Here's chapter five, everyone!
CHAPTER FIVE
Shion looked out the window. The warmth and safety of Safu's house had washed some of the tension from his shoulders. He let out a breath. Dinner had been pleasant, with Safu's grandmother asking about school and Karan's bakery and things that kept Shion's thoughts from the Folk lingering outside in the shadows.
"I'm sorry," Shion said, long after Safu's grandmother had bid them goodnight and wheeled herself into her first-floor bedroom. She typically went to bed around eight and rose with the sun.
"For what?" Safu cleared the dessert dishes off the coffee table. She'd picked up a small cake from Karan's bakery a day and a half ago, and the three of them had polished it off after dinner.
"For worrying you." Shion helped her take the dishes into the kitchen.
Safu deposited the dishes into the sink and filled it with warm water. "Don't worry about me. Do you want to spend the night?"
Shion considered it. He thought about curling up on the couch, nestled beneath a thick blanket, listening to the sounds of the Folk lingering harmlessly outside, unable to enter the iron-soaked walls of Safu's little house.
"That's tempting," Shion said carefully, "but I'd better not. Mom was worried about me when I left, too. A faerie smacked into the window and freaked me out. If I spent the night, she might think something's wrong."
"I understand." Safu shut the water off. "It must be difficult, not being able to tell her. But it'd worry her more if she knew you were being tormented by things she can't see."
"Yeah, I know." Shion leaned against the counter. The thought of going back outside made him anxious, but if he could appear in control and unaware of anything out of the ordinary, the Folk would leave him alone. Shion was well-practiced at keeping his expression neutral, at pretending not to notice the horrors around him the same way Unsighted humans did.
As long as he didn't run into the silver-eyed boy again, Shion figured he would have an uneventful trip back to his mother's bakery.
"It'll be fine," Shion said after a moment, plastering a smile on his face. He hoped Safu wouldn't see through it. "After the incident in the coffee shop, I don't think the Folk will be as active tonight."
"No?"
"If that silver-eyed boy actually is court fey, then most of the Folk will probably stay hidden to avoid crossing his path." Shion hoped to also avoid him. "The only ones out will be the big ones, and they don't usually mess with people in town."
The bigger Folk, though terrifying in appearance, were the least of Shion's concern. The massive bone deer that wandered through the streets, large antlers brushing against telephone wires, tended to avoid the streets where humans mingled. The golden bears hunted smaller Folk on the outskirts of the town, but from what Shion could gather, they all shared a similar mentality: as long as a human didn't mess with them, they didn't return the favor.
"If you're sure," Safu said with a shrug.
Shion folded his arms and inhaled through his nose. He was grateful to have Safu. He didn't like keeping secrets from his mother, but telling Karan he could see invisible faeries wasn't high on Shion's list of things to do. Even if Karan did believe him rather than trying to usher him straight to a therapist, she'd worry constantly for his safety against something she couldn't see. It was easier for Shion to suppress his terror until he was in the safety of Safu's house, in the company of someone who understood his struggle.
"I should go before it gets too late," Shion said.
"Before you go," Safu said, stepping across the kitchen to one of the counter drawers, "take this."
She pulled something from the drawer, and it caught in the light. She hurried over to Shion and held it out to him. In her palm was a small pool of iron links―a little chain with no baubles or rings.
"My grandmother made these," Safu explained, moving his sleeve up and clasping it around Shion's thin wrist. "It's small enough not to look like a charm, but potent enough to keep the Folk at bay."
Shion twisted his arm and let the silvery links twinkle against his skin. "Thank you," he murmured. He couldn't imagine what iron felt like to the Folk. Safu's grandmother had explained that iron burned the fey like fresh embers from a roaring fireplace, and the scent alone burned their nostrils and was usually more than enough to deter them.
"I'll walk you out."
Safu guided Shion to the door. He shrugged his coat on and did the buttons up to his chin. The crisp evening air kissed his cheeks as he stepped outside.
"Call me when you get home, OK?" Safu asked, leaning against the door frame.
