Chapter 11
Erid never got to finish her spell. Something big and wide, almost the size of a tree trunk, simply landed behind her with the gracefulness of a…well, cat.
It then proceeded to basically tear her head from her shoulders in one swift movement of a clawed paw.
A part of my mind still insisted that this wasn’t real, that this strangeness in my chest wasn’t real, that I was in a dream. Michael wasn’t screaming, and Jim and Jam weren’t running to the other side, deeper into the darkness of the woods, away from all of us. Michael wasn’t shooting his gun at the catfairie who was way too fast even for those bullets—the same catfairie we’d seen in that picture, with the body pieces of an agent sprawled all around him. A helmet, a boot, an arm.
Goddess, he really was as big and as scary as he’d looked in the picture.
And his paw went straight through Michael’s back when he simply materialized behind my team leader.
Well. Former team leader.
Now, Michael’s heart disappeared among the tall grass of the floor of the forest. He fell to his knees first, then on his face, never to stand again.
The catfairie looked at the blood dripping from his claws curiously.
So strange. So fucking strange—and not just my insides, but the outside, too.
So… fast.
Erid, dead. Michael, dead.
Me? Soon-to-be dead.
I’d forgotten to chant—of course I had. I’d forgotten to breathe, too, and maybe that’s why I could no longer even move my hands. Or was that the blood loss?
Could be.
All I knew was that I wanted to be satisfied. I wanted to be happy that I’d seen Michael die before he had the chance to kill me. Happy that my life wouldn’t end at the hand of the traitorous bastard, happy that I’d be cut into pieces by those curved claws instead.
Maybe it would have been better to die by Taland’s hands instead, whispered a voice in my head. But at least the catfairie will make it quick…
Big blue eyes with slit pupils over me. He was there, right there, barely a couple of feet away from me, and he wasn’t making a single sound, just watching me. Just coming closer to finish me off.
At least Jim and Jam had gotten away. They’d tell people what had happened, what Michael had tried to do.
At least Poppy would know how I died.
Warm breath on my face.
A snap and a loud thump came from somewhere in the woods—and it was so unusually quiet now that it was impossible to miss it. No birds chirping. No small animals running. Even the leaves and the water of the river were too afraid to make a sound.
My eyes blinked and the last thing I saw was the catfairie, who had leaned over me, turn his head to see where the sound had come from.
I passed out.
If you’re ever alone or in need of something, anything at all, go to the blue house behind the hill. I’ll find you there eventually.
Death felt strange.
I was happy that I hadn’t felt any pain besides getting shot in the leg by my team leader, the very guy who was supposed to give up his life to protect me. But I hadn’t felt the pain of claws slicing my body, and for that I was thankful.
Until my eyes opened and I saw light and I realized I hadn’t died. I hadn’t been sliced into tiny pieces by a seven-foot tall catfairie with claws. I hadn’t even died of blood loss from being shot in the leg.
No, I was still alive. Very much breathing.
Huh.
Sound came back to me all at once and my heart about stopped again—for good this time. Agents were all around me, and others wearing those white suits with the transparent helmets on were everywhere as well. So many of them, and not a one was holding a gun or a wand or a piece of bone that I could see. Everybody was talking as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be loud, as if there were no catfairies hiding in these trees about to tear us apart with their claws and eat us.
Memories came back to me in a rush despite my surroundings not making even a little bit of sense. Wasn’t I just about to die at the hands of a giant catfairie who’d killed two grown, powerful Iridians with ease? Hadn’t he been leaning right over me, his breath on my face, big blue cat-eyes looking down at me?
No sense.
“There she is.”
I would have jumped if I was capable of moving my body fast enough. As it was, I tried to lean my head back, to use my hands to push myself up, hold onto the raised roots of the tree near me—and I managed. I managed to sit up halfway, pain free.
Then I saw.
The scream came from the deepest part of me, and I instinctively brought both hands in front of my mouth to catch it before the entire state of Maryland heard it.
The seven-foot catfairie that had been about to cut me to pieces was on the ground two feet away from me, eyes open, lifeless, staring at the sky, his chest unmoving, a big chunk of it missing. A transparent bag lay over his body, so I saw every single detail.
“You okay, Agent La Rouge?”
