Page 59 of Sharpen Your Claws

“I sense them nearby.” Evera took a deep breath through her nostrils, then nodded to her left. “That way.”

Henry pointed the crystal in that direction. The light within flashed in quick succession. Henry slipped the crystal into his pocket.

“Why aren’t they with us?” Charmaine wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Evera leading them. She hadn’t proved herself a threat, but if William was there, he’d remind her to remain on her toes. Fae could change at any moment. Or maybe he would lighten up, considering Nicholas returned and William couldn’t hide his feelings, even if he tried.

“William was tempted,” Evera replied. “Scars do that sometimes. Try to lead you astray for whatever reason. If you go too far from the path, then you’re gone for good. Luckily for your friend, Nicholas had a hold of him and is likely the reason they got through.”

“Oh!” Henry held tight to his satchel, like he tried to contain his excitement. “There have been theories by my colleagues that these pathways between our worlds are more than mere pathways.” He waited, as if to build suspense, then declared, “They could be a rip in spacetime.”

Henry stared at her with such childish delight that she felt awful for not reacting as excitedly as he hoped. She gave the best she could, a wide smile followed by, “Meaning?”

“While we pass from one world to the other, the tunnel itself is actually between all worlds, somewhere outside of time and reality itself, so these illusions could be our past selves, our futures selves, ourselves from an alternate reality. Because we are moving in unnatural ways, our minds coalesce with these alternates creating these so-called temptations when, really, it’s more likely a confusion from our addled minds too small to comprehend what we’re seeing.” Henry pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m keen on the concept of alternate realities, but a colleague of mine finds it nonsensical. He is a follower of the Souls and believes we cannot be broken up into alternate identities, that it’d go against the reincarnation ideology.”

“Do you always talk this much?” Evera continued her path through the peculiar plants that could move. The head of the plants pointed toward them, watching. Charmaine kept her hands raised in case they needed to fight. One didn’t know if the plants were perhaps carnivores and interested in the new meat.

“Don’t be rude,” Charmaine chided.

“I take no offense,” said Henry. “Most fae are not curious of the inner workings of anything, really. They believe the world is as it is and they should leave it be, save a rare few like Fearworn, which one could argue was why he made it as far as he did. If fae were curious as we were, with their abilities? I imagine we’d have collided with a dozen worlds by now.” Henry went suddenly still, then snapped his fingers and took a notepad from his bag. “Perhaps their lack of curiosity is a natural safety feature, a sort of apprehension toward the unknown that prevents them from wielding their great powers in self destructive means?”

Henry scribbled his notes, mouthing silent words to himself. She hadn’t seen this side of him, but Henry wasn’t around as frequently as his brothers. He worked late most nights and took residence in Alogan, a mere block from his office. He attended dinners regularly, but they rarely discussed his work. He often said it was too dry for dinner. She suspected he didn’t believe they would understand or be as interested in what he studied. She wouldn’t deny she couldn’t follow his line of thoughts, but he probably couldn’t create a dress that would cause the ton to usher to his front door. Everyone had their unique abilities, including Evera and her internal sensor for their lost friends.

Sweat coated Charmaine’s neck. She wiped it away, scowling at the feeling of her buzzed hair. She kept it shaved. It was easier to deal with, easier to wear the many wigs her mother fixed for her. They weren’t going anywhere she could bring them, and it would be a little ridiculous to worry over fixing her hair while chasing down potential murderers. But that didn’t stop her from feeling out of place, naked in a way, as if she wasn’t herself simply because she felt a breeze on her head.

“Keep close,” Evera said. “We are near The Lost Woods.”

“Which I imagine is a place we can get lost?” Henry asked.

“Killed, more accurately. No one comes out once they go in.”

Henry clicked his tongue. “Pleasant.”

She watched his back and Evera’s. They moved further ahead. She willed her legs to move, to catch up to them, but they wouldn’t come closer. Sweat dripped down her cheek. She tasted it. Her muscles ached, as they had upon their arrival, but more, worse. Then her knees buckled.

“Charmaine!” Henry caught her beneath the arms. A cough ripped through her throat, then she stood tall, as if nothing happened. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, smacking her dry lips. She grabbed her water pouch to chug, easing the symptoms for a moment.

Henry held out a hand toward Evera. “Evera, wait a moment.”

Evera huffed, visibly annoyed. “What now?”

“May I?” Henry held out a hand, gesturing toward Charmaine’s forehead. She nodded, and he pressed the back of his hand to her temple. He was abnormally cold, or rather, “You’re running a horrible fever.”

She sweat so profusely that her clothes clung to her form. She hated it, the feeling of them, the pants, reminding her of the military uniform. A dress wouldn’t be practical here where they didn’t know what they would run into. But safety didn’t ease her desires, wanting to wear a skirt to at least feel a little more like herself. She berated herself for thinking of that now when they had more pressing matters.

Evera approached. “She’s sick from passing the scar.”

“Shimmer sickness. We must get away from…” Henry pivoted, surveying their surroundings. “I don’t see the shimmer nearby.”

Evera pointed skyward. A thin light, little more than a golden hue, scratched the sky. Certain angles made it disappear entirely, and even from here, Charmaine would have mistaken it for a catch of the light or early stars in the sky. She never expected one to be in the middle of the sky. It had her wondering how many times they may have passed a shimmer during the war, or even day to day, and she never realized it.

“She will slow us down. Stay here. I’ll search for the others.” Evera made as if to head out.

“Absolutely not,” Henry argued. She might have, too, if she had the energy. Her mind became more muddled, harder to think, to focus. She didn’t want to stand, so she fell to the ground. Henry cursed, surprised, but deemed her sitting acceptable.

“We must get her away from the shimmer, I know that much,” said Henry. “And if anything unpleasant happens to us, it would be helpful to have a fae around.”

Henry presented his hand. She wasn’t sure what he wanted. Then he took her arm and eased her onto her feet. Her body became sluggish, as if her limbs weren’t her own.

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