Fright Night

DONNA

brEAKING NEWS: NEW-HELIONS AND SIRENTON WERE ON FIRE LAST NIGHT. CIVIL DEFENSE STRUGGLES TO DISSIPATE TENSION.

Across the country, witch and vampire communities have been clashing with gorgons and faefolk. Yesterday, an outburst of magic resulted in a magnitude seven explosion in New Helions. Ninety-six casualties have been reported since this morning, and the number keeps increasing. Police investigators hint at a new drug plaguing the country since January.

Charisma Spores. "New-Helions and Sirenton were on fire last night. Civil defense struggles to dissipate the tension." Faerhan Today. July 5.

Friday, July 5th...

My three-day business trip turned into an interminable ten-day struggle through hell. Thankfully, I didn't have to share a room with Miss Kravenen.

This trip was a disaster... Day two, Mr. Hornsharp, Miss Kravenen, and I were gathered in the lounge area of a luxury hotel plopped on sea serpent scale-covered armchairs; news rolled in the background, flashing an even more resounding stock crash as we were trying to convince this wealthy client of a Hornsharp not to pull out his money from the stock market, Kravenen reciting her legal jargon to strengthen our arguments against his impending move or... confuse him. At the same time, I was on the seductive side of things—a promise of wealth and other nice stuff awaiting him drawling out of my lying mouth. Guess what? The horns on his head might not have been sharp, but his decision was, because I would've pulled my money out, too.

At that point, I needed a drink. Of course, the hotel was a 'dry' one. My mental health was at stake, so I texted Fay immediately.

Fay

Hey, I'm grounded for another week.

Sorry to hear that.

Yeah... you know what could save this loss of time? A full moon party. Make it July 7. Fuck, I hope I'll be home by then.

But that weekend ain't even a full moon...

Even if it ain't one. July 7, it's a question of survival. I'm on the verge of murdering my boss... Throw a party like you know how, and don't forget to invite my pack and the fae squad.

The fae. You sure?

Fay... they're nice girls. Try. Not everyone is against you.

Whatever. How's it going in Sirenton other than your business flop?

Things are hellish here. You have no idea. Mass riots, aeriojets all over the place, arresting people... The staff asks us to stay in the hotel until an airliner becomes available. Then a shuttle service will take us straight to our terminal. Everything will be fine if we comply.

Please stay safe.

Don't stress. There's been plenty of times when stuff degenerated like that. Until then, enjoy the flat for yourself and tell me you and your dad sorted things out...

Slow and steady is the process...

Sort it out.

Yeah…

I'll call you tonight.

Catch you later.

Then more small talk followed, the highlight of my stay, to be frank.

As of this morning, I was uncertain if I would be able to catch the last Aero Airlines flight.

Ugh... what is that smell?! Piss... it's actual piss. How to be greeted!

The Helbenixon Residence entryway reeks. Probably some monster squatters' having confused a corner from a urinal. My key stumbles over the mailbox lock as I cough this stench out. Rows of saccadic tries later, I finally manage to slot it in.

"Electricity bills, marketing stuff, ads, another ad..." I mumble, shuffling through the mail. I've got to change the electricity provider. I can't keep getting these paper bills. Couldn't they just propose an app? Seriously. How many trees does it take before their own bulb lights up!?

My mail-flicking stops at a red envelope. There's a D written in bold on it.

Bracing my unwanted bulk under one arm, I examine it, flip it from front to back, and open it. My breathing stops as I pull out the card. 'Join the Revolutionary Monster Brigade.' Dread settles in my throat. I swallow it harshly, and like a stone, it sinks into the pit of my stomach.

A door two floors up bangs, sending loud shivers down the staircase and right up my spine. My mail drops to my feet, and I'm not picking it up.

I gaze at the letterbox, my eyes dry from not blinking, the damn thing pressed against my chest as I dare to not even look behind me.

Relax, Donna. I practice those balloon breathing exercises Fay does whenever she gets panic attacks. In a way, it works; little blood returning to my stiff body as I put my travel bag down.

