air not born of frost or snow, and there’s none of that to be found around me anyway. It’s the kind of bone-deep iciness I associate with old graveyards, the kind that has way too many ghosts lingering about mourning the forgotten, messy chapters of their lives.
A graveyard is a fitting description for its appearance too.
The corpses of gnarled old trees reach toward gray skies, leaves long gone and bark paled by time.
Patches of pale, long grassy sway in the faintest hint of a breeze on an otherwise rock-strewn, barren ground.
It’s hilly here, obscuring much of my view, but the rising slopes around the valley in which I stand all look equally bleak.
Not far away, I spy a narrow stream winding its way through the desolation.
Thank goodness for that at least.
Water means life. It hasn’t all left this place. Of course, it can’t, since the Unseelie persist, but how they manage to eke out survival here is beyond me. I balked a little at the number of protein bars Selena suggested I pack. Now I’m grateful for every one.
In theory, the Unseelie will be overjoyed to find a human in their territory, especially a young female one like myself.
Human spirits mean magic. Power, something they desperately need.
It’s expected they’ll keep me alive, likely even treat me decently, because of that.
They’ll want me to stay, to show my favor, to let one of them, maybe even their king, take me as a mate and mark me.
It was a fear I had before I ever dialed the headmistress about applying for the position.
As little as I know, I understand the relationship between fae and humans, how the closer the relationship, the more power is granted to the fae.
I know what their king must be desperate for.
And while it’s a card I may need to play to get what I want—a cure for Matt.
Madeline suggested I may need to play it for the coven’s purposes—killing the king, preferably for me after I get a cure for Matt.
So it’s one I hope to keep tucked as close to my chest as possible.
But if it comes to that, well… What wouldn’t I do to save someone I love?
That grim thought in mind, I step away from the circle of stones. They’re much larger in Faery, the circle wider. It looks eerily like Stonehenge, with towering monoliths and a few long stones precisely balanced on top, creating little vertical doorways here and there.
Doors marking a door. I almost snort at the literalness of it all.
I shift the pack on my back and glance one more time at the circle of stones. It’s obvious enough if I need it, but right now, what I need more than anything is to move. Because if I stay here, near the doorway, I’m afraid I’ll decide to go back through it.
It takes me a little while to realize what is so incredibly odd and unsettling about the Unseelie lands, besides the dead trees, dry, cracked land, and general end-of-the-world vibe the place has.
It’s the lack of sound.
At home, things are never quiet. Whether it’s the TV, radio, or general buzz of human conversation, there’s always something making noise.
Even at night, I hear the distant traffic noise, the hum of the air conditioner, and the weird noises my fridge always makes.
Away from the city, the sounds are different but still there.
Bugs, birds, a breeze ruffling the leaves of trees.
Not so here.
There are a few nature sounds, strange, occasional noises that may be bugs, the odd rustle of something in the tall, pale grasses.
But they’re few and far between, and there’s no human-type noise to fill the cracks.
What’s left is unnerving, unnatural silence.
It’s the absence of life, the lack of something I’ve taken for granted as always being present, and the void of it has me feeling more vulnerable than if I walked around naked.
Maybe that’s why I keep feeling like something is watching me. My senses want there to be something out there to help fill the missing sounds.
I just hope it’s not something planning to stalk me and feast on my bones.
I have pepper spray and an iron dagger, but a creature would have to get far too close for those to be helpful.
Before I left, I’d suggested a gun. But apparently, the fae can be weird about human creations that are so different from the things in their world, and we’re trying not to arouse suspicions or get me on their bad list.
Still, it feels like that would have been a risk worth taking. At least it would have given me some comfort out here. Not that I have any experience using one.
I follow the stream I spied for a few hours.
Fae, like humans, need water to survive, so it makes sense that I might find the Unseelie near water.
The occasional gurgle of water over stones is a comfort amid the silence.
