Page 60 of Sharpen Your Claws

“I can hold my own, but we must keep Charmaine safe until she can handle herself, too. Help me carry her,” Henry said.

Evera gave them a slow once over. Her attention lingered on Charmaine, the intensity of which warmed her chest. She blamed the fever.

“I suppose it would be safer if we stayed together.” Evera knelt at Charmaine’s side, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. “Put her on my back. I can carry her easily enough.”

“You won’t drop me?” She didn’t want to rely on Evera, or anyone. In Faerie, they needed to be prepared. Evera couldn’t be her best with deadweight on her back and being that close… unsettled her.

“I am far stronger than either of you.”

“I meant on purpose.”

Evera grinned, mischievous as ever, cute in a way. “I would never. My tricks will be far more mature than that.”

Evera grabbed Charmaine’s legs. Heat pulled beneath her cheeks. Henry eased Charmaine forward, so she fell on Evera’s back. She smelled of early morning dew and lilies. Her hair was soft, tickling Charmaine’s cheeks and she couldn’t determine if she wanted hair like Evera’s or she simply liked it. If she could run her fingers through Evera’s hair, she would, or maybe not. Evera probably wouldn’t like that. She was truly feeling delirious.

Evera stood easily, her hands caught on Charmaine’s thighs. She suddenly became grateful for the pants, the fabric between them, though she wished she wasn’t so sweaty. It must feel gross, must smell gross.

“Hold tight,” Evera said. “We wouldn’t want you to fall and bruise that pretty face of yours.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t.

“Someone is shy,” Evera said under her breath. “I won’t bite.”

“You would if you didn’t believe Nicholas may snap your neck in response.” Because it would upset William, not her.

Evera walked on, acting as if she didn’t carry more than a child’s pack. Charmaine felt odd. Being taller, broader shouldered, and long-limbed, she practically cradled Evera. And yet Evera could toss her across the field single handedly without breaking a sweat. It was oddly attractive, though she chose not to dwell on it.

“Believe it or not, I’m not always interested in murdering mortals. In fact, I quite enjoy your particular company. You are more than pleasant to look at and give wonderful reactions,” Evera claimed.

She choked on her breath. That put a larger grin on Evera’s face. She couldn’t fathom how a fae like Evera could find her“pleasant to look at.”Fae were known for their ethereal beauty, a weapon in its own right that deceived their prey. Charmaine, on the other hand, never felt like she was ever above barely average.

Her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. She worried Evera would feel it and poke more fun, but instead, the fae added, “Not to mention, I am enjoying this little adventure of ours.”

“I have to agree,” said Henry, earning a surprised glance from Charmaine. He smiled haphazardly. “The trip may have started out poorly, but come now, we’re in Faerie. I could never venture far into Faerie during my visits. I certainly haven’t seen plants like these and now I’ve had a chance to take note of them. This can be exciting for all of us.”

“You’re both mad,” she said, although she may have felt differently if she weren’t sick.

Her discomfort made the idea of enjoying anything seem distant, out of reach. Her dizziness and blurred vision had her struggling to make out the world around them. They passed beneath the wild high thorns, their tips stretching toward them, but never came within reach. Then they descended a hill leading to a river, the waters a pale blue. Pearlescent rocks lined the sides, glistening brighter than gems, calling to be picked.

“The bridge is the quickest.” Evera nodded at a long bridge of stone arched over the water at a seemingly impossible angle.

Evera and Henry marched on to the bridge. Charmaine peered over the edge. A shadow passed below. The water rippled, then a pair of pale white jewels floated to the surface. She admired them, how her image reflected on their surface. Then a row of sharp teeth appeared beneath them, discolored as the peculiar long tongue that darted out between them.

Charmaine’s throat ached and her words came out as nothing more than a hum. Below, a creature breached the water, revealing a thin torso where her bones nearly pierced flesh. Algae spotted her sides and cheeks, her smile peeling back thin skin to show three rows of fangs. A dozen more came to the surface, their expressions gleeful and hungry.

“Mm, down,” she forced out, panicked but too exhausted to give more.

“Down?” Henry repeated, then the sirens sang. She never heard a more beautiful sound, a beckoning call. There were no words, merely a tune, high pitched and ethereal. Her ears rang. Her thoughts fell away, replaced by a memory, or an illusion.

Below, the sirens disappeared. A woman stood there, brown eyes warm, her form thin and small, delicate and beautiful, everything Charmaine wished to be. If she could fashion herself a new skin, it would mirror the woman, an otherworldly beauty with curls of autumn hair and full, heart-shaped lips. The woman held out her hand, fingers long and tipped in golden jewelry.

She yearned to take her hand, to be taken by her promise, whatever it was. How could someone so beautiful be dangerous? Why would Charmaine turn her away?

She shoved off Evera’s back, adhering to the summons. She couldn’t move as she wanted, body too weak to lift herself over the ledge of the bridge. Tears brimmed her eyes at the thought of losing the woman below, of missing the opportunity to see her, to speak with her, feeling her hand slip between Charmaine’s fingers. Then she leaned over the edge and the stranger’s hand gripped hers. All she ever wanted was literally in her grasp.

The stranger smiled. Someone grabbed Charmaine’s shoulder, but the stranger pulled and she fell into icy darkness. The sensation startled her. In her vision, she thought she perceived jagged rocks and crooked teeth. But those bejeweled fingers fell upon her cheeks and brought her warmth, true serenity as she peered into welcoming brown eyes. The stranger smiled, her teeth pearly white and straight as needles.

A burning pain ripped through her leg. She gasped and what she brought in was not air but freezing waters. Choking, she sputtered and flailed. The stranger blurred, then warped entirely. A siren smiled, wicked, then angered. Her once beautiful voice ebbed into horror, a string of foul sounds. Blood seeped into the churning waters, darkening after the siren dived with her claws embedded into the back of Charmaine’s neck.

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