Carrie Jones - Entice

“Go, Zara!” he yells. His hands readjust on his sword, sheaths it, pulls out his bow. “I will keep them safe. I promise.”

I start to go, then stop. “You better! And you have to stay safe too, Astley. You have to be here. No dying. No dying! Okay?”

He lets an arrow fly. Something shrieks. “Just come back to us, Queen. Just come back.”

“I will!” I say, because, you know, everyone wants to come back to fighting, carnage, fear of death, right?

But I do.

I want to come back and keep them safe.

I nod fiercely. “I’ll bring him back. We’ll fight with you, I swear. No more tying you to a tree or anything.”

He starts to laugh, bends, and gets me my sword. His voice resonates inside my head, but his mouth doesn’t move as he says, You will be a great queen when you come back, you know. And someday you’ll love me the way you love your wolf.

L ocal churches in Bedford, Maine, are holding a candlelight vigil for the lost teens, despite the advice of local law enforcement, who say that the vigil would be much safer if performed during the daytime hours. -N EWS C HANNEL 8

I run up the bridge fueled by hope, ignoring the worry and the pain in my chest as the sound of fighting echoes beneath me, growing fainter and fainter the farther I go. The muscles in my quads tense and flex and release as I sprint as fast as I can. I’ve always been a good runner, but this-this is insane. It’s like running on a steeply sloping sand beach. Colored dust flies behind me with every footfall.

Yes, I am running on a rainbow and, yes, I am no longer human, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting to Nick. A white bird circles in the sky over my head, leading my way as I leave behind the world of humans, leave behind the world of questions and wiggly lines between good and evil, leave behind all the mistakes I’ve made.

To my left are mounds of earth that look like fairy tombs; to my right is a meadow on a hill where suddenly it is spring. The air is warm and amazing, smelling of lilacs and thawing ground. On top of the hill wait large standing stones like at Stonehenge. They are in a circle reaching toward the sun.

It is so beautiful here. It is nothing like Maine. No naked tree limbs scratch at the sky. No ice beneath my feet. No snow.

I almost want to slow down, stop, try to figure out how the heck any of this could be real, but I can’t because the bridge disappears behind me as I run forward. I’m not sure what would happen if I stopped. Maybe I’d just vanish, caught between the world of fae and the world of human. Would I no longer exist? I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything except that running forward gets me closer to Nick and farther away from the fighting-and from Issie and Astley and everyone. Worry shatters my happy. How can it be spring here, so peaceful and quiet, when they are in the middle of cold, of death, without me?

My calves burn. It feels like I’ve been running for freaking ever when finally, I can see the end of the rainbow. There’s a building. It’s golden and glows in the warm sunlight. There are five different layers of thatched roof and three doors and no windows that I can see. There are two higher rooms that seem to grow out of the roof like mini towers.

“This can’t be real,” I pant. “How can this be real?”

A giant white man explodes out the center door. He carries a horn. He has a Viking-style hat on his head and more horns stick out of the sides above his ears. I think they are ram horns, but honestly, I have no freaking clue.

“ Hold ! ” he bellows. “Who are you that cross to the realm of the gods?”

Oh my gosh. Did he just say “hold”? Who says “hold”? Who wears Viking hats? And his teeth? His teeth are gold, like he’s gone all rap star and had them capped with precious metal. I stop in front of him, panting, hands on my hips.

“Zara.”

I try to say it as bravely as I can. I try to act like all of this is perfectly normal, because if I don’t? I will start totally freaking out.

He eyes me and lowers his voice. “I am Heimdall, protector of the gods, guarder of Asgard and Valhalla.”

I reach out my hand, hoping my instinct to shake is right and won’t make him cut it off with the giant sword sheathed to his hip. “Hello.”

His lips edge up a bit. His giant eyebrows rise up toward his hairline. He grabs my hand in his fingers and squeezes. “Pixie?”

I nod. I notice a bunch of sheep grazing by the hall just to my left. They form a perfect circle and are perfectly clean. They are all too ideal, really. My heart skips a beat.

“Queen?” he asks.

“Only just recently,” I explain, hoping I don’t look as bewildered as I feel.

This time he does smile for real. “I can hear that in your heartbeat and smell it on your breath. Your newness is obvious, Zara White, Pixie Queen.”

He lets go of my hand. Resisting the urge to rub my fingers back to life, I take in the scenery. Beyond his hall, woods wait on gently sloping planes. The trees are enormous Christmas trees. Pinecones as big as my head dangle from the limbs. Birds twitter in the air. The lawn I stand on rolls along like a picture-perfect golf course. Giant hydrangea bushes blossom around the foundation of the hall, huge flowers bursting into the air. It’s beautiful and magical.

“How do you know my last name?” I ask, eyeing him. He is enormous and just exudes power, way more power than Astley and Nick have ever emanated. His muscles are almost comic book in size, or like a professional wrestler.

“I am Heimdall. I heard your name on the wind. I can hear for a hundred miles.” He says this all matter-of-factly, not sounding boastful at all. He shifts his weight on his far-apart feet. He unsheathes his giant sword. It glints in the air. It’s nothing like any sword I have ever seen before. It curves and the blade is almost triple, with two arched edges echoing the original blade. “This is my sword. Its name means ‘man’s head.’ ”

I don’t say anything. I realize I’m shaking. I step back and bump into a peacock. It squawks angrily at me.

“Tell me, Zara White, new pixie queen, former human, why have you come to our realm?” His voice echoes, and even my skin can feel the power beneath each syllable.

“I have an urgent mission,” I say, and hit myself in the head with my hand. Urgent mission? I sound like a character on a girl-power spy show on a TV channel for little kids.

“Urgent mission?” he asks without any trace of mocking or sarcasm. His expression becomes even more Viking-like, wary and full of pride. He raises his sword.

I lace my hands together, trying to look as meek and unthreatening as possible, and tell him. I don’t know why. I just tell him. “Sort of. My boyfriend was taken by this Valkyrie thing named Thruth, and I need him back. And I just left my friends fighting a battle and I want to hurry. No offense. I mean, it’s nice talking to you and everything…”

“True love’s quest?” He turns his head to his side and smiles up at the sun.

“I guess. Yeah. I mean… It sounds corny when you say it like that, but we all love him more than anything and we need him back home. He’s our warrior, really. He keeps us safe.”

Something rustles from under a bush. A bunny hops along the edge of the lawn right by the hall. Its gray tail bobs up and down.

Heimdall scrutinizes my face and then leans against the building. His muscles ripple like waves with even the smallest movements. He lowers his sword arm and leans the sword against the tree bark. “There are other warriors, yes?”