“Your home,” She repeated, still looking on at the groups of people ahead, two different species intermingling and coexisting as one large community.

“Come.” Fallon pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her towards the mass of people. As they dodged and zigzagged, Jess couldn’t help but stare at those with wings like his.

They entered a small cave in a corner opposite the water. Letting Jess enter first, he watched as she explored. A desk with a stool shared the wall with the door, a large, empty, bookcase was on one wall to the left and a comfy chair on the right. Along the same wall was an entrance to another smaller room. Inside a full-sized bed with only a cozy quilted top and two overstuffed pillows.

“These are your quarters during your stay with us.” Fallon stood alone at the doorway. The bustle of the residents behind his slightly fanned wings.

Whirling around, her shock did not go unnoticed. “My stay? How long do you plan to keep me here?”

Straightening away from the doorway, he slowly approached her. Bending at the knees he placed his strong hands on her shoulder. "As long as you like.” Bowing his head for a moment, his wings rose with his shoulders as he took a deep breath. Steadier, it seemed, he met her eyes.

Green. They were green. Though the light was dim, with only a lone lamp on the nightstand to light the room, she could make out his eye color when he looked at her this time. They were a gorgeous green. The kind found in a field of clovers.

“You are a guest here, Jessandra.” He said. The scary thing was that he truly believed what he was saying. “The longer you stay among us, the clearer both of our futures become.”

Throwing her arms up she broke his hold and stepped away. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what the hell you are talking about.” Looking past his shoulder to the people milling about outside, she noticed that not one of those with wings were female.

“Just," she said, taking a deep breath, holding it and blowing it out slowly. "Tell me,” she whispered, a little steadier.

Resigned, he heaved a sigh before he moved past her to the desk. Pulling out the stool beneath it, he sat. His wings seemed to droop behind him.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, only stared down at his hands. “I am Fomorian. We are Fomorian. An ancient race existing before the Tuatha De arrived to this world.” There was a pregnant pause before he went on. “Before Amergin drove them to ground, the Tuatha De King, Lugh, told us they would share our caves in peace. But he was killed in battle and the Seelie who took his place, King Sylus, did not uphold to our bargain, betraying us.” The last was said with a sneer. “Taking our females and young as slaves, using their safety as leverage against the males to do their bidding.”

"Who the hell is Amergin?" She spat, lost already.

"It doesn't matter," he dodged, not wanting to get sidetracked.

"I beg to differ, since I'm the one who was just kidnapped," Jess argued.

Fallon ground his back teeth for a moment. She saw she'd obviously irritated him and couldn't have cared less.

"Amergin was the druid who helped man, the ancestors of the people today, to defeat the faery, as well as the Fomorians, winning the last war fought with magic."

He wasn't making any sense. The things he was telling her couldn’t possibly exist, Jess would have told herself yesterday. Today was a whole different story. Before the sun even rose, stuff she’d only ever heard about in fairy tales and horror flicks were suddenly real. She shouldn’t believe it. Everything she’d been taught before now, told her to deny it as truth and to turn away. Now she wasn’t sure what to think of it. She was sure of one thing, though, with absolute certainty, and that was that he had wings. And the majority of the beings on the other side of that door did too. She couldn't argue with what her own eyes told her. So she rolled with it.

“What sort of things?” She’d sunk into the floral wing backed chair, feet gone numb. "What sort of things do they have you do?"

He started to open his mouth to answer but suddenly his eyes zeroed in on her leg, what he saw had him frowning.

“What?” She asked, looking down at herself, spotting right away what it was that caught his attention. The scrape on her knee from when she’d fallen during his little hunting game, drew which blood that had dried and crusted over. Small pebbles of dirt and grime caught in it, making it look particularly nasty.

“You’re injured,” Fallon pointed out before moving through the room to the bathroom. He could be heard thumping around in there, a cabinet or two slamming, before he returned, carrying a small white plastic case with a big reg plus sign painted on the outside and a wet wash cloth.

Before she could say otherwise, he set the washcloth on top of the wound to loosen the dried blood. As the damp cloth did its job, he popped open the case and pulled out a cotton ball, a bottle of what looked like ointment of some sort and a bandage. Before he could lift the cloth up and inspect the progress, she placed a hand on top of it.

Caught off guard, his eyes snapped up to her in askance. She sighed a little before she asked, again, “What do they have you do, Fallon?”

