Page 12 of Wicked Things

“Ogres are tribal. She belongs to a tribe of ogres, who would be eager to avenge her death, even if she’s choosing not to live with them at the moment. Believe me, there’s nothing to do but leave this cursed place.”

I shrugged and knew I might as well save my breath.

As we mounted and rode away, I looked back over my shoulder and found Tadgh watching me. When I noticed his regard, he looked away, but not before I had seen the naked lust in his eyes as he seemed to be watching my hips swaying gently in the saddle. I wasn’t used to men, or Faeries certainly, paying me any kind of notice, and my face flamed with embarrassment.

The Faery lord noticed the way he did everything. “Your glamour is falling away as we near the portal. Tadgh noticed. I noticed it earlier myself.”

“What? No, that can’t be. My grandmother made up that crazy story.”

“No, she didn’t. It will fall away completely soon after we go through the portal.” He gave me a sideways look. “And later we’re going to discuss how you know the demonic script, and how you knew that young father stole the ogre children’s bones.”

I had nothing to say to that, because I barely knew what he was talking about. The whole thing was already fading from my memory, and I’d been in a kind of daze the whole time we were at the little farmhouse.

I kept quiet and wished I had some way to prove him wrong. Fionn spoke briefly to the village head man, and we left that cursed place. We found the cave containing the portal without too much difficulty a short time later, about halfway up the side of the curved cliff of Malham Cove.

Chapter Five

“Go then, there are other worlds than these.”

--Stephen King

King Fionn

The mouth of the cave was broad and wide, and we rode directly in and then got off our mounts to lead them the rest of the way. Braden’s eyes grew wide when we found the torches we’d used a few days before as we arrived and lit them by snapping our fingers at them. It was simple magic, no more than a cantrip, but the boy looked startled and a little scared. I saw him draw closer, as if seeking protection from the little horse that he’d given the absurd name of “Crow.”

“Come along,” I said, a little gruffly, anxious to get through the portal and back home, away from this damp cold and snow, not to mention the horror of that small mortal village. It had been upsetting to all of us—who could not feel pity in their heart for an innocent child, no matter if it were human or Fae? Not to mention the grief of the young mother, which had been heartbreaking. But Braden had spoken strangely at the scene of the attack, claiming words had been written on the wall. And then there was the knowledge he had about the young father. Where had all that come from? I decided to put it aside for now and ask him about it all a little later on.

It was Spring in Otherworld, with flowers blooming in the fields and blue skies overhead, so it was good to get back. My part of Otherworld was vastly different from Svartálfheim or the Quendi Forests of the Elven tribes. We had seasons of such bitter cold, but those would come later on in the year. Now it was late summer and my favorite time of year.

As we approached the portal, I could see sunlight glowing against the dark rock. The portal would expand enough to take our horses, as they walked beside us, and I turned to explain that to a wide-eyed Braden.

“Stay close behind me. There’s nothing to fear. You were born in Otherworld, and all who are true-born Fae, even halflings, are welcome here. The portal will expand to fit you and your Crow.” He nodded, but I could see his hand on the bridle was still trembling and with the other, he was clutching the religious beads of glass that he wore around his neck.

We entered in single-file and soon came out on the other side, into a beautiful evening. The sun was still shining above the far horizon and puffy white clouds floated overhead. I could smell honeysuckle on the slight breeze. I turned on my horse to speak again to Braden and was struck suddenly dumb. I could do nothing pull on my reins to stop and gasp at him. The glamour had fallen completely away as we came through the portal, revealing his true nature at last.

His hair was a riot of thick, soft curls, a lovely shade of platinum blond, with darker streaks of silver running through it, all mixed up and mingled together. His skin was fair but slightly tanned to a golden glow, and his face was fine-boned and delicate with a haunting beauty the likes of which I’d never seen before. His eye color was truly otherworldly now, a remarkable shade of blue, which was unusual in our people, who were known for having green eyes. They were framed by long, thick eyelashes as pretty as any woman’s. And I was gratified to see that those soft, pouty, rosebud lips were still in place. I’d have missed those lips, no matter what I’d thought earlier.

I’d never seen a portrait of his mother, but if she looked anything like her son, I began to understand why Callum had such an obsession with her, and why, after Braden’s mother passed from the moral realm to the next, his family had needed to find a witch to hide all of this beauty from the mortal world. Whoever it was must have had a great deal of power for the glamour to last as long as it had.

I saw my soldiers all looking in amazement at Braden, who was looking back at them in complete confusion. “What is it? Why are you all looking like that?”

Darragh, the leader of my guard, and the man who had brought him to me that first night, answered him in a soft voice. “It’s you. Y-your face…”

“What about it? Do I have something on me? Oh God, is it a spider? I thought I felt something crawling on my skin as we came through the portal.” He turned to me in a panic. “Lord Fionn, get it off me, please! Get it off! I beg you! I hate spiders!”

He began rubbing and slapping at his face until I came forward to take his hands in mine and stop him.

“Calm yourself, Braden. There are no spiders on your face. The men are amazed by the way you look since you passed through the portal. That’s all.”

“How I look? What do you mean? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you. You simply look different. The glamour is gone. Now calm yourself. You’re far too excitable. Are those tears I see in your eyes?”

His lovely face flushed an exquisite shade of rosy-pink, and he looked up at me in a sheepish, appealing way that made me desperately want to tear his clothes off and haul him into my arms. He was incredibly gorgeous.

“I’m sorry. I’ve always been easily moved by things, and it scares me a little because I don’t want to be crazy like my mother. And I really hate spiders.”

I felt bad for him, and as if I should have warned him in some way about how he would appear to us once the glamour fell off, but I’d wanted to see how he reacted the first time he realized his glamour was gone. Now I felt guilty for not realizing how he’d react to it, and I hated feeling that way. And I tried to push down this absurd sense of satisfaction that it had been me he appealed to for help and protection.