Chapter 23
The visions were getting more intense, drawing her deeper and deeper into Andromeda’s world, into her soul. Yet for all she’d seen to that point she felt like there was more to be seen, to be felt. She’d only gleamed brief moments in what was a life full of darkness and death and tragedy, broken only by flickering moments of happiness. It was a life of obsession that slowly consumed Andromeda but the link between Fay and herself was vague, a thin thread binding the two spirits. Fay might not Andromeda’s reincarnation but their souls were intertwined.
She rose from her bad, having slept most of the afternoon and well into the evening, showered and dressed. The cabin was empty, absent of Mel and Ben, the latter of whom left a hastily scrawled letter saying they’d left to meet with the werewolves. She considered, some what briefly, to go after them but the thought of seeing Abe left her with mixed feelings. She couldn’t see where Andromeda’s feelings of disappointment and bitterness ended, and where her own mangled feelings began. So, she tossed the letter in the bin and made her way outside, the moonlight spilling in through slits in the silvery clouds. A new, ethereal world of shadow and pale moonlight stretched before her.
In the darkness she felt at home, safe amongst the shadows, and though she felt the dim call of the Underworld she wasn’t afraid. In truth, if it wasn’t for Hades, she figured she’d probably spend her time there, exploring all that existed there; from the known palace and surrounding forests, the dwellings of the dead, the rivers that flowed through it all, even the Gates of Tartarus. There were hidden places as well. She’d heard the demons sing about them, spin enchanting stories about what lay there – lies, probably, but they were pretty lies at least.
She turned to go back inside but froze. A man stood before her, as if conjured from thin air. Not just any man.
“Amon?”
He smiled but said nothing. There was a dreamy quality about him, as if he were far away, and yet right there, seeing her. The warmth in his eyes was startling, more open than she expected – well, to be honest, she hadn’t expected to see him in person, at the cabin of all places. Fay, entranced, stepped forward, one hand outstretched. A strange grief, bound by sharp relief and joy, burst within her chest, consuming her. Tears welled in her eyes, sprung from some hidden source, and spilt down her cheeks. She began to cry and she didn’t know why, couldn’t pin the reason. There was nothing but the sadness that just wanted to swallow her whole.
Yet just as her fingers went to touch they passed through and he dissolved beneath her touch, as though he’d never been there at all. She fell to her knees, staring wide-eyed at the ground.
What the hell is going on with me?
“You are losing your mind, Fay,” said Fay as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
With a sigh she stumbled into her bedroom. On the bedside table a phone was left, a sticky note next to it.
For you,
Ben
She picked up the phone. There were no messages. It was getting late, which made her uneasy. They should’ve met with Ryan by that point, which means Ben should’ve called her. Told her to go. She paced back and forth restlessly. Being confined, made to wait like an obedient animal, made her itchy and her temper flare. It went against what she was.
Just as she put it back down it rang. Hurriedly, she answered.
“Ben?”
There was a sharp draw of breath, then laughter, soft and feminine. Familiar, too.
“Hello Fay,” said Lillian.
Fay stilled. The human girl? The one who’d been friends with Amanda?
“You’re behind this?” Fay asked, leashing her anger.
Keep calm, keep focused. You’re dangerous angry, you’re downright lethal when you’re calm – that’s what Abe used to say. The words were true but, in a following thought, they became tainted. Seen differently. Still, she listened, reluctantly.
“No, but you’ll find out soon enough,” she chimed tauntingly. “How does it feel to be wrong, Fay? You thought I was human, didn’t you?”
Fay swallowed hard and forced out a bark of laughter. “That explains the nauseating amount of perfume you always wore. I don’t know how Jackson didn’t pass out from it.”
There was silence on the other end, just for a moment. “What’s your excuse with him? Or were you too caught by his pretty eyes?”
Jackson, too? Fay scraped every memory she had of them but found nothing, no clue. No traitorous little hint. She’d been so focused on everything else, caught up by her own problems and pettiness, that she’d missed things. Dismissed those she’d assumed had been human. She clenched her fist, swallowing back the urge to lash out, to destroy. The demon within clawed at her ribs, dying to come out and shred something. It hissed, low and angry.
“Is the part where you say we should meet, that I should surrender myself?” Fay asked, trying to sound bored, dismissive.
“We look forward to seeing you Fay. I suppose I could say come alone but you will anyway. After all, it’s not like you can ask the wolves for help,” said Lillian with a cold laugh.
So, the wolves are out of play, too, thought Fay. She was outnumbered, outmatched. With a hellhound, a powerful witch, an army of immortalised wolves, and whatever Jackson and Lillian were, she was out of her depth. Closing her eyes, she wondered what Andromeda would do. That girl seemed to be more focused on planning in the end, on gathering allies, moving pawns into place.
“The council won’t approve of this,” she said calmly, wondering what happened to Abe. The words were out before she could retract them.
“Probably not but our friend does like her playthings. The agent with them – your partner, isn’t it? Or, should I say, ex-partner – will be a good toy for her. For a time, anyway. Till she gets bored,” said Lillian with a laugh. “Oh, would you look at the time? See you soon, Fay. I look forward to having a chat face to face.”
Fay threw the phone at the wall, watching it through blazing eyes as it shattered, the shards of glass glinting in a band of sunlight. She spun away from the cabin and stalked to the nearest shadow. It called to her, whispered delicious, tormenting things. She let the lull fill her, the warmth spread through her as she sunk into it and let herself spiral away into the abyss.
If she couldn’t rely on the wolves for an army she’d make her own – damn the consequences. It was time to raise a little hell.
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