But it's not every day I get to hold a death sentence in my hands... Fuck, if someone sees me with this, it's the Gurnam Swamps assured.

I jerk. Bones, blood, and boots all at once. A high-pitched, piercing sound screams from the street right into the hallway.

Again, the opposite corner store's warning bell is blaring. It's the sixth time this month...

Anyway... let's get back to reading. Both the lettering and symbols have been written by hand. About the symbol? It's an orb glowing brightly, nestled in the joined palms of a tree nymph; under it, 'Join the resistance. Fight for your freedom.' A shoal of anxious hums swim out of my mouth as I read the rest. I'm already regretting this...

THE SEELIE ERA IS OVER

Now is the time to restore Orcana to its former status as a land of free monster tribes. This message is not just for the Green Tuskers, but the Monsters of Minoustars, Skin Tanners, One-eyes, and your beloved cities that once existed peacefully amongst the Green Tuskers. Take back what's yours.

For Orcana. For Freedom.

Strength and courage to our New Founding Monsters.

You hold it in you.

Oden.

Oden?

Slanting my head back just a little, I look behind me. Can't have witchy Marvea sneaking behind me. This building guardian sniffs out any anti-Fidrs within a mile. The week's been hard enough, and I really don't want to end it in a jail cell.

I grab the strap at my feet along my litter, fling my bag over my shoulder, and look at my clutched pile of envelopes, the red card sitting on top.

Paranoia is striking deep. I'm hesitating, my hand hovering above my bag. I should get rid of it.

This is one of those moments where I would've loved Fay to say, Excuse me, girl, can I have a word with you? I would've answered, Sure. Then she would have gone full incendiary on me. And we would've moved on, the card tossed into the metallic bin behind me.

But she ain't here.

I am.

And I snarl, smile, whatever it is I'm pulling, zipping my bag open and shoving deep, deep, deep into my bag, not only bills but a whole new goal. What's happening here is years and years of enduring frustration, societal junk-feeding, and a desperate need for change. Fidr rebuilt the country with rot, classifying all monsters as inferior to the fae. And the orcs had the worst of it... How am I supposed to feel about all this?

Anyway.

It's just a letter…

One harmless little piece of paper...

I step into the elevator, quick to shove my tizz in a 'I'll handle this later' folder.

My left foot begins to tap as I ride up, showing a little werewolf bliss. Yes, I am very much blissing out right now.

It dings, and I prance out like a deer atDimsyland, feeling so liberated. It's Friday, or as I call it, Freedom day. I chuckle. Can't be more on queue.

And indeed, no more middle seat at the backend of this nefarious baby-packed aeriojets, no passed-out snacks, emails, bankroller handshakes, no Ms. Kravenen, no stress.

I shake my head, feeling ungrateful as my eyes flash back to how I felt when my flight was allowed to take off. I sure went blank when the departure board panels began switching from 'Boarding' to 'Flight canceled'. And, oh joy, when New Orc flicked to 'Last call'. Me. Getting to board the last flight for New Orc before it too was ground. I began running, a few passengers behind me following my lead as a riot broke out at the airport. Hell of a day if someone asked...

And now, it's time to unwind.

Oh, yes, it is.

While strolling through the corridor, I cannot help but notice how this old peeling wallpaper has never been so artful. Even the flickering light bulbs send me signals of clubbing as they throb in my eyes, getting me ready to shake that ass.

"Fay, honey! I'm ba-ack! Time topar-tay!" My heel back kicks the door, and we all know what that slam means. Wine.

I'm not even two steps in, and my eyes send a distress signal to my brain, wildly interfering with my vibes.

This scene. It's familiar, like déjà vu, like a brain glitch, like the staggering inhale of a painful breath.

Everything's clean as a whistle. My couch! It's like new...

Clinging to my bag, I hold it tightly against my chest, feeling like something is amiss.

