Wicked Creature (Rogue Fae #1)

Chapter 1 Ivy

Ivy

Vulpine eyes rush up from the darkness, framed by hair of deep russet red, and I finally see his face—green gold with horns like twisted tree branches. When I reach out my hand to touch him, though, he slips away, and my cries echo through the void.

Always so near, yet so far…

One day, I will reach him.

One day, I will make him mine.

As he fades into the darkness, his voice resonates, a gentle balm on my soul, “Forget me.”

I will never forget him, though.

He forever haunts my dreams.

I jerk upright, gasping for breath as I repeat the mantra in my head. It was just a dream; it was just a dream.

Yet as my mind adjusts, I spy a shadow in the corner of my room, and I stare at the apparition, transfixed.

It’s him—the Fae from my dream. I recognise the horns, the glowing eyes.

His voice echoes to me still, “Forget me…”

And then just like that, he’s gone.

Drawing a deep breath, I gather my bearings, reaching up to pat my clammy forehead. I could have sworn he was beside me, mere inches from my face. I felt the heat of his body and smelled the rich scent of his pine and woodsmoke.

I’ve had this recurring dream for several weeks, and I don’t quite understand. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there, haunting me. My heart won’t stop pounding, even when I lie back in bed, trying to calm my erratic nerves. But all I can see is him.

They say the Fae are imperceptible to the human eye, yet they surround us every day, hiding in plain sight through various charms and glamours.

The only way to keep the Fae away is to position an iron horseshoe above your door or to adorn your house with rowanberries and pouches of salt.

But I don’t want to keep this faerie away; I want him close so I can gaze into his golden eyes. They’re simply mesmerising.

He’s mesmerising.

I glance at the mural beside my bed. I painted it myself, and I think it really ties the whole room together.

His likeness stares back at me from behind a birch tree, one claw exposed as he drags it down the white bark.

His eyes shine as bright as they did in my dream, and when I reach up, stroking my fingers over the metallic gold that limns his cheeks, I smile.

Most would consider him frightful, but to me, he’s merely exotic.

If only he were real…

Tearing my gaze away from the painting, I glance at the other side of the room. My ocean mural remains unfinished, but one day, I will finish it. One day, I will get to see the real ocean and feel the spray of its fine mist on my cheeks.

A thump sounds on the stairs, and I turn my head towards the door. Bryce growls on the landing outside, raising the hair on my arms. That lovable mastiff is normally afraid of his own shadow, yet something has deeply unsettled him tonight.

I climb out of bed, untangling the sheets from my legs. It’s probably just a mouse, but I should still check.

Grabbing the knife that I keep hidden beneath my pillow per Papa’s request, I creep towards the door, holding the blade steady.

He fashioned the weapon in his forge several weeks prior, and I’ve kept it on my person ever since. But what need would I have for a knife? Nothing ever happens in Charstown. We’re safe here.

Still, I've been somewhat restless these past few weeks, ever since the faerie turned up in my dreams.

I open the door a crack, investigating the landing outside. All appears well. Bryce sits in a sphinx position, curling his upper lip. A low growl vibrates in his chest. He’s getting paranoid in his old age.

“What is it, boy?” I ask, kneeling down to pat his head.

The dog clambers up to his feet, a ridge of fur streaking along his spine as he snarls at the stairs.

My own hair pricks on end, and then a lump lodges in my throat.

With my heart in my mouth, I inch towards the stairs of our two-storey cottage.

Darkness pools at the bottom of the steps, and at first, I can’t see a thing.

But as my vision adjusts, I spy a silhouette of a woman in a white dress. I think she’s Mama at first, but why would she be sitting alone at the bottom of the stairs at three a.m.?

I suck in a trembling breath. “M-mama? What are you doing down there?”

The woman doesn’t move, and a shiver rattles down my spine at how unnaturally quiet she is.

I call out yet again. “Mama? Are you…"

A door opens on the landing, and then Mama steps out of the master bedroom, a yawn splitting her lips. “Ivy, what are you doing out of bed?”

