Chapter 41

Forty-One

FINN

I stared at the statue of the stag, heart pounding as behind it, a half dozen yards, creeped a wolf. Not the shadow wolf, or even a living wolf, but the carving of one. It hid in the shadow of the stag’s statue, larger than I knew regular wolves to be. Did they used to be larger in however many hundreds of years ago created this memory?

Was I about to watch the stag die?

I pressed my hand to my chest as if I could keep my heart from beating out of it. It wasn’t Wesley. The shape of the antlers, the height of his neck, different. Nothing compared to the majesty of Wesley’s Stag. Or his adorable fawn form.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted, hating whatever pain was to come. How was reliving all this trauma meant to make me stronger? Each memory landed like a knife in my gut, lodging in an unmovable ache to make my soul bleed. If I worked my way through the sanctuary, I’d be pierced by a hundred blades, seeping blood as well as heartbreak.

I glanced in the direction of Wesley’s statue again. His eyes were closed, face down as if resting. “I hope the Summer king helped,” I said. “Please be safe.”

I reached the stag and set my hand on his leg, the wave of dizziness instant.

We stood in a field on the shore of a hillside overlooking the ocean. A span of ships peppered the horizon and stirred my rage. The trip south meant greener pastures, more food for Hector, while I kept to the shadows, prodded to leave only at his insistence.

The woods to the north, a place I no longer considered home but rather where I’d come from, remained a shadow realm of darkness, heavy air, and little growth. The few trees that rooted after the fire gnarled and bent as if the atmosphere itself were too heavy to exist. Legends traveled far and wide, keeping people south, for which I was grateful.

“We could explore,” Hector told me in a mind-to-mind communication.

“It’s not normal for a stag to want to explore,” I told him.

He snorted.

“Well… until you find a mate.” Another thing for which I was the blame. We hadn’t encountered a doe in years.

“And you,” Hector said as if that were the course of things.

I sighed and glared out at the sea. “People bring hate and death.”

Hector nudged me, but didn’t answer. I brought hate and death, too.

“Maybe I should head back home. You go south, find a mate, I’ll wait for you.”

Hector sighed, a funny expression for a stag, my influence for certain. “Stay close?” He gave me a memory of me in the cave, him curled up beside me as his fawn, feeling safe and protected from everything, even if what most feared was me.

“Okay. The humans have weapons, stay out of their line of sight.” Or else I’d be slaughtering more of them.

Hector agreed, nuzzling my cheek and heading down the hillside. I hoped he found a mate. Perhaps she’d distract him from me and whatever unfortunate end remaining close to me would cause him.

I followed Hector down the hillside, keeping to the shadows of the trees, but finding myself growling as the swell of human dwellings peppered the valley below.

A soft touch, like a ghost caress, made me pause. What was that? I peered around looking for anyone, but the trees grew thick up the hillside, giving me cover, and the birds a place to rest. My physical body continued onward as if nothing happened. I had forgotten for a few seconds this was a memory, and likely a traumatic one.

“Maybe,” A voice whispered through my mind.

“Who?” Not Hector as his presence in my head was more of a battering ram of images, inelegant as my teaching him had likely been. “Wesley?”

“Careful, our tie is fragile,” he whispered.

I gasped and wished to break free of the memory if only to talk to him for a moment, but the scene continued, me as an unwilling participant in whatever puppet tale the wolf decided I needed to remember. We approached the town with caution, keeping to the trees until the only real way in was through someone’s yard on the edge of town, or the road. I waited until dark, straining to hear anything beyond the murmur of humans. All their bluster and stink made me hesitate as I studied the growing firelight as night fell.

I stopped at a well, pulling up the bucket to drink deep as no one was around, and staring at the ripple of my reflection in the water. Who was that creepy thing? I looked like a starved version of my apa before he’d lost complete control of his sanity beneath the stain of shadows: hollow, thin, and hairy.

“I’ve always been into bears,” Wesley’s thought murmured as I glared at my reflection knowing it would scare the townspeople and trying to decide if I wanted to do that or not.

“Not sure this type of bear is what you mean,” I muttered through our connection, but as I glared into the water, my form changed, the disheveled man fading and shifting into more of a young man, not all that unlike what I recalled seeing in the mirror most of my life.

“Glamour,” Wesley said.

I’d done it without thinking. Or the memory version of me had. I could walk through the town unnoticed, perhaps, but touched my face anyway, surprised that it felt the way it looked. “I thought glamour was an illusion?”

