For months I trained long and hard on glamour. It wasn't easy. Oberon instructed me to do things that I never even thought I could do, and for me, that's saying something.

"Concentrate," Oberon ordered.

I knelt before him on the ground. My eyes were closed and I drew all the glamour I could muster. The glamour came easily, as if it was another form of breathing. But building its power took time. I would need to harness that power if I wanted to make a powerful spell. Oberon had already taught me how to bloom flowers, grow trees, and most other parlor tricks. Now he was teaching me a battle spell. Something that I can do some damage with. He already told me how. I just need to concentrate and I can do it. Maybe.

No. There is no maybe. I can do it. I need to believe that I can or I won't be able to.

In my mind's eye I gathered the glamour from a flowing fog around me to one large, tight, heavy ball of glamour in my hand. I held the hand my the side of my head. This was the easy part. I focused on keeping its form and imagining that thousands of vines with thorns were growing inside. When I felt I was ready, I stood, then taking the hand that the ball was held in, I knelt down again, jamming the ball into the ground and letting it do the rest.

It all left me in a rush of energy, draining my stamina. "You cannot cast a spell with no cost. It will take what you used. Energy for energy. Life for life. That's why few cast a spell that takes a life, because then it will take yours and the life you destroyed. Death hates it when you interfere with her work," Puck had once said.

When I had opened my eyes Oberon was no longer in front of me. He way further away, but around me was several circles of thorns, larger the further away they were from me. My muscles trembled and everything was swaying. No air I sucked in went into my system. I collapsed onto the ground and panted.

He never gave me much free time so it was hard to talk with Meghan and Ethan. He woke me up at the crack of dawn and we practiced until the sun was high at noon. The rest of the day he told me about the Nevernever and the things that inhabited it. Stories that he told me about the Summer Court and some on how Puck would anger him with annoying pranks; sparing a glance at Puckers, who often sat on my lap while being petted generously, that wasn't very nice.

"There are dragons in the Briars," Oberon explained, then gave me a pointed look. "I don't want you going there under any circumstances. It is highly dangerous for any fae. Even Puck, who can never seem to stay away from places he should never go." Oberon glared at the rabbit in my lap. Puck made his little snort-laugh.

My hand gently petted Puckers. All during "story-time" I had been petting and scratching his ears. Puck licked my hand whenever I stopped petting him and always snuggled into my stomach. Every time Oberon was watching and he thought I wasn't looking Puckers gave him a look that said, "I'm-getting-more-affection-than-you." Oberon was always even more angered by my pet after that, so to make amends I went and got those tiny carrots that tasted more like chemicals than food, and made Puckers eat them, which amused Oberon greatly to see Puck choke them down.

While Puckers was gone Puck came and taught me to use the bow and arrow, like I had talked him into doing.

I aimed with the wooden bow at the target that we had set up, using some logs for practice. Puck stood right beside me and showed me how to use a bow with one he had gotten for himself. When his arrow had hit the mark that was the bull's eye he watched as I released the string and made short distance.

"You're doing it wrong," He said and motioned for me to load another arrow. I did, my arms hurting from the hours of practice.

My arms shook when I pulled the string back. I took in a breath and held it, trying to aim for a better distance this time. Puck lowered himself to my level and came close. His hands went to my arms, putting the string arm in a different position that made holding it easier and less stressful and moving my aiming hand higher.

"Tighten your stomach more."

I flexed.

"Straighten your back," Puck moved around me, never coming in front of my arrow, and looked for flaws in my form. He was closer then he needed, but maybe I was just too aware of his moving body so close to mine.

I couldn't help but steal a look at his fit frame and strong shoulders. His posture was loose and I could notice the things that I never noticed about him before I became Meghan's twin. The way he walked, loose yet firm. And the way he always leans to the left when he's eating. His favorite food is apples, from the orchard in the Summer Court, but his favorite human food is eggrolls. I would know, I've learned how to make them for him.

Puck scrutinized me. He smirked and his eyes narrowed kindly for a brief second, as if he knew that I was staring at him just for kicks. "What are you looking at?" His eyes widened. "I hope you're not planning to shoot me, since I distinctly told you to always keep an eye on your target."

