The Faery Keepers (2 page)

             
Wait,
Mark
? What Mark?

             
I look at him speculatively to find his eyes intent upon mine.

             
“What Mark?” I ask, finally finding my voice after my freak out.

             
“That matters not,” he says. “Follow me.”

             
I glance at Maggie, expecting her to say something along the lines of “let’s get off this crazy train.” Instead I get a grave nod at Caesleanyx and her grabbing my hand to tow me along.

             
I sigh inwardly and hope she knows what we’re about to get into. Then we walk.

             
Following a little dude who could probably fit in my hands through the parking lot in fading light is not fun. Luckily he stops and calls out to us any time we lose him among the cars. Which happens a
lot
considering it isn’t at all that hard to do.

             
Once out of the lot, Caesleanyx leads us to a sparse cluster of trees that rims the property. Beyond which lies a field full to the brim with wild flowers of all sorts.

             
We used to play back here as children, but the flowers resilience in this heat still amazes me. Rosy pinks, sky blues, royal purples, and lemony yellows assault the eyes even in the dimming twilight. It’s a beautiful sight.

             
“Is this where you live?” Maggie asks.

             
“Some of the time,” Caesleanyx says truthfully.

             
“So why do you need us?” I ask.

             
“Come. This way,” he beckons us to a small patch of grass in the shape of a ring, around which a smattering of yellow flowers rimmed. In the center of it lay a tiny figure wrapped in a dress of leaves
, a strange silver substance coats the front of it
. Her skin is ghostly pale and has a faint blue tinge to it: a sure sign of oncoming death.
Delicate translucent wings lay folded beneath her back, shimmering rainbow colors in the vanishing sunlight. Her limbs are contorted at odd angles banishing any pretenses that she could be asleep.

             
“What happened to her?” Maggie and I demanded simultaneously.

             
“Attacked she was. I fear she will perish.”

             
“And she hasn’t already?” I ask, none too kindly, peering at her still form.

             
“Nearly, but not yet,” he says morosely.

             
“What can we do?” Maggie’s eyes are full of concern.

             
Caesleanyx plucks a pink tulip seemingly out of nowhere.

             
“This will protect her.”

             
I stare at him, not grasping what he means. What is it, some sort of talisman?

             
But when I take it from his small knobby hands and feel the silkiness of the petals, the glossy, wax like green leaves, I realize that it’s not a false flower. It’s an actual plant.

             
How the heck is a
tulip
supposed to protect you?

             
I am going crazy, its official
. I think to myself.
This is all some insane hallucination.
Yep, that’s it. Explains it all.

             
Then why is Maggie with you?
a small voice reasons in my mind.

             
So, I decide to just go along with it. First weird Marks and now flowers for protection. What else can they throw at me?

             
I suck in a breath through my teeth. Well here goes nothing. Or everything . . .

             
During my tirade of thoughts Caesleanyx and Maggie were having a hurried conversation that I completely missed.

             
“Huh?” I ask

             
“Later,” she whispers while plucking the flower from my grasp.

             
“Hey!” I protest. “Give it back!”

             
“It’s not for
you
, it’s for
her
,” Maggie jerks her head to the crumpled Faery on the ground.

             
“Wha—?”

             
She scoops up the inert, barely breathing Faery and dumps her
inside
the tulip. The flowers petals shiver and glow a golden color as they close in on the Faery forming a protective shell. It’s like watching one of those shows on Discovery where the film is sped up as you watch a flower open, only in reverse. Soon it looks like Maggie is holding any old flower hunkering down for the night.

             
“There’s not much time, “Caesleanyx intones. “You must hurry. Go to the orchard. You will find help there. Make haste!”

             
Maggie clutches the tulip closely to her chest, careful not to crush its fragile cargo.

             
Thinking it’d be easier to discard the towels and don our clothes I take our shorts and T-Shirts out of our bags and shirk mine on, the cloth warm from basking in the sun all afternoon. Stowing my towel away I take the Faery/flower from Maggie a moment while she does the same. Then she takes her back, I hoist our tote bags on my shoulder and we take off into the now full darkness.

             
Running flat out
uphill
towards what I’m guessing is the closest apple orchard with two—albeit pretty light—bags in ninety degree heat at night is not, in one word, fun. Thankfully I haven’t tripped yet.

             
Our sneakers pound the sidewalk, echoing loudly through the streets. I pant with exertion. Already my body is screaming at me to rest and we’ve only run five blocks with at least that many more to go. I push myself forward regardless.

             
The hairs on the back of my neck bristle as the eerie sense that someone’s watching me overtakes me. Panic wells through me as I cast around for anything abnormal.

             
Sure sounds of pursuit erupt behind me and I pump my legs faster, catching up to Maggie in a desperate attempt to warn her.

