CHAPTER FOUR
Brokk
“Where is she?” I growl, pacing back and forth across the convention hallway. I tug at the neck of the T-shirt I left backstage. These human collars are always too tight. “The signing should have ended by now.”
Sherrie checks the time on her phone. “I don’t know. Lara hates disappointing her fans, so she’ll stay and sign as long as there’s a line.”
“It’s not that.” I shake my head. Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my chest, right where I feel a connection to Lara. But I can’t explain it to Sherrie. Humans don’t have fated mates, no matter how much they write about them in books.
I try the door to the room Lara’s supposed to be in, but it’s still locked. My lips lift in a silent snarl. I’m far stronger than any human and could break this lock if I wanted, but it wouldn’t look “normal” to do so. I already push things enough by not disguising my green skin—I don’t need to give the humans any excuse to question what I really am.
“Let me call my convention contact.” Sherrie taps at her phone and says, “Hello, this is Sherrie Johnson, Lara Jade’s editor. I’m supposed to meet her after her signing, but she hasn’t come out of the room, and I can’t get in.”
My sensitive fae hearing picks up the other side of the conversation.
“Lara Jade? Let me check,” a woman says. “Okay, we ushered her out of her signing about five minutes ago. She was sent to the back hallway.”
“I’m in the back hallway,” Sherrie says, “and have been for a half hour.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
My teeth grind together, and my magic spirals out of me, but it’s no good. There aren’t any plants in this part of the convention center, and even if there were, there are too many people around for my power to be useful. Asking a plant if it feels a large “animal” nearby might work in the forest, but not here.
Another twang in my chest. Lara’s scared! I take off at a run, thundering down the hallway with Sherrie yelling after me. But I don’t stop to explain. There’s no time.
I strain with everything I have to feel where Lara is, getting only the vaguest sense of direction. Irritation roils within me when I slam into a wall, everything telling me I need to go through it, whether there’s a door or not. Snarling at it, I pivot left and run until I find a door.
An alarm blares as I burst out into the hot humid air of this place called Florida. The sun glares down at me, making me squint even as I turn toward where my mate must be.
A roar of noise fills the air. As my eyes clear, a small plane comes into view on the concrete pad in front of me, its engines revving up to speed.
Three men hurry toward it, one of the larger ones carrying a bright-pink body draped over his shoulder.
“Lara!” I bellow and run forward.
The men don’t even hear me over the engines. They disappear up the short flight of stairs, which retract. Then the hatch closes, locking my mate away from me.
I keep running as the two engines on each side blast down toward the ground, and the plane lifts straight up like something from an action movie.
When I get close, the heat’s punishing, but I keep going. The wheels start to retract into the bottom of the hull a good ten feet overhead.
Chest heaving, heart racing, I leap with everything I am. I will not abandon my mate!
My hands clamp onto one of the wheels, and I let the mechanism pull me up into the belly of the plane. Once it stills, I flex my stomach muscles to lift my feet, wrapping my lower legs around one of the struts so I hang like a hog spitted for the fire.
I don’t care. Discomfort means nothing. I will do whatever it takes to save Lara.
The doors try to close, striking my back several times in punishing blows. I growl, ignoring the pain. They will not defeat me. Orcs are built tough, and I have survived the most rigorous warrior training in all of Faerie.
They finally give up and remain gaping open.
Once the plane reaches a certain height, it shoots forward.
I crane my neck, wanting to have some idea of where we’re going. But the land underneath blurs past, then turns into water as we fly on and on. The air becomes weak and thin, though also thankfully cooler, and I tighten my grip.
Nothing will keep me from my mate.
I come out of my trance-like state when the air around me warms, taking huge breaths that fuel my body once again.
We still fly over deep-blue water, but a speck on the horizon turns into a green dot that grows in size as we approach. It’s an island covered with heavy greenery.
It also tingles with magic, more magic than I’ve felt since arriving on Earth. It feels like Faerie.
My magic surges forward, reaching for the magical plant life, and a tightness within me eases for the first time in months as they respond. I can communicate with Earth plants to ask them to do what I want, but it’s a muted conversation with limited results. But the magical plants of Faerie—now there’s a different story!
The plane slows, and a clearing comes into view, dotted with large tents. This must be where we’re landing.