He took a moment to remove the cloth and gently wipe away the particles of asphalt and other types of rock, possibly using the reprieve to think over his answer. Finally, he spoke, all the while working on her knee. “Artifact retrieval, delivering.... messages, kidnappings,” he looked imploringly up at the ceiling when he said the last, “Assassinations.” Turning his attention back to her leg he found that the scrape was as clean as it was going to get. Then he dabbed the cotton with whatever was in the small bottle and applied it to the broken skin. It didn’t sting, but the air reacted to it and made it feel cooler suddenly. Sending a quick shiver through her that did not go unnoticed by him. Looking up, he pulled the cotton away and leaned forward to blow gently on it to help it dry. It was just a short breath’s worth, no more than three seconds. But in those three seconds, her underwear went from dry to soaked.

As he discarded the cotton, he peeled open the adhesive bandage and applied it deftly over her skin. Satisfied with his handy work, he went about cleaning up the first aid paraphernalia. While he did, she thought over what he had said. She understood how he differentiated between what he had done to her from the others in his past.

“You’re their lackey’s. Their errand boys, because they’re blackmailing you.” Family she understood. Her parents were a solid unit against the world and they were always there for her and her younger sister. She didn’t know what she would do if anyone ever threatened Alyss.

“Yes. And, though we are ashamed of it, we would do it all over again to assure their safety.” Standing, he strode quickly to the doorway, looking out to his friends and neighbors.

“How long has it been? Since you’ve been their slaves?” She remained seated, not sure if her legs were sturdy enough.

“Over three thousand years,” he growled.

Filling her lungs, she slowly let it out before standing behind him on legs that started to tingle with stirrings of life again. That was a long time. That was…before Jesus, she thought. She couldn’t possibly imagine what that did to these people. For a split second, she recalled the book of Exodus, about the Hebrew slaves and Moses. Not the same thing, granted, but it took a great movement and a god to free those people. They were lacking a God and she may not be wielding a staff of God, but she didn’t want to turn down the chance to help him because of some minor details.

“Alright, so you have me. What now?” When he swung around, relief plainly etched onto his face, she held her hands out in front of her.

“I want to help, but I won't be killing anyone," she clarified letting arms relax to her sides. She knew what Moses did, with the help of God. Striking down those who refused to free his people. Not that she was condemning it, just that she didn’t think she had it in her to do it herself. He hadn’t mentioned taking anyone’s life, but she wasn’t stupid. Something like this didn’t occur quietly and peacefully.

“You won't have to kill anyone.” He grinned now and in the light, she could see his elongated canines.

“I, ah...” she started to say, distracted though by the animal like teeth he sported. “Ahem...” she cleared her throat. “I won't be held prisoner either. When I want to leave, to visit or just take a break from here, you’ll let me.” She said, making sure that her voice didn’t waiver too much.

“Agreed. However, only if you go with an escort, for your safety, not to keep you here.” Though he couldn’t help but smile, she could see he wouldn’t be moved on the subject.

“I can live with that, I guess.” At the idea of the major changes her life faced, a giddiness washed through her, forcing a smile to reflect his. Remembering, she pointed accusingly at him, “And you have to explain the fangs.”

He made her wait about the fangs and suggested she take a few hours to rest and change. The new morning meant the end of the day for him and his people, as well as herself, she realized. It was still hard to believe that the scariest night of her life turned out to be the moment that she might either regret in the future or be thankful for. At the moment so much was up in the air, questions unanswered, some of which she knew she’d have even more questions for, even. She slept, fitfully, for maybe a couple hours, but not before she ran the whole night through her head from start to finish. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary as she left for work, but then, it was still daylight out, would he have been there already, checking that he had the right apartment? He seemed unsure that she was who he was looking for. Could there be another Jessandra Elizabeth in New York, the person he was really looking for? Shit, he hadn’t even said my last name right when he’d asked me to confirm my identity. This could still be all a misunderstanding. Except, one thing was for certain. At that very moment, as she considered the simple slim and long mirror hanging on the bathroom door, she didn't feel threatened at all. She didn't feel like her life was in danger or that she needed to find a way out or get back home. Did that just mean she was crazy or that she truly believed that he meant her no harm and her curiosity had her beyond intrigued? Taking a deep breath, she considered the plain bootcut blue jeans that she had left thrown on her bed the day before, and the rose V-neck stretch cotton t-shirt she wore weren't terrible but nowhere near flashy either. It will just have to do for Fallon’s little “gathering,” as he called it.

