Chapter 13 #2
He pouts. “Oh, but I don’t offer that to any little bug who comes to my house.
” Saliva drips from his tiny teeth as he growls.
“It has been such a long time since I had my last meal.” He pauses, squinting against the torchlight.
His eyes trail over my auburn hair where it’s braided over my shoulder.
“Your fur is dirty. It’s not gold, like they usually send me. But, I likes it. What is it?”
He squints, leaning closer to the bars. His eyes widen. “No, it cannot be! Copper-hair like a fox? Ooooo, I must add you to my collection.”
I take another step back, my heart racing as the fae’s laughter bounces off the stone walls.
The sound makes me cringe. He’s unnatural, like something that doesn’t belong in this world.
I try to swallow, but my throat feels tight, dry.
The air is thick with rot and mildew, and my pulse is hammering in my ears.
It’s time to leave.
The fae pauses, eyes lingering on me. “You think that you’re safe there, on the other side of this door.” His finger drifts lazily down one of the bars before his gaze lifts to mine. “Safety is only an illusion, fox-haired bug.”
In an instant, the door and its iron chains dissolve into nothing. Fae tricks. I should have expected it. I should have been more careful. Now there’s nothing between me and the hungry fae who feasts on women.
He giggles, high and strange, covering his mouth like a coy child before clapping his hands together. “Oh, you’re frightened.” His grin spreads, teeth glinting. “I can smell it. You want to run, but I want something first.”
I glance over my shoulder toward the spiral staircase at the end of the long corridor, measuring the distance. My legs tense, ready to bolt, but I know better than to turn my back on a predator.
The fae’s grin stretches wider, his jaw cracking at the joints with a pop. “We’ll see how long you last, little bug.”
He lunges. I barely register the movement before claws slice the air. I step back, but not fast enough. He shears through several strands of my hair. I stumble back, caught off-guard by his speed, and catch myself against the stone wall.
He lands on all fours behind me, blocking the corridor. Slowly, he lifts his hand and drags my cut hair beneath his nose. He lets out a shuddering breath that makes my stomach twist.
“Filthy, dirty girl.” He rubs my hair all over his sallow face. All across his body, his sickly pale skin twitches with pleasure. The front of his loincloth tents.
His eyes snap back to me. “I must have you.”
He leaps at me again, and I’m driven backward, deeper into his disgusting lair.
My foot slips on a brittle bone, and I fall back onto the creature’s nest, narrowly avoiding dropping my torch.
The stench is revolting, a blend of rot and centuries of decay.
Then my free hand closes around something soft.
I glance down and raise a fistful of the fae’s nest toward the torchlight. It’s not made of straw.
It’s blond hair.
Golden strands spill all around me, tangled with white bone fragments.
Thousands of heads of human hair, some twisted and braided, form a plush bed.
I resist the urge to scream as I throw the hair aside and scramble to my feet.
I bite back the rising panic and turn my attention to the fae.
He’s watching me with interest as he rubs my auburn hair over his skin. Saliva dribbles down his chin.
“Don’t worry, little bug. I always make them scream before I cuts their hair.”
My power lies dormant and useless in my core, but I will not go down without a fight. I will not be the next woman to die at the hands of this revolting fae with a fetish for hair and female flesh.
His laughter cuts through the air, cruel and sickening. “Oh, you’ll be a delicious little bug.”
“I’m no bug,” I say, steeling my spine. “I’m a Fox.”
I run at him, swiping my torch.
The fae cringes back, covering his black eyes with a hand. “It burns!”
“Good.” I thrust the fire toward him again. This time, I don’t hold back. I set his loincloth aflame.
The scent of burning flesh fills the room within seconds. The fae screams and writhes, the fire consuming his loincloth and catching on his skin. I duck aside as he rolls to the ground, writhing into his awful nest. The dry golden hair ignites. Acrid burning hair turns into smoke.
“No!” he shrieks, still burning. “You ruined it. You ruined everything!”
The fae and I both begin to cough.
I don’t waste any time. I run past the wall of dead women, toward the spiral stairs, not daring to look back. Behind me, skittering claws follow.
“You horrible little bug! I will rip you to shreds!” The fae’s voice is ragged from smoke and anger. “I will suckle your fleshy female bits and make them bleed!”
I skid to a stop and whirl toward him, my torch held in my outstretched hands.
He freezes a mere ten feet behind me. His skin is raw and blackened, but he’s no longer aflame.
He’s trembling, whether from fury, or pain, or fear, I can’t tell.
Behind him, his nest of golden hair still burns.
The flames throw wild shadows across the corpses strung up in the corridor.
“You will not touch me.” My breath comes fast, my chest heaving, but I force my voice steady. My heart pounds like a drum, each beat echoing in my ears.
The torch fire crackles in my hands. The fae’s black eyes watch it warily.
“You will never take another woman again,” I warn, my voice low and hard. “Or I will come back to finish what I started here.”
Slowly, his face shifts, melting into that strange, childlike lightness. He giggles, head tilting at an unnatural angle.
“Does the mortal bug think she can outwit a fae who’s lived for centuries?” He shakes his head slowly, tutting like a scolding parent. “I do not take.”
I frown. “What?”
His clawed hand gestures down the hall toward the line of dead women. “I do not take. They give.”
I stare past the flames into the fae’s dark eyes.
“They. Give.” He grins. “I. Eat.”
My breath comes too fast, and my brain can’t keep up. It must be another trick. “No.”
He only nods, stepping back toward his smoke-filled nest. “They know better than to keep me waiting. All I must do is bide my time. Sooner or later, the mens always bring me my next dinner.” His shoulders twitch with a shiver of delight.
“And it will be a good one, after all the trouble you caused.”
My voice sounds hollow in my ears. “And if they don’t?”
His face hardens. “Then they break a promise.” A growl rumbles in his throat as he steps back into the smoke. “And fae do not tolerate broken promises.”
I turn and run down the corridor and up the spiral stairs. The smoke claws at my lungs, but I force myself to keep going. The fae doesn’t follow me.
Through the dusty corridors, I retrace my steps, my mind reeling.
I nearly died, so I should be furious at the wraith for bringing me down there.
But even so, something gnaws on me. The wraith meant to show me the fae.
The thought leaves me feeling sick. Someone in this castle feeds blond women to that creature. And they’ve done it for years.
Does the Dead Queen know? Does Tristan? If so, why haven’t they mentioned this to me? If there’s a reasonable explanation, it seems like something they’d warn me about. Unless they don’t want me to know. And if that’s true, what else aren’t they telling me?
When I reach my room, I’m not surprised to find another message. But this time it isn’t left on a wrinkled piece of paper. The stone floor is covered in ash from the hearth. Letters spell out the message.
“Run!”
All around the room, tiny black footprints leave a trail from the intruder.
Fae.
I stare down at the letters for a long time. The messages weren’t meant to intimidate me. They were intended to warn me.
Across the room, my eyes catch a glint of silver. My grandmother’s silver moth knife waits at the center of my pillow. I pick it up, gripping it hard. Damn wraith.
From now on, I’ll keep the knife on me at all times.