Oberon was off to the side watching us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him glaring at the both of us as if we were disgusting and just plain wrong.

He spent less time with Meghan. It was like we were in some kind of separate world from them. They remembered me less and less while Oberon and I practiced glamour. With each week they called me in for dinner less and when school started they didn't even make me go. Meghan is only human now. And I'm only fae. The longer I stayed in my separate world the less I saw of Meghan. I even went four whole days without seeing her at all. Occasionally she would skip school and I would watch her. I almost feared talking to her. There were dark circles under her eye lids and she was easily upset. It grew worse at time went on. My mind rationalized it with her glamour leaving her. That had to have some side effects.

Over all I became stronger, though more distant from the human world; not missing it at all. Only one person lingered in the back of my mind. That was Jason. Whenever my mind drifted it was to him. I wondered what he was doing. If he was okay. Then I had to remind myself that the Jason that chased me wasn't my Jason. It was a replica. But my heart didn't want to accept that fact. It tossed it to the side and begged to see him. I used to dream of him. Then I became fae.

For now I could still touch iron. My soul was still inside me. The dryads who took a guess about what was going on with our shifting glamour said that it could take time for the soul to leave and accept that the body was no longer human. All that had to happen to trigger the event was a single sin. I tried to steer clear of sins so I could go into the iron realm without any complications. But I didn't think that it was going to last for long. Let's face it. I'm not a saint. Not by a long shot. Churches actually scare me because when I was inside it was as if someone from above was looking down upon my soul and seeing just what a horrible life I've lived, making me feel as if I've disappointed somehow.

I wonder if I have disappointed. Really? Look what I've done with my life. When I was a normal little girl I cussed, didn't think that it was my responsibility to do anything besides read, go to school, and occasionally make some kids lives miserable. When I was abducted by aliens I was stuck in a cell with several other humans. I killed them so when they came to check up on us I could play dead and escape when they thought no one was looking. When I was a soldier I let people die because of orders. I killed living things. Whipped out colonization's that the enemy tried to set up. I slaughtered their children. And I enjoyed every second of it. After the war I took for granted everything I was given. I didn't really like most of the people besides the ones who killed with me. I was fake so they wouldn't see what their "hero" really was. And I believed the mask I put on to hide.

Ever since I came into this book that mask unraveled. The world can finally get a glimpse of what I really am. I'm no hero. I'm a tool. Nothing but a weapon that was used for self-defense. The worst part is that now that I've removed the mask and am willing to figure myself out again there's no one to help me. No one that I can tell. Before I removed the mask I could tell anyone anything I wanted. I could have told them that I wanted help fixing myself. I kept silent by choice, thinking I was being as loud as could be. Now I'm forced to be silent. How could I ever really live in a world other than the one I'm in now? Here I can really be myself and fight for something again. Feel useful again. Have someone need me.

"Hey," Puck sat down on the grass next to me. "Why so down? You've been moping all day." He joked, leaning against the tree Oberon grew while demonstrating. It was a large maple, sprawling over the yard. Its leaves were a blend of red and green. Fall was here and summer was over.

Oberon left because he needed to be there to make arrangements for that summit for the courts, and they haven't decided if I was going to live there or not. So it was really just me, Puck and Puckers.

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I'm a little scared about losing my soul." It wasn't the real reason why I was moping. I've been regretting everything I've ever did with my life. I did nothing good at all. All I've been is dead weight.

He slung an arm around my shoulder in good nature. "Come on, being a soulless, demonic bastard isn't so bad," He chirped. "Look at the bright side, you'll be able to live forever."

I hate that idea. Living forever seems like a punishment. Time dragging on and things becoming predictable, never facing an end. If I live to long I think I'll go mad from memories and boredom. Death is mercy, in a way. It's easy. Then again, I've never liked the easy route. Taking it easy means you're being a wuss. But never dying? No. I never want to live forever. I'd have been perfectly content having my guts eaten out by a couple of raptors.

"Now tell me what's really bothering you, princess. You know that I'll get it out of you one way or another, so you mine as well say it."