Just beyond the fence, a little blue sprite flickered against the dark sky. Her iridescent wings shone like gemstones in the streetlights, no larger than a dragonfly's.
"I will," Shion assured.
"Be safe."
"I will."
Safu stood in the doorway and watched Shion until he stepped out from the safety of her front yard and onto the sidewalk. The sprite was gone well before Shion arrived. The iron charm was working.
Shion shoved his hands into his pockets and headed towards home.
Kronos was usually abuzz with activity once the sun went down. The large Folk stalked the streets, keeping their distance from the hustle and bustle of human life, and the smaller Folk ravaged trash cans, occupied run-down buildings, and snatched treats from food carts.
Tonight, the city was quiet. Shion could hear the heavy thump of something's footsteps against the pavement a few blocks over, but he didn't panic. The iron charm around his wrist would be inconspicuous enough not to give away that he had the Sight, but it would discourage any faeries from approaching him.
The gentle wind whipped his hair around his ears as Shion bustled along. He walked, head down, appearing casually disinterested in his surroundings. Buildings lined the road on his right side, but off to his left, Shion could see nothing but thick trees. His heart hammered. Forests meant an abundance of Folk, but Shion had no reason to venture inside, and therefore had no reason to cross paths with anything dangerous.
Shion walked by a junkyard surrounding an old stone building. A worn sign announcing LATCH BILL sat outside; Shion had no idea what it meant. The old building was run down enough for Shion to believe it was long-abandoned, though sometimes he thought he saw a man on the top floor smoking out the window. Not a faerie, from the looks of him, but a down-on-his-luck human being.
Shion wasn't surprised. Vagrants were an issue, even in Kronos, so Shion did his best to avoid contact with them. Human vagrants were an even bigger threat than the Folk because Shion couldn't simply pretend he couldn't see them.
The anxiety twisting through his stomach calmed as he rounded the corner away from the Latch building and continued down the street. He was halfway to the bakery. Halfway to safety and warmth.
A few stray cars skittered over the asphalt. It was chilly, and Shion hid his face in his jacket for warmth. Autumn was an especially busy time for the Folk, and when the air got colder, the stranger ones would come out. Bone men with icicles for fingernails and white wolves that snatched up pixies as they tried to scurry away. The snow would be painted with streaks of colorful blood that most human beings wouldn't see.
Shion hated the winter months.
He took a deep, calming breath. Winter was still months away, and the cold air gave Shion the perfect excuse not to wander outside. The trees without their leaves―the ones that died in the cold months and returned in the Spring―were even more terrifying than the ones with them.
Shion knew there were things lurking in the shadows, tucked in the bushes, but it was easier to pretend they weren't there if he couldn't see them. Some Sighted humans might have felt the opposite. Safu, for example, would rather know what was hanging around her. But Shion could pretend nothing invisible and dangerous lived in his world if he couldn't spot them.
Shion exhaled, his breath puffing around his cheeks like dragon smoke.
He couldn't wait to be home.
Another small gust of wind ruffled his hair again, this one colder than the last. Shion stopped for a moment on the sidewalk, huddled into his jacket, waiting for the cold to pass over him.
And then Shion heard something that made his blood chill.
A pained scream.
Shion whipped toward the woods.
There. It had come from there, right inside the line of trees. A scream, plain as day―human in a way that made Shion's stomach turn.
He should keep walking. The sound must have come from somewhere else, carried on the cold wind or emitting from a window. It was none of Shion's business. More to the point, it was dangerous. The forests were faerie territory, and the scream Shion had heard might as well have been from a faerie.
But...
It'd sounded so human.
Shion crossed the street before he could command himself to stop. He ducked into the dark cluster of trees, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He clicked on his phone, the bright LED light casting an eerie glow in the shadows. His sneakers snapped through the short bushes and dead branches strewn about the ground.
Shion swung the light around and surveyed his surroundings. It had come from here. Shion looked over his shoulder, at the safety of the road. There was still time to duck back onto the road and hurry along. He didn't have to tell Safu he'd been an idiot. Didn't have to admit that, for a moment, he'd forgotten the One Rule that had kept him alive for almost seventeen years.
