Equinox
Chapter Sixteen
"Okay, I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. What in the world possessed you to dress like that?"
Sam ducked his head. We had positioned ourselves in a clump of bushes, a few feet from a path littered with small footprints. The thin, tapered tracks belonged to a fairy. The others belonged to the children it had lured from the backyards of the town just over the ridge. The trail abruptly ended in this small clearing. To the untrained eye, the sudden disappearance of any further impressions in the soil would be unexplainable. However, a quick scan of the perimeter revealed small, swirling indentations at the base of four trees situated at perfect cardinal points.
Fairy magic was still an unsolved mystery to the CSM. We understood the basics of how they trapped victims. Fairy dances, fairy food- both a major no-no if you intended on maintaining your freedom. After that, they continued to stump us. We couldn't discern the source of their power or even where they took those that they kidnapped. We just knew that you never came back. Then there was the matter of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Those of the Unseelie were damn evil. They were the more sinister and deadly of the bunch, but that didn't mean that underestimating a Seelie Court member was in anyone's best interest.
In the end, a fairy caused mayhem and disaster no matter what kind.
Judging by the three loops upon the tree trunks, Sam and I were pursuing an Unseelie fairy. They were most notorious for kidnapping children, and two had already gone missing from the nearby settlement. Like I said, our understanding of fairy magic was slim, but most suspicions indicated that the combination of the four inscriptions previously mentioned created some kind of portal to the fairy domains. Unlike ghosts, who were in limbo between here and the afterlife, the fay occupied a definite subspace outside of our reality. Their abilities allowed them to freely move between both dimensions.
But back to freaking Dean Winchester over here.
"It's just something I'm trying out," he said offhandedly, but there was an unmistakeably defensive edge to his voice.
I peered closely at him in the darkness. He was a few feet away, crouched on his haunches. A thin, steel gray rope lay in a smooth line across his knees. Both ends were coiled around his knuckles, which rhythmically clenched and unclenched with each passing second. Through the bristles and brambles of the foliage behind which we hid, thin streams of moonlight highlighted various parts of his face. I couldn't be sure, but he looked a little pink.
"You should watch less TV," I suggested, coughing over a snort of laughter.
He refused to meet my eyes. I just shook my head and grinned as I shuffled my feet and settled into a more comfortable position. Bark dug irritatingly into my back, but our low position shielded us from the biting wind that ruffled the bare branches above. Even so, my fingers tingled with cold, so I shoved them into my pockets to keep warm.
My jibes had sent Sam into a sullen and flustered silence. Normally, I would appreciate that … but now, left to my own thoughts, I unwillingly began to consider that which I had so far been able to block from my psyche.
Fang and Lissa.
Oh, how I fondly recalled memories of Lissa. The few rare occasions I had chanced to encounter her growing up weren't so bad, honestly. Young girls growing up under similar circumstances (that being with the knowledge of supernatural beings and parents that intended to teach you how to combat them) tended to rally together. But unlike me, Lissa attended public school. So along with the monsters of the night, she occupied her time with girly gossip and boy-related infatuations, which became more annoyingly pronounced the older she got.
Suffice to say we weren't particularly friends.
Then there was the way she had looked at him. God, I was going to throttle Dylan and shove his stupid suggestions right up his arse while I was at it. His brilliant plan of sending Fang hunting with Lissa had been eagerly received by the Red Haired Wonder herself. She had smiled oh so sweetly, batting her lashes and drooping her eyes so that she stared coyly up at Fang, who had not seemed altogether displeased by the arrangement, much to my further irritation.
So yeah, she was pretty, I guess. She wore tight jeans and tops that accentuated her chest and slathered on enough makeup to make even a troll look good, but I supposed that was what was important to teenage guys these days. Whatever, it wasn't like I cared. If Fang had a thing for bitchy redheads then so be it. Good for him. Congratulations. Lissa could be his dream girl, for all I gave two pixies about.
"Thinking about your boyfriend?" Sam prodded, breaking me of my murderous thoughts. This time, he was the one grinning with some perverse pleasure.
"Excuse me?" I barked. My mouth flattened to a thin line.
