Damselfly

Prologue

She sings her song and weaves her web.

The sounds of insanity were heavy around him; the pounding of feet into floors and heads into walls a steady percussion that matched his mood. There was no question he was in a mad house. What worried him was what he’d find at the end of the endless walk he now found himself on. Would the mindlessness and delusions break him before he reached his destination? No one could survive this assault on the senses, he wagered. Not even him.

The smells were almost debilitating, the burn of urine, the corrosiveness of vomit an overwhelming attack that left him almost powerless against the sights that met him. The empty eyes, the gaping mouths all spoke of a world so closed off and intimate that only those who’d broken with reality could ever be allowed in. And it seemed, the cost of admission was their own flesh, which, he noted, bore numerous scars and scabs of wounds that had not yet healed.

This way, the stiff voice of the nurse told him, her demeanor more akin to that of an undertaker than an aid to the living.

He took a quick glance at her name tag and made a mental note of the name engraved there. Thanks, he said gruffly before entering a room that was comprised of white, sterile-looking padding, small windows filled with wired glass lining the top of one wall. There was a small video camera perched in a corner that was pointed at the now closed door and at the only pieces of furniture in the room: two round ottomans that looked too soft to sit on.

With a laugh, he waved at the camera, his eyes glittering with amusement. He turned around and waited, his hands resting in his pockets, his foot tapping against the odd corkboard floor. Though the walls acted as no real threat to him, he knew that to those who were imprisoned here, they were like hands clasping at their throat – padded hands, to be certain, but hands nonetheless. He pushed one of the ottomans with his foot, surprised at the heft of it.

Stupid humans. He chuckled. He knelt down as his eyes caught something on the floor. Or to be more exact, in the floor. It was a large hole framed with steel, a wide metal loop sitting in its center. He touched the loop with his finger and wondered what it was.

Before his imagination could come up with an answer, the door opened, and the nurse walked in, steering another woman in front of her. The woman was shackled, the restraints so short they forced her back to arch forward and her head to hang down, making her appear much older than she was. She wore a thin gray robe over a pair of pale green pajamas embroidered with pink flowers. The pajamas were stained with streaks of blue.

Let me guess, she thinks she was Picasso in another life, he thought wryly.

The nurse pushed down on the woman’s shoulder, forcing her to sit. She tumbled clumsily onto the ottoman as the nurse took a fifth handcuff and locked it onto the loop in the floor. There, now. That should keep you safe, the nurse said, her voice saccharine, though he didn’t know to whom she was speaking.

As soon as the nurse was gone, the chains made a sharp, cracking sound, and the woman’s head snapped to attention, her eyes boring into his head like a drill.

It’s about time you came, she said in a raspy, scratchy tone.

I wasn’t aware that I was expected, he said to her with mild surprise.

Expect? There are no expectations, only what must happen.

Her puzzling words irritated him. Do you even know who I am?

She nodded and then grinned, the corners of her mouth pulling up so far and wide he felt a tremor move through him. You’re the king.

He shook his head, remembering that she was, after all, quite insane. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh yes, you do, she said, her words no more insistent than her movements, as her body crept closer to his, millimeter by millimeter, the chains pulling so tightly against each other that he could have sworn he heard them scream. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I can see it in your eyes. You are hungry.

With a nervous laugh, he shook his head. Starving, actually, but I can deal with that later. His voice grew serious suddenly, his eyes turning a shade darker. Do you know why I’m here?

I know everything, she said, her voice low, her eyes wide, almost crazed.

Do you? Then tell me.

Her smile grew impossibly wide, her posture straightening even as her limbs strained against her restraints. You’re going to kill my daughter and become king of the Sidhe.

Ab Initio

…with love as green as a flower before plucking.

If you’d have asked me six months ago if I’d be nervous about having dinner with my parents, the answer would’ve been a pretty big, pretty loud, No. Then again, six months ago, I was still dating Jackson Granger, and Dad still spoke to me.