I brush his arm off and stand, taking in the final rays of sunlight. "I don't want to talk about it." Crossing my arms, unable to shake the incessant chill of remembering, I move to go to inside. I wonder if they forgot about me enough to get rid of my bed.

"Princess," I stopped. His hot breath could be felt on the top of my head. "

Puckers hopped weakly up to me from nowhere, giving me those big, green, cute bunny eyes that said, Hold me, I'm just a baby. I pick him up and leave to my bedroom. When I was there I was once again reassured that they still remembered me enough to keep my bed. I lie down on the soft mattress and relaxed. Meghan was sleeping in her bed, curled up in a ball. On her dresser was a broken razor. She must have dropped it.

I set Puckers on the side of me, thinking he'd curl up like normal. But he didn't. He hopped on my stomach with ease, looking at me innocently. I remember when I would have used a time like this to talk openly with him about me feeling for the human looking Robbie/Puck. Now I just don't find the appeal. But who said that I would have to talk to him about my feelings for him? Why not talk to him about my feelings?

"You're lucky you're a bunny Puckers. Bunnies don't have to deal with nightmares." My memories often play in my sleep. Reminders that I've sinned enough to send the devil running.

When I settled into bed Puckers snorted and walked up to my chin. I pretended to be on my way to sleep when I really waited for his reaction. I wasn't really all that tired. All I really wanted to do was go into town and take a walk. It's been forever since I've been away from this farm. I wanted to go find Jason and walk with him. Even if it wasn't my Jason. I knew that he could calm my nerves no matter what.

Puckers front paws rested on my chin and his head rested between them. He squeaked loudly. Meghan stirred. I pet Puckers right behind his back leg and his leg starts thumping uncontrollably, quieting him and letting Meghan go back to rest. Once I think he'll stay quiet he scoots further up my face, his little furry jaw resting just on my lip.

He squeaked louder. I could imagine him saying, "Emmy Emmy Emmy! Emmy Nemmy Femmy. Tell me, tell me tell me!"

I pet him some more, his foot thumping again on my throat.

Meghan stirred. Then she jolted up, as if roused from a nightmare. Her breathing was uneven and ragged. The slick sight of cold sweat adorning her brow. Meghan looked around hopefully, her eyes passing right over me and Puckers with a mournful look. The dark circles beneath her eyes were big and the rest of her skin was pale. Her blue eyes rested on my bed. Tears poured out of them. Her shoulders shook.

I got up and put Puckers on the floor, moving over to Meghan's bed. She didn't notice. Meghan couldn't see me anymore. I wrapped her sobbing form in my arms tightly, moving her so she was cradled in my arms. She didn't notice that either. By now she was rationalizing that she had forgotten she moved.

"Why did you have to leave me?" She asked, though it wasn't meant to fall upon any ears but her own. Salt water darkened spots of my blue shirt. "I can't keep pretending like things are alright."

Puckers turned and began to hop for the door, volunteering to give us some privacy. Before he could disappear I called him.

"Puck,"

Puck stopped. He turned into his fae self and turned slightly to face me. A forced grin was on his face. "How long did you know it was me?"

"About five minuet's after I picked you up. But can you tell me how to influence her emotions?"

His face didn't waver. Puck turned to me, his thumbs in his pockets. "All you have to do is reach out, feel their emotions, and shift them into whatever you want them to be. Change their color, so to speak. All you got to do is imagine it, with humans." He laughs once. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you knew. All that time of eating those chemicals you call carrots when I could have been munching on an apple. Oh, and later you're going to tell me about those nightmares of yours."

I forced a smirk on my face. "I never said they were mine." I glanced ate crying Meghan in my arms. I never said they weren't either.

"Oh, you know what—" He stopped, looking at me with something related to pride. "Oberon would be proud. Even though I was the one that taught you." With that he left. I was alone with a crying Meghan. She couldn't hear me. Couldn't see me. Didn't know that I was right beside her, holding her like a sister would.

I reached out to feel her emotions. The black despair and the loss was suffocating. It coiled around the both of us in dark tendrils, filling the room in a dark mist. I closed my eyes and imagined the dark tendrils turning bright blue and white and light. The colors didn't change at first. I had to manipulate their course and change the way they moved, guide them to the color that I wanted them to be. I couldn't get her to be perfectly happy but I did get her to stop crying.