             
She must’ve seen the bewildered expression on my face before I could utter a word because her eyes widen as she demands, “What? What is it?!”

             
“Faster! Someone . . . back there!” is all I can sputter due to lack of oxygen. If we get out of this I need to give serious thought to some gym time.

             
“Come on!” she urges veering right, towards an area unlit by streetlights. It looks as if it once was a parking lot but is now over grown with dense clumps of weeds. The ground is uneven and our feet kick up bits of rock that clatter noisily as we run. Run from an unknown threat.

             
Run until we drop from exhaustion.

             
I trip on something—I don’t know nor do I care what—and fall on a large patch of short, soft plants and stay down. I lay there breathing in the smell of dirt and leaves and crumbling asphalt. The skin on my knee is torn and bloodied. Judging by the stinging and wetness when I touch it, anyways. I hear Maggie go down somewhere by me, albeit I’m not sure where.

             
“Maggie?” I whisper as low as I could.

             
A hand clamps over my mouth. A scream builds up in my chest . . .

             
“Shh. It’s me, you idiot!” Maggie’s voice murmurs, just as low, in my ear. Her breath tickles my neck.

             
I give a soft sigh of relief.

             
“Who is it, do you think?” I breathe.

             
“Katie, shut it!”

             
I’m about to retort when I see why I’ve gotta be quiet and snap my mouth shut.

             
A dark silhouette passes us not but ten feet from our spot, head swiveling around, clearly looking for something. For us.

             
I press myself closer to the ground, willing myself invisible. Twigs and pebbles poke through my clothes and scratch my bare skin. I don’t care though, as long as we don’t get caught...

             
He circles closer. I am pretty sure that they’re a he. There’s something distinctly masculine in his build and the way he carries himself.

             
I dare not move nor
breathe
. Doing so would easily give us away.

             
Until he’s literally
right next to us
.

             
Crap! Crap, crap, crap!!

             
I press my lips together, forcing myself not to make myself not to make a single sound. Maybe he hasn’t seen us yet.

             
He looks down and all around us, but his eyes seem to go
through
where we’re laying, I realize that he can’t see us.

             
I lift my hand in front of my face and wave it. I
feel
it there. I
know
it’s there. But I don’t
see
it.

             
A gasp bubbles to my lips. I barely contain it before it can become audible.

             
He looks around again and a bullet whizzes through the air a few yards away from us with a faint pop and I think back to all of the action movies Maggie and I have watched and realize that his gun must have a silencer on its muzzle. I start, but remain where I am, too frightened to move an inch. I look at his marred, angry face and I see something glint on his right cheek; it’s some sort of symbol. He’s moved on before I can get a better glimpse of it, though.

             
I wait until he’s long gone and count to a hundred to calm my heart before I speak again.

             
“
What was that?!
” I exclaim. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.”

             
“Can’t,” Maggie’s voice is strangled. “Let’s keep moving before he comes back.”

             
She props herself on her elbows and hauls herself off the ground. I do the same, trying not to look at myself too closely. But as soon as I step from the spot of green I become visible once more.

             
“What the—?”

             
Maggie comes and pulls a shoot of the mysterious plant out of its soil and peer at it speculatively.

             
“Clover?”

             
She offers it to me, as if she doesn’t quite believe it herself. I examine it to find that it is, indeed, a clover.

             
“Huh,” is all I can say.

             
“We’re going,” she emphasizes.

             
I gather our things and we make for the road on high alert. It feels like every sound will turn out to be the creepy guy from before. Blessedly we make it without much more incident other than me probably looking like I have a severe case of epilepsy.

             
We skid to a halt before we run straight into the street, back peddling to safety as a dark green Jeep
Grand
Cherokee squeals to a stop in front of us. My heart races as I think of how that could have ended badly. Like
, for instance,
us smeared on the pavement for example. Or, another thought pops into my head, it could be that guy. That would be just peachy. Escape the psycho once to be found by the guy again. What did he want anyways?

             
I think the answer is quite clear. He must be the sicko who tried to kill the Faery. My temper rises and my fists clench, nails biting into my palms leaving stinging
we
l
t
s
.

             
Then I realize who is behind the wheel through the tinted windows.

             
It’s the guy from the pool. The one who Maggie snapped at.

             
Immediately questions form as to what he is
doing here.
Is he following us? Is
he with the guy with the mark on his face? I didn’t know. But what I did know was that he was rolling down the passenger side window and leaning across the seat towards me. My hackles go up right away.

             
“You two need a ride?” he asks. “You look a little unhinged.”

             
I don’t know whether I should trust him. Don’t know if he’s safe. But looking at our options I know that he’s our best bet right now. We still have a ways to go and I was already exhausted. Not to mention put out. I connect eyes with Maggie, and silent messages pass between us. Looks like we are getting in the Jeep.