bony shoulders. “Iz no not.”
My father groaned again and I looked down at his slack face, marred by angry red marks. He was an old man, fragile and innocent. He didn’t deserve this fate. Rage blossomed inside me. I shook with it. Squeezing the pixie hard, I stared into its eyes and spoke low, my voice as cold as brittle ice, “Tell. Me. Who.”
It shook its head back and forth and moaned, “Iz no name. Just hearz a whisper on the windz.”
“What did it say? What were the words?”
I could see the hesitation on its face so I squeezed even harder. Its face darkened to a deep purple as the air left its tiny lungs. After one final struggle, it slumped in my fist and murmured on one of its final puffs of air, “Killz Jason Decker.”
Shock had me loosening my hand and the pixie slid limply to the ground, landing in a heap at my knees. I couldn’t believe it. Someone in Nightfall had ordered my father’s assassination.
Why? What purpose would his death demonstrate? He was not a threat to Nightfall. At least, I didn’t think he knew anything that could threaten their existence.
The pixie stirred on the ground. I glanced down at it, sympathy digging at me like a jagged tooth. It had only been a tool of someone else’s evil intent. No choice but to obey its fae masters.
It struggled to its feet, its breath coming in quick hard pants. One of pale blue gossamer wing lay crumpled against its side. A pang of compassion rang over me and I nearly reached down to help it up. But then I remembered what it had tried to do to my father. Most of my kindness drained away.
“Go back to Nightfall and tell your mistress or master that any more attempts on my father’s life will have disastrous results for them.”
Bowing its head, the creature struggled to unfurl its wings. Pain flashed across its face as the broken membranes and thin delicate skin of its wing tore open, leaving it with one full wing and a piece to fly with. Springing up with its legs, it took to the air.
I watched as it maneuvered toward the night-blooming moon flowers, fully expecting it to disappear into the dark petals.
At the last second, it turned around. Teeth bared, it launched at me.
This time, I was too slow. Pain ripped through me as it tore into my right cheek. Teeth and claws dug into my flesh with ruthless slashes and bites. With both hands, I gripped it and yanked violently at its body, desperate to get it off my face. As I extracted it, I could feel skin and flesh coming with it. My stomach roiled over at the thought of what the pixie had managed to rip off my cheek.
Hissing and spitting in my hands, the pixie’s face was covered with gore. My gore. My blood and skin and flesh.
Without another thought, I crushed it in my hands, too iced up to revel in the sound of snapping bones and squishing insides. I squeezed until the heat of its body dissipated. I squeezed until I couldn’t feel the tiny patter of its heart.
Once I was positive it was dead, I tossed it into the garden then attended to my father lying still on the ground. I checked his pulse again and thanked god it was getting stronger. Sliding my arm under him, I lifted him into a sit.
He stirred from the movement, eyelids fluttering.
Holding my breath, I waited until he opened his eyes. At first, he seemed disoriented, peering around at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Then his gaze settled on me, and recognition settled in. “Nina?”
“Yes, Da.”
He raised his hand and touched the now-tacky cuts on his forehead. Wincing, he pulled his fingers back and stared at the congealed blood on the tips. “What happened?”
I debated whether to tell him the truth. For years now, I’d been protecting his fragile mind from the reality of the situation. Trying to convince him, and maybe myself, that the fae world didn’t exist. That he hadn’t been fae struck and was slowly dying from it. But after this attack, I
My father groaned again and I looked down at his slack face, marred by angry red marks. He was an old man, fragile and innocent. He didn’t deserve this fate. Rage blossomed inside me. I shook with it. Squeezing the pixie hard, I stared into its eyes and spoke low, my voice as cold as brittle ice, “Tell. Me. Who.”
It shook its head back and forth and moaned, “Iz no name. Just hearz a whisper on the windz.”
“What did it say? What were the words?”
I could see the hesitation on its face so I squeezed even harder. Its face darkened to a deep purple as the air left its tiny lungs. After one final struggle, it slumped in my fist and murmured on one of its final puffs of air, “Killz Jason Decker.”
Shock had me loosening my hand and the pixie slid limply to the ground, landing in a heap at my knees. I couldn’t believe it. Someone in Nightfall had ordered my father’s assassination.
Why? What purpose would his death demonstrate? He was not a threat to Nightfall. At least, I didn’t think he knew anything that could threaten their existence.
The pixie stirred on the ground. I glanced down at it, sympathy digging at me like a jagged tooth. It had only been a tool of someone else’s evil intent. No choice but to obey its fae masters.
It struggled to its feet, its breath coming in quick hard pants. One of pale blue gossamer wing lay crumpled against its side. A pang of compassion rang over me and I nearly reached down to help it up. But then I remembered what it had tried to do to my father. Most of my kindness drained away.
“Go back to Nightfall and tell your mistress or master that any more attempts on my father’s life will have disastrous results for them.”
Bowing its head, the creature struggled to unfurl its wings. Pain flashed across its face as the broken membranes and thin delicate skin of its wing tore open, leaving it with one full wing and a piece to fly with. Springing up with its legs, it took to the air.
I watched as it maneuvered toward the night-blooming moon flowers, fully expecting it to disappear into the dark petals.
At the last second, it turned around. Teeth bared, it launched at me.
This time, I was too slow. Pain ripped through me as it tore into my right cheek. Teeth and claws dug into my flesh with ruthless slashes and bites. With both hands, I gripped it and yanked violently at its body, desperate to get it off my face. As I extracted it, I could feel skin and flesh coming with it. My stomach roiled over at the thought of what the pixie had managed to rip off my cheek.
Hissing and spitting in my hands, the pixie’s face was covered with gore. My gore. My blood and skin and flesh.
Without another thought, I crushed it in my hands, too iced up to revel in the sound of snapping bones and squishing insides. I squeezed until the heat of its body dissipated. I squeezed until I couldn’t feel the tiny patter of its heart.
Once I was positive it was dead, I tossed it into the garden then attended to my father lying still on the ground. I checked his pulse again and thanked god it was getting stronger. Sliding my arm under him, I lifted him into a sit.
He stirred from the movement, eyelids fluttering.
Holding my breath, I waited until he opened his eyes. At first, he seemed disoriented, peering around at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Then his gaze settled on me, and recognition settled in. “Nina?”
“Yes, Da.”
He raised his hand and touched the now-tacky cuts on his forehead. Wincing, he pulled his fingers back and stared at the congealed blood on the tips. “What happened?”
I debated whether to tell him the truth. For years now, I’d been protecting his fragile mind from the reality of the situation. Trying to convince him, and maybe myself, that the fae world didn’t exist. That he hadn’t been fae struck and was slowly dying from it. But after this attack, I
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