Things are so different now that it’s impossible to know just how things are going to turn out. It isn’t just that Jackson and I aren’t dating anymore, or that Jackson is doing community service for assaulting me, my sister and brother. All of those things alone had already made family dinners pretty dismal occasions, with Dad refusing to even look at me or acknowledge that I was at the same table.

No, what made me nervous was that tonight it wouldn’t just be us at the table. Besides Dad, Mom, and my brother, Joel, we’d be joined by my boyfriend, Declan, and his family. It would be the first time our families got together, and even though I think it’s too soon, Declan’s mom made it clear that it should’ve happened sooner. Like, the minute we started dating.

You don’t understand, my dad’s not a fan of change, I’d tried to explain. He still refuses to believe that Jack and I aren’t together. Hell, he still refuses to believe that a Democrat is in office.

Mrs. Sterling laughed, her unsettlingly deep, blue eyes glittering with amusement, and told me not to worry. Declan wasn’t so quick to dismiss my fears with just a laugh. It’s gonna be okay. Even if all he does is talk about how much he hates us.

That’s what I’m worried about, I’d told him, but it wouldn’t change his mind or his parents’ minds; this was what they wanted to do, and it made sense to face it as a united front. The trouble was what were they going to talk about?

It was one thing to have a conversation with the parents of your daughter’s boyfriend…when all of you were human. But Declan and his family weren’t. They call themselves the Sidhe; we call them faeries. They don’t look like faeries, though. At least not the ones we’re used to, Declan said. He insisted that they didn’t fly or sparkle. They didn’t have wings, and they didn’t die if you said you didn’t believe in them.

There was still a lot I didn’t know about the Sidhe, but what I did know was that Declan was wrong; they did have wings, even if only when they fed, which was the biggest and most terrifying difference between us. The only way I can describe it is that they’re soul vampires. Declan says it’s the light inside of us that they feed on, which sounds pretty until you actually see it happen and what it does to the person being…eaten. Declan and those in his clan don’t kill the person they’re feeding from. At least they didn’t until me.

They normally left their prey alive, although aged considerably and completely unrecognizable. But two weeks ago, Declan went beyond that and killed the grandfather of my ex-boyfriend Jackson in order to save my life. In most circumstances, this would be admirable, but for Declan’s clan, it was a betrayal. Not because he’d killed someone, but because he’d killed someone when he couldn’t kill me.

Which I suppose is the biggest issue between the two of us right now. Most couples have baggage – even in high school – but not like this. The Sidhe need me to die in order for them to survive. Their race is dying out because they’d splintered off, breaking into six separate clans spread out around the world and weakening the longer they stayed that way. The only way to bring them back together is through the death of someone like me.

Declan calls me his Soilsiú. It’s just a fancy word for light, but it’s my light that’s supposed to show them the way to reconciliation. Declan is the one destined to do it; he’d been ready to do it. But then he met me, and things changed…for both of us.

Life for him was all about biding his time, waiting for the right moment to finally fulfill his destiny. I, on the other hand, tried to move through life as quickly as possible to avoid as much of it as I could. Life for Declan had been filled with love and promise. Life for me had been nothing but pain and finally numbness.

Up until him, I’d resigned myself to living an emotionless life that appeared as normal as possible. And it would’ve worked, too. Dad had planned my life out for me, including who I was going to marry. It didn’t matter that Jackson was a controlling and abusive alcoholic. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t happy, or that I didn’t love him. All that mattered to Dad was how things looked and how things benefitted him, and for a time, I believed that, too.

Over the past few months, he’s done everything he can to prove just how much he values his career over his family, and now that Declan and I are together, he’s resorted to treating me like I’m the person who invented cancer. That the rest of our family has chosen to side with me was like adding another layer to the screwed-up cake that is our relationship.

And the icing to that cake? Jackson’s grandfather, King Granger, had been one of Dad’s closest friends. His death was a serious blow to Dad personally and, more importantly, professionally. The private funeral had been yesterday, with a public memorial planned for next month. We went to the service together as a family to pay our respects, but when Dad noticed that Declan hadn’t shown up, his mood darkened. I’d wanted to tell him that Declan didn’t come out of respect, but he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

So I stood there, feeling the anger from Dad, the sadness and loss from Jackson’s family, and the guilt inside of me. No one there knew why King had died. No one there knew that he hadn’t really died in a car fire. No one knew that just moments before his death, he’d tried to rape me, and Declan had killed him to save me.

