2. River

I began to turn to make my way up the huge marble stairs, but a voice stopped me, hitting me with a force that I'd never felt before. There was something so compelling about the tone that I forgot why I wanted to leave.

"My dear girl, are you planning on leaving?" the voice said. I didn't recognise it, I only knew that it was somewhere above me. In one of the balconies, I assumed. I turned slowly, trying to find the source of the voice. It was deep, with a mocking undertone, silky and magnetic.

"Actually," I said, my voice sounding squeaky and pathetic next to the sleek one I'd just heard, "I was. I have a friend waiting for me outside."

"Yes," the voice said. I still couldn't find the body that went with it. "I sent her away. She was of no use to me."

"I see," I said, still calm, only slightly confused with what this voice was saying. "Well, I have to be home for dinner. Wouldn't want to intrude."

"Do not worry about that," the voice said. I could imagine the face smiling. "I fixed that too."

"Fixed it?" I asked. I hadn't noticed before, but I was standing on the balls of my feet, as if I were about to take a shot in basketball, ready for any sudden movement.

"Yes. Your family will not be asking for you anymore."

"I'm not sure you and I are on the same page. Perhaps you could jump back a few chapters and show yourself. An explanation would be nice too." I was still searching the room, looking for any sign of movement. So far nothing. Only the echoing voice from above. My brain wasn't thinking of an escape plan – as it should have been – I was simply intrigued. I kept turning over those small facts Mix had given me.

"Well, your family and friends no longer remember you. I removed you from their minds. Sorry about that, but I could not have anyone filing a missing persons report."

"Okay," I said, beginning to think this guy was a psycho. I also couldn't help thinking of the story Mix had told me.

I heard that there is a faery in that house. And he can't ever leave because of the iron gates. Supposedly he steals young girls, teenagers, to work for him for the rest of their lives. Takes them from their families and distorts the memories of loved ones so they forget.

Ridiculous, I thought to myself. I couldn't believe I'd even considered it for a moment. Still, I was fascinated. Fascinated enough to stay anyway. "Why would you do that?" I asked.

"Because I needed a new maid. My last one was getting on and I had to do away with her. It was lucky you stumbled along. Perfect timing."

"So, you are planning to keep me hostage?"

"I guess you could say that. I prefer the phrase, you staying here to help me, but whatever works for you."

"But this would be against my own will, I assume."

"If your will does not include staying, then yes, you would be here against your own will."

"I really don't think I want to do that though. You know how it is with having a life and everything. Sure, sometimes it gets in the way, but I would like to keep it all the same."

"You are not scared," the voice observed.

"Should I be?"

"Yes. All the girls who have entered this room have been trembling. You are not."

"Where are you?"

"I do not think you would like to see me just yet. It would definitely scare you."

"I don't get scared all that easily."

"Trust me. I will scare you." There seemed to be a trace of hurt in his voice. I wondered.

"Trust me. I'll be fine."

"As you wish," I heard the voice say. I turned to look out at the ballroom from the top of the stairs. There was a swooping sound, but I couldn't see anything. I heard the voice again, and this time it was clearer; coming from the shadows underneath the stained glass windows. But the figure was no more than a black silhouette. When he stepped into view, he was the last thing I had expected from such an alluring voice.

He was hideous. Tall, by any standards, with obvious muscles underneath his casual jeans and shirt. It was hard to determine an age, but he seemed young. No more than twenty five or so. His skin was deathly pale, lips a cold blue, as if he were a corpse. Where his eyebrows should have been were hard ridges – a lot like a lizard – and the skin on his face, neck and hands were covered in calluses. His eyes were terrifying – a bright blue – with no pupil, iris or white. Just blue. A cold bottomless blue. They were also slightly upturned in a way that reminded me of a cat. A square jaw and sharp cheekbones accompanied a pointed nose. In contrast to the deathly ashen skin, his hair was a deep terrifyingly unnatural black. It, like his clothes, was neat and placed carefully in a short crop, pushed behind his slightly pointed ears, and a few strands hanging over his forehead. All in all, his face was fairly narrow, placed upon a long neck and very squared shoulders. I couldn't tell what nationality he was – if he had one. He could have been European, Asian or African, for all I knew. In fact, his features were so distorted he could have been more animal than human.

Along his arms the veins stood out like very carefully placed tattoos. On the upper left arm, near his shoulder, peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve, was a silver metal band made of many smaller entwined bands all joined to form a very ornate pattern. On the right arm was another metal band, only this one was on the forearm and wrapped itself from the back of his hand up to the elbow. It was only one band of metal, but it had patterns and swirls carved into it with the utmost detail. I took in his overall look and realised I should be scared. He obviously wasn't human. But when he wore casual clothes you would expect to see on a teenage boy, it was almost comical. He smiled as he saw the reaction on my face and I almost stepped back. Behind the dead lips were small pointed teeth, sort of like a cat, and a black tongue.

