33

Violet Miller and the Present

Violet awoke in a comfortable bed surrounded by the smells of fresh coffee and sugary baking. Her chest ached and she brought up a slow hand, pressing it over her heart. Her first thought was of Mor—the look on his face before she’d passed out. The wideness of his eyes, the surprise, the fear. It was the last thing she’d seen. Something had happened to Mor when he’d tried to find her memories.

Her second thought was of the bizarre dream she’d just had. She was sure it was a dream because none of it made sense. She’d dreamt of a place with strange, vivid sights; potent, syrupy smells; and sweet, unfamiliar foods.

Violet pressed her hand harder into her chest, fighting to take in full breaths.

A young woman walked by the open bedroom door, and Violet sat up too quickly. Her head spun, and she moaned, making the woman stop and come back to the door.

“Finally,” the woman said and folded a set of tattoo-covered arms.

Violet blinked up at her, trying to place where she’d seen her before. It hit her as soon as she pictured the blonde woman in a fitted police uniform. “You’re that cop!” Lily Baker—that was her name.

“Save it,” Lily Baker said. “There are weirder things to worry about right now. Trust me.”

The officer disappeared from the doorway and came back a second later with a steaming mug of coffee. She extended it to Violet. Violet stared at the drink for a moment. Then she glanced around at her immediate surroundings to see if Mor had left a note to tell her what had happened.

She realized she was in a small apartment with pink bedsheets over her legs. A window was cracked open to let a breeze in. She spotted her phone resting on the nightstand, but there was no note anywhere. Not even a clue Mor had been here.

Violet wasn’t prepared for hot, angry tears to fill her eyes, or for her hands to start shaking.

“Take your time. What you’ve been through so far is pretty unreal,” Lily said, holding the coffee steady. “Getting preyed upon by that Shadow Fairy and everything.”

Violet inhaled sharply. “Officer…” Her voice came out raw. She swallowed.

Lily gave up and set the coffee down on the nightstand. “Yeah?”

“You’re friends with Mor, right?” Violet dragged her watery eyes up to the policewoman.

Mor.

No, Violet could not think about him right now. She had to push him far out of her mind. He’d cut ties with her, then dropped her off to wake up without him, and he hadn’t left a note. But still, she wanted to ask. “Did he say anything when he left me here?”

Lily folded her arms and tapped a finger against her bicep. “He said a few things,” she admitted, though it didn’t seem like she was planning to spill those things.

“You need to leave me alone.”

It seemed Mor had said everything he needed to say to Violet.

“He’s really done with me,” she realized. “I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it.” How cruel of him. He could have at least left a note after the way he’d looked at her the second before she’d fainted.

Lily sighed. “Mor said you might ask me some strange questions.” She dragged a chair over from the corner of the bedroom and sat down, then she pulled out a notebook, flipped to a new page, and clicked the back of a pen. “Tell me everything that’s happened so far with that Shadow Fairy. I promise I’ll believe you.”

Violet swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. “I can’t.”

Lily tapped her foot against the floor. After a moment, she nodded. “You don’t know me yet. I get it.” She tucked the notebook away, slid the coffee off the nightstand, and tried handing it to Violet again. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better. Though, I should warn you that it’s totally enchanted, so you’ll desperately want to come back here for more over the next few days.”

Violet reluctantly took the coffee, and Lily stood to leave.

“My aunt,” Violet blurted after her. “Her name is Zorah Miller. Please keep an eye on her.”

Lily paused by a bathroom door, a sympathetic look crossing her face. “I know your story. It’s seriously the worst that you’ve had to go through all this. If you need any help, you can always find me here or at the station,” she said. “I’ll sit outside your aunt’s house in the squad car today if that’ll make you feel better.”

The moment the bathroom door was shut with Lily inside it, Violet set down her coffee, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and dialed the interns. She bit her nails as she waited for the call to go through. Remi picked up on the second ring.

“Hang on,” Violet said, dialing Jase next to form a three-way call.

“Hello?” Jase’s voice filled her ear.

“I need you two to meet me back at the cathedral. I don’t know what Mor said to you, but this is not over. We’re going to write this story. The world needs to know about the fairies.” And their heartless tactics. How they could give false hope and abandon people all in the same breath.

Lily came out of the bathroom in her uniform and Violet hung up the phone. She tucked it away and climbed out of bed, looking around at the small apartment with a tiny kitchenette as she came out of the bedroom. Bar stools lined a short island that was covered in tiny piles of trinkets—coins, marbles, pens, straws, and other random objects. Violet recognized some of the pens from Mor’s cathedral office.

