12

Luc Zelsor and the Last Thing He Wanted to See

A ballet theatre rested at the city's edge. The building was made of the finest stone that glowed silver in the morning sunlight. Inside, half a dozen twisty hallways, a large auditorium with velvet red chairs, and a wide stage with a sweeping black curtain boasted of the theatre's riches. But the best part was that the rafters above the stage were just dark enough to conceal Luc resting in them.

The fox leaned back against a pole, letting one leg dangle as he watched the dancers practice their routine below. Arched bodies morphed into spinning gods and goddesses, their pointed-toe perfection something of a marvel.

Once upon a fairy life, Luc had watched dancers such as these perform for his grandmother, the Dark Queene. His mother had shushed him when he'd tried to ask questions during the performance: "Why are they wearing antlers? Doesn't that make it harder to dance?" and, "How do they glide on their toes like that?" and, "Can I try?"

Luc was no dancer, to be certain. Not in comparison to the gifted fairies of the Dark Corner who had spent day and night practicing beneath the cloud of turmoil. But once or twice, while hidden away in his room, he had tried it—gliding over the floor with his fox grace—so passionately, in fact, that he drew a quiet music in from the wind and made the air taste like sugar. He'd snuck into the woods to watch the fairies dance every month after that, carefully mimicking their moves from the shadows of the emerald trees. He wanted to show his mother once he had mastered the routine.

Even after his mother had left forever, Luc had wandered back to the dancers' lair in the woods. He'd watched them to pass the time, to ease his soul, to keep himself from crying. It was his one secret refuge that his father did not know about and therefore could not destroy.

But naturally, he'd left all that behind when he'd joined the Shadow Army.

Human realm dancers were not quite as magical as fairy dancers. They could not jump as high, nor could they spin as long, nor did they have the same impressive balance. Even their costumes were bland in comparison—lacking braided wreaths, speared antlers, or awakened creeping plant dresses. But their hard work and persistence was a form of magic all on its own.

Luc rubbed his eyes as he witnessed the ballet dancers reset to begin their routine again. He wasn't much of a coffee drinker, but he wondered if he ought to indulge in one this morning to fully wake himself. He couldn't exactly complain about a bad sleep for he would never tire of sleeping on a mattress. In fact, he'd slept like an untroubled childling these last few nights since he'd moved in with the North Fairy. Curious, considering he was beyond stressed by the prospect of Mor, Cressica Alabastian, or Dranian's white-haired friend with the dirty, uncovered feet popping in at any moment for a visit.

But even with last night's drama, he appreciated his bed. The park benches had always been too hard on his back for peaceful slumber. It was the curse of being a prince—even if Luc had never recognized himself as one.

When he decided he'd had enough of the ballet, Luc swung from the rafters and landed in complete silence behind the curtain, out of sight. He glided from backstage to the emergency exit and came outside to crisp morning air tickling his nose.

Perhaps he would take a nap today. There was no reason he couldn't when he owned his own bed.

He ventured through the winding streets, searching the shops he passed for one that might promise to serve ice cream all year long. But he found no such place to ease his cravings.

Eventually he reached his building. He airslipped up to the third-floor hallway, deciding he didn't care to waste time on the code or the stairs anymore. He eyed clingy Beth's apartment door as he walked past, imagining her popping out and demanding he do more servant tasks for her. What a spoiled human she was.

He unlocked the door to 3E and went in, sensing immediately that Dranian was awake and in the kitchen. And brewing coffee. Luc sniffed a little. The delicious scent was completely muddied by the smell of repulsive, wet dog. He scowled at the mutt sleeping on a blanket in the living space as he followed his nose to the kitchen.

Dark rings surrounded Dranian's eyes when he looked up. Luc's mouth twisted as he considered addressing the incident that had happened the night before—when he'd barged in on the North Fairy having a complete meltdown. Luc had seen all sorts of panic-driven fairies back in the Army. But it was as though no one had ever taught Dranian how to overcome his spell. Perhaps none of the fools he called "brothers" even knew how to overcome such a thing.

What a herd of idiots.

Dranian turned away to watch the coffee maker as it brewed, fiddling with this and that. Tugging a mug from the cupboard. Glancing up to the top shelf for a moment to where Luc had tossed the sugar. Then he moved on and went to the spoon drawer.

"Does that always happen to you when you're overwhelmed?" Luc cut the obvious tension in the room to shreds. He was dying to know. Mostly for purely snoopy reasons.

"That's none of your business," Dranian muttered, grabbing a spoon. He took the nearby tea towel and began wiping water and coffee drips off the counter.

"It'll become my business if you continue to make a ruckus in the space I'm living in," Luc pointed out. "You severely disrupted my sleep last night. I'll take a cup of that coffee as reimbursement for my stolen slumber." He nodded toward the coffee maker.

Dranian grunted in reply, and Luc sat down at the table to wait.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he pressed.

Dranian glared back at him. "Stop that," he demanded.

"Stop what?"

"Probing."

"Oh dear." Luc sighed. "It's not probing. It's interrogating ," he corrected. "I hate not having answers when I have questions. I plan to start cutting off your fingers soon if you don't tell me what I want to know." He smiled at himself, imagining how nice it would be if he wasn't joking.

