Woe for a Faerie Page 10

  Hannah’s voice invaded my soul. In all of New Haven City, she had been the only girl innocent enough to see me. I knew her. I’d allowed myself to love her. The first little girl of her kind.

  And he just kept snorting and grunting until he finished, and then he tossed her aside. He left her in the dumpster. In the cold.

  Death saved her, you know. Not me. I didn’t do anything because breaking the rules frightened me. Back then.

  But, there, in that subway car, I recognized him for the awful creature he was.

  He strolled into my car, onto my train, and I knew what I had to do. It was my chance to make it right. For Hannah.

  I leaned forward to peer around an oblivious student and a preoccupied businessman. He couldn’t see me. They never see me, even when I’m right next to them.

  On the murderer’s face, three white lines angled downward, from his cheekbone to his lips. The scars marked him. Hannah had fought tooth and nail.

  He stared at his phone like any other commuter. The jagged edge of a thumbnail stroked up and down. Something dark red stained his cuticle. Anybody else would have seen paint.

  I saw blood.

  I knew what he’d done.

  When I leaned back, the sway of the rails no longer comforted. The crush of the city over us, the weight of all the little girls that I would be saving.

  At the next stop, more people entered the car and filled it to capacity. I glanced over. He still scrolled down the screen, probably studying pictures. Maybe even Hannah’s. I wished I had something in my stomach. People always feel better after they throw up.

  He tucked his phone in his jacket pocket and stared out the windows with a sick grin on his face. His leg twitched. Maybe he could feel all the things I was planning.

  At the next stop, I followed him out.

  I tucked myself in my black feathers as I went. He’d pay. I thought of the alley near his home. The same way he left her, I would leave him.

  A fitting end.

  He’d never hurt another girl.

  Hell hath no fury like an angel’s wings.

  When my story ended, the silence between us stretched. Jason leaned away as he stroked his wiry beard. The distance widened, and the space became twice as long. A chill crept through me.

  “That’s why I fell. That’s the choice I made. I meant to tip the balance to the good.” I pushed the words into the gap like a plug.

  Jason didn’t speak. I saw feelings I couldn’t name swirl on his face. Finally, he cleared his throat. “There’s still a place for you. Here. With us.”

  There would never be a place for me. Not in a church. Not with a pseudo-priest. Not with a God that burned away my wings. Pain shot up the side of my face.

  I had been gritting my teeth.

  He continued, “Your skills are invaluable. With a little training, you could be of great benefit to the people of this city. There’s so much out there.”

  Not hungry anymore, I dropped the half-donut back in the box. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

  There wasn’t really any more conversation to be had.

  I walked to the door, away from Jason, from the hope he insisted the Balance Keepers held for me.

  I heard his quiet words float on the wind behind me. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  Over my dead body. I liked my freedom more than I wanted to tug on his… beard.

  The Following Day

  “We have a problem.” Jason wore regular clothes―a bomber jacket over a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He’d brought me donuts again, and I let him. An almost empty pastry box sat beside me. Tucked in the corner, one remained.

  Seated cross-legged on a grassy knoll in the park, I threw a handful of crumbs at the birds milling below the fountain. I couldn’t figure out how he found me, but I didn’t ask him.

  “There’s always a problem, Jason.” I rubbed my hands together. “Is it true there’s a white peacock in this park?”

  Jason glanced around. “Did you sleep out here?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I hadn’t, but I didn’t want him to know about my contrary mood.

  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Rather than arguing with me about my choices, he said, “Someone left a dead body on our doorstep.”

  I shrank away from him. “I’ve been here. I haven’t killed anyone.” I pointed to the ground at my feet. Dread squeezed my heart.

  “I know.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  “I’ve been here. In the park.” I waved my hand around but didn’t take his. “Here.” Desperation clutched at my stomach. A third one?

  “I know.” Jason dropped to the ground beside me. “Do you remember the little girl?”

  There weren’t enough words for what I remembered. “Of course.”

  “There’s new information. Will you come with me?” Jason yanked a handful of grass and tossed it to the side. He left a bald spot on the ground. “We really should get you a place,” he murmured under his breath.

  I propped an elbow on my knee and tucked my eyes into my palm. “It’s about her?”

  He rubbed his hands together, and bits of dirt sprinkled his pants. “Yes, let’s go for a ride.”

  I scooped up the pastry box. I knew who deserved it.

  On the way out of the park, I handed the last donut to a man seated beside a grocery cart and huddled beneath a tarp. His eyes lit up, and his grin split his face. “Haven’t had one of these in forever.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for sharing your fire last night.”

  With his mouth stuffed full of donut, he said, “You come by anytime, pretty lady.” He laughed. “Besides you smell better than most of the people that sit up with me.”

  When we reached the street, Jason asked, “Who was that?” Jason asked.

  “A friend.” I didn’t add anymore.

  Jason’s expression turned thoughtful, but he didn’t ask anything else.

  In the subway station, I raised my coat collar and tried not to think about all the concrete that rested over my head. Jason had decided to take the subway back to the church. I had wanted to walk, but it’s amazing how being hungry for a few hours made every idea in his head sound a little better, as long as he mentioned a meal.