The blood drains from my face, and I turn towards the stairs again, heart thumping in my throat.

The woman stares straight back at me this time, and I hold out a shaking hand, keeping my knife steady.

Whoever she is, she’s not welcome here.

Mama’s gaze settles on the strange woman, yet the blood doesn’t drain from her face. In fact, she looks as if she knows the apparition. Sadness glistens inside her big hazel eyes.

“Mama?” I ask, keeping a tight grip on my knife. “Who is that?”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she presses her lips together and closes her eyes.

The thick stench of smoke reaches my nose, and I cough, trying not to lose my grip on the blade. Then the landing fills with a foul stench, and it takes me a moment to realise—that’s the scent of burning flesh.

The woman’s skin peels back from her once beautiful face, and I gaze into the orbital cavities of her blackened skull.

My arm trembles, but I don’t move from my spot. A charred corpse stares straight back at me, and I blink. I must be dreaming.

Any moment now, I will wake from this nightmare.

She opens her lipless mouth, and her voice tolls like a death bell. “The spell has broken. They’re coming. Leave. Now.”

My heartbeat drums in my ears.

Leave? Where?

Mama grips my arm, squeezing tightly. “Ivy, pack your things. Only take what you need.”

I still don’t move, eyes transfixed on the stairs. The woman has vanished, yet the smell of her seared flesh remains. “Mama, who—?”

“Never mind her. Go, now. It is not safe here anymore.”

She shoves me into my room, but I don’t move for some time. I can’t rid the image of the woman’s skinless face from my mind. The way her flesh withered away until it was nothing but ash.

I peer through the gap of the door. Papa rushes down the stairs, yet before he slips away into the darkness, I glimpse his expression, and it rattles me to my core.

In my whole life, I have never once seen my father look so frightened. He has always been stalwart, fearless.

An immovable mountain.

He taught me how to hold a blade, and how to shoot an arrow. He taught me how to be as brave as he is. If he is afraid, there is something to be afraid of.

I snap into action, stowing what I can into a burlap sack. I only take what is important, as Mama instructed.

A lump blocks my airway when I glance around the room and spy my unfinished mural. Wherever we’re going, I hope there is real seawater…

Unnecessary or not, I still pack several paints and brushes. I even grab my necklace, as I can’t bear to leave it behind. I’ve had it since I was five.

Once I’m done, I step into my boots, glancing across the room at Bryce. He’s barking at the window.

“What is it, Bryce?” I ask, tying the strings of my bodice. I tuck my necklace under my blouse, right beside my heart.

Bryce paws at the window, smearing the glass with his drool. His growl turns my insides cold, and I creep toward the window.

I rub my eyes to ensure I’m seeing right. A succession of cloaked figures marches up the dirt road to our cottage, a winding, curving snake encroaching on its prey.

And we’re about to be swallowed whole.

I yelp when a raven lands on the ledge outside my window, pecking its black beak at the stained glass. Its silver eyes are trained on me.

I can’t take my gaze off it. I have never seen a raven with silver eyes before.

Mama bursts into the room, and the bird takes flight, disappearing into a night as black as its wings.

“Come. To the stables.”

She leads me away from my room and down to the kitchen. Papa has barricaded the back door, and I spy his crossbow in his hands.

I don’t speak; I just watch as Mama tosses fruit into my sack. She wraps up a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese, dropping those inside, too.

All the while, I keep my hand on my knife, the one tucked away inside my skirt.

Things will be okay. We will survive this.

She hands the sack back to me, then crouches to her knees to lift the trapdoor beneath the rug. “Inside, hurry!”

A cold wind wafts up from the cellar, clawing at my arms like clammy fingers, and I freeze. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to move. Everything in me screams fight or flight. My body just isn’t sure which to choose.

Something vibrates beneath my feet, and for a moment I think it’s thunder. But then the rumbling draws closer, and the sound of hoofbeats crystallises.

I’ve never heard so many horses at once; I’ve never even seen a soldier before tonight.

Why have they come to the cottage?

