Carrie Jones - Need

"Of course," I say.

"Good. You take it easy. I'll be back soon, but not too soon, if you know what I mean."

Then she mouths the words, "Stay safe."

She winks and is gone.

Grandmothers.

He arrives about five minutes after Betty leaves.

He knocks on the door, which I know Betty left unlocked so I wouldn't have to get off the couch.

I don't invite him. in. He just walks on through. Obviously he's been here before. Obviously he is the one who pretended to be my dad.

He's still wearing the black cloak that he had on when I saw him at the airport in Charleston and outside the cafeteria doors. He is tall and pale, like me. His hair shines dark and wavy and well cut. He has deep eyes that are beautiful, like the trunks of big trees.

I freeze.

"Zara."

He lets my name dangle there. Then, as casual as anything, he shuts the door behind him. The cold air stays in the room. I shiver.

"You're cold? I'll put another log on the fire."

He strides across the room, opens the stove door, and puts another log in. Sparks fly up. He catches one in his hand and crushes it, then lets go. He isn't burned.

I find my voice. "What are you?"

He cocks his head at me and wipes his hands together like he is getting rid of dirt. "You don't know?"

"I have no clue." I am almost telling the truth, because I know the basic facts of what he is, but not the essence. I am far, far away from the essence.

I pull myself up straighter on the couch.

"You saw me at the airport, and I called to you in the woods," he says. "And when your surrogate father died I was there."

"At the window."

He nods.

We let this news settle over us for a minute. Surrogate father? Only father is more like it. "Did you kill him?"

"Of course not."

"Really?"

He fiddles with the fire, tossing an ember back and forth between his palms. It would be cool if it wasn't so freaky.

"You're following me," I finally say. "Why?"

"Because I'm trying to reclaim what's mine."

"I'm not yours."

"You are. You always have been. You always will be."

"That's crap."

"Is it? Look inside yourself, Zara. I think you'll find what's true."

"I don't know what's true anymore. But I know you're starting to sound like a bad ripoff of Darth Vader in an oldStar Wars movie. And I know you're trying to hurt me."

He shakes his head and listens to the air. "Never."

"Which part? The Darth thing or the hurting thing?"

"Both."

I roll my eyes. I look around for a weapon. There's the fireplace poker, but it's pretty far away. There's the lamp, but can I really do any damage one-handed? I just need to get him outside.

He moves closer, voice smooth. "Why don't you come back with me? I won't hurt you."

"Come back where?"

"My house."

"You have a house?"

"Of course I do."

"Is it a magical faerie house with gingerbread walls and a candy roof? Or maybe Tinker Bell is flitting inside, ready to grant me three wishes."

He cracks a smile. "No. It's a big house in the woods. It's surrounded by a glamour. People don't bother us."

"Glamours hide the truth of you."

"You've been researching."

"A little."

"So, come back with me."

"Why? So you can bait my mom into a rescue?"

"Would that be so bad?"

"Yes."

"Zara." He sighs. The wind bellows outside. "How can I make you understand this? I need your mom. If I don't get her, more boys will die."

"That's ridiculous."

"No, it's just how it is."

I think for a second. "If that's true, then why did Ian try to turn me?"

He loses his composure. His face shifts into something worried, something almost human. "Did he kiss you?"

"Almost. Betty killed him first."

He almost smiles. He pulls his hand through his hair. "Betty is fierce."

"Is that why you stay away when she's here?"

"Not even a pixie wants to tangle with a tiger."

He blows on the ember in his hand. It turns to dust.

"You seem like you could handle almost anything," I say.

"This?" He smirks. "Parlor tricks."

We stare at each other.

"Ian tried to turn you because he knew you would be a powerful queen. A queen with my blood would make him into a king. Ian tried to turn you because he thought I would take you as my own."

"That's disgusting." I move my cast arm onto my lap. The weight of it is heavy.

"I agree."

"Are there lots of them? Renegade pixies like Ian and Megan?"

He nods. "Too many now that I'm weak. They can sense it. They come from all over to try to conquer me, take my territory. We aren't the easiest race."

"Obviously."

"You have a choice here, Zara." He moves his lean frame and sits next to me on the couch. He puts his hand over my good one. His is still hot from the fire, almost burning, and it feels good compared to the coldness of Maine, the coldness of me. "We can go back to my house where I will answer your questions and we will wait for your mother there. Or we can wait here for the wolf boy to show up. One of these things is not a good idea."

"Why is that?" I ask, even though I don't want to.

"Because I have this need. And your wolf? He looks appetizing."

I agree to go. He smiles, triumphant, like he knew he'd win.

"I'm delighted," he says like a real gentleman, like he didn't just threaten Nick. He guides me out of the house. I shrug off his arm and he laughs, amused. "I won't hurt you, Zara."

"Right. You won't hurt me as long as I'm cooperating," I say as he opens the door. Cold air bursts in. He helps me on with my coat. I can only get one arm in because of the cast. I look out at the nothingness of snow and woods. I look for signs of Betty or Nick. "Are we taking the Subaru?"

"No. We'll run."

Running is not part of my plan. Stopping right here is my plan.

"I'm not actually supposed to run," I try to say. "The arm and everything."

"I'm sorry about your arm."

"Really?"

He swoops me up as if I weigh nothing, leans me against his chest, and carries me the way grooms are supposed to carry brides over thresholds. He is cold now, away from the fire. He smells of mushrooms.

''Are you afraid of heights?"

He keeps my good arm against him, and doesn't even jostle my cast arm. It's smooth and quick and I don't have time to protest or even to say anything. Then he flies. Literally.

Over his shoulder a dark shape on all fours emerges from the woods and roars.

Betty's missed us. My heart screeches in my chest.

The trees blur as we smooth-smash past them. They become dark shadowy shapes. He zips over the snow. The wind whips my hair back against his chest. Snow falls, covering our faces, covering us as we fly, faster and faster. This speed is what I always wanted when I was running, this unbelievable quickness. It is amazing and beautiful and I can barely describe it, barely experience it, and then we stop.

Betty will never find me. There's no trail.

He sets me down on the rolling ground in a large clearing in the middle of tall pine trees. My breath whooshes out like I'd been holding it.

"Oh, that was amazing," I say before I realize it.

"You're glowing. I thought you hated me."

"I do. But flying? I don't hate flying. I read this book once where-" "You read?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I like philosophy myself. It's good to have a daughter who reads."

I swallow, shift my weight on my feet. They won't be able to follow us here; we left no tracks. I can't believe we flew. "Can all pixies fly? Because I was totally unprepared for that. I mean, I didn't read that."

"Only ones with royal blood. You can."

"If I turn pixie."

"Of course." He points at the clearing. "Here is my home."