The Cost of Freedom

“Excuse me, are you Jack Thorn?”

I turned around and there was a short, reed thin man staring at me with a timid look on his face, as if he was afraid I’d say no. Or was he afraid I’d say yes? I shrugged my shoulders and answered, “I am, and you are?”
He took a quick step forward, entering my personal space and making my defenses rise. His face gained a mischievous grin as he said, “My Queen wishes your company, if you’d just stand still a moment,” and with that he flicked his bony fingers in my face and I felt cold liquid land in my eyes.

“Hey! What is your problem?”

I rubbed at my eyes as a burning sensation went straight to my brain. My whole head felt on fire for a moment. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. I opened my eyes and looked around for the skinny jerk so I could punch him in the face, but he seemed to be nowhere in sight. The sound of someone clearing their throat made me spin around.

Suddenly I was face to face with an emaciated, green colored thing that resembled the man from before. His thin smirk was creepy on his face, complete with pointed chin and skin that looked stretched so tight it might tear at any second. He put a bone thin finger to his lips and when he giggled the sound was harsh and biting like rocks crashing into each other.

“If you talk to me now people will think you’re crazy. Only you can see me at this point in time. Follow me for answers, or stay here looking like you’ve seen a ghost. The choice is yours.”

After that, he simply walked away. I ground my teeth together and weighed my options. Follow the freak of nature walking away from me or stay here and freak out. I’d never done drugs, never hallucinated, and never made up fantastical stories. Where was this coming from?

I looked around me. The garden I was standing in had people milling about here and there. Tucked between the foliage and people were more things like the guy who had splashed my face. Panic was about to set in when I decided it would be better to follow him and get my answers than stand there staring. So, I broke into a jog and caught up with him.

We rounded a few corners in silence and ended, finally, in a small alcove secluded from the rest of the gardens. I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to talk. He said nothing.

“What’s your name?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s the first thing you ask? Not what I am but who I am? You humans amuse me. My name is unimportant.”

My gaze narrowed on his flat, emotionless black eyes. “It’s important to me. What is your name?”

He moved closer to me, almost touching his body to mine, and spoke in a voice so low I had to strain to hear it. “We do not freely give out our names. Remember that before you so rudely ask for one again.” It was then I realized a knife like object was aimed at my stomach and stepped back quickly. He continued, “However, if it’ll make things move quicker, you may call me Sage.”

“Okay, Sage, what are you then?”

He chuckled again, the sound grating on my nerves. “I am that which goes bump in the night. I am the nightmares your kind arrogantly believes they made up. I am the fear in a dying man’s eyes. I am the breath that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.” He grinned and it truly was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. “I am a Faerie.”

Against my better judgment, the corners of my mouth twitched, threatening to split open in a smile, or worse, to break out in laughter. “A fairy? Where are your wings then?”

His grin widened and it wasn’t so much a grin, as a bearing of teeth. I stumbled back quickly and realized that opening my stupid mouth may have been a horrible idea. Sage stepped toward me and talked in a hushed tone, causing me to lean closer to him in order to hear. “I am only sparing your life right now, child, because my Queen wishes your company. If you will listen to my orders we can be on our way and I can be done with you.”

Nodding, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and carefully kept my mouth shut. No point in adding any more tension to the situation then I already had.
He continued, “You are to follow close behind me as we approach her dwelling. You are to look at no one aside from me. You are to talk to no one but me until I introduce you to the queen. And most importantly, you are to do whatever it is she asks of you or else pay a heavy price. Are we understood?”

My brain seemed to want to explode. There were rules to seeing a queen? I was to do as she said? Wait. “Queen?”

Sage let out an exasperated sigh. “You think that because humans abandoned the monarch system all other species did as well? She does not pick stupid humans. Stop acting like one.”

This guy was really beginning to get on my last nerve. Attempting to avoid a pissing match with him, I nodded and motioned for him to lead the way. “I’m meeting a Faerie Queen, following your rules, and shutting up. Please… lead the way. I’d like to get home sometime soon and sleep off the headache you gave me.”