Another sound came from behind one of the trees: a sharp hiss, like someone in pain.
Shion hurried toward it. The light illuminated the ground, covered in dead leaves that crunched beneath his sneakers. Shion located the tree where the sound had come from, and he turned the light.
Slumped against the trunk was a boy.
"Oh!" Shion gasped. "Are you―"
The boy glanced up, startled, and Shion saw a flash of silver catch the light.
It was, indeed, a boy. A very familiar boy. Long dark hair clung to his pale face, unbound and tangled from an obvious scuffle. He wore dark clothes, nearly sinking into the shadows, the only source of light emitting from his unnatural silver eyes.
Shion's heart jammed in his throat.
Nezumi jumped to his feet, as elegant as a wild cat. Shion reeled back―and Nezumi slammed into him, shoving him backward. Shion's spine connected with the trunk of a nearby tree.
His fingers spasmed, releasing his grip on his phone. It clattered to the ground, the light smothered by the dirt. Shion took in a sharp breath, and then something cool and thin pressed against his throat, resting right in the fleshy part where his head connected to his neck.
A knife. The tip was pressed just close enough to be a threat.
Shion swallowed a lump in his throat. The movement made the tip of the blade nick his skin. It stung.
"You can see me," Nezumi said.
Shion's eyes darted to his. Up close, he could see twists of pale blue and soft gray swirling beneath panes of quicksilver. Nezumi's face was inches away from him, his body angled in a way that let Shion know, instinctively, that he was a predator. Shion's heart rate spiked. His hands trembled at his sides, where they'd fallen limp. His eyes flicked down.
Even in the darkness, Shion could make out a large tear in the arm of Nezumi's black jacket. Through the gap, Shion could see pale skin and blood smeared across it. A messy red line had been dragged across Nezumi's bicep. It was a deep cut, and it was bleeding heavily.
"You're..." Shion said, trying not to move too much. "You're hurt."
Nezumi jolted at the sound of his voice.
Shion stared back at him. Nezumi looked vicious and wild, but beneath that was an unexpected sensation of pain. Nezumi's long limbs were tense, both from pain and ferocity. He was tall, but Shion had known that from the times he'd spotted him around Kronos. Through the darkness, Shion could see the sharp tips of his ears. He was beautiful.
"Let me help you," Shion said softly.
Nezumi twisted back, instantly defensive. The knife twisted in his grasp. It didn't cut Shion, and that was even more terrifying than if it had. Nezumi had the knife under his complete control. He knew how to use it.
"I don't make bargains with humans," Nezumi hissed.
Shion's fingers twisted. He didn't want to move them, for fear that Nezumi would take it as a threat and immediately decapitate him.
"Not a bargain." Shion's mouth was dry. "I just want to help."
Nezumi stayed still. Shion looked back at him. His years of knowledge on how to avoid the Fair Folk went skittering into the shadows of the forest. A desire to help, to ease pain, came twisting from deep inside him. Shion's hands itched to press down on the injury, stop the bleeding, and find something to bind it.
"You'll bleed out if we don't bandage it," Shion murmured.
Nezumi's lips pressed in a thin line. They watched each other for a few moments, Nezumi keeping the knife jammed against Shion's throat. A moment later, Nezumi's expression shifted, just a bit. He drew away from Shion, and Shion exhaled as the warmth he hadn't realized had been there came rushing out. The Autumn chill brushed across his chest and stomach.
Nezumi eased down toward the ground, and Shion went with him. He didn't think Nezumi would appreciate Shion towering over him, so he crouched down to the dirt. In the darkness, Shion couldn't see well, but his eyes were steadily adjusting to the shadows. His phone sat in the dirt behind him, but reaching for it might be seen as a threatening action.
Shion lifted his hands, splaying all ten of his digits and making sure Nezumi could see them. "Can I take a look at it?"
