Blood
Chapter 43: Lorna

I wake to the glow of a fire and the shrill screams of children.

“I say we do it now,” says the ugliest creature I’ve seen in my life.

It looks like it was carved from a rotten log, then given bone needles for teeth and embers for eyes. Despite all this its voice is as beautiful a harp.

Speaking to it is the faerie that brought me here. He’s grinning like the madman he must be. “And what does my mother say to that?”

The first creature scowls, but then laughs and begins to sing, dancing away with another faerie almost as ugly as it.

That’s what I’m caught within, I realise. It’s a faerie circle, filled with fires and music and merriment. Merriment at the murder that’s to come. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The faerie that isn’t Mallory glances my way and at seeing me awake grins even wider.

He squats in front of me. “Hello, love. Care to dance?”

I try to spit at him, but find I still can’t move.

He laughs. “No? Well that ain’t no fun. I’d let ya, you know. If you wanted to dance you could.”

He sits in the grass that should be covered in snow. I realise then that it’s warm inside Wanderer’s Wood, almost like summer. But it ain’t summer. It’s the solstice and so there are children screaming because they know they’re going to die, just like me.

I look around for the children, but since I can’t move my head it’s incredibly difficult. I think they’re off to my right. They. There should only be two. Sean and Beth Mueller’s daughter. Why does it sound like there are so many?

“Ah, you see, this year is a very special year for us. A year of power that you couldn’t fathom. We had a sea god come to us, thanks to our Mallory—wonderful lad, my baby brother is—and so we decided to celebrate by going into town tonight. Do you remember driving through Kappamor? Yeah?” He laughs. “Well, it looks a touch different now.”

“Domhnall!” calls a woman made of water from the crowd of dancers. “Come dance with us, my love.”

He turns his head to her, except not how a human would. His head rotates around like an owl. “Oh, let me have my fun!” he calls back.

My head is spinning. It’s too much for the time, I can’t make sense of it all.

My fingers itch worse than I can ever remember.

The faerie turns back to me. “How do you like our English? I’ve been wondering. See, we don’t get to use it too often, so whenever we have,” he laughs, “visitors we like to practice a bit.”

“Domhnall.”

The faerie’s face blanches. He stands and turns the way a human would.

“Mother,” he replies.

Before him, in the center of a bonfire, is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t fathom her beauty or begin to describe it. It physically hurts.

She smiles, seemingly unaware of the flames she stands within. “The hour is upon us. If you would help get the younglings ready, I would like to speak with our guest.”

She turns to me with the same smile, stepping out of the fire and into the Wood. She seems to shine, emitting a light that seems far too holy for a place such as this.

“Welcome, my dear, to my kingdom. You may call me Maeve.”

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