  I still hadn’t found employment. I had sifted through classified ads on a coffee shop computer that morning, but there wasn’t much for an untrained nobody.

  When we passed a hotdog stand on the street by the station entrance, Jason asked if I wanted to eat then or later.

  Stupid question.

  My stomach had folded in on itself in the last few days. I hadn’t been able to figure out how to get a job with no identification, and no clue how to get any. Hooking hadn’t worked out.

  I was a real femme fatale. Thank the Internet for the new vocabulary.

  The hotdog was the most delicious thing I’d eaten in days.

  When he stepped through the subway’s sliding doors, I hesitated. The last time I was there, I made the choice to end the life of a bad man. The last time I was there, I wasn’t terrified of small spaces.

  Already seated, Jason waved me into the car. From an adjacent graffiti-covered seat, a little girl watched. Her brown eyes reflected the neons overhead. Her curly black hair swept back into a pigtail above each ear.

  “I can’t,” I whispered desperately, and she heard me.

  She hopped up and tilted her head. Like puppies―when they used to catch glimpses of me flying through New Haven City Park. Then she took my hand and whispered, “It’s scary the first time, but it will carry you home.” She had a little lisp.

  Meekly, I followed her. I was more terrified of disappointing her than riding the subway. I’ve never been able to say no to little girls. I wanted to mother a child of my own too much. It was an impossible dream for a fallen angel, but I had dreamed it for two hundred years.

  Memories of Hannah pushed in close, but I sent them away. This girl wasn’t her. And I changed.

  I
settled in the seat next to Jason, and she still held my hand, her kid-rough thumb moving back and forth. After a nod from an elderly woman, she took the seat beside me. Her dark skin contrasted with my paleness. I’d never felt anything so soothing.

  Jason leaned over. “And a child shall lead them.”

  I snorted. Words from that book never mended my wounds.

  He sighed. “We’ll find your wide-eyed spark again, Woe. I promise.”

  Arún was better at finding it than Jason. The thought made me grin.

  “What’s funny?” Jason asked.

  “Nothing.”

  The doors closed with a hiss, and the lights blinked as the car moved away from the platform. The little girl pulled her hand away and turned her head toward me.

  I thought nothing of it until she repeated the movement twice more.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  A bashful grin broke below her round cheeks. “Yes.” She scooted closer. “Sometimes I see things. Were you an angel?”

  A thrill burst in my stomach, but hope dashed it against reality. How was I supposed to answer? Horrified she might see my truth, I only managed to stutter. “I―I―I―”

  “It’s okay.” Her breath brushed against my ear. “Your wings are beautiful. I can see them when I look away. Like at night when you’re trying to see the monsters under the bed.” With a glance at Jason, the little girl leaned closer. “He wants to save everyone, but he doesn’t know who the bad guy is. Not really. Be careful.”

  I stared at her in shock. Passengers were beginning to notice.

  “Are you okay?” Jason’s breath tickled my ear. He winked at the girl beside me.

  My hands trembled in my lap, and I pressed my palms together, willing the tremors to stop. “Yes.” The word came out as a hiss. Just who did Jason think the bad guy was?

  Once we reached the church, Jason gestured for me to follow him down the little stairwell. I lingered at the top of the stairs. All the awful, small places.

  He turned back. “Would you like to wait here?”

  I smiled in relief. “I’ll wait in the front row.” Elated, I sort of skipped back into the sanctuary.

  It wasn’t long before Jason returned. He carried a thick manila envelope. Rather than sitting next to me, he opened the folder. He lifted the top sheet and flipped it so that I could see the picture. “Recognize him?”

  I swallowed. “That’s the man…”

  The grimace preceded his words. “Yes, the man who murdered that little girl―”

  “Hannah,” I interrupted. “Her name was Hannah.”

  Jason nodded. “This was the man who murdered Hannah. This was the man who met Woe.” He reached into the folder and pulled out another. He flipped it around. “What about this guy?”

  I shook my head. A man scowled from a photograph. One of his eyebrows had two white scars through it. I didn’t recognize him. “Is that the latest dead one?” At his nod, I continued, “How is it related to her?”

  Jason slipped a small square of paper across the seat. The edges were crinkled like it had been wadded. A harsh scrawl marked the page. It read, “For Woe.”

  Startled, I glanced at Jason. “For Woe? What does that mean?”

  In answer, Jason pushed the folder down the bench. “I did some checking.”

  I raised my eyebrows, and he pushed the paperwork closer. I didn’t want to touch it. How could a simple folder feel so ominous? Like I volunteered to flip open the lid on a casket that had been buried for a few years. Maybe I didn’t want to open the lid. I waffled back and forth until curiosity won me over.

  A line in the middle of the third page punched me in the gut. “No.” I slapped it closed. “This can’t be right.”

  “We think it is.” Jason pulled on his beard in a rhythmic movement. Repetitive.

  “Then, that means…” The room shrank in size, and spots swam at the edge of my vision. A low hum grew to a roar. A truth tsunami. Devastating when you want to ignore the problem.