There isn't one vital sign of life:

-No litter

-No insane collection of glasses left in the sink

-No spoons forgotten here and there on the furniture with its usual drying empty yogurt pot

-No discarded purple slippers

-Not a single cushion on the floor.

It smells like detergent.

A hostile emotion seeps into my skin, elevating it as I turn my head to the right. My sink is spotless, shining stainless steel in my face—blindness about to set in.

"Fay...?" I stand rigid before the flat. It's been years since I last saw my apartment so neat, and when that happened, my world stopped for a heartbeat. A very precious heartbeat... the one of a fairy.

My heart is pounding in my throat—violently, hurting, aching.

I drop my load on the floor, remove my coat with angst, hook it behind the entry door, and remove my stilettos before kicking them and my god-awful week into a corner.

And I shiver thinking thisgod-awfulnessmay not be over yet.

Because the full-bodied chill that's currently sweeping over me isn't only unpleasant, it's terrifying.

And as gooseflesh skits up my neck, my breath shifts into different places. I twist and look over both shoulders, revolving on my numbing heels. "Fay, sweetie..."

Without even the tiniest echo returned to me, my guts tremble. The fact that she's not answering is adding to my growing nerves.

My mind immediately goes to the bathroom; my legs fast to track it. I crack the door open. The shower glass panel is sparkling, as if recently unwrapped from a warehouse. Looking down, I narrow my eyes. There are no longer empty shampoo bottles on the floor tiles. I glance to my left, finding toothbrushes perfectly stacked on the shelf where they should be, their blue-glazed glass cleaned inside out.

I stagger and pause on my reflection, my bloodshot eyes burning with fear, my blue skin pale, mascara lines ruining a race for each other.

A silent, aching gasp bulges up my throat as I stare into the mirror. There isn't one water stain on it...

"No," escapes me.

My self-control is straining as this word stirs, grows, and spreads.No... no...It continues to echo in my mind to my sudden barrel turn.

To my feet, slipping on the parquet as I run for her bedroom, I voice my terror again. "Fay!"

I've been watching from afar. I know the girl, and how she always keeps a straight face when her monsters come. We discuss things sometimes. Her parents more, and with hermother, Melinda, it's a different level of talk altogether. Yes, I've got the whole Jinksovan team on my phone. They worry about her all the time, Fay's suicidal attempt stamped in everyone's memory. Her father calls me at least once a month. And I'm handling a house on fire with a smile.

Melindaonce said something abouta wounded sense of morality linked with the war—nothing but words born from a therapist.

My hand wraps over Fay's handle. What if I go through this pain again?

Her soul is rotting inside her, and she's trying hard to wash it away. It's not her soul she needs to cast away.

I bring the handle down, feeling my stomach twist as my grip bends. I shut my eyes, letting my chest rise and collapse in quivering rushes. Does Fay think she's the only one devoured with guilt and grief? I begin by cracking the door open. It's a slim gap, but it's all I'm able to push.

It's all I can allow.

The war was one of those brutal ones. It cost me my entire old pack's lives—all of them except my sister and mother... And Tyke... I'm like his hotline, or is he mine?I recall his message from twelve days ago: Watch over her. Fay's having a hard time. Thks.

I've been working—a lot. I can't always be there, damn it! And I did text her. Bloody every day!

I know her.

She's okay.

She's okay!

There is a surge of courage in me, and I fling her door wide open. But then, my eyes refuse to bow at her bed.My breathing slows for a moment. This silence permeating the room is abnormal, crushing, unbearable...

My attention flickers to the window that is supposed to be constantly fucking wide open, unless for a shivering guest. That, again, is closed.

Please, no...

I then glance at her bedside light, still lit. There's a tiny shadow beside her red mushroom-shaped lamp. I gulp. My throat is tight, and swallowing is difficult.

A box of sleeping pills is standing upright on her bedside table.

And my eyes brim with dread.

Fay...

Throwing myself onto her bed, I grab her stupid shoulders. "Fay!"

Her head is dangling, my voice no more than a suppressed broken pressure cooker. "Fay..." I shake her. "Fayra!"

