3. Weirdos Grow On Trees, Apparently
Time stopped. It was as simple as that. The world had stopped turning, clocks had stopped ticking, and even my heart had stopped beating. I knew that wasn’t possible, but I was quickly learning that, here in wherever the hell I was, the lines between possible and impossible were less blurred, more completely erased. I could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed and frozen, suspended in time, as a flitting, humanoid shadow drifted along the riverbank.
Another hallucination. That was all it was. Nothing to be overly concerned about at this stage. Perfectly unsurprising for a person who’d taken a crack to the skull. As long as I was found in the morning, treated for apparent injury, and given a strong dose of antibiotics, I had absolutely nothing at all to worry about. But… it was creepy. More sinister by far than the swarm of fairies. So creepy that the tiny hairs all over my body rose in silent protest, and my muscles went rigid, primed to run. I wanted to run. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to do so. But it was stupid. It wasn’t real. Whatever that thing was, it simply didn’t exist.
Despite its clear lack of justification for being anywhere at all, the shadow continued to waft closer, oblivious to my presence. For now. My body screamed at me to do something about the for now part before it was too late, but I only stood stock still, clutching my backpack, which dripped steadily onto the grass.
A hideous, unearthly howl rent the peaceful night, echoing between trees and mountain tops. I jumped, barely managing to stifle my scream. At the same moment, the shadow snapped its smoky, billowing head towards the trees, emitting a bone-chilling hiss as it did so.
Fuck this.
Real or not, I was done with this shit. Wolves were long extinct in the United Kingdom, but I wasn’t about to take any more chances. Being eaten alive was not on my bucket list. Dragging my backpack haphazardly onto my shoulders, I hurtled to the fairy tree and began to climb.
Or, at least, I began to try.
The great outdoors wasn’t really my thing, and I hadn’t attempted to climb anything but the stairs since primary school. As it turned out, I wasn’t very good at it. I scrambled clumsily against the trunk, rough bark skinning my already battered shins as I fought to reach the lowest branch. For once in my life, I was exceptionally glad of my height as, wedging the toe of my boot into a knot in the trunk, my outstretched fingers closed around a branch. If I’d been as petite and dainty as the friends I’d always envied, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Arms quivering, I braced my legs against the trunk and hauled myself up, slumping gracelessly over the broad tree limb. God, I was out of shape. I really did need to join a gym once this was all over. But I was up, even if I was panting like a winded pug. The ground looked a lot further away than I’d anticipated. Clinging to the trunk, I forced myself to climb a little higher, refusing to so much as consider the possibility of a spider living amongst the twigs and leaves. Faced with the prospect of becoming supper for a wolf and… whatever the hell that shadow was, I’d just have to pretend that spiders didn’t exist. Maybe they didn’t. This was my hallucination, after all.
Once I’d climbed high enough that the lower boughs hid me from view, I straddled the widest branch I could find, letting my legs dangle, and leaned back against the trunk. Bark bit into my bare thighs and almost naked arse, but my eyes drifted shut with exhaustion. This was the worst day of my life, ever. Worse even than the New Year’s night out that had resulted in standing in the freezing rain for three hours, waiting for a taxi, without a coat. I shivered, tonight’s damp clothes and ample bare skin making the memory all the more vivid.
“Enchantée, ma belle.”
I really did scream then.
My eyes snapped open as my hand slapped to my mouth, muffling my cry.
The owner of the velvet smooth, amused voice looked right back from his vantage point in the nearest tree, where he balanced atop a branch with unnatural ease. Smooth, pale skin stretched tight over too-prominent cheekbones. His eyes looked over-large in his malnourished face.
His eyes.
Once again, I could do nothing but stare. It was too dark to guess at the shade of those pale orbs, but even so, they seemed to gleam. To burn through the night.
The man smiled, smooth and self-assured, revealing too many teeth, then he pressed a long, thin finger to his lips. My eyes snagged on the talon-like fingernail, painted in a layer of chipped, black polish.
Gross.
But yeah, I knew. Be quiet. That was what I’d been doing before he showed up and nearly made me fall off my perch.
He pointed down between the leaves, and, like a fool, I looked. The shadowy figure seeped silently around the trunk of my tree, a darker shade of night to its surroundings, its dark tendrils wrapping around the bark I’d so recently clung to. Was it looking for me? What might have happened if I’d been a little slower?
Nothing, I wanted to scream at myself. Nothing would have happened, because it wasn’t real.
Even so, my stomach flipped at the thought.
After a few tense minutes, the shadow seemed to grow bored and drifted away, fading into the woods.
My attention snapped back to the man opposite. He was already watching me with his strange, bright eyes and faint smile. Of all the things to happen today, he was somehow the most unnerving. A proud, defiant part of me wanted to be unafraid, but I liked to think I wasn’t a fool, not all the time, at least. I was lost, injured and vulnerable, not to mention half-naked, and he was a man. Men could be the worst predators of all.