All they knew was that he’d been a larger-than-life character who’d been given the nickname King because of how he seemed to rule over everyone. Well, everyone except Jackson.

Hey, Sophia, Jackson had said to me when I reached him in the receiving line during the reception. Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to, you know.

A bubble of nervous laughter had risen up in my throat, but I swallowed it down and shook my head. I had to come. It was the right thing to do.

Jackson’s light brown hair hadn’t been cut in a while, and his curls were hugging his ears and neck in a way that made him appear vulnerable. His rich green eyes were glossy with rare tears. You don’t know how much this means to me. After everything I did to you…you don’t know how much this means to me.

I knew he wasn’t the only one who was surprised by me being there considering what had happened: two months ago, he’d beaten me in a drunken, jealous rage. He’d also attacked Joel and our sister, Astor, after they’d both tried to help me. Declan was the only one who could stop him. Joel, Astor, and I ended up having to go to the hospital, and Jackson turned himself in to the police the next day. He pled guilty to all of the charges against him and was sentenced to four hundred hours of community service as well as mandatory alcohol counseling and testing. Dad said it was too much, and said that Joel, Astor, and especially I should have spoken up for him in court, but Jackson said it was what he wanted. Even King seemed satisfied with the outcome.

But I knew now his satisfaction was for a whole other reason, and I had no idea whether or not Jackson knew anything about it. That meant that I still felt uncomfortable around him, even though I knew that he wouldn’t try or say anything in public. That being said, it was difficult not to feel sad for him. King had been a better father to him than his own had been, despite what kind of man he was, and even though he was standing right beside his father, Jackson was alone.

And I wasn’t the only one who noticed; Dad had attached himself to Jackson as soon as he had a chance and even stayed behind for the reading of the will, while Mom, Joel, and I went home. When he finally made it back just before midnight, he was whistling. I’d hoped that his mood would continue on until after the dinner tonight, but the smell of dinner cooking had acted like a trigger, and his foul mood returned with a vengeance.

My pot roast had better not be cooking in the same damn oven as that hippie crap you’re making for them, he shouted before he entered the kitchen.

I stood at the landing above the stairs that led to my bedroom, listening to Mom try to patiently explain again why she was making two different meals. They’re not hippies. They just can’t eat meat. It’s the same reason you just can’t eat your own words: they’re allergic.

"Goddammit, Leanna, why the hell did you invite them over for dinner in the first place? What the hell are we gonna talk about, huh? Food? Obviously our palates are on opposite ends of the barnyard. Politics? They’re probably bleeding heart socialists who’d take all of my money to pay for welfare! Morals? What kind of morals do they have if their kids are barging into private homes and beating up their guests?

Did you do this to irritate me, because it’s working! They’re not even here, and I’m at a ten. I’m at a ten, Leanna! Dad’s voice boomed.

I could almost picture his hand held up to his forehead at the ten remark, and a depressed groan leaked out of me.

Oh, shut up, Gordon, Mom shot, her voice only slightly muffled by the kitchen door. And grow up while you’re at it. Why does everything have to be about you? Did you ever once stop to think maybe, just maybe that this is about Sophia? Do you remember her? Our daughter? Eighteen, red hair, five-five and moody?

What Dad said next was like being struck down by a wrecking ball and then having it land on my chest.

"She’s not our daughter. Or don’t you remember that little fact?"

It’s funny. I call Gordon and Leanna Ackerman Mom and Dad because that’s what they are. Sure, they’re my foster parents, but more than that…they’re my parents. I’d never once thought they didn’t think the same, that somewhere deep down inside of them they thought of me as nothing but a duty, an obligation. I know better now, and the hard, rigid shell of protection that I thought was slowly peeling away from me came back with a vengeance.

How can you say that? Mom gasped.

