Page 77 of Curse the Fae

Olive-skinned knuckles punch through the murk and ram into the glass. With a shriek, I leap back. Rings of gilded light pierce from the container, followed by a pool of long, black hair.

A venomous face swims into view. Scales encrust the creature’s flesh, from temples to cheekbones, the shingles glittering like plates of foil. Livid irises blaze through the compartment and find me.

It’s a viper. No, it’s a male.

A male Fae.

Pointed ears spear from the black mane swirling around his face. His chest tapers to a snake tail just as vivid as his scales.

Some type of water Fae? A merman?

He’s bigger than me, halfway between a youth and a man. If I were to cross paths with him on the street, I’d say he’s no more than sixteen.

My pulse catapults into my throat. I can’t speak, can barely utter a noise.

The Fae peers at me, his gaze dragging down from my clothes to my bare toes, then back up again. Upon seeing my mask, his pupils flash with umbrage—right before he pounds his fist into the glass again, and again, and again.

I jump in place, a yelp popping from my lips. The panel ruptures so violently, I fear it will shatter. I’m staring into the vicious eyes of a Fae, a powerful one, a trapped one. A magical being who doesn’t like what he sees.

I whip off the visor, which does nothing to pacify him. The viper pummels the glass like a baited bear. Does he think the mask is meant to taunt him?

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, my lisp thick. “I’ll put it down. Look, I’m putting it down.” Slowly, I sink to the grass and place the mask there, then gain my feet. “See? I’m not mocking you. I mean no harm.”

The Fae stops battering the tube, yet he glares with those knuckles still curled. Can he hear what I say? If not, he certainly sees what I’ve done.

How did he get stuck inside this cylinder? Is he hurt?

I take a second look at the chute’s upper and lower iron grilles.

I gasp, “The Trapping.”

This Fae was caught in The Trapping, the revolt my neighbors had staged only days ago, when they stormed into Faerie while armed with iron weapons and cages. Sick of the Folk tormenting them, the people of Reverie Hollow had blindsided the Fae by attacking their sacred fauna, knowing the mystical animals give Faeries their life force. Without nature and its animals, the Solitary wild would fade. And with it, every magical being who dwells there.

Papa had protested the attack, to no avail. My sisters and I have been suffering from nightmares about this. We’d hated what our people were doing but were unable to stop the massacre. Did they have to hurt the animals who’d done nothing to us?

And the villagers took Fae children, too? No, there must be a mistake. Or there must be a reason this male was caught.

Papa says when animals are trapped, that’s when they’re most dangerous. I shuffle closer to the glass, moving at a snail’s pace. The viper festers at me, his eyes liquid gold. Yet he floats in place and doesn’t move, which emboldens me to get closer, closer, closer until my nose hovers an inch from the container. At the same time, in the same direction, we tilt our heads and stare at each other.

I raise my palm, and so does he. When I flatten my hand against the glass, he moves to do the same thing. Then he strikes.

His palm hammers into the facade with a single thrust. Again, I lunge back.

Satisfaction gleams in those orbs. He breathes heavily against the glass to create an oval of fog, on which he scrawls a message.

I will drown you.

It’s not a warning. It’s a promise.

Heat drains from my cheeks. He can’t hurt me. He’s trapped, and the chute is sealed with iron bars. It’s okay, everything will be okay, not to worry, never fear.

But the viper glowers at me, watches me, sees me.

I spin and run.

***

My blind sprint takes me home, where my sisters and I collide on the porch. We throw ourselves into a hug and blabber over each other. What happened? Where had we gone? At that last question, we clam up, duck our heads, and shuffle our feet.

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