Reaper (41 page)

I leaned back. Nymphs. Faeries. I thought I should trade in my Book of Shadows for a copy of Aesop’s Fables. “So this curse…” I started.

“Was meant to keep me away. I can change sizes at will, which I still can, but
Melina
,” he spat the name venomously, “thought it would be clever to force me into fae size whenever water touched me, making it impossible for us to ever be together again.”

“Ok.” I nodded, flashing back to Mr. Pickett’s mythology class and wishing I took it more seriously. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense.” As if any of this did…

“Ok, ok. She broke up with me and I…I was persistent that we should try to make things work. I did everything! You should have seen the flowers I sent her! More beautiful than you can even imagine! But nothing was enough. Not for my Melina.”

Nikolai reminded me a normal human my own age; hurt from a break up, desperately not wanting to let go. But he wasn’t. He was an old, small faery. And here I was, having a conversation with him. Not even Melcovel could come up with a hallucination this crazy. I glanced at Hunter, checking again to make sure he would see Nikolai.

“But enough about me,” he said, fluttering to a stop to sit cross legged in the jar. Standing about four inches from head to toe, he looked most uncomfortable in the jar. He couldn’t fully open his wings. “Tell me about being a witch in the Coven of Sacred Guardians. Life must be so exciting!”

There was something about Nikolai that was oddly likeable. Maybe he had sprinkled faery dust on me when I wasn’t looking.

“Hold that thought,” I told him. “Watch him?” I asked Hunter before sprinting (ok, hobbling quickly with my chewed knee) up into the attic. I returned to the kitchen with an old bird cage full of doll house furniture. I spread a dishtowel over the wire bottom and set the doll bed, couch, table and chairs inside. I wrapped twisty-ties around the sliding doors of the cage, filled a tall glass with water, set it next to the cage and picked up the jar.

“Thank you, my lady,” Nikolai told me after I switched his holding cell. “This is much roomier, but perhaps you can allow me to transform back to your size?”

“I’m not sure I can trust you just yet.”

“Fair enough.” He settled on the perch swing, kicking his little legs back and forth to make it sway. “So, tell me about your latest quest!”

Quest?
I thought to Hunter. “Well, I just killed the geiers,” I said, struggling with the pronunciation.

“Oh! That’s what they were? I should have known. It makes sense, following the trail and all.” He grabbed the sides of the perch and leaned back.

“Trail? What trail?”

“If you ask me, it was planted. It’s too cut and dry to be real.” He kicked his feet wildly.

“What trail?!”

“A rift.”

“What?”

“You know, cosmic matter floating in the air.” He looked at me as if I just ask what color the sky was. “So what else have you killed?”

“Wait, tell me more about this rift.”

He suddenly jumped off the swing and flew to the top of the cage. “You really don’t know?”

I pressed my lips together. “No, I don’t.”

“A Coven witch,” he said quietly to himself. “That doesn’t know what a rift is.” Amusement shone on his little face. I leaned back in the chair, trying hard to not feel embarrassed. “You’re either new at this or you’re not really a witch.”

I bit at the inside of my cheek. I don’t see the harm in telling the truth. My knowledge of magic—or lack thereof—wouldn’t change my chances in a fight.

“I’m new,” I confessed.

“How new?” he asked somewhat gently.

“Uh, I found out I was a witch about seven months ago.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

He sat back on the swing. “How many geier demons where there?”

“A dozen or so.”

“And you killed them all?”

“Well, Hunter helped.” I cast an endearing look at my Guardian.

“That’s still a great feat! I am impressed!”

“Uh, thanks.”

He smiled. “You are welcome.” He fluttered down to the little couch. “Tell me more! I always imagined witches much live such adventurous lives!”

“Yeah,” I agreed, smiling. “Ever heard of Asaroth?”

He gasped. My smile broadened.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“Wow! Tell me how you did it!”

I yawned but launched into full detail, oddly enjoying being in the spot light. I shook myself back to what was actually important, somewhat baffled at how off topic I had gotten. “Now, about this ‘rift’ as you call it…”

“Oh, yes. A rift, ripple, portal, whatever you want to call it. A tear in this reality’s energy fields.”

“Like being sucked into a made up demon world?”

“Sure. Anytime a shift occurs from this plane to another—wait, that wasn’t hypothetical, was it?”

“No. Melcovel…”

“He pulled you through a rift?!”

I nodded, noticing the bandage on my knee was bloody again.

“How in the world did you get out?”

I shrugged. “I came home and broke through, I guess.”

Nikolai whistled. “You are a wunderkind, kid.”

“Uh, thanks.” I smiled. “So,” I began, my neurons struggling to keep up. “Every time another dimension opens, a rift forms?”

“Yep. You can think of them like scars. They all ‘heal’ eventually, but for a while, the energy is so disturbed you can feel it, but only if you know what you’re looking for.”

I nodded again. “Regular people can’t feel it, can they?”

“Nope. They do feel a strong aversion though, but of course they chalk up a ‘logical’ explanation for it.”

Nikolai settled cross-legged on the doll couch, waiting for me to ask another question. I was still unsure of whether to trust him. Hunter didn’t feel threatened by him and neither did I, but honestly, how scary can someone be when they’re stuck in a bird cage, sitting on doll house furniture? I watched him lean back and wondered if it hurt to put pressure on his wings.

“What about ghosts?” I blurted, curiosity getting the better of me.

“What about them?”

“Well, I’m a medium. Every time we communicate, they have to pass through the astral plane.”

“Ah, lass. Death is a tricky thing. I cannot offer up an explanation on that one. What happens when the soul leaves this realm—or any for that matter—isn’t understood by anyone I know.”