There were also personal belongings strewn everywhere like many people were living in this space.

“You can stay up here if you want to be alone, or you can come down if you want to be around other people. Just don’t leave the building or you might get whacked with a macaron,” Lily said, leading the way to a stairwell.

Violet followed, overcome with the sounds of cutlery and chatter in the stairwell. At the bottom, she found herself in the café—the one she’d been in last time. Coffee drinkers were scattered around the tables, some chatting in pairs, and others reading novels by the fireplace as they sipped iced lattes. A bookshelf was behind the counter and Violet wandered over to it. She hadn’t noticed the books in Fae Café before. Some of them were scuffed like they’d been read a hundred times.

A loud smack sounded through the shop, and a few customers jumped. Violet turned toward the noise, spotting Shayne’s white hair through the window. He stood on the sidewalk outside, his arm winding back with a muffin in his grip. It looked like he was about to hurl it at the Yarn Stitch store across the street.

Violet rushed through the café and pushed out the door, knocking it off a small bell. “Wait!” she shouted at Shayne.

He paused, mid-throw. He looked surprised to see Violet there.

A pink pastry fell out of the sky and pelted Violet on the cheek. “Ugh!” She whirled at the impact. When she pulled her hand away from her face, her fingers were sticky with icing.

Shayne grinned. “That’s what you get for getting involved,” he said.

“Involved in what? And Shayne, why are you doing this? One of those women is dying because of me,” Violet objected, wiping the icing from her cheek with her sleeve. She looked up at the clouds, wondering where the pastry had even come from.

Shayne snorted. “Of course she is, Human. That’s why they’re mad!” He carried on with his throw, hurtling the muffin at the Yarn Stitch window. It splattered into three pieces against the glass. Across the road, a girl in yarn clothing with big curly hair and bug-eye glasses gasped and cast Shayne a horrifying death look. Four women from the Yarn Stitch were outside in total—one of them held a basket of macarons. The others reached into the basket and threw the desserts back at Fae Café.

Shayne sprang over to Violet and yanked her out of the crossfire, nudging her back into the café ahead of him. He shook crumbs out of his hair as he came in. Then he declared to the room, “I’m tapping out.”

Dranian nodded from the counter. He removed his apron and walked by without a word, grabbing a tray of pudding cups on his way out to the street. Violet watched as Dranian started throwing them at the knit-covered women, splattering the bug-eyed glasses girl right in the mouth.

“How long has this food fight been going on?” Violet asked, eyeing the tea stains and spongy macaron splatters smearing the windows.

“It’ll end soon. It’s going to rain any minute. They’ll give up and go inside to save their ugly knitted vests.” Shayne dragged a half-empty coffee to himself and sipped.

“Who’s going to clean all that up?” Violet asked.

“Oh, we will—Dranian and I. We don’t have a choice. Kate was our master a while back, and she told us we had to clean up the messes we make here. Though, technically she let us off the hook, but we like to pretend she didn’t.” Shayne headed to the counter, and Violet followed. “Anything to drink, Human?” he asked her, and Violet shook her head.

By the café door, Lily tugged on her police vest. She pushed the door open a crack and yelled, “Coming out!”

All the fairies on both sides of the road paused, lowering their arms and their dessert ammunition. Lily walked down the sidewalk, nodding ‘good morning’ to one of the gaping neighbours as she passed. The second she was out of range, the macarons and pudding began flying again.

“I don’t get it. Why all the hatred between you and the knitting store?” Violet asked.

“Oh, this is nothing. You should have seen the snowball fight we started with them back in February when they first moved in across the road.” Shayne drank his coffee again. When Violet brought her attention back to him, she saw he was eyeing her over the mug. He licked his lips and sat on the nearest barstool, turning to face her and patting the stool beside so she’d sit too. He started talking before Violet was seated. “Are you all right, Human? And what exactly happened to Mor?”

Violet cringed at the mention of his name, trying to push thoughts of Mor away. “I don’t know,” she lied, turning to face the counter. “Are you actually concerned about me? Or are you really just making conversation to learn about Mor?”

Shayne shrugged and ripped a paper towel from the roll by the sink. He handed it to her and nodded to the drying icing on her cheeks. Violet accepted it and began scrubbing.

“Maybe a little of both,” Shayne said.