I know it hit her harder than us, and I'm sorry! I'm sorry she has to carry this. If I could remove this destructive beast inside her, I would. Gods, I would.

She was only a kid.

Just a kid...

"Fay!" I watch her closely, snatch her wrist, my thumb battling to find a pulse.

She's just a kid!

Government officials had called upon the magic of Faerish people to 'charge' bombs. And with Quince dead, to send their last living child to a Faerish Energy Center, Fay's parents must have been rage blind.

And when you realize your kind decimated ninety percent of the orc population...

Anyone with a neuron can tell Fay is a sensitive soul. Her parents are so stup?—

Fuck, how can I judge...

I brush my sweaty hair away from my eyes. It'snotall over! "No!" I blast out an animal grunt, realizing I'm more than just in a tizzy of fear; I'm shifting...

Stay cool, Donna. Can't do much with paws!

I detect a small pulse. How can I tell when Fay took those?

I drop her onto the bed and seize the bottle.How many pills did she take?I can't read the label correctly since it's rattling in my trembling hand! Where's my phone? Pocket! Shoving deep into it, I curse at this fingernail that bent backward. "Shit!"

9111, yes... I've got to call 9111.

My fingers are miraculously landing on the number tabs 9.1.1.1.

Bip.

I might be gaping. I might be thinking about all the possibilities of the future. I might be aching—for me, for Fay's parents, for Tyke... Fuck, it will destroy him. It will destroy all of us.

Bip.

I might be memorizing her silver-powder-dusted skin, her bowed lips, a beautiful heart shape in every perfect way, remnants of glitter gleaming on her cheekbones like fresh frost...

Is this the last time...

Her existence.

Exiting...

"9111, what is your emergency?"

In a whirlwind of panic, I bounce off the bed.

As I'm about to spew my distress, my ear perks to a sleepy voice. "What is it, Donna?"

I turn on burning heels, veins about to pop from my face as my lips press with relief and anger. "S-Sorry, it's a... a mistake," I babble, my phone slipping out of my hand.

As she inclines her head gracefully, Fay lifts herself on one elbow and rubs her eye. I'm observing her, how she brings her forearms back into position and looks at me with blinking eyes. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" she adds.

What's wrong?

What's wrong...

My best friend, my sister, the house of my secrets, my soul...

I swallow.

"Donna, talk. You're scaring me." She has no idea how this scene marked me that day, how my world seemed to fall apart. She has no idea the void I felt. How unwanted space nearly took our future moments away.

She nearly took everything away from us.

My lips tremble. I try pinching them more vigorously in an attempt to smother those tremors, but as I do, my fear finds another outlet and a tear bursts out of my eye—a cold, rushing tear.

"Hey, girl..." Fay gets out of bed, staggers a little, and walks to me, her blue eyes framed with a frown of worry.

Confused, girl? You should be!She can't do that shit to me.

And when her arms wrap around me, I just?—

"Donna, love, please. What happened?" My tears just won't stop flowing as she squeezes me even tighter.

"I don't want you to tidy the flat ever again," I manage to voice. "Promise me." My spasm unseals a pain I thought was long gone—I thought it had healed with hers. But it's there, and it's giving.

"Why?" this fucking fairy asks, this innocence so naively waving around her vowel.

Why? My head darts back. Un-fucking-believable. I grip the shrimpiest of arms, and, ensuring she hears me well, my muscles engage. "Where did you find these?" I point at her nightstand. She turns her head, and yes, she blushes.

With a bit of a jaw grind, she inhales deeply, her chest lifting to a slow blink. "I couldn't sleep, so I just took one. Why are you being so dramatic about it?"

"You went through my stuff. That box had a lock on it!" I yell.

At her...

And then...

I'm just so damn grateful that I cry once more.

Nothing happened.

My heart sings and swells with joy at being able to scream at her living self. I want to try to calm down; I am trying hard. Fuming rage, or is it an inner bonfire of celebration? My mind is so boggled up that it doesn't matter. I hold her strong. I hug her, forking my nails in spite!