He laughed that horrible laugh and began walking toward a dense wall of bushes bordering the garden. The bushes began to appear translucent the closer we got to them, revealing an area of field covered in small mounds. Seamlessly I crossed over the threshold from my reality to the Faerie realm without realizing it.

I started to look around. The mounds were each covered in a different array of flowers and plants, effectively making each one unique from the last, like painting on a house. It was not what I imagined a Faerie city would look like.

A tap on my shoulder drew my attention away from the colorful mounds and face to face with red, beady eyes set deep in a face as black as night. Jumping back, I tried to stare at the ground, tried to avoid looking at this newcomer and follow Sage’s rules. It reached out for me, causing me to take another step back. My gaze swung up to its eyes again and I gasped.

“What are you doing here?” Sage bellowed to the left of me.

The new faerie walked toward him and I couldn’t help but watch.

“What is this?” His voice was like a hiss. When he spoke it was like something slithered across my skin and I shivered.

“This,” Sage pointed at me, “is for the Queen and therefore none of your concern.”
The pitch black faerie moved toward me again, hand extended, like he wanted to brush my hair out of my face. Sage had his dagger to his throat in an instant.

“You do not wish to do this, do you? Leave. And tell everyone else that he is not to be touched.” With that, Sage shoved him in the direction he’d come from and grabbed my shirt, dragging me along behind him.

I had no idea what had just happened. My head pounded as if it would burst at any second. Struggling against every instinct I had, I refused to look behind me where I was sure the other faerie stood. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a slew of colors approach us. What I assumed was faerie after faerie stood all around us, making a path for us to walk down. I was too scared to look to my right or left and see if my assumption was right. The memory of that gnarled black hand reaching for my face and the slithering words kept playing over in my mind and I was sure I’d have nightmares about it for weeks.

We approached an ornate building. It had all the same natural colors as the flowers on all the mounds, but it was an actual building. It looked like something out of a dream; arching doorways, decorative pillars, sloping roofs. I felt like I was looking at many buildings pushed into one space, as if it changed every couple seconds to become something equally stunning as the last.

A girl stepped out of an archway and swept a glance over both Sage and me, followed by a glance behind us. I stared, despite my earlier instructions not to look at anyone but Sage. She had skin the color of volcanic ash with elaborate black swirled designs covering every inch of skin. Her hair stuck out in every direction and looked brittle, like dead branches on a tree. Ash grey eyes made contact with mine and a grotesque smile split her face in two. I stepped toward her and the sound of a winter storm seemed to fill my ears. Only then did I realize she was talking. I tried to focus on the words but the sound was hypnotic and I felt drawn to her.

Suddenly, everything went black. I touched my face and felt a hard, scratchy hand covering my eyes. Just then, I was propelled forward and felt the ground below my feet change from spongy grass to a hard surface. The hand moved from my face and shoved at my back, making me move forward.

“I told you! I said do not look at anyone but me. That is twice you have disobeyed me!” Sage growled out at me. He sounded afraid and that confused me. I tried to ignore everything around me but it seemed the whole room I was in was made out of marble and the swirls in the material wavered and moved, changing with every step I took.

Sage gave me one last push and I was forced into a room that had red velvet covering the walls, blocking my view of the dizzying marble. The floor was covered in a thick black carpet that I had to strain not to reach down and touch. There was a gold and red throne on the other end of the room from where I stood and I heard a loud booming sound which caused me to spin around. Sage placed a hand on my chest and shoved me hard enough I fell on the floor, but I’d already seen large black and red doors in place of the entry way that had been there a moment before.

Panic started to rise into my throat and I scrambled to my feet, eager to be out of the vulnerable position on the floor. I opened my mouth to ask Sage what the hell was going on when a sound behind me made me stop and turn.

That was when I saw her. The most beautiful woman imaginable sailed gracefully into the room. She wore a white dress decorated in red and gold ribbons which the throne she sat in only helped to draw attention to. Her long black hair was in thousands of braids woven throughout her head. Strikingly beautiful green eyes bored into mine and I approached her without being told to. When she finally spoke it was a delicate, melodic sound.

“Jack, correct?”

I nodded in response to her question.