I reach for the plants below me, asking them to catch me. Then I release my legs and hands at the same time, falling from the bottom of the plane right as the strut I hold onto starts to move.
Air whooshes past, and in seconds, I’m in the trees, their fronds and vines whipping out to slow my descent. By the time I hit the ground, I’m moving barely any faster than if I’d jumped from six feet up.
“Thank you.” I pat a couple of the closest trunks and feel a wordless welcome. By the goddess, it’s good to use my magic fully again!
It’s not only my personal power that’s back. Magic hums in the ground beneath me, pulses through the plant life, and saturates the air. I was right. This island is part of Faerie. But how? We’re still on Earth.
Does this mean I can get home?
Lara’s face fills my mind, and I leap to my feet. Whatever this island means for me and my future, none of it’s as important at this moment as saving her.
Even though my tan pants blend in well with my surroundings, the bright white T-shirt does not. I rip it over my head, letting my green skin serve its true purpose.
I am a Wild Fae, meant to thrive in the forests of Faerie. Even if this tropical one is different than the pine woods of Alarria, it’s still like coming home.
Running toward the campsite, I leap downed trunks and skirt short palms with wide bases that resemble mammoth pineapples.
I don’t get far before I run through a patch of plants with dangling clusters of flowers in the brightest of pinks with deep-purple centers. They resemble wild columbine and have one other similarity to home—a flock of sprites rises from them.
Puffs of white hair stand straight up from the heads of the diminutive fae, who have pink skin covered by the deep green of leaf clothing. Most striking are their butterfly wings, which shimmer with a million iridescent colors.
“Orc!” a tiny voice shrieks as a female sprite flies up in front of my face. “How did you get to Fruvalia? There aren’t any orcs in this realm.”
It’s as I thought—this island is indeed from Faerie. I know little about Fruvalia, only that it’s a tropical realm used by fae as the equivalent of what the humans would call a “vacation destination.”
“You aren’t in Fruvalia any longer. This is the human world, Earth.”
All of them start talking at once, and they speak in their normal, quick speed, their voices turning into a chorus of high whistles I can’t understand. When they calm down, their leader says, “How? The doors of Faerie have been closed for three-hundred years.”
“A human witch opened them.” I don’t have time for long explanations and don’t understand the magic involved even if I did. I’m not sure anyone does, not even the dragons, Faerie’s hoarders of knowledge.
“Can you get us to Avalon? Can you return us to the elves?” she asks. “Our ancestors got trapped in this realm when the doors closed. We long to frolic in the fae courts once again, providing joy for all.”
At her wave, a pair of sprites fly closer, carrying a smooth-skinned yellow fruit between them that’s about the size of a walnut. Magic sparkles across its surface—they’ve turned it into Faerie Fruit. Its intoxicating effects are similar to drinking several pints of ale but without any hangover.
“There’s no time for parties. I must rescue my mate.” I point in the direction the plane took. “She’s being held by the people of that camp.”
“Nasty men,” the sprite spits. “Tearing down our trees and making horrible noises and smells. We will help you!”
I eye them uncertainly. Even though they’re small, they’re still fae, with abilities that shouldn’t be discounted. But they’re also too colorful to camouflage, and I say as much.
“Don’t worry about us. The humans think we’re butterflies.” Her tone grows sly, and she whistles a set of instructions to her flock. “We’ll make them eat Faerie Fruit.”
That will certainly distract the humans. Faerie Fruit acts as an intoxicant, and for humans, it makes them either dance until they drop or have sex repeatedly.
The sprites drop what they’re carrying and dart off into the trees, returning with dark-purple fruit that looks like blueberries. Acai. A trainer at the gym always tries to get me to eat the special ones he sells.
Once the sprites make a pile of berries on the ground, the flock flies in circles over it. Magic hums in the air, and colorful glitter falls from their wings, coating the berries.
“We will put these in their food.” The little leader flutters in front of my face and points a tiny finger at me. “Then you will get us to Avalon.”
“I can’t promise that.” Bargains are binding in Faerie. “But I will do everything I can to get you back to Faerie. My home realm of Alarria is quite nice, and other sprites live there.”
Her tiny face twists in thought for several moments before she nods. After another set of whistled commands, each sprite picks up a magicked berry and flies toward the camp.
I leap forward to run with them.
Time to rescue my mate!