 

 

“My friends. My family. I welcome you tonight with the honor of presenting our salvation. The goddess has blessed us with her presence, answering our prayers.”

As Fallon spoke in the large domed room above ground, addressing all the residents she had seen below, and more, she stood in the entrance to the cavern, looking up at the mass of people in their seats lining the walls.             

“Jessandra Elizabeth NicManahan.” He held his hand out to her, standing on a raised platform in the center.

Tentatively, she stepped out from her hiding place, aware that she was blushing from head to toe. Stepping up beside him, she met a few pairs of eyes. Most were smiling while others looked more surprised than anything else.

“As the blood heir of the Seelie Court, she will lead us all to peace."  No matter the differences, applause roared against the marble.

Except for Jess.

“Wait.” Grabbing his arm, she halted him. “What?”

Still drunk on happiness, he looked down at her shocked, pale face. “You are the heir of the Seelie Court. The Sunlit faeries.” He broke it down for her. “And our secret weapon.”

Now grasping him for fear of falling, her only thought was, Holy crap.

 

 

"What game are you playing?" Jess demanded as soon as they were back in her room. Whirling around, she pinned him with a deadly stare. They were only a foot apart, so she had to crane her neck back to meet his eyes.

Genuine shock crossed his face. She wasn’t going to be fooled again. No-sir-ree.

"Game? I'm not sure I know what you mean." Uncomfortable under her angry gaze, his wings seemed to curve slightly forward, hovering over his shoulders. If she weren't so angry she might have found it intriguing.

"You expect me to believe that I'm some long-lost princess of this ancient court of faeries?" She spat that last word, tasting like battery acid.

"You are." He demanded, confusion filling his eyes until realization dawned. "You didn’t know."

"Know what? That I could fly? Nope." She bounced on the balls of her toes as her voice rose. "Seemed to have missed out on that bit of info."

From his scowl, she could tell he didn't appreciate her sarcasm.

"Your mother was King Sylus Manahan's daughter. Royal princess and heir to his throne." This was all wrong. Her mother’s maiden name was Mann, not Manahan. None of this was making any sense.

"It is said,” he continued. “That she, Sidhlyn, fell in love with a common faerie, against her father's approval. When the king had him executed, he did not know she was carrying a child. That child was you, Princess."

Shaking her head, Jess’ mind couldn’t keep up with the whirl of information. This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be right.

“No. You’re wrong. My last name is Mann. You’ve got the wrong person,” the hysteria in her voice had Fallon taking a step closer, except she held him away with a staying hand held up between them.

Halting, he saw the pain on her face and knew then that despite the fight in her, she heard the truth in his words. She worked it out in her head as he went on.

"Fearing for her unborn child's safety, she fled the court and the rest of the faerie world. Changing her name. And later, met your father who raised you as his own."

Wanting so much to argue, she knew it would be a waste of breath. She didn't look a thing like her father and had even wondered if she was adopted when she was younger. Her parents had shot down such a "ridiculous" idea and reassured her that they were both her biological parents. Looking back now, she realized they had only done so to protect her. Her younger sister, Alyss, had brown hair, like their father. Her father, not mine, Jess corrected.

"Wait. My sister," she said, grabbing his arm again, blood draining from her face.

"She is being watched for her safety. No harm will come to her. If you wish," he watched her expression, "we can have her brought here."

"No. At least not yet." Taking in a deep breath, she puffed out her cheeks as she let it out. "I want her life to remain as normal as possible, and for as long as possible."

He nodded, remaining silent to allow her time to process.

When a commotion broke that silence from outside in the cavern, they both rushed back outside.

***

 

Staring in shock, knowing she must be dreaming, Alyss simply stood there, like a nitwit, in front of her intruder.

"I won’t hurt you. I swear it. Just put that away." The man gestured blindly to the can of pepper spray in her hand.

"What do you want then? Why are you in my apartment?!"

Stepping back, she put some distance between them, the can held tightly in her hand, finger on the trigger. Heart pounding so hard blood rushed in her ears. She knew how to take care of herself. She didn't practice taekwondo for shits and giggles. In her line of work, she needed to be quick on her feet and able to get out of sticky situations when necessary. Her lithe body at five feet and six inches gave her the advantage she needed usually. However, when he snuck up on her in her own home, that had thrown Alyss for a big loop.

"First," he gasped, looking up and blinking blood shot, weeping eyes. "Can I get some water or a wet towel? Please." He squeezed his eyes tight to ease the stinging. Served him right, she thought.