Dranian took a macaron right in the nose outside. He growled a slew of unusual curses so loudly that everyone could hear it through the windows. Violet wondered why the customers weren’t weirded out by the catastrophic food fight outside, but maybe the regulars were used to it.

“Where is Mor?” she finally asked flat out, hating herself for caring. “Why isn’t he here?”

Shayne shook his head and looked down at his coffee. “Apologies, Human, but Mor made it clear he didn’t want me to tell you anything—not that I know anything important. I’m surprised he even brought you back here again after what happened last time, even though I told him already that it wasn’t my fault.” He drank the last gulps of his coffee, then scowled. “It seems like no one around here even respects the opinions of a High King.”

Violet chewed on her lip. She wrang her fingers together and kicked the underside of the counter island. “I remember something,” she said. “About my past.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Shayne turned away and reached for the coffee pot. He poured himself another full drink and began scooping in heaps of sugar. He finished it off with enough milk to turn the coffee beige.

The memory flooded in with wisps of colours, sounds, and smells, and Violet’s mouth went dry. “I remember being harassed by people who look like you and Mor. With sharp ears,” she whispered.

Shayne slowed his coffee stirring, the spoon dangling from his frozen fingers.

“I remember being in a strange place with gold fruit and a bright green lake,” she added.

Shayne dropped the spoon against the rim of the mug. He twisted on the stool to face her.

“I was dragged into a black cave and told to eat flowers. They wanted me to dance to weird music—”

“Siren song,” Shayne whispered, more to himself, like he was reliving a memory of his own from long ago.

Violet sat up straighter. “You know where I’m talking about?” It was a plea. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or terrified that the place from her dream existed.

Shayne slowly nudged his coffee away like his thirst had died. “No wonder Mor seemed so strange.” He scratched his chin. Suddenly, he slapped a hand over his eyes and moaned. “This isn’t good, Human,” he said.

Violet sank into her seat. “What isn’t?” She hadn’t even told Shayne the worst part yet.

“This is the exact sort of situation that will destroy Mor. I’m worried he’s just made avenging you his priority if he knows you were harmed by fairy folk like that.”

“Avenge… me?” she rasped. “I doubt it.”

“I’m relieved you’re leaving so you can stop getting in my way.”

Shayne lazily dropped a flat hand onto the counter. “Mor was right. I should have sent you to the Sisterhood as soon as you woke up like he asked. I can’t stay here and protect you, Human,” he said.

“What?” Dismay sank through Violet’s stomach. “You’re going to kick me out, too?”

Shayne flashed a dull smirk. “Never.” He stood and tugged her sleeve to pull her up with him. “But Mor is vulnerable, and that fox is likely going to use your past to rattle and trap him. I have to go help Cress and Mor. My brothers need me.” He guided her through the café and out the door.

Pudding splashed through the air outside in an arc. Shayne batted a macaron out of the way before it could hit him as he walked past Dranian. He pulled Violet across the road, right up to the Yarn Stitch front door. He respectfully stepped aside to let a fairy woman pass with a fresh basket of desserts that were certainly meant to be used as ammo against Dranian.

“Here,” Shayne said to the knitters. He nudged Violet toward them, and Violet looked back at him in question. “You need to take her. I have other things to do.”

One of the women sat on the front step, blowing a bubble with her gum and watching the dessert battle while she knitted. She snorted. “What are we supposed to do with a human—”

Freida pushed out the front entrance, the door slapping the opposite wall from being opened aggressively. “Come in, Violet Miller,” she said.

Violet looked from Freida to Shayne. Shayne extended a hand toward the Yarn Stitch like her next step should be obvious. She didn’t know how to tell him that she was meeting her interns at the cathedral and needed to leave immediately.

Violet slowly walked to Freida, who put an arm around her and brought her inside. She didn’t have a chance to look back at Shayne again before the door swung shut behind them. “Don’t get any ideas,” the old woman said. “The moment you step out of here, you’ll be taken by that nine tailed fox. He’s watching you, you know.”

Violet swallowed. She patted her pocket for her phone so she could call the interns who were likely already on their way to meet her at the cathedral. Maybe she could tell them to meet her at the Yarn Stitch instead. But her hand stopped over her flat pockets. She held back a moan as she realized her phone was still in the apartment where she’d met Officer Baker.

She had to get out of here. She had to reach the interns. Now that she knew exactly who the serial-attacker was, she had to finish her story.

