Chapter Eight
F ae are not the most welcomed creatures in the Earth realm.
At least, that has been my experience.
So when Forsythia shows not only awe, but excitement, I can’t help but want to tell her everything.
I do not act on that urge though. I know it is not the time for that just yet.
My excitement deflates a little when I recognize that when I do, I will have to confess the truth about the soul-bond that pulls me to her, and likewise. Even so, I do not expect her to take me as her mate. Now that I have gotten to spend time with her, I see how she is even more magnificent than I’ve seen from afar. With that knowledge, comes the realization that I simply do not deserve her.
No, I will proudly take my place in her life in whatever way she will have me. Even if that means as a friend. If I can’t prove myself worthy of that, then I will concede myself to the shadows again. Watching over her as I have for the last three years. Only this time, I will carry the memories of her through that paled existence.
Pulling myself out of my dark reverie, I decide to use her excitement to push this journey forward.
“If you are ready to get back on the road, I will tell you a little more on the way to the motorcycle.” I try to say it in a kind and gentle way, but I know it comes out in a gruff and aggressive tone. My voice has always felt so much deeper in this realm.
Even though I want so badly to be gentle with her.
My tone must not bother her if the giant smile radiating across her face is any indication.
“Sounds like a plan,” she says with a slight hop to her step while moving towards the parking lot. Her strides are solid, but with my height, I easily catch up to her.
Choosing to start with the simplest information, I lead the conversation toward my fae species and genetics as that seemed to spike her interest. “I am similar to you. Two parts in one whole,” I start. “My father was a dryad.”
She slows her pace and lays her hand on my arm in a show of support, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of electricity that always follows her touch. “You said ‘was’? He has gone to the Ether then?” she asks gently. Her voice is so sweet and so full of care that it nearly takes my breath away.
I nod slowly, unable to actually speak the confirmation words without pain. I know that she is only speaking about my father and that she has no clue as to the depth of my loss.
After all, how do you confess that you are the last of an entire race of fae, even if you are only a halfling? That all of them were destroyed heinously, without hesitation, simply because of my existence? How in all of the realms could I ever tell her that and not see the disgust in her eyes as clearly as I feel it in my own heart?
I was not worth the death of my brethren.
Forsythia interrupts my thoughts, and I am glad for it. “So, the dryads are tree people, correct? That explains the height,” she says, nodding to herself.
I can’t help but laugh outwardly at that, and the sound startles us both. I don’t remember the last time I laughed, and although Forsythia seems confused by my outburst, she joins in easily.
Once the wave of laughter passes and I am able to compose myself again, I smile at her. “Actually, I was the shortest one of my entire Drys brethren.”
“That’s amazing! They must have been enormous!” She studies the tree in the middle of the path for a moment before laughing again. “Well, I suppose they were all as large as trees. I don’t know much at all about fae. You said ‘brethren’. Does that mean the Drys are all male?”
“Yes. They were one of the few races left that was only capable of being one gender.” I tell her.
“That must have been very…” she trails off for a moment and wrinkles her nose a little before continuing her thoughts, “different, I suppose. So that’s what you meant by similar to me. Your mother was a different race?” she asks.
It is the logical direction this conversation was bound to take, but that does not make me hate it any less.
I cannot hide the disgust in my voice as I quickly say, “Yes, the female who birthed me was an imp.” There, that wasn’t so hard.
Forsythia stops dead in her tracks. She said she doesn’t know much about the fae, but now I fear that she, too, has a deep hatred for the race that helped give me life. My fists clench tightly as I tamp down on my fear that she will ask me to leave her.
Ready to cast me away for the sins of my genetics just like the rest of the world.
Those were the thoughts racing through my mind until she quickly moves behind my back and… inspects it?
She peers all over but does not move her hands to touch me. Part of me is relieved that I do not have to fight for control over my emotions or desires from the touch. But another part of me weeps for it. Just one touch, one caress.
Even though I know deep in my soul that once will never be enough.
“Do you have wings then?” she asks excitedly, and her sudden burst nearly startles me. I had not expected her to go along that line of thinking, but the way this female’s brain works is truly magnificent.