"Now, I'm beginning to think we are reading completely different books. Can you go from the top again? In fact, let's just start with what the hell you are," I said with a fake smile.

"I am a faery."

"Faery?"

"Yes."

"Oh," I said. There it was. Then I was struck with realisation as to where I had heard the word fey before – other than when Mix had brought it up. I had read a teen book once that had talked about faeries, fey and courts. All too confusing. "But I thought you were called fey or something."

"I see you know a little. That is good. Fey are faeries."

"Right," I said nodding. "But aren't you meant to be with a court or something? A gang?"

"You are a clever girl. I will enjoy your company. More than just a pretty face." He paused, as if sensing something. "Yes, generally speaking fey are joined in courts. Courts provide protection and a home. I choose not to join a court. I was never really accepted. I am a little… different to other fey."

"Right," I said, trying to gather my thoughts. Now I felt a little bad for disregarding Mix so quickly. But how was I supposed to know faery stories were more than just a myth? Then another thought hit me. Why was I so quick to just accept that the supernatural existed? Because it was ridiculous. The whole concept was absurd, insane. Maybe I was going crazy. I was almost calmed by this thought. Maybe I'd fallen off the stonewall and passed out and somehow was hallucinating all this. Maybe I'd been drugged, and I was hallucinating all of this.

My mind kept coming up with scenarios telling me that this wasn't real. That everything you're told from birth, that the evil creatures of the night don't really exist, really did. I hadn't realised, but my hands were shaking slightly. I was frustrated and angry, rather than scared. I had no idea what was going on.

Whether this guy was real or not, I figured I was in over my head.

But how could this even be possible? How could all human intelligence and research miss something like this? Another species. Living right next to us. My brain kept saying it wasn't possible.

But my subconscious was saying, Why not? Why couldn't faeries exist? The myths had to come from somewhere. And are you really so arrogant to believe that humans are always right? They've been wrong before. Many times. In fact they are usually wrong. How can you say that faeries don't exist when you have no proof? Humans used to believe that the atom was a whole single mass until someone cracked it open and out came protons, neutrons and electrons.

In a way I hated my subconscious for giving me a reason to believe. For giving me a reason to doubt everything I'd been so sure about. I was still clinging to the I'd-gone-crazy theory.

But could this person… creature have messed with my family's heads in that short time I was in the house? I quickly looked at my watch. Okay, it wasn't exactly a short time. At least four hours. Wow. Where did the time go? So I guess the question was whether this guy could actually mess with memories at all?

"I see this is a little hard for you to take in," the faery said. "That is okay. I am patient."

"So, just what do you plan to do with me?" I asked, not sure exactly what answer I wanted.

"Let us start with introductions first, shall we?" the faery smiled. I noticed he never used conjunctions when he spoke and every word was said with all syllables pronounced with precision, as if everything he said was carefully thought out and practiced before he even opened his mouth.

"Introductions?" The word tasted sour in my mouth. As if it didn't quite fit in this setting with this hideous man – monster – asking me – telling me – that I would have to stay with him. It wasn't right. Introductions were for happy settings: parties, dinners, restaurants, with laughter. This wasn't an introduction. This was an ultimatum.

"I am River, one of the fey," the faery smiled at me confirming that this wasn't an introduction, but a taunt.

"Giselle, just an average human," I matched.

River laughed, blue eyes searching me. "You are not one to fear easily. I like that. Although, many girls are defiant until they realise their fate."

"I'm not defiant." I wasn't defensive. It was a fact.

"No," River reconsidered, "you are not." He eyed me carefully. It unnerved me. I knew I should be scared. Panicked. I had just discovered that faeries existed. Any average human would be at least a little startled. Or shocked. Or panicked. Not me. I was frustrated that the human world was in the dark about… everything. And I was just that little bit worried that the faery would deliver what he had promised. And I figured that probably wasn't the best thing.

