Flicker (10 page)

Profound relief spread across Nasser’s fea
tures.

“I
told
you I didn’t let anything happen,” Filo spat.

“Right,” Nasser agreed vaguely. “Sorry.”

Nasse
r approached
Lee, and she realized she was
still crouched on the cold
bathroom
tile
. He extended his hand, as if to help her up
, but she scooted backward
and scrambled to her feet.

“Who are you?” Lee asked, her eyes darting between the three strangers. Thick panic rose in her throat,
and
she couldn’t swallow it.

“I’m Nasser.” He took a small step away from her and held up his hands, as if to show that he wouldn’t
harm
her. His eyes were gray, and his face was familiar. Lee couldn’t place him, but she thought she knew him. “Nasser Rew.”

Lee turned to the other boy. He was shorter than Nasser, but not by much, with messy black hair and fierce blue eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than Lee herself, but the tense way he held himself and
his grave expression
gave him the air of someone much older.

“Filo Shine,” he said finally, his tone sour.

“What’s your name?” Nasser said. His voice was familiar, too. It was like he’d asked her that question before, but a thousand years ago, or maybe in a dream, and she could no longer remember the context of the words. It took her a moment to respond.

“Weatherly Capren,” she managed
at last
. She always introduced herself that way, with her full name, but no one called her Weatherly, not even her
mom
. She’d never really felt like a Weatherly. “Just Lee.”

Nasser nodded.
“We were worried you’d never start talking.”

“What?”

“
You
were worried,” Filo said dryly. “
I
didn’t care.”

“I don’t—” Lee’s
mouth had gone dry
. “What are you talking about?”

Filo s
ighed. “She doesn’t even remember
,” he sa
id. “
That’s just great.”

“Remember
wha
t?
” Lee glanced around her, panic rising again
.
She was in a large room with a high ceilin
g and a single window in
the far wall. A simple camp bed was pushed into one corner, an
d a pile of ragged blankets was on the floor beside it. B
ookcases
lined the walls,
crammed with books.
More books were stacked on the floor,
like some
fantastic paper city.
A long table
was
covered in
bottles,
jars, d
rifts of paper and
bundles of plants. A hulking desk, swamped papers and books, stood near the window.

Two doors stood on opposite s
ides of the room. One was
closed; the other, through which
Neman
had emerged, was half-open. Through
it, Lee glimpsed
a dark hallway. Now
Neman
stood
near
the window,
sunlight catching on the dark feathers of her wings
.
Lee wondered if she was dreaming.

Struggling to tear her eyes from those
terrible,
magnificent wings, Lee
turned
to Nasser. “Where am I?”

“You really don’t remember?” Nasser asked.

Lee shook her head. “I don’t understand. Is there something I should be remembering?” Possibilities raced through her head, each more terrifying than the last. She couldn’t quite get her breath. “I think I want to leave now.”

“I’
m not sure that would be best.” He
looked uncomfortable. “
W
e’re not sure about—”

“Look,” Lee said. “I don’t know who you people are, or what you want, but if you just tell me where I am, then I can get out of here.
Please
. I just want to go home.”

“I know,” Nasser said. “An
d I’m sorry. Just t
ell me the last thing you remember, okay?”

“Why are
you asking me this?”
She thought she might
throw up.

“The last thing you remember?
Please?
”
His
voice was soft, even kind, but his expression was pained.

“I was in the woods,” she relented. It
was difficult to talk around the growing lump in her throat. “Sketching.”

“What day was it? What town?”

Lee’s throat tightened. “What do you
mea
n?
”

“Tell me,” Nasser insisted.

“July twentieth.” Lee
had the distinct feeling that she was going insane. “Bluewood.”

Nasser didn’t speak.
Somewhere in the back of Lee’s mind, she was
deciding whether
she had a chance of getting around Nasser and
making a break for the door
hallway.

Nasser didn’t seem very threatening. He was tall and strapping, like s
ome of the football
players
from school, but sh
e doubted he would tackle
if she
ran
for it.

But
there was the other boy, Filo. He spoke like he didn’t care, but Lee sensed an edge about him that she didn’t care to test.
More than him,
she was suspicious of
Neman
. Even as she stood silently by the window, calmly watching the proceedings, there was something more to her than Lee could see, something grand and ol
d and powerful. Something dark.

“July
…
” Nasser’s voice broke
into her thoughts. “D
o you remember what year it was?”

“What is
wrong
with you?” Lee choked, swiping at her eyes. Her throat ached with the effort it took to keep from crying and her voice crac
ked dangerously
. “Why are you doing this?”

“I wouldn’t if it weren’t absolutely necessary,” Nasser said. “What
yea
r?
”

Nasser and Filo stared at her, like she was a wild animal likely to bolt or attack at any moment. Restlessness surged in he
r. She felt like screaming. S
he felt like trying her luck and running for the door.

