Page 2 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

The redhead always wears strange clothes, and today is no exception. The rich blue silk of her skirt cascades down through the tombstone as if the monument isn’t there. The high slits on both sides reveal most of her pale legs, and her upper half is covered by a fitted breastplate made of sharp spikes which accentuates her collarbones.

“Grief is an excellent excuse for solitude,”Titania adds in the same tongue.

Unlike my other two hallucinations, she never wears armour, preferring instead to wear soft, comfortable tunics in bright, jewel tones. Her skin is so dark that I’ve never seen its like, and her matching hair is a mass of soft curls, cropped close to her skull and held out of her face with her customary colourful headband.

No one else hears them, and they wouldn’t understand them if they did. My hallucinations have been with me since I was born, and I’ve learned to deny their existence.

Maeve, the third and final member of their group, is currently miming kicking the Reverend in the ass as he lingers nearby. He probably thinks he’s doing a good job of pretending not to eavesdrop, but he’s fooling no one.

Once again, I have to remind myself not to get distracted by the three of them. My brother is used to my spacing out randomly, but it’s rude to ignore him.

“I’ll think on it,” I mutter, reaching back to scratch at the permanent itch that lives between my shoulders. “But now… You’re right, it’s cold out, and I need some time to mourn.”

I’m pretty sure I went through my mourning period in the weeks after the accident, when it became clear the man confined to his bed was no longer anything more than a shell of my father. For years now, I’ve been unable to summon any feeling for him beyond pity and emptiness—and then guilt for feeling that way—something he could sense, even when I pasted on my best dutiful smile.

But it’s as good an excuse as any.

Clair grabs for my free hand and squeezes it tightly. “Of course, but you shouldn’t be alone. Come by the house later. We’ll set a cot up for you until your brother can arrange for a wedding.”

“I vote we sneak over to the mill and run the bastard through. Or at least, dismember him a little. He can’t wed anyone without hands and a tongue,” Maevesays, running her fingers over the great sword strapped to her spine.

I have to work to keep a straight face as I split away from my brother and his wife with a demure nod of agreement, and start the trek back to the forge and our parents’ adjoining house.

“You always think violence is the answer,” I whisper under my breath.

I have to be quiet, because they refuse to answer to English. I’ve grown up with them, so I picked up their melodic tongue naturally as a child.

I just don’t dare utter it within earshot of anyone else.

Having imaginary friends and a made up language is tolerated in a young girl; not so much as a grown woman. I’m considered a charming oddity to the people of Nopchurch village at the best of times, but I have no desire to be accused of cavorting with demons or some other nonsense.

The Reverend would love that.

The three women seem to find my retort incredibly funny. They almost fall into one another as they cackle with laughter.

“You sweet, innocent thing.” Maeve hasn’t stopped laughing, her glowing outline pulsing with mirth.

Mab shakes her head in resignation. “She’ll learn.”

“Wait, why is your sister-in-law running after us?” Titania asks, looking over her shoulder.

I whirl to see Clair hastening towards me, skirts lifted as she hurries down the small, forested lane which connects the church to the rest of the village.

My three hallucinations disappear, their soft glowing outlines leaving sunspots in my eyes as they dissolve. They come and go as they please, so I’m not alarmed by their absence, but I do miss them when they’re gone.

Sometimes it feels like they’re the only ones who look at me and see more than a frail, ailing spinster.

“Clair? Did you forget—”

“Enough of that!” she mutters, grabbing my hand and pulling me back towards the church. “That awful Reverend came and snatched Tom away, and I’m convinced it’s for another of those meetings your father used to go to.”

She tucks my arm into the crook of hers in the way people always do whenever they expect me to move anywhere in a hurry. Like I can’t be trusted to walk on my own.

“And?” I dig my heels in, forcing her to stop. “It’s no concern of ours.”

The other woman looks at me like I’m insane. “Don’t you want to know what they’re up to? For years they’ve had these meetings, and we don’t have a clue…”

“It’s probably just about village affairs.” I shrug, resisting the urge to scratch between my shoulder blades as the innocent motion sets off the ever-present itch yet again. “Don’t you have to get back to the children? Besides, we have no idea where the meeting even—”

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