❝You and me, darlin', we're gonna have a whale of a time...❞
Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, Tamsyn James has her first encounter with the Fae - a deadly group of beings from a place called the Otherworld. Not long after finding out she's one...
The chants persevered, in unsynchronized rhythm, whispering over and over until they rang in my ears. As I reached for the night lamp once again, I heard a gutteral snarl followed by a sharp stinging in wrist. I recoiled with a yelp, holding my injured arm close, breathing fast as hot liquid trickled down my wrist and between my fingers. Something had bitten me.
Desperate, I looked to the closed bedroom door, where a streak of yellow light beneath the frame manifested my escape like an exit sign. I gave up hope as the distance stretched into miles, until the door was nothing more than a pinhole in the distance.
The whispers finally ceased.
Trembling head to toe, I watched, speechless, as the objects on my dresser began to tap-dance. My comb, hair brush, makeup, and every bottle of nail polish, rose a foot in the air, spinning in some invisible tornado. My computer chair zipped around the room, the curtains fluttered like ghosts...
"Stop!" I smacked the mattress with my palms."I said STOP IT!"
Silence.
The dance stopped, but everything in the air remained suspended. I waited for them to fall. Eerily enough, they seemed to be waiting too.
The comb hurtled my way at full speed, striking my shoulder hard enough to drive me against the headboard. I ducked as the hair brush came flying next, and again when the curling iron followed.
Screw it. I wasn't about to stick around waiting for something larger and heavier to come next. I half-fell half-leaped from the bed, scrambling right back to it as nail polish hit the wall like bullets. I dived on the mattress, covering my head as more polish shattered against the tufted headboard, glass raining on my hair and shoulders.
Blessed light flooded the room.
Dad was frozen in the doorway, terry robe thrown hastily over his frayed t-shirt and pajama bottoms, light hair in disarray from slumber - and panic. Sleep wouldn't return easily for either of us that night.
"Tamsyn... are you okay?"
"Uh--yeah." I sat up, readjusting. "N-never better."
Dad said nothing. His gaze traveled from the messy walls, still dripping perfume and polish, lingering on the window, as if searching for signs of an intruder. But there was only me. His worry changed to disappointment and I knew then I'd made a bigger mess than broken glass.
"Is that blood?" He was finally prompted to step in the room - the bed sheets were splattered with red. Remembering the bite, I grabbed my wrist.
Nothing there.
"Bumped my elbow. Just a little scrape. I, um, had a nightmare." I swallowed. "Yeah, I-I think I was just... sleepwalking."
"Sleepwalking?" Dad folded his arms, brows raised.
I nodded, lower lip between my teeth.
"Right. Well, okay then. I'm just glad you're okay. I'll go get the vacuum."
Dad left; I closed my eyes and shook my head. Embarrassed, I bunched the sheets to hide the blood, then climbed out of bed to shake the glass from my hair.
"What the hell did you do to your room?" Margot was framed in the doorway. With her long blonde waves and wide blue eyes, my fourteen-year-old sister was a constant reminder of our mother, Margaret. Swan material, Margot's behavior was more ugly duckling; her self-esteem and manners took a real nose-dive when our mother left.
"It's late, you should be in bed."
"Okay, mom." She ran her tongue across her braces in contempt. "So you'll break your favorite perfume but you won't let your sister wear it? Nice. Your room smells like a whorehouse, by the way." Margot swept across the room in her Tweety pj's and opened the window, allowing a breeze to mix the heavy air.
The wind picked up; Margot folded her arms, honey locks streaming in the wind. "Something's up. You're not really okay, are you?"
I didn't roll my eyes on purpose, I swear it just happened. "Do you care?"
Margot's lips parted - but she said nothing. Confused, she grabbed her throat and cleared it, raised a finger, then cleared it again. "Uh, sorry, what was the question?"
"Do. You. Care."
"Right. And my answer to you is..." She winced, lips twisting in and out of their their normal heart shape to form words that just wouldn't come. She winced, then trembled, her slender body shaking like a twig as she battled her way through some violent internal struggle.
"Unbelievable." I rolled my eyes at the resident drama queen. "Alright, Margie. I get it. You can quit being dramatic."
"Of-course-I-care-you're-my-sister-I-freaking-love-you-so-freaking-much!" Margot gave a little scream, eyes wide as her black-painted nails flew to her lips. "Shit! That's not what I meant!"
"Then why did you say it?" I scoffed and went back to picking glass from the sheets.
"I-I dunno why I said it. It was like... like I didn't have a choice."
The fright in Margot's voice was as palpable as the chill down my spine. I rounded on her with more force than necessary. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dad cleared his throat before she could answer; Margot fled the room.
"Do I need to know?" He tapped the vacuum, waiting.
"Trust me, Dad. It's better in the dark."
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