Desert Tales (6 page)

“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.

C
HAPTER
7

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.

“I need to talk to him,” Rika said. At Jayce's nod, she released his hand reluctantly and went to stand beside Sionnach. In a very low voice, she told the faery, “Maili's in need of a few reminders of her place . . .”

“No courts out here, princess,” Sionnach murmured softly enough that Jayce wouldn't hear. “Rule of strength or influence.”

She growled a little and said, “They're acting like animals.” She reached up to check the injuries on his face, touching him as she only did when he'd come to her injured and seeking help. “That's my fault. . . . I'm—”

“Shhh.” Sionnach stepped away, leaving Rika with one hand still in the air, and turned his attention to Jayce. “So . . . Jayce, right?”

Jayce nodded. “And you're . . . ?”

“Sionnach,” he said, drawing out the word so it sounded like “shhh knock.” The faery circled Jayce, not looking very human. He leaned in behind Jayce and sniffed him. “If it's easier, you can call me ‘Shy.'”

“Thanks for the help at the club, Sionnach,” Jayce said levelly.

Jayce either didn't notice or didn't care that Sionnach had just sniffed him. Rika had spent enough time with Jayce that she couldn't say she was completely surprised by how well he'd reacted to everything so far; he was naturally mellow. But Rika didn't like Sionnach acting more like an animal than a human. He wasn't even playing at being one of them right now; he
could
act like a human. She'd seen it, but right now, he was acting like himself. Seeing him around Jayce, being so much the solitary faery, made Rika remind herself that he
was
all faery; he wasn't someone she should trust. He was and had always been a faery, one with motivations she'd never wanted to understand—and still didn't.

She scowled at him, thinking back on his earlier visit, when he had so casually told her that he knew that Jayce was in danger and that he'd done nothing about it.

However, Sionnach was well accustomed to her censure after several decades of their friendship. He merely folded his arms and gave her a wide smile. He sniffed Jayce again.

“Stop it, Sionnach.” Rika stepped between them and took Jayce's hand. Then, she walked toward the same pallet where she'd been sitting when Sionnach had visited earlier and sat, tugging Jayce down beside her in the process.

Jayce looked a bit amused, no longer seeming as perplexed as when they'd first arrived or as awed as when they were in the tunnel. He leaned back against the wall, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and then looked from her to Sionnach and back again. “You're both a little unusual.”

“Quite,” Sionnach said, and then he laughed.

Rika knew him well enough to understand that he approved of how Jayce was responding to the situation. A lot of people would be freaking out over her cave home, the fight, the speed at which they'd moved, and Sionnach's odd behavior. Jayce wasn't. Still, Rika told Sionnach, “I can't ask him to stay here.”

“I don't mind,” Jayce said softly from beside her. “I'd like to spend more time with you.”

Rika glanced at him, but didn't speak. She
couldn't
. The flare of happiness inside of her threatened to make her sound like even more of a fool than she probably already had. By all rights, Jayce should be fleeing. He should be trying to escape her, wondering if she was crazed and dangerous. She didn't understand why he wasn't, and she wasn't sure she wanted to ask.

Still staring at her, Jayce added, “I can go get my gear and—”

In an almost human-like walk, Sionnach went to a shadowed edge of the room. When he retrieved a rucksack and bedroll and dropped them on the ground in front of Rika and Jayce, they broke their locked gaze and looked at Sionnach instead.

“How? Where? . . . Never mind.” Jayce smiled wryly and shook his head. “I'm guessing you're part of the I-can't-answer-questions team.”

“Oh, I'll tell you anything you want to know. Ask away.” Sionnach sounded somewhere between amused and malicious, and Rika wondered what game he was playing at.

After a tension-filled pause, Jayce asked, “Anything?”

With a speed too quick to truly appear human, Rika stood and snatched hold of Sionnach's arm. “Move, Shy.
Now
.”

She pulled him away from Jayce, toward the door, so they could speak in relative privacy.

