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FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—1 CHAPTER FOUR True to their word, Jake and Carson got me home once Christopher was ensconced in a bed for the night. I could easily have collapsed into one of the ER ward’s beds myself, but I had no injuries past scrapes and bruises and I was still coherent enough to want to cling to the few scraps of dignity I had left. So I stayed on my feet long enough to let the boys escort me to their car, and on the way out wrote down my name and phone number for the orderly--the land line at home, since my cell was toast. The hospital couldn’t contact me about Christopher since I wasn’t family, though Nathan promised to relay my note in case the patient wanted to do it himself. On the way back to the house, I started to drift off in the back seat. But I snapped awake when Jake said, “Kendis, if you need us to stay with you tonight, we will of course cancel our trip.” “What?” Rubbing my eyes, trying to refocus my weary FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—2 thoughts, I peered at my housemate. “Right. Trip.” The boys liked to take weekend jaunts sometimes, to places like Whidbey Island, the San Juans, or the hot springs out on the Olympic Peninsula. Sometimes I tagged along, but not often—third wheel and all that. I couldn’t remember what they’d planned this time, but I frowned at them both nevertheless. “You can’t cancel on my account. I’ll be okay.” “We can’t cancel at all,” Carson muttered. Most of his attention was on his driving, but his gray eyes flicked a glance at the rear view mirror by way of looking at me. “Kind of late for that.” He didn’t look like a man planning a weekend with his partner; he looked nervous, an expression I didn’t often see on Carson’s face. Jake looked pensive. I squinted back and forth between them and demanded, “Am I missing something here?” Sighing, Jake said, “We’re going to deal with family business of mine this weekend. It’s complicated.” He swiveled his head around to regard me with a look so thoughtful and direct that I jerked my own gaze away. I was still twitchy about what I’d seen in the bathroom mirror, and not at all certain how I’d explain it if Jake noticed anything new about my face. “And it isn’t pertinent to tonight, anyway. If you’d like to talk about it, if you need us, my business can wait.” I wanted to talk, all right. I wanted to shriek, wail, and howl that I’d seen a monster. But the moment I gave in to that FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—3 impulse was the moment the boys would wonder if I’d gone nuts and I wouldn’t lay that on them. Especially not on the night before they left to take care of ‘complicated family business’. I could do the math. They were a male couple, after all. And from what I knew of Jake’s family, only settled in America in the last couple of generations, they were big on traditional Japanese culture. And conservative to boot. “Right now,” I said, slumping back and closing my eyes, “I just want to decompress. I’ll be fine, Jake, I swear.” “If you’re sure…” “I’m sure.” He let it go, to my relief. But to ease his and Carson’s minds, once we got home I accepted their offers of chamomile and peppermint tea and the recovery of my bike from the Burke-Gilman trail. Once I had the former, they set off to retrieve the latter, leaving me to the company of my cat and my wildly churning thoughts. The haven of my bed temptingly beckoned, as did my favorite quilt all done in fiery shades of red, yellow, and orange. But my hands needed the warmth of the cup of tea, and after that, my violin. I settled on the couch with the instrument, not noticing what I played aside from slow, gentle airs in minor keys that suited my mood. Each note’s vibration through my palms and the physical act of drawing the bow across the strings provided the comfort I sought. Forgiving me for my earlier negligence, Fort FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—4 curled up at my side, lending his purr to the violin’s soft meditations. When my eyes refused to stay open any longer, I stumbled off to sleep without bothering with the usual nighttime bathroom rituals. The bathroom had a mirror; the mirror meant my reflection. And right under “real, live monsters” on my list of things I least wanted to see on the planet was a pair of yellow eyes staring out of my mirror. I shed clothing and shoes and crawled beneath the quilt, wrapping its vibrant hues around me, and imagining myself an ember in a fireplace’s heart. Fort jumped up to join me, bonking me with his substantial head until I rolled over on my back. Then he climbed atop my chest, jammed his whiskery muzzle under my chin, and launched into a steady, rib-rattling purr. I kept most of me under the quilt, but snuck an arm out to hug my cat close. And after a while, I slept—somewhat. They never blossomed into full-blown nightmares, but scattered fragments of dreams continually sparked like bolts of summer lightning across my mind. I remember running along a Burke-Gilman trail overgrown with sinister vegetation through which I glimpsed misshapen shadows and implacable, glowing eyes. I remember the presence of something huge and ancient behind me giving chase, something I needed to elude at all costs. But I never saw what gave pursuit. Far clearer were the flashes of Christopher’s searing, pleading gaze and the strange FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—5 electric pressure of his fingers, his skin hot against mine in dreaming as it had not been in truth, almost too hot to bear. * * * A sane, sensible person would have called in sick the next morning. But when the alarm clock jarred me awake, neither sense nor sanity had gained much ground against the night before. I still felt in physical and mental shock, queasy and off kilter, as though I were fighting off the flu. My skin itched and stung in random places. My eyes, gritty and heavy with inadequate sleep, burned. I risked a glance into the mirror when I stumbled into the bathroom to make myself fit for public consumption. My hair was a wild mess, but a fast shower and several determined swipes of a brush fixed that. Less easily mended were my haggard complexion and the shadows at the corners of my glassy and all too yellow eyes. Once out of the shower I shook my head vigorously and scrubbed a towel across my face, hoping my eyes would revert to normal if I just woke up a little more. No dice. Idiot, I chastised myself. If they didn’t change overnight, they’re not changing now! Of course, they shouldn’t have changed color in the first place, but my battered prudence sternly recommended I not go there. FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—6 Instead, I retrieved my blood-marked biking top from the bathtub. It bore one small stain, high on the shoulder where Christopher’s head had rested. The sight of it reminded me of the shape of his body in my grasp and his agitated eyes, and I swallowed a little while I mechanically scrubbed Woolite into the garment and left it to soak in the sink. I dressed without noticing what I was wearing, confined my unruly hair with a scrunchy and my favorite patchwork-hued cap, and grabbed my backpack and keys. En route through the kitchen to get Fort a few of his favorite kitty treats, I found a note from Jake on the table. In his clean, spare handwriting it read: Kendis, We got your bike last night and put it on the porch. Your phone was trashed, but we found the SIM card, so you should at least be able to recover your data. We’re setting off for the weekend, but I really do want to talk to you when we get back. It’s important. Please call if you need us for anything. Jake, 6:40am I didn’t recognize the number Jake had written down; it wasn’t Carson’s cell. Fort, however, gave me no time to mull it. He pawed my shoes and yowled until I forked over the treats, and only then was I free to flee to work. I fled gratefully. If anything could banish last night’s weirdness from my brain, it was the prosaic clamor of a software department about to ship FAERIE BLOOD KORRA’TI—7 their latest product. The sight of my bike stopped me in my tracks. I’d forgotten my worry about some passerby finding the troll’s remains; the memory brought new panic with it now as it came flooding back. I slumped against my front door, wondering wildly if the boys had seen what was left of the monster, and terrified that it might have come back to life. Then clearer thoughts prevailed. The bike was here. Damaged, its mangled frame and sliced tires mute testimony to the reality of the ambush on the trail, but here. Chances were slim that the troll, even if it had reanimated, had politely returned the bike it had almost bent in half.

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