Dreamfever
Page 64
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Sighing, I opened my eyes, took a hasty, panicked look down, and squeezed my eyes shut again. Then I realized what I’d just seen and my eyes flew open again. We were several thousand feet up and city lights glittered far below.
City lights! We were above a brilliant aura that could only be a major metropolitan area. “I thought the power was out everywhere!” I exclaimed.
“I have been working with other Seelie to see it restored,” he said with pride.
“Where are we?”
“Beneath us is your Atlanta. On the coast, the lights of Savannah.” He pointed. “There, Ashford. I told you I would keep your parents safe. When Barrons beat me by a mere matter of minutes in saving you, I turned my efforts to saving those who matter most to you. Barrons has still never spared them a thought. The Dark Zones that swallowed the cities nearest your home, threatening to spread, have been eradicated. Power is restored. Even now humans learn to defend themselves. My gift to you is your Georgia back.”
I stared down at the lights, then at him. “Could you do this for the whole world?”
“Much of our power stems from our ability to manipulate dimensions beyond yours, but the fabric of the human dimension is … viscous, thick; the laws of your physics are not as … bendable as ours. This alteration required much time, cooperation with other Seelie and many humans.”
In V’lane-speak, that translated to a no. He’d done this for me and would do no more.
“Your parents are safe. Would you like to see them?”
I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat. Mom and Dad were down there. One of those glittering lights beneath me, a mere sift away. They’d always been a mere sift away, but somehow, in Dublin, with four thousand miles between us, it had been easier to keep that fact blocked from my mind so I wouldn’t be tempted. So I wouldn’t hurt, or worry, or risk exposing their existence to my enemies, I’d crammed Mom and Dad into my padlocked box, with all my other forbidden thoughts. Was that what Alina had done with us, too?
I caught my breath. I shouldn’t. I knew better.
“Take me to the street outside The Brickyard,” I said. “I’ll walk from there.”
I was here and I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see my world again. I wanted to walk the oak- and magnolia-lined streets of my hometown. I wanted to stand outside my house and look up at my bedroom window. I wanted to see if I could find any trace of the girl I’d once been in these streets or if she’d been completely swallowed up by a dark Fae dream. I didn’t dare risk being seen, so I would have to stay to the shadows, but I’ve gotten good at that lately.
I lightly touched down, my boots settled on pavement.
There was The Brickyard, on its large lot, tucked between two antebellums. The lights were on inside and out. Nothing had changed. I hurried up the walk, peered into a window.
Oh, how wrong I was! Everything had changed. Ashford’s police force, firemen, the mayor, and about a hundred townspeople were inside, and I didn’t need to crack a window to know they were discussing strategy. The walls were down and the whole world knew it now. If there’d been national newspapers up and running, the headlines would be about nothing else. The Fae were visible, and here were the grass-roots efforts of my town to protect itself. I wanted to march in and help. Educate. Take up arms and protect.
“Your place and purpose are not here, MacKayla.”
I forced myself to turn away, melt, like a thief, into the night.
It was warm for January in Ashford, but that wasn’t so unusual. I’ve spent Christmases in ice storms. I’ve spent them in shorts and a T-shirt. Tonight was a jeans and tee night.
As I walked, I inhaled deeply. There was nothing blooming this time of year, but I swear the Deep South always smells of magnolias, wild azaleas, sweet tea, and somebody frying chicken somewhere. In a month, pansies would bloom all over the town—Ashford was nuts about pansies—followed by jonquils and tulips.
I was home. I smiled.
It was safe!
No Shades, no Unseelie, lights on everywhere.
I spun in a delighted circle in the middle of the street.
How I’d missed my world! How lost I’d felt so far away!
It all looked exactly the same. It felt as if I’d never left. As if three blocks down and two blocks over, I’d find Mom, Dad, and Alina playing Scrabble, waiting for me to get home from night class or work to join them (and get my petunia trounced, because Alina and Dad knew words that any reasonable person would have agreed shouldn’t be words at all, like “ort” and “quod”—really, who knew words like that?), and we’d laugh and I’d worry about what outfit to wear tomorrow and go to sleep with nothing more troubling on my mind than whether my petition to OPI to unretire my favorite shade had been heard. (It had, and they’d sent me a pretty pink-and-gold certificate conferring upon me the title of honorary OPI affiliate, which I’d hung with great pride next to my vanity, where I did my hair and makeup. Oh, the trials and tribulations of a sheltered youth.)
There was the Brooks’ house, proud white Southern columns at the top of a grand circular drive. There was the Jennings’ place, with its romantic turrets and loads of white lattice accents. I walked the streets, drinking in the sights. I’d always thought Ashford had such rich history, but it was really very young, only a few centuries, compared to Dublin’s millennia.