Nezumi shifted his injured arm forward. His fingers were still clenched around the hilt of the knife.
Shion pressed his lips together. What had caused this? And had it been Nezumi who'd screamed? He reached out, slowly, and touched the cut in Nezumi's jacket.
Beneath the leather, the cut had punctured through a pale yellow shirt with long sleeves. The fabric was sticky and wet from the blood dribbling from the wound. It looked at if it'd been carved with a jagged knife, puncturing deep into the skin. Shion squinted to see it better.
He shifted his hand against Nezumi's injured arm. Nezumi reeled away from him with a strangled hiss. Shion jolted, scooting backward. He put his hands where Nezumi could see them, confusion swirling inside him at the fury skittering across Nezumi's features.
"You're wearing iron," Nezumi growled.
"Wha―," Shion started, and then he remembered the charm. The iron ringlets Safu had clipped around his wrist.
Nezumi's eyes flashed.
Shion grasped the iron charm and yanked it off his wrist. It was cool in his palm. Nezumi drew back at the sight of it, his nose wrinkling with disgust. Shion had never seen a faerie react to iron up close. He knew that it burned them, that the smell was abhorrent, but it was another thing to see it.
Shion hurled the cluster of iron links into the bushes. Nezumi's head turned, watching them glint through the air before landing with a muted thump against the forest floor, not too far away, but far enough to make a statement.
"You threw it away," Nezumi said, incredulous.
"Yes," Shion replied, just as surprised.
"You realize I could kill you." Nezumi's lips drew back in a dark smile as he twisted the silver knife in his grasp. "Without that pretty charm of yours, what's stopping me? I could run this blade across your throat before you ever had a chance to blink."
Terror shot through Shion's stomach. He forced it back down. Nezumi was in pain. Pain often reflected itself as anger. Shion inhaled, steeled his nerves, and then let another breath escape his lips.
"I suppose you could do that," he replied. "I can't help you if you kill me, though."
Nezumi didn't reply. A moment of shadowed silence passed between them. Shion understood, in that instant, that Nezumi was coming to the reluctant agreement to trust him. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a bit, but enough for Shion to realize he had a job to do.
"I'll need you to remove your jacket," he murmured. "Can you lift your arm?"
Nezumi blinked at him. "You're serious."
"I'd like to avoid cutting your jacket, if I can."
Nezumi's eyes narrowed. Shion realized that wasn't the answer to the question Nezumi had actually been asking.
Before he could say anything, Nezumi said, "It's already cut."
"It can still be repaired." The slice in the leather was deep, but Shion had no doubt that the Fair Folk could repair it with ease. "It'll be harder to mend if I have to cut the entire sleeve off."
"Unbelievable," Nezumi muttered.
Shion's vision had adjusted well enough to the dark for him to see what he was doing. Moonlight bled through the branches, turning the small pocket around them into a beautiful, glowing glen. Shion was momentarily distracted by the beauty of the natural forest. Though not in the world of Faerie, per se, there was some kind of natural magic in this place.
"My name's Shion," Shion blurted, because he realized he'd never introduced himself.
Nezumi's expression didn't change, and he didn't offer his own in return. Faeries were reluctant to hand out names, as theirs had power. Knowing a faerie's name was a way for humans and other Folk to trap them with unfair bargains.
But knowing it and keeping it a secret felt wrong, so Shion said, "I―I know yours, too. You're Nezumi."
Nezumi's eyebrows raised.
"I see you in Kronos a lot."
"I'm there a lot," Nezumi said carefully. "Didn't realize I had a human admirer."
There was a lightness to his voice that made Shion think it was meant to be a taunt, but he couldn't help the zip of warmth that shot through him. Faeries were incapable of telling lies, which meant that if Nezumi said it, he believed it.
"I've just seen you from a distance," Shion muttered, his face burning. "I heard someone say your name."
"Hm."
"I don't have any thread," Shion said, eager for a change of subject. "Or needles. But, I've taken a first aid class. I can bandage it up long enough for you to get home."