“Death is
truly
a mystery,” I stated.

“Aye, it is.” He smiled gently. There was something about him that reminded me of my grandpa, which weirded me out since he didn’t look over twenty-five and was as hyper as a kid with ADHD and a fistful of pixie sticks. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you not know about being a witch?”

“Binding spell. It was meant to protect me, and my great aunt died before she got a chance to explain everything.”

“Oh, wow. Getting the power of magic and the ability to see spirits must have been so overwhelming.”

I shook my head. “I’ve always been able to see the ghosts.”

He jumped up. “Most interesting! I’ve seen a ghost before. It was a horribly unfortunate event. Miserable thing. Gave me nightmares for weeks. I don’t know how you can stand it. Us faery folk avoid them at all costs.” He shook his head.

“Really?” I asked curiously.

“Oh yes. A scary sight, spirits are. Death, and all things associated with it, should be avoided. At least we were brought up with that notion anyway.”

“Oh.” I had assumed that supernatural creatures wouldn’t fear other supernatural creatures.

“What happens when you die, whether you have a soul or not, is a mystery to
everyone
,” he expatiated, seeing my surprise. “The unknown, the mystery, the fear of no control…everyone in The Realm avoids it.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Dead things should be avoided,” he repeated. “Even demons can be frightened by ghosts,” he added in a hushed voice.

Now
that
was hard to believe. “No way!”

He shrugged. “The thing that confuses me most about humans is their
undying
desire to search for spirits.”

I chuckled. “I know, weird, and the way they go about it…” I rolled my eyes.

“Do they ask you for help? Why can’t they move on? Can you touch them?” Nikolai bounced excitedly on the tiny couch. “Tell me everything!”

I looked around the messy kitchen. “Maybe tomorrow.” I had meant to wash the dishes that piled in the sink, and take out the trash, and empty the dishwasher, and sweep and mop as well as clean the rest of house…but killing demons is as good excuse as any, right? Still, the daunting mess amplified my exhaustion.

“You know,” Nikolai began, “A poultice would do wonders for your wounds.”

“I don’t know how to make one,” I admitted, realizing how much I’d overused “I don’t know” in our conversation. “I mean, I
know
how, like it’s in my Book of Shadows—”

“Oh! The Book! Can I see it?”

“Later,” I said, not comfortable with him leafing through my book of magical family history. I put my hands on the table to push myself up and faltered.

“Oh, my, you are very injured.” He fluttered around the cage and settled on the swing again. He hung upside down on the swing by his knees. “What does Melcovel want with you?”

“Revenge.”

“Oh! What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. He’s mad at the Coven and is taking it out on me.”

“Demons,” he huffed. “Logic is nonexistent with them.”

I shook my head. “Tell me about it.”

A creak came from the staircase. “Annie?” Ethan hoarsely called.

“Yes?” I replied and tried to rush to the base of the stairs.

“Who are you talking to?”

“René,” I said automatically. “Go back to bed; I’ll bring you Jell-O when it’s ready, ok?”

“Alright,” he mumbled. I waited until I heard the floorboards creak in my room to turn back into the kitchen.

Nik hung by his knees on the swing. “Why have you lied to him so much tonight?” he asked.

I took the Jell-O from the freezer and grabbed a knife. “He’s sick. I don’t want to worry him.”

He fluttered to the top of the cage and stood on the perch. “You really do care about him?”

“Very much so.”

“What is his name?”

“Ethan.”

“And he doesn’t know about magic?”

I plopped an uneven square of Jell-O into a bowl and watched it wiggle to a standstill. “He does. He knows a lot about demons too, probably more than I do.”

“I still don’t get why you lied.”

“I wouldn’t call it
lying
,” I insisted. “More like protecting him. Ethan is very…protective of me and he wouldn’t take too well to staying in bed and resting if he knew I was out fighting demons.” I smiled and added quietly, “or housing a faery.”

Nikolai returned my smile. “I’d like to meet him. When’s he’s better that is. I don’t care to catch ill.”

I set the bowl down and leaned on the table. “I thought you couldn’t get sick, or at least I remember something like that from a book I read.”

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of elves. Us fae can catch a cold now and then. My half sister caught a bit of that nasty plague a few centuries ago. Took half a year and a whole bunch of magic to get her back to her old self again.”

“The plague? Like the Black Plague?” I asked, bewildered.

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. “I—I should get upstairs to Ethan.” I picked up the bowl before expeditiously setting it down again. “Are you hungry?”

He looked up, as if thinking. “A little.”

“Uh, what would you like?”

“Milk with honey and cookies.”

“Alright.” My hand closed around a glass as I realized I needed Barbie sized dishes. Knowing fully that Ethan might be a little upset if he found out, I mixed a tiny bit of honey with milk in his Chicago Bears shot glass. I broke a chocolate chip cookie into small pieces and set everything on the little table inside the cage. The little bed had a thin cotton filled mattress. The blanket was regal red and gold brocade, with the bottom half glued to the wooden frame. With an easy jerk I ripped it loose. Rummaging through the cabinet, I found the two softest dish towels and carefully folded them over the tiny four post bed.

“Is this, uh, ok for the night?”

Nikolai looked around. “Yes, the bivouac should suffice.” He smiled sincerely.

“Oh, uh, good. Goodnight Nik.”

“Sleep well, my lady,” he whispered with a wave.

I smiled once more and limped up the stairs and into our bedroom to find Ethan bent over the toilet. As I watched him clamber back into bed, anxiety rose. Hunter jumped gracefully next to him, resting his head against Ethan’s. Hunter was getting worried too. He could sense Ethan’s failing health. I stuck the thermometer in Ethan’s ear before he could protest.