“I have a proposition for you.” She got right to the point. “I have heard you sing and-“

“Wait,” I interrupted her, “How?”

An impatient sigh escaped her lips, “How?”

“How have you heard me sing?”

She tilted her head in an animal-like way. “Faeries are drawn to music, especially the Queen. Anything beautiful, I hear. You’re a tenor with exquisite range. Whenever you sing, everyone in the room takes notice of you.”

Her attention was suddenly drawn behind me and I turned to see Sage inching toward the door. Looking back at the Queen, I saw her eyes narrow on his face, as if she was zooming in on him.

“Do not think you shall escape punishment. I gave you a simple order, bring him here and ensure he’s safe. You nearly failed at that. That will not go unnoticed.”
My eyes widened and I glanced back at Sage before saying, “Your… Majesty. It was my fault. I didn’t listen-“

A slender, white finger shot into the air, irritatingly signaling for me to shut up. “My proposition, if you don’t mind.”

I nodded solemnly.

“You have a wondrous voice and yet you have no inclination to seek out singing professionally, am I correct?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

She shook her head and continued, “I want it.”

“You… want my voice?”

She smiled, and it was achingly gorgeous. “You as well, of course.”

“But, what does that mean?”

Her smile turned into a grin. “I would like you to stay here, sing for me, and live forever as a Faerie singer. What say you to that?”

My brows creased and I shook my head at her. “I… can’t. Like I tried to say earlier, I don’t want to be a singer. I don’t want to strain my-“

She interrupted me yet again. This time, she leaned forward with a menacing look on her face. Her voice all at once beautiful and frightening, “I will not take no for an answer. You have two options. You stay and become my songbird or I take your voice and stow it away.”

“Stow it away? Until what happens?”

A smirk graced her lips and she placed a contemplative finger to her mouth. “You learn to play an impossible song or come to your senses.”

“Play this song on what instrument?”

Piercing green eyes roved over me and I felt like my very DNA was being analyzed. After a few agonizingly long moments she finally spoke, “Guitar.”

My jaw almost hit the floor. She picked an instrument I knew I couldn’t play. I’d been through lessons since I was five. My parents wanted me to play guitar, but it wasn’t in the cards for me. My reaction must have been expected because she leaned back with a satisfied expression on her face and waited. That determined it for me. I would not willingly become her singing slave. My parents wanted that from me. I would not let her control my voice anymore than I would let them. I steeled myself for what was going to happen next and spoke the words that would change everything.

“No. I will not sing for you. Ever.”

A moment of irritation flashed in her eyes before she closed them and put her hand straight out toward me. She curled a finger toward herself and I felt a strong, painful pulling sensation in my throat. It felt like someone was ripping my throat out and I began to scream. After a moment my scream wavered and died on my lips, though my mouth was still open and my throat still strained. And like that, it was over. The Queen held her hand closed, pulled a small bag from her side, opened the draw strings, and placed what I assumed was my voice inside. She made a clucking sound in my direction and motioned Sage toward her.

“You are to escort him out of Faerie and back to his world. Make sure he takes this,” she handed him sheet music she had pulled from behind her back, “with him. We wouldn’t want him to feel cheated now would we? After, you are to return here for punishment.”

She rose and began to leave the room. At the door behind the throne she paused and looked around it at Sage and me. “Oh, and don’t forget to tell him the rules of his silence.”

With that she was gone and I was left standing there with tears streaming down my face. Sage grabbed my arm and led me out of the room, out of the palace, and out of Faerie. I’m sure the trip would have been just as traumatic as the way in. But I was too self absorbed with my loss to even notice what time of day it was, let alone if anyone noticed me.

Back at the garden where this whole mess started, Sage handed me the sheet music. As I turned to walk away he put a hand on my arm, stopping me.

“I know that this seems like the end of the world. And later it will seem worse. I’m supposed to tell you the rules here. But you tried to save me and for that I am grateful. So I will simply leave you with this.” He pushed a piece of paper into my hand, nodded at me, and walked away.

I looked down at the rolled up paper in my hand and slowly unraveled it. Beautiful handwriting scrawled across the paper and I stared at it for a moment before finally reading it.

