Fair Deception

Chp. 5, Part I

"Hey!" Broch said, backing away with his hands up, palms towards me in surrender.

"Were you following me?" I asked sharply.

"Kind of yeah. I thought I saw you turning down here, but wasn't certain if it was you," he replied, slightly abashed as he lowered his hands. "Are you okay?" I looked him up and down; his body was relaxed but his expression was concerned. He caught my eye, "Anastasia, are you okay?"

I began to shake my head and then, to my intense chagrin, tears started to well in my eyes. After a momentary pause, Broch stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around me. I just let myself be held, and unexpectedly felt my body relax in his arms, however, leaves rustled in the bushes further up the alley. Tensing, I turned my head away from him to look at where the sound had come from. We were both still, but nothing else happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, I became very aware of Broch's body held against mine. I stepped away from him and then let out an unintentional whimper as pain shot through my leg.

"Are you hurt?"

"It's just my calf."

To my surprise, Broch crouched down to examine my leg and then breathed in sharply. "What did this?" he demanded with a stony voice and stood back up.

"I honestly don't know," I replied, uncertain how much to say. Broch's calm, green eyes bore into mine as he waited for me to continue. "I think it was Unseelie - he mentioned Zeph."

A flicker of anger crossed Broch's expression, but it left as quickly as it had appeared and his face returned to its usual, unreadable smoothness. However, his tone was unusually brusque, "It needs to be cleaned."

"I am aware," I snapped back at him and we both stared at each other. Still standing too close for comfort, I felt the tension fizzle as neither of us were willing to back down. I broke it by pivoting and continuing to walk through the alley. Broch was soon at my side and offered to put his arm under mine, to help me walk. I turned him down, more comfortable walking on my own.

"At least let me carry your bag?" Stopping, I allowed him to take it off my shoulder, but then continued to limp along. "This isn't light, what's in it?"

"Training weapons," I responded through gritted teeth; each step felt like daggers were being stabbed into my leg. Feeling Broch's eyes on my face, I kept mine on the ground in front of me; not wanting to see the pity in his expression.

We made our way slowly through the streets until we got close to my house, and then I stumbled against a low boundary wall. Broch's hand was immediately there to steady me but I glared at him. I was surprised at my own reaction. "Sorry," I mumbled and he nodded in understanding.

We made it the rest of the way in silence. After unlocking the door, I breathed a small prayer of thanks that Jenna was still out. I turned to Broch, "Do you want to come in?" He looked surprised by the invite but stepped inside after me.

"You can just leave my bag there please, I'll sort it later."

He put my bag down on the hall floor and then followed me into the kitchen. Knowing I was now home and safe, I felt myself relax a little. I told Broch to sit down, grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard and then slumped onto the chair next to him. He watched me closely as I peeled up my legging and gasped at the sight of four, bloody gashes running through my calf. Once I'd kicked off my trainers and bloody socks, unscrewed the surgical spirit and drenched a cotton pad in the clear liquid, I took a steadying breath. Gingerly, I cleaned the area around the gashes, using three pads to clear all the dried blood. I doused another cotton pad and paused, closing my eyes with apprehension.

"Let me?" Broch asked quietly.

"Are you sure?"

He stood, picked up the cotton pads and surgical spirit, then folded to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me. After taking the pad from my hand, he paused, "There's some dirt and fluff dried in; so this is going to sting."

I was about to respond but he immediately began to clean the first gash and all that came out of my mouth was a hiss of air. Broch didn't look at me and instead kept cleaning. It started to bleed again but he didn't pause or lighten the pressure.

Throwing the blood soaked cotton pad in the bin, he prepped another one and started on the second gash. This one was deeper, more painful, and I could feel a familiar pulse building behind my eyes as I registered the pain. I closed them tightly and clenched my jaw, waiting for the headache that seemed to accompany the uncomfortable eye-pulsing, but it didn't come. I kept my lids closed and Broch carried on cleaning the cuts.

"I'm done," he said eventually. I opened my eyes and gasped at the sight in front of me. Broch's skin had developed a shimmering, green tint and the very bones in his face seemed to have become more angular; his cheekbones were high and proud, his brow cut firmly and his jawline so sharp it cast an almost black shadow onto his neck. I reached out to touch his hair, which had turned from sandy blonde to the fairest white, and his lips parted when a sigh of surprise escaped through them. As my fingers trailed through his delicate locks, they briefly felt the end of pointed ears and I heard his breathing hitch. The noise made my eyes dart to his beautiful green ones.

"What are you?" I heard myself ask in wonder. He simply gaped at me and I came back down to earth. I pulled my hand back and tried to breathe evenly. Broch was still sitting at my feet but smoothly rose onto one knee and pulled his face barely inches away from mine. He was staring at my eyes, not to make eye contact with me, but examining them with purpose. After a few long seconds, I leaned away from him and he stood up, grabbing my hand and leading me to the mirror hung up in the hall. He faced the mirror and then stood me in front of him.

"Your eyes," is all he said by way of explanation.

I tore my gaze away from his unusually coloured face and looked closely at my eyes in the mirror. Initially, I thought they looked a little brighter blue, but then I noticed it was more electric in colour and the edge of my irises had a dark blue ring. This was unusual, however, it was my pupils that made the eyes staring back at me look as if they belonged to someone else - they had changed in shape. The pupils were tipped with predatorial points near the bottom and top. Mesmerised, I stared at the eyes in the mirror. What had happened to them? Shutting them slowly, I gently rubbed my closed lids. When the pulsing ebbed, I opened my eyes again and found them, and Broch, had resumed their normal appearances. I turned to face him.

"What was that?" I said, my voice soft.

"I have no idea," he replied, placing a gentle hand on my jaw and lifting my face upwards to stare intently at my eyes. After a few seconds of staring determinedly at the ceiling, I locked eyes with him. I could feel a warmth starting to spread through my body and thought how soft his hand felt against my skin. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I blinked and turned my head to the door as if I had heard something. The moment broke and Broch stepped back from me.

"We should probably get a bandage on your leg," he said quietly and walked through to the kitchen. I clenched my fist, to steady the bubbling sensation located somewhere between my heart and stomach, then followed him.