Mixing with emotions is a lot like mixing paint. Too much of one color and you get another. If you just plaster an emotion on the canvas then it's not interesting or realistic. It's only that. It takes time to get the right colors in the right places for them to stay and flourish on their own. With her it took hours to get the right mixture of hope and calmness to get her to go to sleep.

I left Meghan to her dreams that would hopefully not be plagued by nightmares. Now I had to contemplate on which skill I should learn next. My archery is getting good enough so I can hit my target as long as its unaware and not moving, but I'm going to need more out of that so I can actually defend myself with it. Perhaps I should try and learn swords. Even just a little so that I can carry a small one around in case something gets to close.

Down stairs was mom. She slept on the couch most nights now with a box of tissues in her hand and loads of candy that Luke gives her. I don't understand why, though. The TV was on some news channel. She wasn't asleep yet. But she watched the TV flash with reports of crime and political affairs of the mortal world.

Mortal? Since when did I start calling them that? In the real world.

I plopped down in the recliner and watched. It's been a long time since I actually watched the news. In here I never felt inclined because this is all inside a book that I'll be out of in no time. Outside I was dragged to so many meetings and there someone always talked to me about politics so I was never ignorant on it. It's nice not having to listen to politics, but strange. Politics is a responsibility for everyone in a nation. An informed public is a strong public.

On the TV was a young, rather handsome man speaking about a kidnapping in Michigan. "Yes, in a small town named Baraga a young girl in her early teens had vanished yesterday morning. Her name is Emilia Davis. She's tall, stocky, black haired, and makes often visits to the library. No one knows where she's gone."

My throat closes. Those were the exact words the same that I heard all those years ago when I was trapped in that cold, steely cell. They showed me the footage. They wanted to see just how far they could push humans before they broke. They wanted me to lie down and die. So they were going to prove to me that no one would keep up the search and that I was never going to get my life back. They showed me all the videos of how my search party grew weak and wary, getting smaller by the week. It wasn't long before they called off the search and pronounced me dead. They held a memorial service, broadcasted from a local station that time, in my honor.

I remember all of their reactions. My parents cried. They said that I was a nice daughter and I was always learning and trying to be the best I could be. They sugar coated it a lot, but that's just what people do when people die. They only want to remember the good. My friends wept some. Not a whole lot, but they cared.

My brother didn't cry. He stood in front of the camera when they asked what he thought of all this, of me disappearing into thin air seconds after he saw me last. His honey brown eyes looked straight into the camera and he said this.

"Emily, I know you're watching. I know you're fighting to get back home." His brown eyes narrowed. "So what are you waiting for? Get the hell back here and kill anyone who stands in your way." Tears threatened to fall down his eyes. "I want my little sister back where she belongs."

That was all he had time to say before they cut him off.

So how is this possible? I'm in a book in the future! Those times are long gone. A thought occurred to me. If Jason had a double in this world then so could I. So could anyone I once knew. Private Jones, Simons, Jamie, hell, even my brother… I gasp softly. I could see him again! I could talk to him one last time.

I leap up, but the news anchor says one last thing.

"And let's not forget about our newest "with-out-a-trace" disappearance, a 15 year old girl in Louisiana had vanished and was found dead in the New Orleans sewers. Her family has yet to be contacted about her death."

Melissa wails. The phone rings. I walk over and look at the caller ID. It was the police. I picked on the phone and tried to hear what was going on at the police station.

"Hello, we're sorry we couldn't contact you sooner. Your daughter, Emilia Chase, has been found dead—" I didn't need to hear anymore. I jammed the phone into its place and stalked to the front door. Not only is another version of my brother alive, and the same, if he's anything like Jason, but someone faked my death.

I walked outside and breathed in the fresh air. My legs twitched to go sprinting toward Michigan and see my brother. I wanted to talk to him one last time. See his face. Have him tell me that everything's going to be alright, followed by a snappy, playful insult of how pathetic I'm being. But I can't. It's not right to go stomping across the country and only get attached to this version of him. It wouldn't be healthy and it would only drag me off task.