Papa aims his crossbow at the door, never taking his eyes off the bolted wood. “Get to the stables. Take Belle and head north. I will hold them off.”

His words pull me from my reverie, and I whirl around, staring at him aghast. “Wait… You’re not coming with us?”

His blue eyes shimmer in the dim light. “No. You two go.”

It’s like someone pulled the rug from beneath my feet. I don’t even have time to argue with him as Mama pushes me down the cellar stairs.

“No! I’m not going without Papa! I’ll stay and fight—”

He jerks his gaze away from the door, pinning me in place. Only pain gazes back at me now, and hard, determined resolve. “No. I am more than capable of holding them back. You go.”

“But—”

“Go!” he roars. The sound of hooves grows louder and louder with each passing heartbeat.

“Please, Ivy,” Mama pleads. “Get down into the cellar.”

I turn her way this time, yet she vanishes behind a shroud of tears. I have never felt so torn. Do I stay and fight with Papa? Or leave?

If only I had my sword, but I left it in the forge.

Papa had forged it recently—a gift for my upcoming birthday. He’s been teaching me how to fight, and I was more than eager to learn.

Was he preparing me for this very moment?

Voices echo outside the door. The men have finally reached the cottage. I hear the piercing whinny of a horse, and I make my choice at last.

I don’t even get to say goodbye. The last thing I see of my father before I disappear into the cellar is the back of his silver head, his body poised as he readies the crossbow.

Mama and I trip over jars and bags of grain as we stumble to the escape door at the end of the cellar. She grips my wrist, pulling me around to the stables at the back of the cottage once we’re outside.

Their shouts surround us, and I’m pretty sure one of them has spotted us, but we don’t stop.

We just keep going forward.

Once we reach the stables, Papa’s chestnut bay, Flame, rears up on his hindquarters, crying out in alarm. Yet my own horse, a beautiful mare with a bright coat of shining silver, remains poised. Belle will be the one to carry us away to safety tonight.

We open Belle’s stall, leading her out into the main aisle. We don’t have time to tack her up, but I have no trouble riding bareback.

“Up you go,” Mama instructs, keeping her voice calm. I don’t know how she does it.

I climb onto the mare with ease, and once I’m seated on Belle’s back, I reach my hand down. “Take my hand.”

She steps away from my outstretched fingers.

I gaze down at her shadowy silhouette, wishing I could see her face, but it’s too dark. “Mama…take my hand…”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “No, dear. An old bird like me will only slow you down.”

Heat rises at the back of my neck, settling at the base of my skull. “Mama. Take. My. Hand. I won’t leave you behind, too!”

She glances away from me, and I don’t miss her tears. They glisten as they trail down her tawny cheek, capturing the light of the moon.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this. I just hope you understand one day. We love you, Ivy. We always have. But you must go on without us.”

Anger boils in the pits of my stomach. “No! I won’t leave without you. Just take my hand, and we can—"

She slaps Belle’s flank, and the horse shoots off. The world flashes by, and once again, I never got to say goodbye…

I squeeze my eyes against the cruel wind, hoping and praying that this is another dream, and I’ll wake in my bed at any moment.

Yet I don’t wake. This is real, and I have no choice but to move forward.

Something heavy lumbers after us, and I nudge my heels into Belle’s flank, urging her to move faster as I grip her mane.

Suddenly, a large black wolf jumps out from the trees, snapping its teeth at my calves. Belle increases her speed, and I have never seen her gallop so fast. She dodges trees with ease, and at one point, she appears to be flying.

Her coat burns as bright as the full moon, and I can barely believe it. I always knew she was special, but never this special.

She almost seems magical.

The wolf re-emerges on our left flank, and I scream. “Belle!”

The horse kicks the wolf with her hind legs, and the beast disappears with a yelp. I’m too afraid to look back.

It was a massive creature, and I’m pretty sure it had silver eyes…

I don’t breathe, not until I no longer hear those giant footfalls, and it seems we’re safe.

The wolf is gone.

Still, I won’t relax. Not just yet.

We still have a long night ahead of us.