Carrie Jones - Entice

I know I should, but something in me doesn’t want to. Something in me actually wants to kill the pixie underneath me. I swallow that something down. It is like bile. It burns.

Beliel hisses at me. I shift my weight away, take my sword from his throat, but keep it pointed.

“We have it from here, warrior,” Thor says. Three other men grab Beliel and yank him out of the hall, through the open door, and into the springtime air. The others start stomping their feet on the floor and clapping. The entire hall shakes from the vibrations and the sudden loud warrior-man cheers. I blush. They are cheering for me.

Trying to catch my breath, I stand up straight and face Odin. He smiles down upon me. Astley is next to him. I can’t catch my breath at all. He looks so alive and so beautiful. But his face… I can’t read his face. Where did he come from?

“Do I win?” I ask Odin. I know what Thor said, but Odin is the decider here.

“You win.” His one eye blinks. “You win, Zara, Queen of the Star Pixies. You win and you win with honor.”

It’s all I can do not to jump up and down and scream. My eyes meet Astley’s eyes. He smiles and everything in my body explodes in a burst of happy. Without thinking about it, I leap over the table and into his arms.

The warriors start whistling and banging the table, the strength of their fists thundering their approval and applause.

“You are amazing,” Astley yells into my ear.

I wrap my arms around him and hug him back. “You were in my head. I could hear you, and your support made me stronger, Astley. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He starts laughing. “I was so worried, but I knew it. I knew you could do it!”

I lean away to study his face. “Wait. How are you here?”

“Odin had them bring me when they brought Frank.”

I break away. “The battle? Issie and Cassidy and Dev? Our pixies?”

“We won, mostly thanks to your grandmother. Your friends and our pixies are safe,” he says as he separates from me even more. We are an arm’s length apart and the distance feels like a cavern. “Now go get your wolf, Zara. I will be waiting for you in Bedford when you return.”

H igh school officials report that all after-school activities have been canceled pending further notice. In addition, the town’s curfew has been changed from dusk to three p.m.

– N EWS C HANNEL 8

The warriors insist on dressing my wound and finally tell me I can visit Nick. As I stand up to go, Astley waves good-bye. I mouth Thank you and rush down the hall and this time I don’t hesitate-I throw open the door. The light coming out of the room is bright, clean. It seems otherworldly and not like the rest of the rugged hall at all. I peer inside. There’s just a bed with solid wood posters and white, white sheets. There’s a body in the bed. My stomach clenches. A body.

“Nick?” I whisper.

He sits up. His eyes squint like he’s just woken up and is trying to focus. I remember that squint from when he woke up at Betty’s, groggy and sleep brained on the couch. Everything inside me stops the moment I see him. There’s stubble all over his cheeks. His eyes widen.

It is him. He exists and moves and breathes and lives. He lives. His eyebrows are so beautifully messy and big and his eyes are open and he’s breathing and… I swear I can taste my happiness. This can’t be, but it is. He’s here. He really is.

I take a step into the room and get ready to vault myself into his arms. “Nick!”

“Zara?” His voice sounds strong. It sounds alive and real. He is alive and real.

My voice explodes in happiness. “Nick!”

He leaps up out of the bed growling and lands a few feet in front of me, massive and angry. The room suddenly seems much darker than it did a moment ago.

“Someone has… has turned you,” he roars. “Who? Was it the same guy who killed me?”

I crawl backward, stagger to the doorway. Moss crawls over my heart, sinking its tiny tendrils into me. I knew it-I knew he’d hate me. His face is lined with anger and maybe age. He looks older and angry and alive, really and truly alive.

“You aren’t dead,” I sputter. Tears threaten to leave my eyes. “So he didn’t kill you?”

“He did kill me. They brought me back,” he corrects. He tilts his head. His hands reach for me and then clench into fists, as if touching me is too horrible to imagine. He jerks them back to his sides. “I swear, Zara, I’ll avenge you. I’ll find some way to make this right. Maybe there’s a way to reverse it. Maybe Devyn’s parents can-”

I hold out my hand as he steps closer. “It was my decision.”

He stops. His face twists. He pivots away and stands by a massive window. He leans forward, hands outstretched on the cold wood sill. His shoulders shake with emotion. “What?”

“I chose to turn.” My words are quiet knife wounds to his heart. I know that, but I can’t change it.

“What are you saying? What…?” His hands go into his hair, rubbing it into crazy spikes.

“Our lives are bigger now,” I try to explain as my heart breaks. “We have responsibilities to protect people, to protect each other.”

“Zara? What… what are you talking about? We always have,” he insists. “That doesn’t mean you had to change. What the hell have you done?”

“But now I can help for real. Now that I’ve become a pixie-”

He shudders when I say the word, but I keep talking. “I’m much stronger; I can do so much more now. I couldn’t even get here, couldn’t come bring you back, if I stayed human. I could only come if I was fae.” And a queen, but I don’t say that.

He whirls around. “Then you should have stayed there. You should have stayed human.”

“Without you?” My stomach twists. I press my hand into it. My voice is a plea. “I had to find you. We need you. Issie and Devyn and-everyone. We need you. It’s gone crazy. There are two other kings around; my dad’s dead. The town is in total chaos. There are FBI agents there. More than twenty people are gone.”

“So you need me to fight.” He snorts. “That’s why they want me here too. Because I’m supposedly such a great warrior.”

“You are.”

“If I was, I wouldn’t have died, would I? If I was, I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t have turned pixie to save me. I’d be back in Bedford protecting you from them, and now-ah-now you are one of them.” He cringes and backs up against the wall, his arms wrapping around his trunk. “Oh God, Zara… I can’t believe you did this. You aren’t even human anymore. You aren’t you.”

“I am me. I am still me.” I step toward him. My voice is a quiet want. “I did it for you.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

I give up. I rush over to him and take his forearms in my hands and try to pull them down so I can reach in and hug him, press my head against his chest like I always used to when I was human. He cringes again.

“I. Am. Still. Zara,” I insist. I wrap my arms around him, press as close to him as I can. “Please, please, believe me.”

He tightens up, but he doesn’t push me away. Every fear I’ve ever had is nothing-nothing-compared to this. This horror of him not loving me, of not hugging me back when I hug him, of not wanting me near him.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper.

After a second he goes, “What?”

I don’t answer.

“What doesn’t matter, Zara?” he asks.

“That you don’t love me. That you hate me now. What matters is that you can come back home. You hating me is just-it’s just- I can be okay with that as long as you are there.” I gasp out the words and let go of him, rush-turning away, but he grabs me by the arms and pulls me back to him.