Vera didn't stop to greet her mother and sisters before flying up the stairs and disappearing into her room. She flung the door shut, too preoccupied by the secrets kept by the old tome to care that the slam echoed throughout the whole manor. Once safely alone, tucked away in her quarters and out of sight of prying eyes, she launched herself onto her four-poster bed and dumped out the contents of her purse onto the duvet. The old tome left a spot of dust on the blanket, but she didn't care. It flung dust in her face when she flipped it open, but she didn't care—even though it took several painful coughs before her nose stopped tingling.
The book consisted of several different records and accounts all bound together into a single volume. Many were signed by former Council members, which made her skin prickle with unease. It was definitely not something that was intended to leave the watchful eyes of the High Council and the librarians, much less the grand library itself. She silently thanked her father as she flipped through the weathered pages, letting her eyes wander the script for anything of interest. Project 0-29 appeared multiple times, each instance more glaring than the last, but nothing disclosed what it truly was—she had never even heard of it before the argument in the library, but now it seemed like it was everywhere she looked. Her curiosity burned, but she skimmed past it in search of mentions of the beast, all while something at the back of her mind sang with the possibility of stealing its magic for herself. Some childish part of her entertained the idea that perhaps she was born to conquer it, that it was a gift from a higher power for her, not to torment her people. Rolling her eyes, she squashed that silly dream. It was more likely that it was just another trial to overcome, another obstacle that must be defeated to maintain balance between the fae and human worlds—all to keep everything from crashing down around them.
Anti-magic creature. The words appeared at the top of one of the pages and she stopped, flattening the book open. The handwriting had changed, suggesting a new author from the previous accounts she had been skimming. Neither "fae-killer" nor "beast" were used in the account, but the record seemed old enough that perhaps the terms had not yet been put into use. Pursing her lips, she read on. It stalks the west woods at the edge of the research labs. It looks for those that wander beyond the city's protective barrier. Clearly in search of weak prey and is not interested in a difficult or exhausting hunt.
Vera frowned. The west side of the city was abandoned nearly a hundred years ago. All research was pulled into the city's center along with any residents who used to live near that area. The barrier had since been strengthened, but the Council had never disclosed why. According to them, the west side was shut down due to a series of explosions from a rogue rune experiment. No unauthorized personnel were permitted to approach that area. Now, she couldn't help but wonder if the beast had managed to slip through as it picked off outliers and slowly weakened magic's primal source, thereby weakening the old barrier.
Rolling over, she fumbled for a pen and a scrap of paper atop her nightstand. "West woods," she muttered to herself as she scrawled a series of notes. If she was to hunt the beast, that was the best place to start. Satisfied, she turned to the tome again.
We engaged it from a distance one afternoon as it crept by, the notes continued. They were dated, but the month and year had been smudged beyond recognition. It seems impervious to elemental spells, and the process of drawing runes made defending against it too difficult. It is quicker than we are; it knows magic deep within its being, whereas we must know it in our minds to employ its strength. When struck with an arrow, it reacted as if hurt and fled. I believe that, since it is a physical being, it is not immune to weapons.
"Weapons," Vera echoed, penning the word as she said it. "Something long range." She couldn't recall having seen an old fashioned bow and arrow in the family's collection of weaponry, nor even a newer model of crossbow. Her father and brothers were much more enamored with modern weaponry—Wyn in particular. His shiny shotgun came to mind again and she chewed the inside of her cheek. She would never be able to convince him to let her borrow it, but she had picked up enough from observing his shooting to wield it.
Barely containing her smile, she continued to read. We plan to lead a hunting party to catch and kill the rogue beast. Its power is too great to be left alone. With each kill, it grows stronger. It is a mistake that must be corrected before it grows beyond our control.
She flipped the page, eager for the next report. Blank paper stared back at her, its only mark being an ink blot that had seeped through from the writing on the other side. It seemed the hunting party was a failure, though there were still many pages left in the tome. Perhaps someone else had better luck than the unnamed author of that section.
Stretching, she flung the book onto her nightstand. Her mind hummed with elation, fingers jittery with excitement. The rumors made it sound like an insurmountable task, but it was merely the fear of being unable to use magic that kept the Council from properly disposing of the creature. While they busied themselves with their failed experiments and desperate attempts to craft new spells that might wound it, she would slip out into the woods and kill it before they even discovered she was missing.