The kitchen door creaked open, and her head peeked out to see if anyone had heard. She saw me standing there, and the devastation on her face appeared instantly. I turned around and headed back down the stairs, not willing to let her explain or apologize. I looked at my door and then at Astor’s. I then looked at the stairs as they continued down toward Joel’s room.

The three of us had shared so much together as foster kids. We grew up together, fought our demons together, but now things were changing. Astor had gone up to Washington for school, and Joel was planning on moving out soon. As soon as I graduated, I’d be leaving, too. But I didn’t realize until now that both Astor and Joel had somewhere they could come back home to.

I didn’t.

I opened the door to my room and walked in, seeing everything as if for the first time. These things that I’d called mine for so long…weren’t really mine. Even the room wasn’t really mine. I’d grown used to the idea of having a home, having parents, having a family, but hearing that I wasn’t really a daughter here, that I really didn’t belong, made me remember who I really was.

Kiss for your thoughts?

The voice behind me still sounded new, and my chest still exploded with all the crisp, fresh feelings that came with it. I turned around. Declan Sterling stood in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, his head bent down in curiosity. He’d cut his hair, so now I could see his violet-blue eyes without the silky dark screen impeding my view.

You don’t want to know what’s in my thoughts, I told him reservedly.

He shook his head and approached me, closing the door with his foot. I always want to know what you’re thinking. Every thought, every memory of yours is something precious that I want to be able to share with you. I heard what your dad said–

He’s not my dad. If I’m not his daughter, then he can’t be my dad.

Declan’s hands were soft and smooth when he took mine and pressed them against his chest. I could feel his heart drumming beneath his shirt, the pale gray cotton too thin to shield me from the heat just beneath my fingers. You know he only said that because he’s angry. He doesn’t like change any more than anyone else does, but he loves you. I don’t need to know the man to know that much about him.

I huffed. He doesn’t love me, only what I could’ve done for his career. Me dating Jackson was like me dating royalty, so he treated me like it, too. Everyone else was trash, which means now that I’m dating you, I’m trash, too.

Maybe you should tell him that I’m royalty, too, he whispered half-jokingly before leaning down to press his lips against mine.

Grunting, I pushed him away. How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to say, huh? ‘Hey, Dad. You know how you thought Jackson was a prince? Well, Declan kinda, sorta, really is one, and one day he’ll be king…but only if he sucks out my soul like a shrimp head and kills me.’

Straightening up, his mouth turned down into a stern frown. That’s not funny.

Nothing about this is funny, I reminded him. Your family’s broken up because of me, and my family’s broken up because of me. It’s like I’m being punished for finally feeling something for someone.

Angry, Declan glared at me. You’re not being punished. Nothing that has happened to your family or mine is a punishment. Sometimes life gives us challenges, and we have to accept them. Don’t do this, Fee. Don’t give yourself a reason to fall back into that hole. What’s going on with my clan would’ve happened regardless of what’s going on between us.

That’s such a load of crap. You’re not going to convince me that Connor leaving didn’t happen because of me.

Connor left because he felt he had to.

I sighed and looked away. It doesn’t matter. After tonight, your parents are probably gonna want you to leave too.

Gently, all anger gone from his face, Declan took my chin gently into his hand and eased my gaze back to his. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Besides, we still have our first date tonight, remember?

Are you sure you’re still gonna want to date me after dinner?

Nothing that happens during dinner is going to change my mind. Besides, I have a surprise for you, a Valentine’s present.

Crap. I’d forgotten that we were celebrating Valentine’s Day late since I’d been grounded and couldn’t go anywhere that day besides school. I didn’t–

Shh, he whispered, a well-placed finger silencing me. Don’t worry about it. I don’t need presents from you; your heart is the best gift I could ever receive. His mouth found mine again, and this time I didn’t push him away.

Kissing Declan, I had to admit, was always like being kissed for the first time. He was still hesitant with me, knowing how Jackson had been so controlling and how it had affected how I reacted to others. That hesitation of Declan’s, that small yet wholly significant sign of trust allowed me to take control and set the pace in our relationship. It was one of the things that made me love him.