River examined me closely. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for me to speak or not, so I stayed silent. The echoing ballroom was still. Just as that happened the room darkened. Clouds must have been rolling over the sun again. The coloured geometric sunlight shapes that had been thrown around the room disappeared. But for some reason the room only became more beautiful. Dark and seedily ominous. And River fit in so perfectly. I wondered what my presence would look like in the shadowy room. Casual jeans, converse high tops, black unzipped hoodie over a long-sleeved tight grey top, I'd slept in, under my white T-shirt. My coppery wild hair that flew around my head and messy blue eyes that seemed to give off a weird sense of beauty I never understood. My brother said it was because I was confidant, never scared, but I wasn't sure. I was never comforted by the fact I was pretty – my mother always gushing over me, my brother agonisingly angry when I stole the attention of his friends, my father teasing me about boyfriends, my boyfriends irritatingly insecure (probably why they never lasted long), Mix playfully jealous – with people always mentioning it as if I had no other qualities. And yes, I am aware of the fact that genetically I'm better off than some other girls. I had been told by a few that they would kill to look like me. Well, that's absurd. Then there are the girls who seemed to hate me just because I was pretty. That doesn't even make any sense. That would be like me hating someone because genetically they inherited better eyesight or hearing than me. And anyway, I wasn't that beautiful. I'd seen many other girls prettier than me. That's what my brother had attributed to my confidence. I was never swayed.

"So," I said, breaking the surprisingly secure silence. "Now what?"

"Would you like me to show you where you will be living for the rest of your existence?" River asked, playful smiled tugged at his lips. Another challenge. This one I wasn't up for.

"Preferably, I'd like to go home," I told him, slouching my stance to make it look relaxed. I hadn't noticed I'd tensed up.

"If you wish it. Though, as I have explained, no one will remember your face," River said, tilting his head at me.

"Don't take any offence, but I'd like to test that theory," I said.

"Go ahead. You are free to leave," River told me. "But, if I may, I will escort you there and back. Sometimes the shock registers later. It can be very confronting when your family doesn't recognise you. And I will need to wipe your family's memory free again. Can not have them believing you are some crazy stalker claiming to be their prodigal daughter."

"No," I said, wryly, calling River's bluff – what I desperately hoped to be a bluff. "We wouldn't want that." River smiled, revealing the pointed teeth, making me slightly uncomfortable. He walked slowly and carefully up the stairs towards me, as if he expected me explode at any time. I didn't. River's smile only increased as he approached. If there was anything that frightened me about him, it was his eyes. Like shiny blue marbles placed in his eye sockets. The reminiscence of old biology classes in me decided that he shouldn't be able to see. Didn't you need a lens and retina? But then many animals had only one shade of colour in their eyes. They could still see. Maybe River was more animal than human. I couldn't be sure. River kept moving towards me, not seeing my unease. I got the feeling he wasn't very good at reading people. He stood so close I could smell him. Surprisingly he smelt nice. Fresh and clean. Not what I had expected. He held out a hand – the hand with the metal band that wound from his wrist to his elbow – but I hesitated.

"Trust me, my way is much faster than yours is," he told me smugly. Another test. I placed my hand softly on his. His skin was scratchy and cold, but not uncomfortably so. Then, the world disappeared in a swooping sound I distinctly remembered hearing earlier in the ballroom.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was normal. I was outside my house. The old brick house with brown tiled roof and windows from the living and lounge room. My room and my brother's room were on the top floor. Our parents on the bottom with the kitchen and TV room. My ordinary house, a street away from the mansion. Had my little expedition been a dream? A hallucination. I frowned in confusion.

"You did not scream?" a voice asked me. But this time I recognised it. I turned my head to see something I had never expected. It was a human boy. He was looking at me quizzically, no more than fifteen. I noticed I was holding his hand. I let go quickly and took a step back.

"No. I didn't scream. Was I supposed to?" I asked the child.

"Most girls do. Although, most of them are screaming before I take their hands, so perhaps you are an exception." It was River, in a human form. Well, that was the magic for you. He wasn't a very good-looking human either – pimply, stumpy and pale – but he had the same alluring voice. It was unsettling.

"Is this… magic?" For some reason saying the word aloud seemed to make all of this craziness more real. Not something I wanted to be true. Somehow I think I was still wishing I were crazy.

"A glamour," the boy said, brushing down his non-descript clothing. "Sort of like an illusion. It protects me from the sunlight." I frowned, wondering what sunlight he was talking about. It was cold and dark, the beginnings of night setting in. I shook it off.

"What now?" I asked, looking back towards the house.

"We knock. I would not just go in, even if you do have keys. People have been known to call the police when strangers enter their house." River chuckled, as if remembering something funny I was unaware of. I ignored it and strode up the driveway to my door. I knocked loudly, ignoring the doorbell I knew didn't work.

"Coming!" I heard my brother shout gruffly. He was two years older than me and I could imagine him pulling himself away from the computer reluctantly. I'd told him it wasn't good to spend so much time in his tiny dark room, squinting at his computer screen. He usually just threw something at me and kicked me out.