And I find myself laughing easily for the second time in a single day, when I cannot remember the last time I laughed prior. It feels… nice. Even if the sound is foreign to my own ears. She seems to enjoy the response as well.
“I do, but they are not out when I do not want them to be,” I tell her when I finally get myself under control yet again.
We take the last few steps to the motorcycle and I can’t help contemplating her. This woman unravels me. I am not sure if I love the feeling or if it terrifies me. And that is when I realize that it quite possibly might be both.
“Oh, that makes sense. So, you have an affinity for fire and earth magicks?” she asks while placing the helmet on her head.
“Yes. As well as some other abilities. Fae are not as limited as magickals from the Eearth realm.” I tell her as I swing my leg over the bike. She follows suit and this time there is none of that weird moving that caused her core to rub on my back. When she did, I felt the heat coming from her–
My train of thought sends me into a coughing spell, but it is enough to help me concentrate. I recover from the cough and speak up before she can say anything. “Which way?” I ask.
She points towards the west, but this road only heads in a north or south direction.
“Alright. I will head south until I can find a road to take us west.”
She yells an “OK” before wrapping her arms around me again. I crank the engine on the motorcycle and carefully navigate our way through the parking lot.
Once we are back on the open road–highway if I remember the human term correctly–I push the speed on the motorcycle higher. Just high enough to stay only seven miles per hour over the speed limit. I have learned that, for the most part, this is an acceptable range of rule-breaking that does not seem to upset the human law enforcers.
The sights around us pass by quickly, but there is not much to see. It’s mostly just trees and rock walls on either side of us. Instead of trying to broaden my view of the scenery, I focus on the road ahead.
We have traveled about ten miles when Forsythia grunts again. She leans close and yells at me, although I have perfect hearing, even with the wind blowing past us. “We really need to make that turn as soon as possible. It feels like we might pass it if we don’t.”
Unfortunately, I have not seen any roads yet. However, I can see a sign up ahead, and I believe it indicates another road crossing. I point to it and hear another muffled “OK” from my back.
After two more miles, we turn onto the exit ramp and begin heading west.
We follow this road and make a few turns to keep us going in the right direction for about fifty miles when Forsythia taps my shoulder. When I lean back slightly to show that she has my attention, she yells in my ear again. “We are getting really close, but I think we need to turn.” She indicates the direction she feels the pull, and I nod.
As we get closer to the location she has been directing us to, we see the sign indicating this area is a protected forest with a cavern system. This seems like the perfect place for malevolent cultists to be hiding out and holding captives.
I make the turn into the lot for the hiking trails, where we can park the motorcycle and not seem suspicious while making the rest of the journey on foot.
Even though we are close, it is already inching closer to nightfall, so I don’t expect to reach him before tomorrow. They will be operating in the deeper, more abandoned areas, which means a longer trek for us. The smartest strategy would be to approach them during the day, when their demon-like powers may be weakened by the high position of the morning star.
That does mean we will be required to sleep for the night. Although, after the incredibly early start to her training this morning, I don’t think Forsythia will object to getting some rest before facing off with any foe, even if she is getting anxious to get to her mate.
When I pull the bike into an available spot, Forsythia wastes no time hopping up and pulling off her helmet. Once she has the helmet secured to the bike, I notice that she is biting the inside of her cheek again. I don’t have to ask to know that she is nervous we won’t find him. Or worse, that we find he has gone to the Ether.
I want so badly to explain to her that she would feel that pull snap and break if he were gone. After all, that is the same thing I felt when she left this realm. But that would mean that I have to admit to the connection we share, and I don’t think she is ready for that.
Or maybe I am just not ready for the rejection yet.
I make my way over to the trail signs and assess the map. I need to determine which primary trail we should take to get us closest to the location we think we will find them.
Maybe I should check which direction Forsythia is being pulled in now?
I turn to ask her, but before I can voice the question, my heart stops.
Her face has gone completely pale, and her mouth opens wide as she clutches her arm to her body and screams.