Here and there, the land is less desolate, the foliage a little less dry.
I even spot a few golden yellow mushrooms. They’re not one of the ingredients for the potion, but their existence gives me hope that the things I need may still grow here.
Scanning the ground for them while I walk helps keep my panic down.
A small gray boulder nearby beckons like a park bench, and I take the opportunity to rest. Above, the sky is still gray, the sun and sky obscured. However, I can tell that the sun has slid lower.
Shit. It’s going to be dark before too long.
There’s a sleeping bag rolled up and attached to my pack.
Because of course spending the night outdoors was a possibility.
But in my head, I just assumed I would find Unseelie quickly, or they would find me.
After all, a human is like gold to them, right? They need me.
But I guess that only matters if they know I’m here.
I sigh and kick at the ground. “Should have brought a flare or something.” My lips press in a thin line as I survey my surroundings. No plumes of smoke. No buildings. No signs of civilization anywhere.
I should go back. I drop my head into my palms and let out a groan of frustration. “It’s not quitting if it’s just a change of plans, right?”
That’s what I need, a change of plans. Not just tromping through Unseelie territory expecting to find someone or something I need. Madeline felt sure the Unseelie would find me. After all, the Seelie can feel when someone enters their doors.
But their land isn’t dead or dying. Their magic hasn’t faded.
I stare back in the direction I came from.
Maybe I should have just stayed at the door.
Or better yet, entered through the Seelie territory.
That’s what I suggested, but everyone in charge of this little mission seemed to feel like that would make it too obvious that I was bait.
Better to say I illegally opened a door and came here for my own purposes.
Which, honestly, I might have if I’d known about it sooner or had the means to do so.
Unfortunately, our records don’t say exactly where here is. The Unseelie may have long abandoned this section of territory for all we know.
I plant my hands on the rock, ready to push to my feet, when a tingle of awareness starts at the back of my neck before sliding down my spine.
It freezes me in place, sending a shiver across my skin.
The moment the feeling passes, I twist around, expecting to see nothing but desolate landscape like all the times before.
But something large shifts in the corner of my vision, sliding behind a formation of large rocks.
A scream claws up my throat, and I barely choke it down. I jump to my feet, stumbling backward, nearly pulled down by the weight of my pack.
Something is out there. Or someone?
I don’t know, but everything in me screams to run. So I do, jogging back the way I came and trying not to trip over a rock and break a leg.
It doesn’t take long before I’m huffing for breath. My pack is heavy, and I am not in the best shape for this. Hiking through fae territory was nowhere on my radar before a week ago, not to mention that my gym membership is criminally underused.
I stop just a moment to catch my breath. One cool gulp after another, I suck down the chilly air. I’ve almost convinced myself that whatever I saw was a trick of my mind when I spy a figure moving my way, one that’s eerily human enough in shape that they must be fae.
They don’t run. It’s just one measured step after another in a determined stride straight toward me.
They don’t wave, don’t call out.
My heart pounds like I’ve been dropped into a horror film because that’s exactly the fear playing through my mind. I’ve seen one too many movies where the villain just stalks slowly, methodically, and silently toward the heroine, who screams and runs away, only to be inevitably caught.
I reach for the hilt of the dagger sheathed at my thigh, savoring the sharp sting of the cool metal against my palm.
I’m about to turn and run again, to follow my instincts, when a little voice whispers, But aren’t you looking for fae? Don’t you need their help?
Shit. I do.
But this, waiting around like a potential victim, goes against every survival instinct I have. My hand wraps around the dagger hilt, metal pressing hard into my skin.
Matt needs that potion. This is why you’re here.
It is. And it’s that thought that forces me to stand, legs shaking, and swallow down the tightness in my throat as the figure advances through the gloomy afternoon.
A rare breeze rushes by, fluttering my clothes and pulling at my ponytail.
But it doesn’t move the clothing of the advancing fae, which is eerier than their silence.