Look for her. When you find her, you find your voice.

Who was this ‘her’ he referred to? Shit, could he be any more vague? I angrily stuffed the paper into my pocket and stormed off toward where I had left my car. My brain was in overdrive, trying to formulate a plan. When I reached my car there was a guitar sitting gracefully in the passenger seat. That had not been there when I came to the garden for my afternoon jog. I opened the door, grabbed it, and read the inscription on the neck of the guitar.

Music comes from the soul and spills forth, leaving beauty in its wake.
Never doubt, never falter, never let your rock grow moss.


9 months later
It wasn't the faeries who had threatened me that first day or any of the faeries I'd seen since then that plagued my sleep at night. It was her. That painfully beautiful face and that radiant smile. Every night, when I tried to sleep, I replayed her graceful march into the room and her delicate voice. And every night I woke with tears staining my face and an attempt at a scream straining my throat.

That night I was sure it was more than a dream. Instead of replaying the events like usual, she pulled me into an embrace and whispered in my ear, warned me against letting anyone know what was wrong with me. Like anyone would believe me anyway. I felt a threat coursing through the dream, deeper than she was letting on, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Something she had said hid in my sub-conscious. An aching tremble took hold of my whole body, I was sure it was something important, something I desperately needed to know.

Wiping the tears off my face with the navy blue sleeve of my jacket, I picked up the guitar from the passenger seat and stared, yet again, at the sheet music. I strummed and plucked at the strings, adjusted the guitars position several times, and tried, to no avail, to tweak some semblance of a melody out of the instrument. After an hour of one cringe worthy sound after another, I threw the pick at the windshield. As luck would have it, it pinged off the window and bounced off my forehead.

I growled out a sigh and flung open the car door. I had been sleeping in my car for the past nine months, since I couldn't go home, and walked around the neighborhood I was parked in that week. A house up ahead was the only one on the block with all the lights on. As I got closer, a couple burst out of the front door, the man running ahead of the woman to unlock the car. I stopped several feet away from the house and watched as the woman painfully waddled to the car. I recognized that waddle. She was pregnant. The man helped her into the car and I moved closer to get a better look at her face. I heard talking the closer I got to the car.

“Honey, my water just broke. It’s not like she’s going to plop out right here on the sidewalk if you don’t take an extra second to breathe.”

“I know but…”

“No buts. You’re freaked out more than I am. Relax a little.”

“Relax?! My first born is on her way. My little girl.”

“Ours. Our little girl. And she’ll get here when she gets here. You having a heart attack won’t make her come any faster.”

I turned and walked back the way I’d come. Some people’s lives were just beginning while mine basically ended nine months ago. I didn’t want to stick around and listen to the happy couple any more. I didn’t want to hear anyone’s happy story. Maybe their little girl would grow up and be a good singer and happen to catch the Queen’s attention. And maybe then, she’d tire of my voice and send it back.

One could hope, right?

Left to Lie

The waves crashed on the rocks, sending sprinkles of sea foam and salt water flying through the air. A sudden gust of wind smacked my face and I took a step back. This was my place of solitude; my place to be lonely and wallow in the memories that usually fought to reach the surface. The weather had been sunny, so I had avoided coming here and letting it all out.

I was well overdue.

Autumn-chilled air whipped my hair into my face in a dizzying frenzy. I let a tear run down my cheek, a result of a less than pleasant past, conveniently masked by the sting of hair in my eye. The longer I stayed away from the ocean and the feelings that welled up inside me, the harder fighting off crying became. Kicking a few rocks off the edge of the cliff, I let myself think about why I was here.

The ocean had a very calming effect. The ebb and flow of the tides reminded me that everything comes and goes. And the rhythmic pounding of the waves on the rocks was comforting, a constant in my chaotic life. Even the flowers on the rocky cliff were awe inspiring. They fought against the salt and sea and rocky terrain to not only survive, but thrive. The horrible way my relationship had ended didn’t bode well for thriving. Some days I felt lucky my heart still beat, that I actually had survived the ordeal. He had left me so terribly broken in the beginning. I thought I was getting better – some days.