The moon hung low in the sky, even though there was still sunlight out. This was the kind of sunsets that I loved when I was young. It was like day and night wrapped in one big package. The only thing missing was a bon fire and a good book. Not to mention my old family.

My shoulders shake only for a second. I slam those thoughts down and shove them in that tiny box I have in my head. They're dead. I have to let the dead rest so the living will move forward.

"You have that face on again." Puck said from behind me.

I take a shaky breath. "How do you know? You can't see my face from back there."

He moves in front of me and looks at my face, but his grin faltered, turning into a slight frown. "I was wrong. That's not the face."

"See?" Only a slight tremor was beneath the surface. "Robin Goodfellow isn't all knowing."

He gets a mocking insulted look on his face. "Wanna bet? Robin Goodfellow knows all his friends. When their angry or annoyed," Puck looks down at me. "And when they need a shoulder to cry on." He opens his arms.

"It's okay," I look down at my feet. "I've never needed one before and I can go without one now," To make sure that I hadn't offended I look up and wrap my arms around him. "But you're such a sweetie for offering."

Puck returned the hug eagerly, burying me in his brown vest. His scent assaulted me. Apples and dirt. The sound of his heard thundered in his ribs as if he'd just ran a marathon. I relaxed my arms and went to drop the hug he held on, holding me tightly as if I would sprint away if he let go.

"If you don't need a shoulder then why are you crying?" Puck asked.

I couldn't reach my face to check for wetness. All I could feel was a knot in my throat and shiny beads at the edges of my vision. "I'm," The taste of acid plagued my lips and tongue, burning my flesh. Though the acidic burning wouldn't leave a mark it tasted horrible enough to last for hours. But that was the only thing I needed to know. If I tasted it then I was on the verge of lying. I'm crying.

"It's stupid. Crying about it's useless. It's over and done with," I dug my nails roughly into my arms so I could feel the skin tearing. I tried to move away again but he wouldn't let me go.

Puck pleaded, "If you're crying about it then it's not stupid."

With everything I had I tried to close off the tears and pain that was dancing in my heart. It took no small amount of effort but I managed to smother the expressions from my face and relax my tense muscles, willing them to stop trembling, hoping that I could fool Puck into thinking that what I was crying about was really stupid and that all I needed was a smack upside the head for being so soft. Once I was confident that I was closed off enough I made the mistake of looking directly at him.

Puck looked down on me with those big green eyes that spoke words that didn't exist. They held the depth of the entire forest. His arms relaxed and one of his hands reached up to my face while the other lowered to my waist line instead of my back, the hug turning more into a caress. Puck brushed a thumb under one of my eyes, wiping away the tears that began to flow over the rims.

I wanted to let my mask fall. To welcome his offer for a shoulder to cry on. But that would be admitting to weakness. Weakness doesn't belong in my life.

As is he read my mind Puck spoke. "Emmy, you don't need to close yourself off like that. I'm not going to hurt you for letting me in," He grinned slightly. "But," He shrugged, "I can't say I won't if you keep me out."

The last statement was a joke. Or at least I hope. For he rested his forehead against mine and whispered in my ear, "And you never said that they weren't your nightmares, either."

He figured it out? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He is a thousand year old faery, there since the near beginning of the Summer Court. Puck's bound to solve anything he wants with a little time and effort.

I rest my arms on his shoulders, not sure if I wanted to push the scene farther. This one of the first intimate scenes we've had together, all started by him. I always tried to test to see if he loved Meghan by trying to see if he would go somewhere with her because I can't. He always stayed with me, or when Meghan knew we were actually supposed to go somewhere he would go out of politeness.

Who was I kidding? I can't do this to myself. He's not real either. Falling in love with a character in a book that I'm soon going to be out of is a stupid idea. Because once I'm out I'll never see him again. But he'll know if I don't actually fall for him, and then…what? There is no after once this book is finished. All I have to do is get him to help me get through the Wyldwood and to the Iron King. Then I won't need him anymore. And he'll be back to that amazing prankster role he plays in the real Iron King and I'll be on with my life in that rat hole in Michigan.