Dranian let out a long, deep breath and leaned against the counter on his fists. "You talk too much," he muttered.

"Yes. I've been told that before." Luc nodded, flicking a gross crumb off the table.

He allowed the North Fairy several moments of silence before he spoke again.

"I'd like to make a bargain to get rid of that dog," he said.

"Dog-Shayne isn't leaving," Dranian grumbled. "He's an assis—"

"Yes, yes. An assistance dog." Luc rolled his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. "How about I only kill one of them—clingy Beth or Dog-Shayne. You choose which one gets to live and which one must die," he decided.

Dranian ignored him as he rearranged the tea towel back over the stove handle.

Luc tapped on the tabletop. He eyed the coffee pot, almost full now.

"You haven't answered my first question," he pressed. "Do you have an episode like that every time you feel panic, or did the episodes only start when I stabbed your arm and turned you into a broken fairy—"

"I was already a broken fairy !" Dranian's shout shook the apartment—Luc felt the vibration beneath his feet, felt a shift in the wind, felt the distress in the growl. The mutt over in the living space whimpered.

But Luc was confused. He tilted his head as he studied the North Fairy, sure the claim didn't add up.

Dranian's chest pumped for a moment, a strange collage of emotions burning in his eyes. For someone who hardly showed reactions, it caught Luc a smidgen off guard. Dranian swallowed them down again, his expression vanishing as his jaw hardened. He abandoned the coffee pot and marched from the kitchen into his room. He slammed the door shut.

Luc nodded to himself, seeming to have found the answer he was looking for.

He rose from his seat when the coffee was finished brewing and poured himself a large mug-full. Steam billowed up from it along with the fresh smell of ground beans. He added a pinch of milk from the fridge and reached high to yank the sugar down from its shelf. When he'd mixed his drink perfectly, he went to put everything away. The milk first, then the sugar…

He eyed the sugar. The high shelf it belonged on. Then he glanced back at Dranian's closed door.

He left the sugar on the counter beside the coffee pot instead.

As soon as Luc sat down in the living space with his delicious smelling drink, the mutt wandered over with a lapping tongue, spoiling the mood. Luc scowled at the animal. He reached for the ball sitting on the living space table. "Fetch," he said, tossing it as far away as possible in the small apartment.

The mutt leapt over the couch and raced after the ball, and finally, Luc was rid of him.

Luc sipped his coffee, looking around for the remote. He dug a hand into the crack between the couch cushions to see if it was there.

The mutt came back.

To Luc's horror, the animal dropped the drool-covered ball onto his lap. A gag threatened in the back of his throat as the wetness leaked through the knees of his pants. "You must ruin everything, mustn't you?" he asked the creature. He slumped back on the couch in surrender, flicking the ball away with the ends of his fingers.

It rolled across the floor. And again, the mutt chased after it and brought it back.

This time, Luc stared at the creature long and hard. Most animals were afraid of him this close. Most fairies were, too, and even some humans. What was wrong with this fearless animal? Slowly, Luc reached out his hand. And sure enough, the mutt dropped the ball into his palm.

It was strange, but Luc got the sense that perhaps such a creature—though too stupid to fear him—might possibly be more faithful than a fairy. Its idiocy drove it back to Luc over and over, even when Luc clearly didn't want it around. For the first time, he almost understood why humans brought them in as pets.

It was because humans could feel less stupid when there was a dog around.

Also, dogs seemed to always come back. Like an unspoken promise to never leave forever; to never abandon their owner.

Luc swallowed his disgust as he dropped the ball, then slowly reached out and patted the mutt on the head. "Dog-Shayne, is it?" he grumbled. The dog panted, gazing at Luc the same way females did when he turned on his fox charm: with complete adoration, only this wasn't forced one bit. Luc found a smile at that. "Don't flatter me so much, you mutt," he warned as he scratched the animal behind the ears the same way he'd seen Dranian do it.

He snapped when a brilliant idea filled his mind. "Shall I train you to bite?" he asked.

"Hurry up , North Fairy, my hands are crisping to ice." Luc held one of two tubs of ice cream toward Dranian. He shook it a little when Dranian didn't take it. Their apartment door was already wide open, and Luc wanted to avoid running into clingy Beth, lest he intentionally toss his ice cream in her face and make a scene by throwing her off the building afterward.

"I'm still getting my shoes on," Dranian mumbled, and Luc let out an impatient sigh.

Finally, Dranian had his shoes, his coat, his scowl, and his warm hat on—everything he needed—and he took the ice cream from Luc's numb fingers. He didn't look happy about going out. Though, he didn't normally look happy about anything.

"Getting some fresh air will be good for you," Luc informed him as he peeled the lid off his own tub. He began eating as soon as they were in the hall. Dranian held the door open for Dog-Shayne to follow, and they descended the stairs in a small herd.

When they came out into the fresh, late afternoon air, Luc stole a look at the grumpy North Fairy just in time to see the fool's frown lift into something a little less frowny.

Luc smiled to himself. Had he been born a human, he might have become a therapist.

Or a serial killer.

