Faebreaker

8: Nothing but a Monster

Isla could not shift even if it meant saving her own life.

The faebreaker had thrown her into a basement, the doors to it locked firmly from the outside with ringed chains. She'd pleaded for mercy, pushing the doors wildly with the palms of her hands. But all she'd earned was a hateful strike from the door's otherside, causing her to jump and fall backwards in surprise. And a crow that cawed nonstop for three minutes straight.

The beast didn't stir within her anymore. Had the pure iron somehow managed to purge its spirit from her? She didn't know, she didn't care, she merely drew invisible shapes on the dirt floor to pass time, shrouded in darkness. A small beam of light shined through the thin crack in the basement door, teasing at hope.

Feeling the side of her face, the burn still twinged with pain, raw to the touch. Shutting her eyes, she imagined what she might look like now. Like some fruit left sitting in the sun for too long.

She thought about the beast. While she wanted it to come back...Isla now experienced a feeling of freedom she hadn't felt in her heart and mind for the longest time.

"Come back," she beckoned.

"..."

"Come back."

"..."

Still no answer. Was it dead? Had the cut of the faebreaker's pure iron sword simply been enough? She laughed under her breath. Unbelievable. "Actually, good," she reasoned. "Stay away." She didn't need it. No, she didn't want it anymore, to be under the influence of its sick urges. It'd been fun, for certain. But no, not anymore. Let me be free.

Time passed, and a tiredness came over her, but when she tried to sleep, the basement's doors shook with a rattle.

"It's in there, right?" Feena's voice. Isla's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

"Have at her, but don't let her linger for long." The faebreaker—no, the highwayman. "Pure iron can stop their shape shifting, so I've heard, but not forever. She must be executed within the week."

"Not forever?" Isla whispered. "No..." She wanted it to be forever.

Then the doors swung open, letting in Feena, as well as the blinding light from outside. Isla shut her eyes, shielding them with her hands.

"You," Feena said. "Up."

Isla got to her feet, still shielding herself. "I am sorry."

"Sorry?" Feena laughed in disbelief. "Are you—are you serious?" An iron prod dangled at her side, red hot and glowing. "The way he screamed..."

Isla blinked, unsure of what to say besides making an apology. "I'm sorry," she said again, fear gripping her by the throat as she had trouble swallowing. "But don't you love MacGregor?"

It was a funny question for her to ask. Feena looked down ashamedly, hiding her face behind a blanket of darkness. "I'd wanted to kill Charles many times," she began, shaking her head. "But not like that. I only wanted to break his heart and leave him for good."

"I don't understand."

Feena scoffed, as though this whole situation was a load of horse shit. "You can't possibly understand. Charles was the man who helped me heal away the wounds my father'd given me long ago."

Isla was genuinely curious. "What happened?"

"It's not your business, but I'll tell you this." She shook her head. "For all the love he gave me, he gave me the hate to match it as well."

"Then that was MacGregor who had me drawn here," Isla said, piecing things together. She wasn't sure as to whether she still wanted to eat him or not. If he'd treat Feena right, then why bother?