But Nasser had the saddest look on his face, and Filo looked too tense, like he might crack into pieces, and they both looked weary in a way she
didn’t understand. The
agitation went suddenly out of her, like startled birds from a telephone wire, leaving her drained and dizzy.

“What’s ha
ppening?” she whispered
. She was afraid, but not from thinking someone was going to physically hurt her. Lee shuddered. “Why are you asking me these things?”

“You
really
don’t remember?” Nasser pressed
.

“No!” Lee shouted.
“I don’t remember!”

Filo stood up and pointed to a calendar hanging on the wall beside the window. She crossed over to it and peered at the page. Each day had been crossed off as it passed. Lee followed the trail of Xs to the first unmarked date.

“October twenty-second
…
” Lee read, trailing off as she reached the
year. Her insides went cold. She whirled around, her voice quavering. “What is this? Don’t screw with me!”

“What is it?” Nasser asked.

“The date is wrong.”
He knew it, of course. He had to
know.

“How wrong?”

“
Seven
years wrong!” Lee shrieked.
“What is this? Where am I?”

Nasser op
ened his mouth
, but all that came o
ut was a series of stammers
.

Filo glared at him, then
turned to Lee.
“You want to
know what’s happening
?”

“
Yes
,” Lee sobbed, nodding feebly.
“Please.”

“Okay,” Filo offered. “What do you know about faeries?”

Chapter Four:

Truth

Byrony lay on her stomach in the grass, her wings folded across her back. A
warm
summer breeze swayed the branches of the tree above Byrony’s head, and a shower of blush-colored petals
drifted
down.
Music drifted across the
glade
from
somewhere beyond the trees.

She
could feel warmth in the soil beneath
her, the waiting energy
that always responded to dryads like Byrony
. She
placed
her hand on the grass
and closed her eyes, sending a wave of magic downward.

The earth stirred; she felt slender shoots rushing toward the surface. A small
blue
flower rose up from the soil, sprouting leaves and
sloping
petals.

A voice, deep and humming, floated down to her from the swaying branches. “What a
lovely flower.”

Then, in a swirl of petals
and leaves
, Umbriel dropped down from the branches, holding a lute in one hand. He landed nimbly on his feet, and sat beside Byrony. Her heart nearly burst with glee at the sight of him.

Shafts of sunlight filtered through the branches of the tree, falling over Umbriel’s glossy black hair. The day
was
warmer, the air sweeter, now that he was here. Umbriel had the spark of summer in him, and carried it with
him always.

Umbrie
l
leaned forward to examine the flower. He brushed the ground beside the flower with his fingers, and
another spiraled up beside it.
“Does it please you?” he asked.

“Very much.”

“Then it
pleases me, also.” Umbriel leaned in and
kissed her softly
,
running one hand through
her hair. She shivered, and her wings twitched. He really did love her. Her, of all fey.

It
didn’t happen
by accident, of course. She
’d
worked
hard
; Umbriel would never have noticed her had she wait
ed around. And now she was
beside him, and she had his love, and it didn’t matter how she’d garnered it. Not to Umbriel,
at least. He was content
to have her around.

Suddenly, Umbriel drew back from her, his expression pinched, as if he’d remembered something unpleasant.

“Otherworld is a lonely place, even when one is at Court
,” he said, turning his attention to the lute. His tone was different now, darker. Something cold twisted inside Byrony’s chest. “I have missed you.”

“Umbriel
?”
The strange glint in his eyes worried her.

“There was a
rumor going around,” he continued, not quite looking at her, “that you bartered away the painter girl with the pretty green eyes. To a human boy. A

Seer, no less. A rumor that proved to be true.”
Byrony said nothing. He knew what she had done.

“I had thought better of your judgment,” Umbriel sighed. “I trusted you to look after her while I was away.”

She shook her head. “You grow so attached to these humans of yours
.
It was high time for a fresh one, my love. She had done for us all she would ever do.”

Umbriel gave the lute an impatient strum. “The girl did no harm. She was a sweet thing, and she paint
ed lovely pictures for us. Y
et you handed her off without a thought for what might befall her after.”

Her mouth opened, but no decent explanation came to mind. How could she tell him of the anger that burned in her chest each time he smiled at the human girl, or patted her hair, or brought fresh paints to her personally? Umbriel was all love and
sunlight
; he disliked unpleasant things. That was why he spent so much time traveling with the revels, returni
ng to Court only when summoned.

She couldn’t stop those feelings, though, the rage and the jealousy. They welled up inside her like dark water. Such possessiveness was un
attractive, she knew, but
ne
cessary. There were many
who desired Umbriel. She had to remain vigilant, lest anyone forget to whom he belonged.