He laughed, tightening his grip on the rope wound around his hands. "You should see your face."
Eyebrows knitted. Lips curled to a sneer. Eyes hard and narrowed. Apparently my enraged musings had transferred to my expression. I quickly cleared it of any traces of anger. Calmly, I glared ahead, squinting into the clearing that was bathed in soft light. As serenely as possible, I replied that I had no idea what he was referring to.
"That Fang kid," he supplied, knocking my shoulder with his own. "I thought maybe I still had a chance with you until I saw your face when he left with Lissa. You've got it bad."
He chortled to himself as I struggled to regain my composure. He. But I didn't. There's no way. Why would he think that I-? No. Just no.
"Fang's just a friend," I insisted, though even to my ears it sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than Sam. "In fact, he's barely that."
Sam shook his head, emitting a low whistle. "I don't know who was more jealous tonight, you or Dylan."
"Dylan? What the hell does Dylan have to be jealous about?" I queried impatiently.
I had almost forgotten about know-it-all Sam. Years had tarnished my memory of him constantly spouting nonsense about "reading" people. Apparently his mom was some type of psychologist. He learned how to hunt from his dear old dad and how to twist people into a definite description from his mom. Sam was nice and quiet until he started categorizing your every interaction- telling you how he perceived that you felt rather than asking.
This time, he seemed genuinely incredulous. Eyes wide with disbelief, he faced me to declare with exaggerated shock, "You really don't know, do you?"
I was about to snap a retort when a faint rustle piqued my attention. Immediately, I stilled, and Sam did the same. Something was moving through the forest, steadily closing in on the area we occupied. As the sound intensified, I discerned two sets of footsteps. Before either figure had come into sight, they halted. Faint murmurs traveled to my ear, but a gust of wind drowned out any discernible language.
Sam and I exchanged a meaningful look. With as much delicacy as possible, I stood and picked my way through the thicket. Sam followed, taking care not to jostle any branches. Once we were free of the foliage, I wordlessly communicated that I would round the target from the left. He nodded, all prior amusement washed from his face and replaced with blank determination. We departed one another at the edge of the clearing, peeling off in different directions.
I hunched my shoulders and roved soundlessly through the underbrush, all the while taking care to skirt pools of light. My palms were spread wide, arms held out for balance as I methodically maneuvered the forest floor. A crunch from the scattered decay of leaves or a snap of a brittle branch would give away my position to anything intelligent and wary enough to listen.
Within minutes I had neared the location of our guests. Cautiously, I slid into a crouch and peered through a slit between two fallen logs.
A small fire had been assembled from the brush lying about the immediate area. I was marginally surprised that, given the recent snowfall, any dry tinder had been found. But my attention was quickly diverted to more pressing matters, like -oh, I don't know- Fang standing absolutely motionless in a circle of candles.
He stared directly ahead, his hands flat against his thighs and feet less than shoulder width apart. There wasn't a single emotion scrawled across his face, though that wasn't entirely surprising. The lazily flickering flames of the nearby fire cast an orange glow on his olive skin and reflected eerily in his obsidian eyes. I was prepared to charge forward when movement from my peripheral vision drew my eye.
Lissa emerged from a nearby copse of trees, arms laden with thin, fern-like leaves. She hummed to herself as she approached Fang, dropping her spoils onto the fire. As she smiled satisfactorily, a thick, purplish smoke rose from the small pyre and wafted over the two of them. When it cleared, Fang's expression had changed. He looked directly at Lissa now, mouth forming a sickeningly lovey-dovey grin.
The Red Haired Wonder reached a hand over the circle made by her candles, grasping Fang's outstretched fingers. Every one of my internal organs twisted at the sight, and a bitter taste flooded my mouth. Before I could, I dunno, rip her head clean from her shoulders by that pretty red hair of hers, she began speaking.
"A circle of white binding candles. Incense packets. Incantation. Burn the leaves," she muttered to herself, as if ticking items off a list. Then she raised her head. She was facing away from me now, so I couldn't see her expression. I scanned Fang's features instead, but he seemed to only have eyes for her. Internally cursing up a storm, I listened to her announce her final stipulation. "Seal it with a kiss."