I must have blinked a dozen times before I was able to make out the face of the man who was squatting near the catfairie’s legs, watching me, brown brows narrowed in concern. I knew him—Philip was his name, and he was a crime scene investigator. He wore a black suit and came out in the field after we were done with whatever assignment was given to us.
And now he was here with a few others of his department, along with Forensics.
Something is off here…
“What…what…where…” I looked around, farther ahead, expecting to find the others— all of them, until I saw the black plastic bags on the ground and I remembered that Erid and Michael were underneath them in pieces. They were dead.
Dead.
But the twins were alive. Jim and Jam were standing to the side, far enough away that I could barely see their faces, talking to a woman who was taking notes on a pad and a guy who was typing on a tablet.
What the actual fuck.
“It’s normal to be disoriented. You’ve been shot, lost a lot of blood,” Philip said, but I couldn’t look away from the twins and the catfairie, dead on the ground. So close.
“How?” I choked because the last time I was awake, I’d been sure I was going to die.
“You tell me, I guess,” Philip said, his warm brown eyes on my leg which was pulsating. Still bleeding a little bit. Not healed.
Which was almost funny because if all of these people were here, someone would have called a healing spell on me by now.
“The agents McMurray told us how you killed the big one. He was the reason why this bunch managed to live for as long as they did here in hiding. We still need to run tests and perform an autopsy on this fella, but so far we think he was born with a genetic mutation that made him, er…you know, smarter. ” Again, Philip smiled like that and turned his eyes to the ground, like he was nervous. Like he was very uncomfortable in his skin right now .
“The catfairies,” I said, sitting up straighter just to realize how much my leg still hurt. How long had I even been out? Because it was still daylight, but it felt like I’d been unconscious for a whole day.
“All dead,” Philip said and nodded at my leg. “We’ll have to wrap that up when we get to Headquarters. If I’m not mistaken, it looks a bit infected.” He stood up.
So many questions. So many things on my mind, yet I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to move fast enough to speak all of them.
Why haven’t you healed me yet? How many catfairies were there? How many agents died?
But the most important one was, “I didn’t kill this catfairie.” The big one whose body was right there by my feet. I was five foot seven myself, so not so short that everyone looked enormous—except he was. He really was.
“That’s not what the agents McMurray say,” said Philip with his hands in his pockets, nodding his head toward where the twins were still talking to one of the agents. The other with the pad in her hands was making her way toward us.
“But I didn’t.” I hadn’t killed the catfairie—I was sure of it. I hadn’t had the strength to even move my limbs or raise my head after being shot and exposed to all that magic—Whitefire and Bluefire at the same time. By both Michael and Erid.
And they hadn’t stopped until…
“It’s natural to be confused.”
The sound of the woman’s voice brought me out of my trance again—I seemed to be slipping so easily. It was the agent with the pad, one I hadn’t had the chance to talk to before. She must have been new, though she didn’t look too young. Definitely not fresh out of college, if the soft wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were an indicator.
“You saw two of your teammates get slaughtered and you almost died yourself.” She proceeded to nod her head at my leg, and her red hair bounced around her head. Dye, but it looked really nice on her paired with her icy blue eyes. I thought she might be Bluefire, but there was a ring on her finger instead, pulsating with magic.
Just like mine, except…
I looked down at my father’s ring, still there, on my finger. And it just felt…off. Strange. Wrong.
“But you were very brave, Agent La Rouge,” she continued. “The IDD thanks you for your service.” Grabbing her pad with both hands, she gave me a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and stepped back. “We will be going over the details of what happened as soon as we get back to Headquarters and you’re given painkillers—I imagine that must hurt.” She threw a quick look at my leg. “And…I’m really sorry.”
Sorry.
What the hell was she sorry for?
But before I could remember that I had a voice to speak with, to ask, she was already walking back to the twins, while Philip kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. “I’ll have someone come carry you to the vehicles.” And he turned to leave, too.
Wait! I thought I said, but my voice wasn’t working right now.
Hold on—sorry for what?
I didn’t kill this catfairie. Erid and Michael were trying to kill me !
Why is nobody healing me, and why would I need painkillers instead of a spell?
Why sorry? Why sorry?
Why the fuck did she say sorry?!
I found out soon enough.