  I swallowed the bile that burned my esophagus. “That means… I killed the wrong man.” I traded my wings for… for…”

  Jason laid his hand on my arm. Beneath his palm, warmth spread and radiated outward. He must have seen me sway. In that soothing voice, he spoke, “No, no, his DNA puts him at the crime scene. He was there. He did those awful things you saw. But…”

  His thumb worked back and forth close to my elbow. “She wasn’t the first. And he wasn’t the mastermind. There were two or three of them. Working for a Boss. Somehow they’re collecting something from these girls. We just don’t know what yet.”

  He picked up the second picture and bounced it in the air a couple times. “This guy was left on our front steps with that note attached. He’d been beaten to a bloody pulp and then someone―or something―broke his neck.”

  I scooted down the bench, shoved a fingernail between my teeth, and bit through it. Maybe I knew the someone.

  “Smoking and nail biting?” His gaze narrowed. The gray streaks in his hair made him look… fatherly. “You’re picking up bad habits.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. I’d find this man. And then I’d… I’d… I didn’t know what.

  I gritted my teeth, and a metallic taste flavored my saliva. My fingertip was bright red. Drops of blood made sun shapes on the floor. I grimaced at Jason. “Saw someone do it. Decided to try it. Problem?”

  Jason only pursed his lips, and then he asked, “This brings me to my question. Did you find who you were you looking for the other day when you needed that flashlight?”

  16

  Next Steps

  Arún

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Woe.

  A light fog filled the air, dimming the shop lights and street lamps, and a mist peppered my cheeks with moisture. Loping toward the park, I replayed the earlier scenes in my head, my tennis shoes quiet against the pavement.

  She wasn’t going to stay out of trouble. That’s all I cared about.

  I wanted to give Jason a piece of my mind, but I elected to wait. As much as he liked me, I didn’t imagine the exchange would be a positive one. I wouldn’t tolerate his attitude well, and I didn’t think Woe needed to see us duking it out—and me, winning—when there were other, bigger things to worry about.

  Instead, I decided to explore the park, hunting for the being that hunted Woe. While I was at it, maybe I’d run into the creature that I’d smelled first in the pizzeria. They might even be one and the same. That would make things simpler.

  At the end of the street, a truck backed up to a hole beneath a building. When they opened the doors, a white powder filled the air because of flour refill day for the donut makers.

  Mortals in New Haven City moved on as though the paranormal didn’t exist. As far as they were concerned, if they didn’t see it, it didn’t exist. If they had any idea how many beings hid in the shadows of their world, there would be riots.

  I kept a steady pace, not quite jogging, but not walking either. The movement suited my turn-about thoughts.

  First, I needed to figure out what had been after Woe.

  Second, I needed to figure out what to do about her… and me. I knew what I wanted to do. It involved a bed and a lot fewer clothes, but that was a complicated mess.

  Pressed into a corner by the airborne attacker, I had pretty much declared to the mortal world that Woe was my mate, roaring while I stood over her.

  My eartips heated. Less poised and less civilized, the behavior didn’t fit usual Fae behavior. It left me unbalanced. I didn’t understand the madness of it.

  Anybody that messed with her messed with me. Too new to the mortal world, she didn’t know my kind at all. Maybe she hadn’t picked up on the undercurrents of what was going on, but I did. Now bonded and bound to her, I behaved like it.

  That was a serious departure from the way I expected my future to go, and I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  I hurried into of the park, determined to give it a t
horough once over.

  After that, I guessed the next thing would be to send Woe a dinner invitation.

  17

  Considerations

  Jason

  Letters cluttered the surface of the desk in my office.

  I had brought them down to the Atheneum from the upstairs library. They belonged to one of my predecessors, who had died of a heart attack in the apartment that had become mine.

  He had written a dozen personal essays to the next priest detailing his time as the List Keeper. The letters existed as observations on the trials of this job, and I re-read them whenever I tried to decide what to do next. The Librarian had been invented after the letters. Yet everything the Librarian knew lacked the personal details these letters contained.

  As I tucked one of them back into its envelope, the Librarian appeared. “Salutations, Jason,” he said. “I have intercepted an incoming call and voicemail from the New Haven City Precinct. They ask that you go to the park where you play chess at your earliest convenience. Alone, they specified.”

  I frowned. “Did they say anything else?”

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, nothing more.” He clasped his hands in front of himself. “Shall I let the others know?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s probably nothing.” I stood and tugged on the t-shirt I had donned while the laundry had my official clothes.

  I crossed to the door. “Did Frank leave the message?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t Frank. I didn’t recognize the voice.”

  I decided not to wait for the laundry to finish.

  In the park, the sunlight slanted with soft edges, the morning chill as heavy as the springtime dew. New leaves in bright green adorned the trees, and baby shoots of grass pushed through the moist dirt. Springtime in New Haven City was not to be missed.

  I shifted from side to side and blew into my cupped hands. The t-shirt wasn’t much protection from the cold, and I hadn’t taken the time to grab a jacket.

  I never met anyone here except Frank, and it wasn’t Tuesday. I smelled them before I saw them. That meant paranormal. Perfect. Footfalls crunched on the gravel of the walkway.