Being so enthralled by the ocean and my reckless thoughts, I jumped out of my skin to the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me. I spun around so quickly I lost my balance and a hand clutched my arm to prevent me from falling.

“Careful, I don’t want to be responsible for you falling off the cliff."

I smiled and knew it looked pitifully weak even as I was doing it. I looked at the hand still holding on to my arm, as fingers uncurled and slowly pulled away.

“Hi… My name is Tom.” He took a step back, I presume to put me more at ease.

“Joy.”

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, like he was holding back laughing. He walked a small arc around me and sat on the dirt, his denim-clad legs hanging off the cliff. I watched a ladybug land on his navy blue sweater, and promptly change her mind and fly away. Watching the black-and-red bug fly off, I realized why he tried not to laugh at me. If it hadn’t been so cold I would have blushed.

“I mean, my name is Joy.”

He nodded and stared off into the horizon. The sun was setting, throwing oranges and reds along the surface of the water. “Somehow, I figured you meant as much.”

I should have been offended that he was invading my personal time for self-flagellation. But he wasn’t talking; he was just sitting there, seemingly doing the same as me. Watching the breeze flicker his dark brown hair, I rocked back and forth on my heels and began to hum to myself. His hair reminded me of worn leather, dark and aged, yet still vibrant in streaks here and there. No amount of chemical highlights could ever produce something so ordinarily beautiful; his hair was pure natural shading.

Abruptly, I stopped my rocking motion and realized I felt oddly comfortable. Tom looked over his shoulder at me. “Why’d you stop humming? I like that song.”

I tilted my head and asked, “What was I humming?”

His shoulders rose and fell, slower then they probably should have. My lips curved up into a smile, much more sincere than my last. “You just liked it?”

A grin blossomed on his boyishly handsome face. It occurred to me that I was standing there awkwardly, so I plopped down on the dirt about a foot away from him. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was talking to me, but something else came out of my mouth instead.

“I’m afraid to die.”

My eyes got big and I clamped my hand over my mouth. Tears threatened to spill down my face and I was clueless as to how to stop them, especially when he gently pulled my hand away from my face.

“Truth be told, I am too. I feel like my life is running away from me and I’ve no idea how to stop it, or if I should even bother.”

Nodding, saltine lines trailing down my cheeks, I squeezed the hand he still held in mine.

“The man I spent years loving, sacrificing everything for, left me six months ago. They say time is a healer, but my heart feels heavy all the time. I want to give up, but I’m afraid to die.”

His hand trailed down my cheek, chasing away the tears.

“I’m glad I came today. Were you going to jump?”

I blinked a few times, clearing my eyes of tears and trying to wipe away the amazement. Before I could answer he nodded, my lack of response was answer enough.

“So he left you. What happens next?”

My mouth opened and closed a few times, false starts dying before leaving my tongue. Finally, I closed my eyes and told the truth.

“He is a long lost dream, one that may never have been mine. I’m nearly old, and it’s time I moved on. But where do I go from here? I have a rock in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down, crushing my insides. You tell me…” My eyes fluttered open, looked into the amber brown ones staring back at me, and continued, “What happens next?”

###

Blankets tangled around my legs, sweat beaded on my face and dripped down my back. I jumped awake, breathing heavily and heart beating frantically. Filling my head were images of blue-green sea water, swirling and rabid, rushing toward my face. I could almost taste the salt water on my lips, as if I had jumped into it. The dream felt so real, so vivid in my mind; the ocean beneath the cliff side burned into my retinas. Running my fingers through horribly tangled hair, I rose out of bed and padded across the hardwood floor.

I froze, one hand on the bathroom doorknob, the other pulling down the hem of my oversized t-shirt. The sounds of bacon sizzling and coffee percolating trickled in from the kitchen. My nose registered the smell of bell pepper and onion frying. The distinct sound of a metal spatula against a metal pan scrapped against my brain; someone was in my kitchen.

A jolt of recognition hit me and seeped into my bones.

Tom.

At least that part wasn’t a dream.

Through a Man's Eyes

“Dominic!”

I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a smiling face framed by dark brown hair. Smiling back, I opened my arms for the hug I knew was coming.