I managed to lift my chin as I asked, “And you are?”
His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward slightly, his nostrils flaring delicately as he sniffed the air. Okay, that wasn’t weird at all. Definitely not serial killerish. My mind ran through the contents of my backpack again. Unless I wanted to squirt suncream in his eyes, I had nothing that could be used as a weapon. If only I hadn’t dropped my torch. It wasn’t much, but clubbing him over the head with it would have improved my situation slightly.
My injured fingers throbbed, and I realised I gripped the branch as though my life depended on it.
“Never mind me, who are you, and how did you get here?” His intense gaze skewered me to the trunk. I pressed myself back, the contents of my bag digging into my spine.
The further back I leaned, the closer he seemed to get. Without seeing him move, he was suddenly further along the branch, closer to me. The tree limb didn’t so much as sag under his weight. A tumble of dark, shoulder length waves fell over one eye, and he swept them back with a careless toss of his head. The fine chains around his neck whispered at the movement. There was absolutely no way I was giving him my name, never mind admitting to being lost.
“Nice boots,” I said instead, my voice surprisingly steady.
He grinned, not taking his eyes off me to glance at the army boots he wore, laces hung loose at his ankles. “Merci. Tell me your name.”
“I asked first.”
He sighed, a sad sound, no hint of frustration. “My name is of no consequence. Yours, however…” His too pale tongue darted over his full mouth, snagging on a lip ring. “I have a feeling we shall all know your name soon enough. Won’t you give me the honour of hearing it first?”
Fucking weirdo. “No.”
“Jacques.”
I blinked. “What?”
“My name. Jacques.”
“Oh. And what do you want, Jacques?”
He grinned, hissing out the word, “Nothing.” God, he had too many teeth. Like a shark. Goosebumps coated my arms again. “Only to help you.”
Yeah, right.
He moved, slowly and with all the grace of a panther, taking a careful step along the branch, which, once again, didn’t so much as shiver. “Are you lost, belle fille?”
Obviously.
I longed to scour the woodland for any hint of a late-night rescue party, come to save me before I ended up chopped into pieces and scattered all over the forest, but I couldn’t look away from his eyes. They glittered like stars. So pretty, but terrifying. I gulped, and he stilled, dipping into a crouch, his claw-like hands dangling over his knees.
“I smell your fear, but I mean you no harm.”
Whatever. Out of all the things I’d experienced so far, that statement was the most difficult to believe.
“You’re wise to be wary,” he went on in that low, amused voice. “I will give you some friendly advice. Stay in the tree until sunup. That thing we just saw is the least of your concerns.”
Yep. I’d gathered as much.
“What was it?” A shiver of doubt slipped into my voice. It was a hallucination, wasn’t it? It had to be.
“An agent of Maelgwyn. They are called shades. It will be gone come sunrise.”
Right, of course. How silly of me. I didn’t know or care what a Maelgwyn was, but this bright-eyed stranger thought I should stay in the tree, and I couldn’t find a compelling counter argument, not after what I’d witnessed so far.
“What howled?” I asked, unsure his next answer would offer the slightest insight.
He shrugged, bored. “It has no name in your world, but the ground is unsafe by night. When the sun rises, climb down, and head south.”
Was that where he kept his freezer full of body parts? “What’s south?”
He waved an airy hand, encompassing the entire mess that was me. “Assistance.”
I squared my shoulders as best I could, all things considered. “I don’t need help.”
A lie. A pathetic, transparent lie.
Jacques smiled, raising an eyebrow, and I was seized by the overwhelming urge to plant my heel squarely in his pretty little runway-chic face. His grin widened as though he’d read my thoughts. Creep.
His expression turned solemn as he studied me. Something flickered in his magnificent eyes. Longing? Hunger? Pity?
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it at me. I caught it on reflex, my mouth falling open in surprise.
“We have waited a long time for you, ma belle,” he whisper-hissed. “Be careful.”
I took a breath to respond, but with a shiver of movement, the branch was empty. A delicate thud sounded on the ground below, and I looked down in time to catch Jacques’ eye as he straightened. Sliding his hand into the pockets of his pants, he nodded, and strolled away through the trees.
I stared at the darkness he’d melted into, reeling. Had that even happened, or was it another consequence of the blow to my head? The last thing I needed when I was finally rescued was a padded cell. Or maybe that was exactly what I did need, if recent events were anything to go by. Was the jacket I clutched to my chest even real? Gingerly, conscious of the drop, I bent my throbbing knees to my chest and wrapped the jacket around myself, wincing as my ruined nails snagged. Tears sprang to my eyes.
I wanted to go home.
It was a while before I noticed that Jacques’ leather jacket, fresh from his body, was as cold as the grave.