Then I heard the high, eerie singing, cutting through the air.
Fifty-Three
Cara
“Fear.” I grabbed his arm to halt him from sweeping me off to safety. He paused, his arm around my waist, to watch.
Mortals made their way past us. They were moving in the direction of the eerie singing.
A man and woman passed us, still dressed in their night clothes. A woman carried her baby in her arms, both of them silent as they walked down the hill. No one was speaking or rushing. They weren’t running from something.
The music was beautiful. Unsettling, but lovely. For some reason, it made me think of being welcomed to a celebration. Like the solstice parties in Stonehaven.
An older man and woman walked with a little girl holding both their hands.
“Where are you going?” I called, trying to get their attention, but they never even looked at me.
Fear stepped in front of them and repeated the question. They paused, moved politely to the side, went on without answering.
“Come on.” I caught Fear’s hand in mine, not wanting to let go of him.
“Hold,” he warned me. “What if it’s an enchantment that works on mortals? What if it works on you?”
I raised my hands to cover my ears. “Then it will work on Tay too.”
I could still hear my voice and the singing beyond it through the muffling of my fingers. Then I noticed the tavern across from us, the door left gaping open as the last man out staggered toward the sea.
I ran across the cobblestones, ducking and weaving between the crowd. Fear was at my heels.
Inside, the room was smoky and warm. Full flagons and plates were left abandoned on the tables.
There were candles burning on the tables. Frantically, I pinched off the softened wax. Fear understood immediately and went to work doing the same. By the time I stuffed my makeshift earplug into one ear, Fear had another for me.
“Go,” I told him, unable to hear my own voice.
He reached out his hand, and I took it. I didn’t want to lose him in the crowd. As soon as our hands latched together, we were running.
We threaded through the mortals who were continuing their slow, steady walk.
The road suddenly opened up to the sea spreading before us under the moonlight.
The Fae stood at the edge of the sea, singing.
And the mortals walking toward them.
I didn’t understand at first. It was Fear who understood, who cupped my cheek so I would turn to him and read his lips. “The Fae are commanding them. Marching them toward the sea.”
Children. I counted three before I stopped counting because stopping was the only way to keep moving. A woman with a baby held against her chest, walking as her arms still cradling the child even as her legs carried her somewhere she hadn’t chosen. Tears tracked down her face, but she didn’t even look away from the sea when I tried to stop her. An elderly couple.
Fear was already shouting directions, given fast and specific, with no word wasted. I read bits and pieces from his lips.
“Bismyth. Form a line. Carry them back.Not yet.”The last two words landed separately, weighted differently from the rest, addressed to the part of the clan that had already seen the Fae.Not yetmeaning:I see them. I know. We are not touching them yet.
Bismyth moved.
They were extraordinary, my clan, moving into the line of marching people.
I ran toward the water.