Nezumi's face dropped at the mention of home, and Shion instantly regretted it. He opened his mouth to say something else―anything else―but Nezumi waved the hand holding the knife and said, "Do what you have to."
Shion reached out again, slower this time. He brushed his fingers across the leather jacket. A cool wind rustled the branches above their heads. Shion wondered about the little Folk that might be lurking in the trees. His fingers edged toward the collar of Nezumi's jacket. If there were little Folk watching him, that meant they would know Shion could see them. Nezumi wasn't glamoured, and Shion was sitting here, talking to him, right out in the open.
Nezumi must have caught something in his expression because he snorted and said, "There's nothing here. They all took off during the brawl. Didn't want to get caught in the crossfire."
"Crossfire?" Shion's heart stuttered. "What happened?"
"Nothing that concerns you." Nezumi winced as he steadily began to ease the sleeves of his jacket down. Shion took the hint and helped guide it down his arms. The material was sticky with blood, and the paper-thin shirt beneath was damp with cold sweat. The sleeve around the wound had been frayed from the weapon that caused the wound. Nezumi grasped the loose fabric and ripped downward; the remainder of the sleeve slumped to the ground in a useless pile.
Shion looked at the wound. It was deep and messy, placed as a desperate afterthought. "Were you in a fight with someone?"
"Obviously." Nezumi closed his eyes. "I got off easy."
Shion's mouth went dry. If bleeding profusely from the arm was considered getting off easy, Shion didn't want to see what the other guy looked like. He set Nezumi's jacket gently off to the side. He had a mission to complete. He'd offered to bandage Nezumi's wound, but now that he was presented with the opportunity, Shion realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
He couldn't stitch the wound―there were no needles or suitable thread nearby, and Shion doubted Nezumi would let him run to a convenience store. Nezumi sat in front of him, watching his movements like a stalking predator. The pile of fabric from Nezumi's ruined sleeve might work, but it was too thin and damaged to be of much use.
Oh, I know. Shion undid the buttons on his jacket. His shirt was somewhat thick, and it would work as bandages in a pinch. Shion grasped the hem of the button down and yanked on the fabric as hard as he could. It slipped out of his fingers; with a frustrated grunt, Shion tried again. The fabric tore, just a little. Shion considered it progress and went to yank on it again.
"What," Nezumi said, "the fuck are you doing?"
"Making bandages," Shion replied. "There's no bandages, and I've got to―"
Nezumi exhaled, frustrated, and thrust the knife toward Shion.
Shion's heart stilled until he realized Nezumi wasn't trying to stab him. Shion reached for the handle of the knife with trembling hands. The hilt was solid and warm as he took it into his palm, drawing it back toward him. Nezumi reluctantly let it go. Shion knew Nezumi would be on his feet and well out of the way before anything could happen. He wouldn't have handed Shion his weapon if he believed Shion would be a threat with it.
"Try not to cut yourself," Nezumi said.
"I won't." Shion struggled to steady his fingers as he pressed the edge of the knife to the fabric. He sliced through it; the blade sliced through his shirt as easily as butter, making a thick strip. Shion exhaled in relief. He chopped a few additional slices until he had a decent pile. His shirt was practically ruined, and Shion yanked his jacket closed and quickly buttoned it.
He set Nezumi's knife on the ground beside them. He grabbed the pile of fabric strips and gestured for Nezumi to lift his arm.
Nezumi watched Shion as he lifted his arm. His eyes narrowed, sharp with pain. Their silver color was ethereal and beautiful. Shion looked down, fearing that if he continued to stare into them, he wouldn't be able to get loose.
Shion quickly began wrapping the strips around Nezumi's wounded arm. Nezumi bit into his lower lip. Other than that, he made no sounds. He watched as Shion wound the strips tightly around the wound. The pale white fabric turned red as blood seeped through it, and Shion kept winding until he couldn't see any more red.
"There." Shion withdrew his trembling hands from Nezumi's bicep. "I―I think it's done."
Nezumi drew his arm back. He examined the bandages, admiring Shion's handiwork.