How about no.
She had stepped into the circle and right into Fang's arms. I surged to a stand and loudly busted into the open just as she puckered her lips and began stretching on tip-toe. Fang's chin tilted down. They were centimeters apart when I screeched at an embarrassingly unnatural volume, "Oh my God, are you practicing witchcraft?"
Lissa swung around with a gasp. Her hand flew to her throat and she immediately blushed a frightening shade of crimson. Vaguely, I registered Sam loping into view, practically in hysterics. I myself was caught between wanting to dissolve into laughter and also brutally murder her. Maybe I could manage both.
I stomped over and roughly grabbed her shoulder. With a huff, she jerked from my grip and exited the circle, tossing her hair presumptuously as she went. I examined the ring of tall candles, dripping white wax in rivulets onto the dirt. Fang gazed longingly after Lissa, and I felt the sudden urge to upchuck once again.
"What the hell is this?" I snapped, hands on my hips.
Sam approached the fire, which had died considerably following its sudden burst of smoke. He kneeled and ran a finger through the ashes. After rubbing the soot between his fingers, he was overcome with another bout of guffaws, before finally calming enough to explain.
"I'm pretty sure it's a seduction spell."
My jaw went slack. "A what?"
"Perfectly harmless," he assured me with a bemused smile shot at Lissa. "Besides, it's more of a trance than a spell. It would have worn off after a few days."
"It would have worn off?" Lissa demanded sulkily. Apparently her source of information wasn't the most reliable.
I glanced back to Fang. He looked like a lost puppy. It would have been devastatingly cute had the sentiment not been directed toward Red Devil over here. Besides, I much preferred him as the strong, silent type.
"Well how do I get him to knock it off?" I spat. "And how do you know all this, anyway?"
Sam shrugged. "A dated a white witch a few months back. She told me about stuff like this. Anyway, all you have to do is break the circle."
Without pause I dug my boot into the soil and kicked an arc of dirt onto the nearest candles. As soon as their flames were extinguished, Fang blinked and shook himself. Looking around, he shot me a puzzled twitch of the brow.
"What happened?" he asked gruffly.
I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing. "I'll tell you later. First, we have to detain a troublemaker."
Lissa glared murderously as I gripped her elbow. With excessive force, I yanked her along beside me. Sam and Fang trailed behind, with Sam quietly filling Fang in on all that had transpired. After learning that he had almost been forced into a (albeit short) relationship with Lissa, Fang fell into silent horror.
Lissa's mother was absolutely livid that she would dare to practice any sort of magic, harmless or not. Thus, their trip was cut short and Lissa was shipped home pouting. I could only dream of the punishment she was facing.
As I waved cheerfully goodbye to Lissa's stormy face from the window of her departing car, Fang appeared noiselessly at my side. I looked to him with a grin that faded slightly at the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. There was something heavy in his expression that I couldn't identify, and I had to fight not to squirm as he scrutinized me.
"Thanks," he finally blurted, as if he had to force the word past his unwilling lips.
"You didn't want to kiss her, then?" I prodded, attempting for lightheartedness.
His eyes left mine. He squinted momentarily into the sky and ruffled the shaggy strands of his raven hair. He had come outside without a jacket, and the sinews of his arms were held taught against the cold. I found myself admiring him again, like I had that day Dr. M patched up his wing. He was sort of beautiful, if I cared to admit it.
As if sensing my thoughts, he glanced slyly down his nose at me. This time, I turned away, glaring self consciously down the winding gravel drive. My fingers went to my chest, where I traced the shape of his feather still hanging round my neck. I had yet to tell anyone that I had it, but I couldn't help but view it as a sort of good luck charm.
Uncharacteristically, he was the one to break the silence.
"I can count with a single finger the amount of people that I want to kiss," he informed me nonchalantly, rubbing his elbow as he stared meditatively into my eyes. "And that isn't Lissa."
My heart thumped painfully in my chest. He wasn't talking about me. It was absolutely stupid and ridiculous and irrational to assume that he was referring to me. But damn, the birdkid had moves, because as he retreated into the building with a final, significant blink …
I was desperate to believe that it was me.