Gretchen lay across the coffee table in the same spot Violet had last seen her. The fairy woman’s eyes were closed, her limbs hanging limp. No wonder the knitters were mad at the baristas. They were probably the maddest at Mor.

Maybe they were mad at Violet, too, since she was the one Gretchen had been defending when Luc had stabbed her.

Violet moved in and sat by the table, taking Gretchen’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, even though she had no idea if Gretchen could hear. “I hate myself today,” she added. “For so many reasons.”

Freida went to an end table and poured a hot cup of tea. She added a few pinches of powder from bowls on the table and a large leaf. “Nonsense, Violet Miller. You only hate what others have told you about yourself. You are just fine the way you are.” She brought the tea over and set it on the coffee table. Violet stared at the antique teacup but didn’t touch it. “Drink this,” Freida instructed. “It will help with your stomach-ache, and I imagine it may also clear away some of your mind fog.”

“You don’t understand,” Violet said, ignoring the fact that Freida somehow mystically knew her medical condition. Her throat constricted as she turned toward the old woman to admit the one terrible thing she hadn’t even been able to tell Shayne. “I blamed the universe for making me wake up with no memory of who I was,” Violet rasped. She wished she’d never let Mor try and find her past. She wished she’d never wanted to know in the first place. “But it was me who wanted to forget. I made a deal with a fairy. I did this to myself.”

Rain began to pelt the windows, and sure enough, the knitting store members trickled back inside, swatting the raindrops off their knit vests and sweaters.

Freida rested her teacup on the saucer and came to sit on one of the couches. “You’re an odd one, Human. You did this to yourself, and yet, you believe your assassin is out there getting revenge on your behalf because he thinks you were taken advantage of? Are you quite sure that’s what he believes?”

“I was taken advantage of!” Violet said, though again, she had no idea how Freida had known what she was thinking. It was like the old woman could read minds. “I was thirteen years old, and I was taken to a weird land of fairies and harassed! Trust me, if a guy tried to kidnap me now, I’d kick him in an area that would cause him pain. But I was young and didn’t know any better back then.”

Freida cackled. “Anarea, you say.” She wiped an escaped tear from the corner of her eye as her laughter rang through the store. “I think I like you, Violet Miller. If I was still a recruiter for the Sisterhood of Assassins, I might have tried to bribe you to join us.” She sat back and sipped her tea. “But watch your mouth in here,” she added as the rest of the women found spots on the couches and pulled out their knitting. “We’re not supposed to speak of anything of the magic or faeborn sort at the moment.” She nodded toward a video camera in the corner of the store but didn’t explain what it was or why it was there.

Violet looked back at Gretchen. It seemed like the red-haired fairy wasn’t breathing, but her eyes moved behind her eyelids. “I wish I could stay with her until she wakes up, but I have somewhere to be,” Violet said.

“No point in staying by her side, Violet Miller,” Freida said. “She’s in a fairy coma. She’s likely dreaming of pretty green seas and whistle flowers. I don’t think she’ll want to come back. She may stay that way forever.” Something sank in Violet’s stomach. “However…” Freida set down her tea and folded her aged hands. “You shouldn’t try to leave. As I said, you’re being watched.”

“I told my interns to meet me at the cathedral,” Violet admitted. “They’re probably almost there already. I need to go stop them so they don’t get into danger, and we need to write our story.” She glanced off toward the pudding-covered Yarn Stitch windows. “Even if Mor has left me for good.”

Freida stared at Violet for several moments. Finally, she leaned back against the couch, snuggling in and pulling a ball of ivory yarn from an end table.

“Mor Trisencor is someone you should forget, Violet Miller,” she began. “That fae is a gifted, dangerous Shadow Fairy who was not only trained by the Shadows but also by the vicious North Brotherhood of Assassins.” Freida looked Violet dead in the eyes, then added, “But he is absolutely in over his head. He will die soon. And likely, he will die terribly.”

Violet stood, her knee bumping the side of the coffee table as she did. “What do you mean?” Her breathing staggered. “He… He knows what he’s doing, and he’s got his brothers…” It came out like a plea instead of a question.

Freida sighed. “Do not defend him, Human. He severed you from his faeborn life and wishes to never see you again. He is not worth your worry. Now, let me teach you how to knit.” She pulled a lob of yarn off the table and lifted two fresh needles. “It’s always beneficial to know the ways of the yarn.”

Violet looked toward the door where rain began pelting against the glass, thinking of things beyond yarn and needles.