“Morgan. How was your flight?”

She wrapped her warm arms around my waist and squeezed. Muffled by my chest she said, “As enjoyable as a visit to the dentist.” She took a step back, her smile still firmly in place, and let her hands lingered on my hips. “I hear you caught him?”

After brushing her hair out of her face, I rested my hands on her shoulders. “Amazingly enough, I did.” I tapped my nose and said, “I sniffed him out all on my own.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Here I was beginning to think the only thing you could sniff out was your own underwear. Guillermo must be thrilled.” She rolled her eyes at that and stepped away from me, while I crossed my arms over my chest. “When are you coming back overseas? You know we miss you terribly.”

“Lovely subject change.” I smiled down at her. Morgan was almost a foot shorter than me. Her shoulder length, coffee brown hair was twitching in the late afternoon spring breeze. I was always tempted to run my fingers through it. Instead, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of jeans.

She rolled her honey brown eyes at me and turned to walk away, calling over her shoulder, “You know he would kill to have you out in the field instead of behind the scenes. Just like you know I don’t understand why you’re working for him instead of Maxwell.”

That was a trick of Morgan’s. She’d say something she knew you would not like with her back turned to you. At the same time, guiding you to a place she felt comfortable at, in this case it was the bench in the garden. She knew I’d have to wait to respond until I reached the bench and by then she would have something to say before I opened my mouth. Morgan was very crafty. But I had come up with a solution since I had seen her last. Shouting.

“Likewise, you know why I can’t work for Maxwell.”

I’d never been one to shout. There was never a need to shout growing up, sensitive hearing and such. But Morgan was not a Shifter like me. She also wasn’t used to me raising my voice, and it had the desired effect. She spun on her heels and looked at me very confused. I spoke at a normal level before she had a chance to say anything.

“Max is a great man. I have the utmost respect for him. But Guillermo understands me. Max is a Druid, not a Shifter. He leads the Druids very well, but he can’t comprehend how a Shifters mind works.”

Morgan put her hands on her hips and stamped off to the bench she had been heading toward. Staring at her back while she walked away, I was completely confused. What had I said?

I ran my fingers through my messy, russet brown hair, then sprinted to the bench and sat down next to her, preparing myself for the inevitable onslaught of anger.

“So, what you’re telling me is you put up with Guillermo because he lets you throw temper tantrums in the name of Shifter mood swings?” Her eyes were like daggers she was so mad.

“I don’t throw tantrums. Even if I did, I doubt he’d put up with them.” Smiling, I hoped she’d lighten up a little bit.

She didn’t. Her eyes stayed angry even as her hand grazed my cheek briefly. “We’re all like unique snowflakes, Nicky. And Maxwell understands that. If you’d visit once in a while, talk to him, you’d know that.”

The conversation had gotten a bit too heavy for my taste. I got up and walked to a nearby apple tree. Picking a green apple off a branch, I shook my head at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. She wanted me to leave my home for her. Morgan wouldn’t come out and say it, but that was what the anger was really about. That I wouldn’t give up everything for her, without her asking, upset her. Women.

Taking a bite out of the plump apple, I returned to my seat next to her. I could feel her eyes on me, so I took my time chewing to think things over. She wouldn’t ask me to leave with her, I was with Alex. But she wanted me to do it anyway. Why were women so damned difficult?

“What are you thinking about?”

She always asked those questions. That was something about Alex, she never asked what I was thinking. Honestly, I doubt she ever really cared. I looked into Morgan’s tawny brown eyes and sighed.

“Truth?”

She nodded.

“I was wondering why women are so difficult.” I grinned and took another bite of the tart fruit, hoping it would soften the blow a bit.

It worked. She rolled her eyes and took the apple out of my hand, taking a bite herself.

“Oh, I ran into a very lugubrious Edmund at the cemetery yesterday.”

Her change of subject was a good sign, however unpleasant the new topic might be it, was definitely better than the last. “Oh? What did he have to say?”

She tossed the apple back at me and the look on her pixie-like face told me I was not going to like what was about to come out of her mouth. “He told me when I saw you again I was going to have to haul you back by your tail and put you to work sniffing out Natasha’s attacker.”

