Melissa Marr: Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

“I know.” The fox faery glanced at Jayce again and then gave Rika a long, unreadable look before turning and walking away.

Silently, Rika and Jayce went to the door and stepped outside.

So many broken rules. What’s one more?

If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that there were times she’d wished she could tell Jayce that she existed, that she was near him, that she was a faery. She’d never expected it to happen, but here they were. She took a steadying breath and said, “We’re going to run. No matter what happens, just keep moving your feet. Run , okay?”

Jayce gave her a look like she’d lost it. “Maybe I should just go.”

For a moment, she considered letting him walk away. She could follow him invisibly; things could return to the way they were before she’d exposed herself to save him. That wasn’t what she wanted though, so she reached out and entwined her fingers with his.

He didn’t react, and for a moment, she thought he’d pull away and leave.

“Please?”

“I need some answers, Rika.” He shook his head, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “That whole scene inside was weird.”

“Come with me, and I’ll give you some answers.” She held his gaze and repeated, “Please?”

After a moment, he nodded.

She smiled and then she said again, “ Really . Don’t forget to move your feet.”

And then she started to run, holding on to Jayce’s hand; she didn’t go as fast as she had when she’d disappeared earlier, but she traveled fast enough that each of her steps was the distance of many of his. Her movement propelled them forward. His running merely kept his body upright.

The world blurred around them for an impossibly brief time, and then they were at a cliff in the desert. In the far distance behind Jayce was the town; he hadn’t turned to see how far they’d traveled yet, staring instead at the cliff in front of them.

The moon was three-quarters full, and the desert was shadowed and beautiful in the night. Several night-dwelling animals were out. A coyote slunk by in the periphery; farther out, a bobcat crouched on a ledge.

“Welcome to my home.”

“Where?” Jayce looked around now in confusion, finally noticing how far they’d run in a few brief moments. “How did we . . .” His words died as he stared at her.

Ignoring that question, she pointed to a small inlet in the rock face over their heads. “Grab there. Come on. We need to get inside.”

“I really have questions. . . .” Jayce started.

“I know.” Rika scaled the cliff using the almost imperceptible steps. She was a few feet off the ground before she urged, “Come with me.”

With a strange bemused smile, Jayce shook his head and then climbed past her. “You’re full of all sorts of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” Rika whispered.

Jayce stood at the mouth of her cave—where Sionnach had stood earlier—looking not at her but at the expanse of desert they’d crossed. “That isn’t possible, you know. Moving that fast, that far.”

Rika stepped in front of him, but instead of answering the question he wasn’t quite asking yet, she told him, “We’re safe here.”

“Who were they? Why were—”

“I can’t answer that,” she said softly.

“She had a knife. That girl . . .” Jayce pulled his attention from the desert and glanced at Rika finally.

“I know.” She kept her expression unreadable, hating that she already had to act so much like a faery instead of the girl she’d wished she could be with him, but she was what she was. “She’d use it too. If you see her, just get away.”

“You’re . . . what sort of fight school do you belong to? Someone as tiny as you—” He stopped mid-sentence and gave her an intense look. “You’re a little scary, Rika.”

She turned her face away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . And we shouldn’t . . . I didn’t see any other way. You were in danger.”

He put a hand on her cheek, tentatively. When she looked at him, he whispered, “I didn’t say scary was a bad thing.”

“Oh.” She didn’t move any closer to him, even though there were very few things she could imagine wanting more than being closer to him. This is a mistake. She was frozen, unable to either close the distance or retreat.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

And then he lowered his hand and stepped back a little. “So show me around your home?”

As they walked farther into the cave, Jayce didn’t ask about the oddity of living here. Instead, he took her hand in his. In his other hand, he held a lantern she’d given him. Silently, they wandered through the labyrinth of tunnels. He trusted her to lead him, and she marveled silently at the gift of his trust.

Tentatively, she led him to an immense room. Pipe organ stalactites and cascading veils hung like precious art. Smaller passageways led from the room, and several more camping lanterns sat on the ground beside their feet. She lit one, bringing a bit more light to the immense cavern. Above them in the shadows, the faint shape of some of the colony of bats that nest in the caves stirred, but didn’t flee. They had become used to her over time.

“I’ve never brought anyone in here. They’re my company.” She gestured at the bats and then laughed self-consciously, realizing that she sounded nervous and more than a little peculiar.

Jayce didn’t laugh. Instead, he whispered, “They’re beautiful. The whole place is—” He stopped and looked intently at the far wall, at the mural she wanted to share with him. He lifted his lantern higher as he walked toward it. “Amazing.”

Rika couldn’t move. She stayed frozen in the center of the cavern, feeling extra vulnerable and trapped despite the vast cavern. She’d seen his art so often, but she hadn’t shared her art with more than a handful of people in her life.

Jayce was wide-eyed as he studied her art. “This is incredible. It’s not old though. I’ve seen cave art. This is new. . . . But the materials . . .” He walked along the wall, gaze fixed on the art, occasionally glancing at the uneven ground at his feet as he walked. Although the mural extended as far as the light reached and beyond, he stopped after a few moments and looked back at her. “Did you do this?”

She shrugged. “I get lonely. I needed to talk, and there was no one . . . so I did that.”

“Art to talk . . . Yeah. I get that.” Jayce nodded, watching her as he said it. It was the same look of wonder he’d had when he’d first seen her, before the weirdness, before the fight, before their run across the desert. “It’s hard to find words sometimes.”

“Or anyone trustworthy enough to listen.” She walked over to stand beside him.

“I draw. Not like this , but . . .”

Suddenly, the bats stirred en masse as they heard a voice calling into the tunnels, “Princess? Come out; come out.”

The whole colony seemed to leave in one black wave, and for a moment, Rika and Jayce stood together silently watching the bats.

“That’s Sionnach, from earlier. He’s here,” Rika babbled awkwardly.

Jayce’s expression clouded at the intrusion, but he was silent as she took his hand in hers. His fingers were warm, and for a moment, she wanted to stay silent and hidden with this boy who understood the need to speak with art. That wasn’t an option though; she’d indebted herself to the fox faery who was waiting for them.

“Come on,” she said.

They followed the twisting maze of tunnels to the first cavern they’d entered when they came into the cave. Sionnach’s back was to them, and Rika could already see that there were various scrapes visible on his arms, as if something with talons slashed him. When he turned to face Jayce and Rika, more injuries became visible.