"They're only memories, Puck. It is stupid to cry over something that's no danger to anyone anymore," The last part slipped out. I didn't want to say that last part. I just wanted to say that it was stupid to cry over them. I pull back, and this time he lets me go.

"What do you mean, 'no danger to anyone anymore?' Princess, you're acting like the world is ending. And considering that after all these years I'm still the best looking person alive the world is not ending anytime soon."

"That's because her world is ending," A deep voice rang from behind Puck.

We spun and looked to where the voice had come from. Only to see the tall, slender forms of two aliens.

The first alien was in white robes with red sashes, a sure sign that he wasn't just a high ranking official, but the King. His green flesh was tight and dark, stretching to cover his old bones. The alien who stood next to him made my heart stop. It was the one who set me in here. The one whose name I never really caught. I would recognize her purple flesh anywhere, wrapped in gold robes. The spikes on her head flesh poked back like porcupine quills, making her look very distinct from the rest of her kind, where their quills poked straight up as a sea urchins.

Puck waved a cheerful hand. "Oh hey, I didn't see you there! And may I ask, what the hell are you talking about?"

I bow my head in respect. "King Urchin," It was the nickname I gave him since his real one was too long and hard to pronounce for our race. So on earth he's called King Urchin, a reference to our prickly sea friends. "What's going on?" The one who sent me in here has purple power binders encasing her arms and hands.

"Emilia Davis, I am here to inform you of the crime that has not only been committed against you but your entire race. Amelia, as you humans call her, has combined the Iron King with the real world and in order for time to correctly match and string together the two it had to go back to the times just before the Great Human War was launched. The world that you once inhabited is slowly crumbling and dying due to time erasing what has been," He said in a grave voice. "The Great Human War must be repeated. You are lucky to survive Amelia's mistake."

My stomach tightened. My breathing became ragged and quick, my fists shaking. I glared at Amelia who stood with her head held high, glaring at me. I wanted to bitch at her. I wanted to express my hate. But there would be no point. She knows it. The same way I know she hates me. Instead I stand at ease, with my hands folded behind my back and my feet at shoulder length, my mind already switching to the set of war. My eyes returned to the King.

"Uh, can someone please clue me in on what you are all babbling on about? I would like to be included in this very strange conversation."

"We did it once and we can do it again, your highness. But won't this turn into a paradox or something? I already exist somewhere else. There can't be two of me."

King Urchin waved it off. "Do not worry, hero. I have contacted the Lord of the afterlife. He has sent your twin flame, of course baring the knowledge you had known at that point in time, to carry out your role in that life. This shall not turn into a paradox.

"Now, about you losing your soul," The King began. "You have nothing to worry about. It will not happen. Your soul knows where it is needed and belongs. The ones who have informed you otherwise were misled. So you will be able to still wield your guns in the battle a few minuet's ahead. So I wish you the best of luck and I urge you to stay on task; not going storming off after your brother for he needs to die for your twin flame to gain the hate needed to save the world, as you had did before. I bid you farewell, our time here is up."

Amelia spoke as a bright, silver light came from within them. "Yes, now go ahead and fall in love with the idiot. You mine as well live while you're still alive. Not that you'll be alive much longer. " Then, in a blaze of light, they vanished. Their bodies becoming wisps of smoke that faded as quickly as they came.

And I waited. And waited. The light was fully gone now and everything was dark. The stars were beginning to show and lights turned on inside. I waited for the bombardment of questions that I was sure to get from Puck. I was slightly concerned with how he would take this. What does he think?

The silence stretched on, growing awkward and uncomfortable. My tears dried and I regained control of myself. I had been given orders. Do not go after my brother, no matter how badly I wanted to, and allow my twin flame, whatever that is, to take my place. So did I really save the world if it's happening all over again?

After what must have been five minuet's I turned around to head for inside. Puck looking at me with an expression I didn't care to decipher. I knew he was curious and I knew that he was eventually going to ask questions. All it was going to take was time.