"Fine. But, remember," she switched the can to her other, less sweaty, hand. "I'm still packing." Despite his agonized expression, she could see a smile tug at the corner of his full lips.

Stepping into the kitchen, keeping a wary eye on him in the living room area, she wet a hand towel and tossed it to him. She watched him swipe and blot at his burning eyes, getting a little pleasure from his agony.

"Ok, you have two minutes before I'm calling the police." She held her cell up to prove she meant business.

"No, you won’t." He slowly stood up, looking at her with only one eyes, the other looked swollen shut. "You wouldn’t want to draw unwanted attention since you've just broken into and stolen from the Museum of Art." He nodded to the small black statue on the counter.

"I don't know what you're talking about." But she did. Her words were choked in her throat where her heart had jumped to at his words.

"Right," he said, managing a small grin. "But that's okay." He held his hands up, a pose of surrender. "I'm a friend. I won’t be ratting you out. But I can't let you go, for your own safety."

Right then, she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face.

"In case you've forgotten, but I do a good job at defending myself, thank you." She crossed her arms over her breasts, the can held for him to see.

"You only caught me off guard." He looked somber now. "Your pepper spray won’t deter those like me that are after your little prize you've acquired." Again, he nodded to the figurine that sat close to the dish soap at the sink.

"What's your fixation about my kitchen?" Refusing to bite the bait and admit to anything.

"Alright, sweetheart, you can play dumb, but just so you know, I always get what I want. And I want that obsidian Ares you've got over there." That infuriating smugness needed to be slapped clean off his face.

Perhaps another round of the pepper? She considered.

"Not for personal reasons, " He went on, ruining her fantasy. "But for better ones than yours, I can guarantee." The play was gone, replaced by seriousness now.

Walking the two feet to the end table by the couch, she flipped on the small lamp, a soft light washing the room. She looked over her shoulder to the tiny statue. It stared back at her with a sort of haughtiness that made her want to kick something. Of course, that would only show weakness. Tread carefully, she thought. See what he wants.

"Alright then, what do you want with it?" She moved her body to stand between him and his view of the Ares.

"Well," he met her gaze. "It's sort of classified in a non-government manner."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, darling, that I can't tell you. Literally." He grinned, knowing that would just piss her off even more, teasing the bull with the proverbial red flag.

"I'm sworn by magic not to expose my reasons for requiring the Daeghtus." He said with a shrug, not at all apologetic.

"Magic? You mean like Wicca or Voodoo?" When he took a step forward, he allowed the lamp's glow to illuminate the slight frown marring his beautiful features. Strong dark eyebrows were drawn down to hover over striking blue eyes. Despite the redness, she could see that he was naturally tanned with dark brown, maybe black, hair that brush lean shoulders. Not scary big like a body builders, but enough to prove to her that he could handle anything thrown at him. Except for maybe pepper spray.

Unknowingly, a smile quirked her lightly plumped pink lips at the thought and sight of him.

"No," he said, his harsh voice quickly removed said smile, replaced by a pout. She would never admit to it though.

"The real kind. The unexplained-by-science kind." An uncontrollable blush pinked her cheeks from his sarcasm. With her high cheekbones and small pointed chin, it only seemed to add to her beauty.

"Until you tell me, I'll just have to assume that my reasons are more important." She'd be damned if he was taking the Obsidian Ares from her. He'd have to pry it from her cold dead hands first.

It was right then that large, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Locked in the unrelenting grip, Mr. Pepper Spray rushed forward and knocked the can from her grasp. Pissed, she threw back her head, catching her assailant off guard and knocked him in the chin. Not exactly what she was aiming for, but it still made him stumble backwards and loosen his hold.

Dropping to a low crouch, she swung around, her extended left leg hitting just above his ankles and knocked him on his ass. She hoped the asshole sat on a donut for a few weeks while that one healed.

Seeing Mr. Pepper Spray come at her from the side, she executed a quick spring back kick, catching his jaw, followed by a leap up and forward, led by a right cross to his temple.

Though caught off guard, he still managed a smile when he righted himself.

Once again, that infuriating smile needed to be wiped off his face. She only managed to take one step forward before something hit her over the head, forcing her to her knees and then down to the cool laminate flooring on her side. Blinking darkness in and out of her vision, she saw Mr. Pepper Spray frown as he leapt toward her. The feeling of his warm hands on her temple followed her into oblivion.