Then I was outside my house, standing in the street, sick with anticipation.
City lights! We were above a brilliant aura that could only be a major metropolitan area. “I thought the power was out everywhere!” I exclaimed.
“I have been working with other Seelie to see it restored,” he said with pride.
“Where are we?”
“Beneath us is your Atlanta. On the coast, the lights of Savannah.” He pointed. “There, Ashford. I told you I would keep your parents safe. When Barrons beat me by a mere matter of minutes in saving you, I turned my efforts to saving those who matter most to you. Barrons has still never spared them a thought. The Dark Zones that swallowed the cities nearest your home, threatening to spread, have been eradicated. Power is restored. Even now humans learn to defend themselves. My gift to you is your Georgia back.”
I stared down at the lights, then at him. “Could you do this for the whole world?”
“Much of our power stems from our ability to manipulate dimensions beyond yours, but the fabric of the human dimension is … viscous, thick; the laws of your physics are not as … bendable as ours. This alteration required much time, cooperation with other Seelie and many humans.”
In V’lane-speak, that translated to a no. He’d done this for me and would do no more.
“Your parents are safe. Would you like to see them?”
I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat. Mom and Dad were down there. One of those glittering lights beneath me, a mere sift away. They’d always been a mere sift away, but somehow, in Dublin, with four thousand miles between us, it had been easier to keep that fact blocked from my mind so I wouldn’t be tempted. So I wouldn’t hurt, or worry, or risk exposing their existence to my enemies, I’d crammed Mom and Dad into my padlocked box, with all my other forbidden thoughts. Was that what Alina had done with us, too?
I caught my breath. I shouldn’t. I knew better.
“Take me to the street outside The Brickyard,” I said. “I’ll walk from there.”
I was here and I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see my world again. I wanted to walk the oak- and magnolia-lined streets of my hometown. I wanted to stand outside my house and look up at my bedroom window. I wanted to see if I could find any trace of the girl I’d once been in these streets or if she’d been completely swallowed up by a dark Fae dream. I didn’t dare risk being seen, so I would have to stay to the shadows, but I’ve gotten good at that lately.
I lightly touched down, my boots settled on pavement.
There was The Brickyard, on its large lot, tucked between two antebellums. The lights were on inside and out. Nothing had changed. I hurried up the walk, peered into a window.
Oh, how wrong I was! Everything had changed. Ashford’s police force, firemen, the mayor, and about a hundred townspeople were inside, and I didn’t need to crack a window to know they were discussing strategy. The walls were down and the whole world knew it now. If there’d been national newspapers up and running, the headlines would be about nothing else. The Fae were visible, and here were the grass-roots efforts of my town to protect itself. I wanted to march in and help. Educate. Take up arms and protect.
“Your place and purpose are not here, MacKayla.”
I forced myself to turn away, melt, like a thief, into the night.
It was warm for January in Ashford, but that wasn’t so unusual. I’ve spent Christmases in ice storms. I’ve spent them in shorts and a T-shirt. Tonight was a jeans and tee night.
As I walked, I inhaled deeply. There was nothing blooming this time of year, but I swear the Deep South always smells of magnolias, wild azaleas, sweet tea, and somebody frying chicken somewhere. In a month, pansies would bloom all over the town—Ashford was nuts about pansies—followed by jonquils and tulips.
I was home. I smiled.
It was safe!
No Shades, no Unseelie, lights on everywhere.
I spun in a delighted circle in the middle of the street.
How I’d missed my world! How lost I’d felt so far away!
It all looked exactly the same. It felt as if I’d never left. As if three blocks down and two blocks over, I’d find Mom, Dad, and Alina playing Scrabble, waiting for me to get home from night class or work to join them (and get my petunia trounced, because Alina and Dad knew words that any reasonable person would have agreed shouldn’t be words at all, like “ort” and “quod”—really, who knew words like that?), and we’d laugh and I’d worry about what outfit to wear tomorrow and go to sleep with nothing more troubling on my mind than whether my petition to OPI to unretire my favorite shade had been heard. (It had, and they’d sent me a pretty pink-and-gold certificate conferring upon me the title of honorary OPI affiliate, which I’d hung with great pride next to my vanity, where I did my hair and makeup. Oh, the trials and tribulations of a sheltered youth.)
There was the Brooks’ house, proud white Southern columns at the top of a grand circular drive. There was the Jennings’ place, with its romantic turrets and loads of white lattice accents. I walked the streets, drinking in the sights. I’d always thought Ashford had such rich history, but it was really very young, only a few centuries, compared to Dublin’s millennia.
Then I was outside my house, standing in the street, sick with anticipation.