I stopped. My ears picked up the whooshing of gunships. And they're not human."you will be able to still wield your guns in the battle a few minuet's ahead." I turn to Puck. "Get inside. Don't follow me. I might not make it back." I paused. "And I'm going to talk to you later about faking my death."

I look in the sky and see the green craft headed for town. They would be there in seconds. I would take minuets'. By the time I get there the police could overwhelmed and then I would really have nothing to work with. I just hope that this species can't see the fae. That would make killing them easier. And since I won't be losing my soul I can still use my slug-throwers. I start for town. Puck calls out to me but I didn't catch it.

When I reached town almost no one was still outside. The remainders who were had been cornered and effectively slaughtered with the one-shot. The ground was stained with blood and chunks. Bodies littered the sidewalks and windows were broken. The air already reeked of death. But it wasn't the peaceful aftermath that allowed loved ones to weep and bury their dead. The sound of plasma and one-shots came from a distance. Screams followed. By now the police, realizing that they were out manned and out gunned, would have gotten as many civilians into their station as possible and barricaded themselves inside until a proper military force would be able to arrive.

The only problem with that is that these aliens, dubbed as Gorillas, will easily be able to push aside a few couches and chairs. Their barricades won't last long enough for a proper military force to arrive. So I guess I'm the best they got.

Gorillas lack in intelligence. They're not dumb when it comes to tactics but there not the brightest when it comes to trivial things. They could disappear and their allies would only assume that they had been killed in an earlier portion of the fight. But what they lack in intelligence they make up for in strength and in knowledge of how to use what resources they have. That was what made them so difficult to beat. Once they had good resources it became hard to stop an army of fridges with guns. We were lucky that they preferred more basic and primal weapons, instead of the fancy ones that we have, or we would have lost.

The first building that catches my sight as I'm running through town is Smiths Guns and Ammunition. The front windows were shattered and lots of people were in there, lying dead of course. The smart ones must have tried to go for weapons. The Gorillas are smart enough to just throw smokers in there so no one can see and then charge in. The fact that Gorillas can take a full clip of pistol bullets before dying, and only if shot right, before dying must have made it hard to retaliate against things that you can't see. Next to the building was an open dumpster.

I stop at the entrance of the building, my fists up and my steps slow. It is possible that they might have missed someone. And if it's the right kind of someone they might shoot at whatever is crunching the glass.

Who would see me? I'm a faery. I'm invisible.

Feeling ridiculous I drop the slowness and storm up to the counter. Ammo was scattered about in people's frantic need to survive. But most of the guns were still in the showcase. Post people don't know how to use more than a pistol so they don't go for the big guns. The open pistol cases explain that. The best part about that, for me, is that I get the fun guns. And since I'm a faery I'm strong enough to carry these things around like nothing. Moving behind the counter I grab the semi-automatic shotgun and weigh it in my hands.

I nearly drop it. It wasn't as heavy as I was expecting. But it wasn't as light, either. I wouldn't be able to carry it like nothing but I should be able to use it fairly easy. At least it's the right size so I won't be lugging around a giant hunk of metal. I walk over to the ammo shelf, take the proper ammo and begin loading my weapon and formulating a basic strategy of attack. If I was invisible to the Gorillas then this would be very quick and simple. But as things in life go; nothing is ever so easy.

A small, light sniffling sound comes from behind.

Without thinking I spin on my heel, cock my gun, and point to the source. Peeking from behind one of the tipped over shelves was a small child. He cringed back, but didn't take his red eyes off of me. He was human, young, and crying. I lower my gun. It's just a kid.

He sniffles. His blonde hair was messy and long, matching the woman he knelt down beside. "Can you help me?"

I shake my head. "Sorry kid. Not right now. Just stay in here and hide." I figured that he could see me because he was so young. Youth tend to be more prone to seeing fae until they grow older and convince themselves that we're just dreams. Staying here and taking care of him won't help the majority of the population that is stuck inside the police station.

After that he just lay down on the woman and continues to cry. I finish arming myself with ammo, a pistol for the worst case scenario, and put on a bullet proof vest for good measure. With a last glance at the weeping child I turn and move out the door. Right into the Unseelie Prince and his lackeys that awaited.