I waited impatiently. Anxiously, I realised. River stood near my mailbox at the end of the drive. Waiting. I ignored him. My brother opened the door, slouched on the doorframe. As soon as he saw me, a look of confusion crossed his face, as if he knew me from somewhere, but he couldn't pin where exactly. But then he shook it off and looked me up and down, as so many of his friends had, appraising my casual beauty. I was disgusted. And knew there was something wrong. From what I knew, brothers didn't usually look at their sisters like they were imagining them naked.

"Are you going to let me in? Or just stand there like a doofus?" I asked him casually, hoping something about my sisterly tone would register.

"Do I know you?" he asked carefully, unsure as to how to approach me. He probably thought I was some one-night-stand he'd had at a party. Wouldn't surprise me. He was also good looking – and a complete player who knew how to use his looks. Tall and built – only from the footy he played during the winter – with dark chestnut hair and golden skin that girls fell all over.

"Yeah, Adam, I'm you're sister, idiot. And cold. Let me in," I said, but I didn't push past him, as I usually would have.

"I don't remember you. I'm sorry, what was your name?" he asked politely. He'd never looked like me, even when we were younger, as so many people had commented. Now, it was working against me.

"Giselle. Your sis," I said, my voice a little weaker. I couldn't look at River. I just couldn't bare the smug smile that I knew would be on his face.

"I don't have a sister. I'm sorry," Adam said to me. These words stung me like ice daggers in my chest. I gulped down a breath. He wasn't lying. This wasn't a joke. This was real. My own brother didn't recognise me. Had I not been the one to flick eggshells in his hair this morning while making pancakes, only to have him stomp off to shower? Hadn't I been the one to tease him last week about the bra I had found shoved under his bed when I was looking for some money so I could go into the city with Mix? Wasn't I the one who sidled up with him to watch bad action movies on a Friday night? Wasn't I the one who he had grown up teaching me how to perfect my lay ups and dribbling skills? Hadn't I been the one he'd been so angry – and a little jealous – at when I had kissed one of his best friends while he had come to study? Hadn't I been the one who flicked the light on in his room to wake him up this morning, only to have Adam yell at me and roll over, going back to sleep?

I was his sister.

Past tense.

"Sorry about that," I heard River's smooth voice come from behind me. "It was a dare." He gave a loud belly laugh. I wasn't convinced. Then he whispered in my ear, "Do you need to see more? Or are you convinced?"

Adam gave an uneasy laugh, staring at River as if he was terrified, and shut the door.

I stood, iced to the front step. "How?" I muttered.

"It is the will of my magic. A gift."

"Can you give it back?" I asked desperately. My throat was suddenly very dry. This time River's laugh was real.

"And what use would you be to me then?" Then he took my hand and led me away from my childhood home and stunned brother. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

"Let me see Mix," I said, stopping abruptly. Mix would remember me. She knew the stories were true. She'd understand.

"She is on her way to a friend's house," River informed me. "But if you wish, you may see her."

"Yes," I said. "I want to see her." And then the suburban surroundings disappeared, making way for a much more grim setting in no more than a swooping sound. I immediately knew where Mix was headed. Johnny's. Around me was nothing but dilapidated houses, apartment blocks and abandoned windows. It was dull and foreboding, a silence enveloping the whole street, making the place even more eerie. Johnny had never been a safe person to be around. But it was that danger that had attracted Mix and I to him. He had dropped out of school at fifteen and taken up an old house in the bad parts of town. Then he had set up a little… business. Basically, he supplied most parties with all the illegal stuff no one was allowed to talk about. He was nineteen or so now with a strange charm. Tattoos, piercings and fearless manner. But he was dangerous, and not worth the effort (no matter how good a kisser he was). I scanned the streets quickly to see Mix's curved form moving towards us. She stopped short when she saw us, her round, heart shaped face giving an expression of concern. What was she doing back at Johnny's? We'd both decided it'd be better off if we never saw him again. We'd made a promise. A pact between us. Why would she break that? I broke off that sudden train of thought. She didn't break the pact. To her, the pact never existed. I never existed. And suddenly I was having trouble breathing.

"Is this too much?" River asked, way too much pleasure in his voice.

"Get me out of here," I said through gritted teeth. And again, he took my hand, and everything disappeared in a whoosh. My whole life. Me. I disappeared, with nothing left. I was like the last leaf before winter stood in and enveloped everything. The last leaf fluttering in the wind. Not meaning anything to anyone. Nothing but a passing of time. And then the wind would pick me up and no one would ever see me again. But then, I wouldn't ever be missed either.