“Oh my . . . Are
you
asking
me
to keep secrets, princess?” He widened his eyes, but his tone was very serious, and Rika was reminded yet again that he had always been a faery. “Are you telling me that it's okay to keep secrets from those we care about?”

There were layers of meanings under his words that she couldn't begin to fathom. The tension had grown thick, but Rika couldn't decide if it was anger or something else that was driving the fox faery. She released his arm. If she were any other faery in the desert, Sionnach would've reacted as if she'd just challenged his authority.

“Rika?” he prompted. His gaze told her there were more things hidden in his words than she knew. She wasn't sure, though, what he was thinking as he waited for her reply—any more than she was sure what her reply was.

Do I think keeping secrets is okay?
That was his question. She simply wasn't sure why her answer mattered to Sionnach, but it was apparent that it did. To some degree she had to believe that it was okay to keep secrets. Elsewise, she would have to tell Jayce how often she'd watched him. She rolled the question over in her mind. There was no way the fox faery meant it to be purely a question about her and Jayce. She knew that much at least.

Behind her, she heard movement, and glanced back as Jayce stood and grabbed his things from where Sionnach had deposited them. He started toward the entrance to the cave. “You two obviously have something to sort out, so I can—”

“Please don't go.” Stricken, Rika stepped farther away from Sionnach and shot a plaintive glance at him, wordlessly asking him to be less . . . him, less fey.

“She wants
you
here.” Sionnach stepped in front of Jayce. “I took care of what needed taken care of so you could be here with Rika. Don't waste this chance.”

And then he left the cave.

Rika was utterly motionless for a moment, Jayce on one side, Sionnach outside the cave opening. She was confused by Sionnach's help, by his actions here tonight, and by the way he'd seemingly helped push Jayce toward her while saying such things that made her wonder if she really knew the fox faery at all.

Carefully, she touched Jayce's forearm. “Please stay here for a minute. I need to talk to him, but I'll be right back.” She swallowed nervously and then added in a rush, “I really want you to stay . . . not just for your safety, but because . . . I
want
you here. He's my friend though, and I need to find out what happened, and he doesn't want to talk in front of you. Please just give me a minute.”

After a moment, Jayce sighed and said, “Why not?” Then he walked toward one of the tunnels with his bag without saying anything else.

As soon as Jayce disappeared into the tunnels, Rika ran outside and found Sionnach staring at the desert. He'd slid to the far side of the ledge in front of her cave, precariously perched so he wasn't visible from inside, and Rika wondered briefly if he'd stood out here like this when she was unaware of it. Right now, that wouldn't surprise her.

“What did you do to get his things?” Rika demanded in a whisper.

“Nothing special.” Then in a blink Sionnach suddenly looked like Jayce, but still dressed in his own clothing. “Just a simple glamour, princess. You might only use them to stay hidden, but there's a world of possibilities. I stopped at Jayce's house before I came out here so I could explain to Jayce's father that I'd be off camping with Del . . . and then stopped and told Del I'd met the girl of my dreams and was going to see her.”

Rika blushed. “I'm not—”

Sionnach was still wearing Jayce's face as he said, “The girl of my dreams? You are. You're one of the most amazing”—he pulled her into his arms, holding her in a position appropriate for slow dancing or kissing—“gorgeous”—he stroked her hair—“unusual girls I've ever met. Who wouldn't want to hide away with you?”

When Rika didn't reply, Sionnach leaned in like he was going to kiss her. “And you believe in me enough that you aren't seeing through the glamour . . . or are you seeing the real me right now, Rika?”

Rika remained immobile in his embrace. Her hands were on his upper chest, and that was all that kept any distance between them. Then, she said his name, half question she didn't want answered and half answer to the question he'd posed. “Shy?”

The glamour faded, and Sionnach looked at her from his own face. He kissed her nose, a strangely innocent act after the hungry way he'd just been looking at her. “I'll be back in a few days, princess. Go see Jayce.”