"Did it just happen?" Shion asked.
"It doesn't concern you." Nezumi reached for his jacket, and Shion's heart froze.
Nezumi yanked the black leather on, careful around his damaged arm. Shion's hands itched to help him, but he couldn't move. His stomach felt painfully tight, as if a serpent had crawled down his throat and taken up residence inside.
"Um―," Shion said, forcing his shaking hands to reach forward.
Nezumi's hand darted out, quicker than Shion's mortal mind could comprehend. Nezumi's thin white fingers clamped around Shion's frail wrist like a manacle. His cold skin felt like a shock of lightning against Shion's skin.
Nezumi's fingers tightened around Shion's wrist. "You saved me," he said, though he didn't sound the least bit pleased about it. "I owe you a debt."
"You―," Shion's face flushed. "You don't owe me anything."
"I owe you a debt." Nezumi enunciated each word, making it clear that while he didn't agree with it, it was something he had to do. "You did me a favor. Now I owe you one. What do you want?"
Shion could think of many things someone might ask in this situation. Having a faerie owe a debt was something most Sighted humans dreamed about. Turning your eternal tormenters into puppets was something Safu's grandmother, however, had warned them against. The Folk didn't hand out favors easily, and sometimes those favors could be turned back on the human who used it.
Shion could ask for wealth―enough to pay for his mother to never work a day in her life―but the manner in which the money was procured might come back to haunt him. He could ask for Nezumi to remove his Sight, but he would live with the memories of knowing about the faerie world, and the Folk would know it, too. No matter what Shion asked for, something terrible could come from it.
"I―I don't know." Shion lowered his head. "I'm sorry."
Nezumi stared down at him. Shion felt pathetic and small. His heart hammered in his ribcage, his blood running cold. The shadows of the forest fell around him, and Shion had never felt so alone in his life. If things went South now, no one would ever find him. The woods belonged to the Folk, after all.
"Fine." Nezumi let go of his wrist, and Shion drew it back as if he'd been burned. "Then I owe you a similar favor."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Nezumi explained with a frustrated sigh, "that if you have need of my help, I will assist you."
Shion's eyes widened.
"Once," Nezumi specified. "I only owe you one rescue."
"I understand," Shion murmured. Nezumi owed him a rescue. He supposed that made sense. Shion had saved Nezumi's life―in some capacity―so Nezumi owed him a similar favor. Shion hoped to never be in so much danger that Nezumi had to save his life, but it was almost nice to know he had a pseudo get out of jail free card.
Nezumi turned away from him and stalked into the woods. Before he vanished completely, he looked over his shoulder and back at Shion. His silver eyes flashed like the blade of a knife.
"I... appreciate you helping me, Shion," he said.
"You're welcome," Shion whispered.
Nezumi disappeared into the darkness without a sound. He seemed to melt into the shadows. Shion didn't even hear him leave. He was simply there one moment and then not; the woods belonged to the Folk, and the leaves swallowed Nezumi up without a second thought.
Once he was alone, Shion let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His chest ached. He was alone and shivering in the autumn evening. But beneath the terror and the anxiety, Shion felt proud of himself. Proud that he'd managed to help someone. Even if that someone wasn't human.
Shion moved to leave the forest, and something silver caught his eye.
The knife.
Shion crouched down and plucked the knife from the ground. He ran the tip of his finger down the obsidian handle, terrified to touch the blood-slicked silver.
A shudder went through him, and he clutched it close to his chest.
Nezumi's knife.
He'd left it behind.
He'll probably come back for it. Shion considered dropping it in the mud and leaving it for something else to find. Someone else for Nezumi to blame for its disappearance. It doesn't belong to me. I have no business taking it.
The woods surrounding him were filled with invisible teeth. Shion gripped the handle of the knife, clutching it to his chest, and walked briskly down the path. He kept his eyes locked on the dim glow of the streetlamps in the distance. He didn't run. Faeries liked to chase things that ran, and once Shion started, he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop.
To Be Continued...