"I just took one, Donna. One. Your box was open." Perhaps it was. I grow tired of locking it. I'm an insomniac. I'm tired. I forget... a lot of things.

My lips pinch again, and she frowns, a bit of a wince lining her face. She knows why.

Three years ago, I came back from a long family weekend. The flat was sanitized as if a murder had happened, but really, a cleaning team had scraped the whole place. It was as if I was handed a brand-new apartment by a promoter.

On that day, Fay's mother called and asked if she could talk to her daughter. She spoke sharply about Fay not picking up her calls.

I rolled my eyes.

I rolled my eyes, and I still regret it. This moment is engraved in me, along with all the other regrets tossed into a guilt vault. In my defense, these things happen. I can think of many reasons why Fay wouldn't have answered—like she was out of battery.

"She's fine," I said over the line. "Please do not worry, Ms. Jinksovan?—"

I can still remember her voice; it was a mother's voice, the stern voice of impending doom. "We had a fight over a sensitive topic. You know..." I remember the hurt I picked in her voice, "her brother. Can I talk to her?"

"She's not here yet, but I'll tell her you called." I tried to fast-forward the conversation, but Melinda was insistent.

"She's there!" she fussed.

After that, curiosity took me, and I knocked on her door, waited with her mom over the line, and finally, after no answer, I opened her door. Fay was there.

Unresponsive.

Overdosed on my sleeping pills...

Two moonshine-like eyes drift up to meet my stinging ones. "Donna, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to make you miserable. I cleaned the place. It's no secret you work late, and I've got some time on my hands, so you know, I just thought?—"

"Come here." I cuddle her like there's no tomorrow, burying my face in her threads, fingers gleaming blonde as I caress them. I exhale with a great deal of ease and shed a few more tears because there's still a little fright inside me. She returns my hug tenfold, the bones of her arms squeezing every last drop of salt from my body.

She's lost weight again...

Yet, I feel she is strong and genuine this time.

"Why did you close the window?" I ask.

"Donna... There's something wrong with New Orc."

"Tell me. I want to know." I stare at her window. Fay has issues with closed spaces, so something significant must have happened—dangerous enough to crank down her personal fears.

"I was alone... and there were shouts, screams. A patrol siren was screeching in the distance, growing louder, so I knew reinforcements were heading down Helbenixon Street.

"I pushed my head out the window where I saw a dozen gorgons being flogged or robbed. I couldn't tell. A bunch of witches had turned on them, tyrannizing them. Out of the folds of her cloak, one red-headed witch pulled out a long dagger and grabbed a male gorgon lying on the road by the hair, exposing his throat, about to do something so wrong..." Her breathing trembles, so I cram her face harder against me.

"I know I shouldn't get involved, but I couldn't let it slip without doing something. I shouted, begging the witch to stop. She released the young gorgon and lifted her head, yelling that I was next. I scrambled into the flat, shutting and locking every window, closing all the blinds."

Fay is composed, though she won't move from our embrace. Perhaps a tear is rolling down her cheek from the small patch of dampness my shirt leaves on my chest. "Patrol sirens blared from across the blinds. There were screams, then M-gunshots, and then nothing." Fay sucks in a breath, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Since I can't sleep with closed windows, and it was too dangerous to keep them open, I thought a sleeping pill would help..."

Her face is still buried in my neck as I stroke her hair. She can leave it there. "Say you'll call me next time," I say, a bitter edge to my voice.

The city's deteriorating...

Her lips move for a murmur. "Promise."

The two of us stand in silence, neither ready to submit to this battle of clenching arms. Fay's grip on me has never been this tight, guilt pressuring into my being. I could be wrong. It's just that I know my friend like the back of my hand.

I whisper, "Girl, you've got that squeeze right."

She chuckles first, and mine follows straight after.

Ding dong!

Our crushing embrace halts at a standstill. "You're expecting someone, sleepyhead?"

"No."