“Only for the lowest of fae. You are a king.”

I didn’t feel like one. But I let the bucket go and stepped away from the well, turning to head toward town and met the gaze of a small boy. We both froze. I’d never seen a human with skin painted as dark as mine could be when I let the rage overwhelm me, but this boy was exactly that. Any other time I’d have launched myself at him to silence what he saw, not caring that he was a child, but I hesitated, curiosity getting the best of me.

The boy turned and ran off. I watched him go, thoughts filled with questions about where he’d come from and if he were like me. I followed the trail into town, the bluster of the day dying down as night took over. The scent of food drawing me as I caught the wafting draw of cooked bird. One of the rare treats of human creation, cooked food. Raw would do in a pinch, but I’d ravaged many a camp in my day, eating up whatever they left behind after I sent them back to the earth.

A handful of scents drifted through the town. Humans, the worst, but a sweet fragrance led me toward the far hillside. It tickled a memory of something from before my mother had passed. What was it?

“Sweet bread,” Wesley said.

The scent gave rise to a half dozen memories, though the dream vision continued. I had a pouch full of coin taken from many long dead humans as they valued these strange bits of metal for trade rather than items. The smell wafted from a rowdy building illuminated with torches on the exterior, and human males staggering out stinking of alcohol. I hesitated, but decided the idea of tasting that sweet warmth of a treat I’d recalled from my early childhood was worth the trouble of humans.

Inside the building, packed tables and a long dark counter stretched with men, all drinking. It wasn’t the booze I wanted. As I entered, I felt eyes on me and headed to the counter. It was only then I realized I hadn’t spoken out loud in years. What language would they speak? Could I form the words?

The man at the bar raised a brow in my direction, something dark wavering through his aura, which I found strange and fascinating all at once. “What can I get you?”

Whatever language he spoke translated in my mind and I simply said, “Bread?”

The man chuckled and gave me a half smile. “Draws everyone, my Sari’s cooking. Stew too, or only the bread?”

“Both?” I laid coins on the counter, the man studying them, accepting a few and sliding the rest back.

“That’s a lot of money, best not flaunt it around here,” the man said. He turned and headed to the back where the delicious smell came from, and I glanced around to find another dozen pairs of eyes on me. Their auras shifted with something strange and unfamiliar, too. Had something happened among the humans?

The man returned with a big bowl of stew and an even bigger basket of bread wrapped in a cloth. He waved at an empty chair, and I sat, taking the food, and devouring it before I could even contemplate what I was eating. As I sopped up the last dregs of soup with my bread, I contemplated eating more. Hector would like the sweet bread, the hint of honey beneath the willowy warmth that melted on my tongue had been unlike anything I could recall ever experiencing.

“Bread?” I asked the man as he passed again. I waved at the door.

“To take with you? Alright.”

I held out my coins again, he took a few, and vanished into the back again to retrieve a wrapped bundle of bread. Once he passed the bundle, I bowed my head and took it, turning to leave. Again, everyone’s eyes followed me. Did I look strange? I felt like I’d copied their style easily enough. But I wandered out of the building and followed the trail out of town, wanting to be away from the humans, clutching the bundle of delicious bread.

The moon overhead glowed bright and nearly full, illuminating the forest with a familiar glow. The late eve and distance from town quieted my anxiety as the sounds of human life faded away. I found a stream and followed it north, wondering if Hector would catch the scent of bread and follow it. I bent to drink the water, but froze as the birds and bugs went silent. Not Hector.

I glanced back, expecting a predator of some kind, but finding the young dark-skinned boy. He hid along the tree line, nearly blending into the bushes. Had he followed me the whole way? How had I missed it? He met my gaze, but ducked behind a tree. His stomach grumbled. I opened the pouch of bread and broke off a piece, tossing it in his direction. He hesitated only a few seconds before snapping it up and gobbling it down as if he hadn’t eaten in years. I broke off a few more pieces of it, tossing it out as though he were a baby bird to be lured close.

I held a piece out for him, and he lingered a few steps away, face gaunt and eyes focused, studying me for signs of danger. He touched his face. Had I kept the glamour up? I couldn’t recall, but tossed the piece to him. He caught it and took a few steps back, watching for indication I’d chase, but I remained crouched beside the creek. He turned and ran, vanishing into the woods, and I sighed, mourning the loss of half of my bread, though still hopeful to share a bite with Hector.