Luc's smile twisted into something else at the thought. He shook the idea from his head, deciding he should stop watching so many late-night TV shows. He always related the most to the villains in those.

There was too much ice cream eating for chatter during the first twenty minutes of the walk. When Luc was finished every last drop of vanilla sugary goodness, he tossed his empty tub into a streetside garbage barrel.

"Don't be confused by this walk, North Fairy," Luc said. "I only brought you out as a simple cure because I couldn't stand the thought of you waking me up again—should your worries drive you into another fit." He wiped his hands down his coat to remove the sticky patches. "I imagine you'll still try to kill me in three months. And I imagine I'll still kill you first."

Dranian didn't reply for a moment. Then he mumbled, "How will a walk cure me?"

Luc smiled. "Oh, trust me—"

"I don't."

"—it's already curing you. I shall sleep just fine tonight, I think." When he glanced over at Dranian, he found Dranian's brows furrowed. As though the mention of sleep disturbed the North Fairy most of all.

The wind picked up as they headed off the sidewalk and into a local park. Rain clouds began to sweep in overhead, and Luc winced up at them, hoping the sky deities would keep their spit in their mouths. Dog-Shayne barked at a prancing bug.

"Your efforts are futile. And yes, I shall kill you in three months to restore my honour," Dranian finally said as they headed down a path through a thick cluster of trees. They came out to another street. "My illness cannot be cured. I've searched through books and scrolls and spoken with potion brewers and fairy doctors. This is just who I am." He swallowed. Then he added, "Broken."

A slow smile spread across Luc's face. "Oh dear," he said. If only Dranian knew how ridiculous he sounded.

But it wasn't Luc's job to tell him.

A second later, a skin-tingling wind slipped over the sidewalk. Luc's feet came together.

"What in the name of the sky deities is that?" he wanted to ask aloud, but he didn't dare. His smile fled; his flesh tightened into bumps. The scent of fox blood, silver drinking water, and unquenchable greed filled the air, and for a moment, Luc forgot how to move or breathe like he was trapped in a dream. Like everything around him had shattered and he was in another place. Dranian stopped walking at his side with a strange look like he perhaps sensed something was off but couldn't peg what it was. Dog-Shayne barked like he got spooked by another bug.

But Luc knew there was no bug.

A multitude of terrified thoughts raced through Luc's mind—run, hide, fight, kill…

He could have maybe taken on the Shadow Fairies. But he could not take on him .

"You've had enough air, North Fairy. You and the mutt should go home now," Luc said from a dry mouth. He slid a hand into his pocket where his fox bead was hidden away. He looked over at Dranian, his gaze falling upon the fool's damaged arm that would do him no good here.

Dranian didn't speak, he merely raised an eyebrow to ask why. Luc cleared his throat, feigning calmness.

"I don't think you want to be standing next to me at the moment."

The clouds turned to smoke in the sky. The wind became a torrent, brushing fallen leaves and debris into a whirl through the shop alleys and down the road. Restless humans began picking up their pace, scattering in all directions like an army was pushing them out of the way.

Which it was.

"You should leave," Luc said again, but Dranian stayed, noticing the hoard of Shadow Fairies cloaked in black plates of armour with silver-brown eyes and hatred in their souls. They were possibly too far for a fairy without fox eyes to see well, but they slid into the air and rushed in like a nest of spiders. Dranian pulled out his spear handle, and Luc shook his head.

"Don't try to fight them, you fool. They'll win," he said.

The Shadow Army drew closer, stealing the last seconds for Luc to make a decision.

Fight? Die.

Run? Live.

Forget it. He was going to fight.

Luc grabbed the spear handle from Dranian's hand. "Dog-Shayne!" he said, making the mutt's head dart up. "Fetch!" He hurled the handle with all his might back toward the park, beyond the trees and shrubs.

Dog-Shayne lurched after it, running into the cover of the greenery. "Wait!" Dranian protested, taking three steps after his pet. He swung back to face Luc. "I can't fight without my weapon!"

"You'd better run, then." Luc shoved him toward the trees.

Dranian skittered backward a few steps, caught his balance, and glared at Luc. He couldn't seem to come up with words though. He glanced toward where Dog-Shayne had disappeared, over at the Shadow Army rushing into view with light pops , then back at Luc. He reached across himself, lightly touching his scarred shoulder, and he set his jaw as his glare fell away. He reluctantly jogged into the trees after his dog.

Luc waited there as the popping sounds increased, and a great, terrible army division filled the street in front and behind him. Their faces were haunted with malice, reflecting the dark shadows curling around their bones. Luc could feel their power, but it was nothing in comparison to the last fairy that appeared. The one who commanded them.

The renowned nine tailed fox himself. The mountain god of legend. Heir to the Dark throne.

His father.

Reval Zelsor appeared before Luc like a ghost, his long scarlet hair fluttering in the wind, his mouth tipped down, his dark eyes blazing with piercing silver. An oversized fairsaber was strapped to his back over iridescent black plates of armour carefully carved with fearsome words and disturbing artwork of fairies being slain.

He said exactly eight words to Luc. The son who had left him.

"Luc Zelsor. You have three days to live."