Use your head, Vera. Despite her confidence, her father's words rang in her ears, a warning that haunted her with the ghost of past mistakes made in the efforts to hunt the fae-killer. It was too early to feel self-assured, to feel proud of herself. She patted the tome's dusty cover. "I understand, Father," she murmured as she rose from her bed. "But this is something that only I can do."
Slowly, she crept over to her window and brushed the curtains aside. The courtyard sprawled out below her, allowing her a clear view of the arena in the distance. Moonlight gleamed on the gate, illuminating a shadowed figure behind it. For whatever reason, Wyn was obeying her word for once. Beaming, she fled the window and left her room.
It was dark when she emerged into the hall. A single oil lamp still burned atop the cabinet outside Eileen's room at the other end of the hallway, and its weak orange light was all that kept the shifting shadows at bay. Vera leaned over the banister; the house below was quiet. Somewhere farther inside, likely the parlor from the way the sound echoed, her mother was humming an eerie tune to herself. She was no doubt working on her own embroidery late into the night as she often did and would be thoroughly engrossed in her work. Satisfied, Vera inched toward Wyn's door. She tried the brass knob. It jiggled, and the door opened without trouble. A sly smile lifted her lips as she slipped inside.
Pale moonlight streamed through the large, floor-to-ceiling window across from the door. The curtains fluttered in the late night breeze and a subtle chill lingered in the air. Wyn's bed was a mess of tangled blankets and pillows strewn about the floor, along with yesterday's clothes. Vera wrinkled her nose and turned away from the disastrous corner of the room to the large fireplace and the gun on display above it. Silver hooks proudly held the weapon aloft; it stood out beautifully against the crushed velvet casing that lined the back of the case. Gold runes sparkled along the shotgun's barrel; they hummed with the faint presence of an enchantment, though she had no clue what power it had been gifted.
Carefully, quietly, Vera dragged his desk chair over and climbed atop it. Her fingers skimmed the cold metal of the gun, teeming with magical energy.
"What are you doing?" came a tiny voice from the doorway.
Vera leapt away from the gun, nearly toppling out of the chair. Her arms pinwheeled until she regained her balance. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she swung to face the figure.
Her youngest sister, Paige, stared up at her with innocent confusion in her round green eyes. Dressed in her nightgown, her nighty in one arm and her shoulders slumped with sleepiness, she didn't seem like much of a threat. If Vera's luck was good, Paige would sleep and not recall the encounter. Yet on the other hand, Paige was at the age where tattling on her siblings' business was a rite of passage. Vera chewed her lip and climbed down.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked. She put her arm on her sister's shoulder and steered her back out into the hallway. Dropping her voice, she added, "You know Mother will scold you if she catches you up this late."
Paige yawned. Her little fangs had yet to grow in—she could almost pass for a human child if it weren't for her pointed ears. "Silas says we're fae of the moon. I don't need a bedtime."
"You're not even fifty yet. You still need a bedtime and plenty of rest so you can grow big and strong. Besides..." Vera bent down, holding Paige's shy gaze. "When Silas was your age, he slept all the time. If he could, I bet he'd still have a bedtime."
Paige wrinkled her little button nose. "You're making that up."
Vera shrugged. "Am I? You should ask him tomorrow." With a quick kiss to Paige's head, she began to close the door. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Vera." Satisfied and oblivious to the fact that her question was never answered, Paige turned and went on her way. Her stuffed toy trailing on the ground behind her as she toddled down the hall.
Vera breathed a sigh of relief, sinking against the door as it shut. Panic and adrenaline still coursed through her, and her limbs were shaky with its effects. As long as Paige didn't snitch before morning, she was safe. She would be gone by the time her sister awoke again. It wouldn't matter then that she had been spotted.
This time, she slipped the shotgun from its mighty place without issue. It was heavy in her hands, cold to the touch like Wyn's ice, but not unbearably so. She quickly returned to the chair and, after ensuring everything was as it had been before she came in, slipped out into the hall and snuck back to her room. Eileen's lantern had gone out—even her mother's eerie song that floated up from the first floor of the manor had stopped. Vera smiled to herself. Moon fae need rest, too, Paige.
With Wyn's prized shotgun safely in her grasp, Vera returned to her room to prepare for her journey to the west woods.
*arms Vera with a gun* Go forth and cause chaos, my child. I'm sure nothing will go wrong!
I don't usually write at night but it was pretty late when I decided to write this chapter. I guess I just wanted to really experience that late night motivation Vera has. Needless to say, I definitely needed a long, long nap after that, so Paige would be disappointed in me.
See you in the next chapter! :D