I groaned, because I knew that’s what she expected me to do. She hadn’t really changed the subject at all. But the fact that my father had something good to say about me surprised me. I had to suppress the urge to grin stupidly. “I stumbled across one mouse and everyone is acting like I’m some skilled hunter.”

She laughed and it was a beautiful sound. Shifting away from her slightly, I remembered why I avoided being alone with her. Morgan always made me feel so at ease, at home almost, but I could feel the danger lingering just beneath the surface. Not that being with Alex was safe by any means. But something about Morgan made me feel anxious.

Morgan’s head tilted to the side in an innocent way. “A skilled hunter you may not be, but you’re a wild animal none the less.”

A hand suddenly rested on my shoulder and a very different voice bit at the spring air.

“You have not seen wild yet.”

Morgan gasped and I looked over my shoulder to stare into very angry, liquid gold eyes.

Cupid's Mishap

Orion paced along the top of a curio cabinet in the bustling restaurant. In the thousands of years his family had been cupid, no one had ever missed their target. His father would be incredibly disappointed when he found out about this. But that gave him an idea.

He stopped pacing and ran his fingers through the curly blonde mop on his head. What if he hit the right girl, and shot the woman in the black dress again. Sure, she isn’t supposed to find someone for another couple of years, but who will notice? He pulled back on the bow string, taking extra care to ensure his aim was perfect this time.

His brother took that moment to land on the cabinet.

He jumped and released the arrow from his bow. Orion watching in horror as it ricocheted off the ceiling of the restaurant, hit the floor next to a waiter, pinged off a wall, and finally landed on a plate of oysters. A whooping laugh pulled his attention away from his second mishap of the night. His brother, Hiero, was rolling on the curio cabinet, holding his sides and laughing.

He wanted to kick Hiero in the face, make him look like a cow. Or is that a pig? Wishing to avoid the embarrassment and further humiliation, he sulked off. Of course, his brother followed.

“Father will hear about this.”

Orion rolled his eyes at that. What else is new?

“I’m sure he will.”

“I’m not referring to the oysters you tried to reincarnate with love. You missed the mark.”

He knew there had to be a reason his brother would stumble in immediately after he hit the wrong girl with his arrow. “So he sent you to correct my screw up?”

Hiero nodded solemnly. “The first of many, I‘m afraid. I advised him not to allow you in the field yet. You’re not ready.”

Orion sighed. “Must you be so truculent?”

Attempting to stifle a laugh, Hiero said, “did you just learn that word? I’m not sure you used it in that sentence correctly.”

Glaring at his brother, Orion spoke through gritted teeth, “I don’t need your criticism. I‘m disgusted with myself enough as it is.”

He stalked off, hoping his brother would get the hint and leave. As if the fates were working in overdrive that night, he tripped over his own feet and fell off the cabinet. He landed on his butt, causing his quiver to fly up and over his head. Red glitter, arrows, and little plastic hearts went everywhere. Orion didn’t even bother to pick anything up. He just got up and flew out of the restaurant.

Hiero shook his head, trying to understand how a cupid could get so angry. He looked around the dining area and found the woman in the black dress Orion had shot on accident. He pulled out his bow, slide an arrow into place, and prepared to right a wrong. As he pulled the string back and looked down the line of the arrow to the target below, he saw something that made him pause.

A smile spread across his face. Hiero switched arrows and aimed for the woman who was supposed to have been hit. She was sitting at a table alone, staring out a nearby window. He paused for a fraction of a second, shook his head, and let the arrow fly.

It hit her square in the chest, causing her to wipe a tear from her eye and look toward the entrance of the restaurant. In walked a man dressed in a nice suit wearing wire rimmed glasses. He looked around the room, spoke to the Maitre De, and was ushered to the table next to Hiero’s target. The man looked like he had just left a business meeting, but he was completely alone as he began to look over the menu. He glance at the woman to his left and leaned over to ask her a question, presumably about a recommendation.

The specifics were unimportant to Hiero. He leaned against the wall, a satisfied smile on his face, and enjoyed the view below

Switching gears yet again

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