Smelling him, feeling him so close, tasting him…I wanted to lose myself in him and forget that soon we’d have to somehow survive the worst dinner we’d ever sit through. Or at least, the worst dinner I’d ever sit through. Do you think we have time? I asked against his lips.

Time for what? he breathed, his hands falling to my waist and squeezing gently.

I leaned in to him, pressing my body against his and putting my hand against his belly, my fingers dipping in the gap between the buttons on his shirt and stroking the soft hairs that clung to his skin just above his waistband. To…be together.

I will stop time in its tracks to be with you, he whispered as he pushed the strap of my shirt down. I heard him suck in his breath, felt his hand move to the neckline of my shirt, his finger moving across my skin. I looked down and saw a trail of light follow his finger like the tail of a tiny comet that was burning beneath my skin. He sighed at the way my chest rose and fell as my breathing quickened. He could hear my heartbeat; I could hear my heartbeat.

A knock on the door broke us apart, and I groaned at the voice that passed through the seemingly paper-thin wood. You two better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there; especially if I ain’t getting any.

Joel! I shouted.

Declan chuckled and pulled my strap back up before groaning himself. Aaand my parents are here. Early.

My eyes flew to the digital clock by my bed. It’s five-fifteen. Didn’t you tell them–

I told them to be here at six, he said, cutting me off.

I heard the doorbell ring faintly from upstairs. You’d better go and join them, I said with a disappointed sigh before realizing that I was alone in the room. Well, crap.

Interrupted

"A stranger at a table is a fine meal indeed."

Eight people were sitting at a table full of food, but no one was talking. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were seated together, with Declan’s sister, Merrill, sitting next to her mom, who was also directly across from me. Declan sat next to Mom, with Joel between the two of us. Dad sat at the head of the table with a sneer etched permanently onto his face.

Well, Mom said, trying as delicately as she could to break the quiet. I hope you guys like lasagna; Sophia told me that you don’t eat meat, so I made an eggplant and zucchini lasagna with a tomato cream sauce.

Mrs. Sterling looked over at the rectangular pan sitting closest to her and nodded. It looks and smells fantastic. Thank you so much for thinking about us.

Thank you for coming over. I think it’s important that we get to know each other; especially since our children have taken such a deep…interest in each other, Mom said, smiling.

Interest…yes, Mrs. Sterling said with a tight smile.

Pass me the roast, Dad grunted. He’d taken one look at Declan’s parents and that had been enough for him; he didn’t even glance at Merrill.

Joel grabbed the dish that Mom had put the slices of meat in and handed it to me. I held it out to Dad, who took it silently. As he piled pieces of beef and vegetables onto his plate, I turned to watch as blocks of lasagna were served to the Sterlings. Merrill offered a weak smile at me from the other end of the table as her plate was filled with the oozy noodle dish.

The tinkle of forks against ceramic plates mercifully filled up the silence as everyone began to eat. Mom’s lasagna wasn’t anything special – she’d made the recipe tons of times before, just with ground turkey – but the way Dad sneered at all of us eating it, you’d think she’d spent all day making it and had just bought a microwave pot roast dinner for him. He ate noisily, slurping and smacking his lips with each bite. I was feeling embarrassed and angry, and I could see Joel’s knuckles turning white as he clenched his fork.

So, Brennan, Mom spoke up, Sophia says that you’re the principal at Gossamer.

I blinked as Mrs. Sterling nodded. Yes. I’d never even thought to ask what her first name was.

How long have you been the principal?

Six years; almost as long as Gossamer’s been open.

Mom grinned. Dealing with hundreds of teens every day for six years…I can’t even imagine. My hands were full with the three I had.

Declan’s mom chuckled. "They’re not that bad…most of the time. Also, Gossamer doesn’t have nearly as many students as Tillamook does. Now those teachers I feel for."

Her husband snorted. She says that only because she doesn’t have to sit in a class with them for hours on end. They’re animals, all of them. Their texting skills are dangerous, I tell you.

Allen, that’s not true. Mrs. Sterling laughed, Mom joining in with her while Declan and Merrill both snickered.

How’d you get the job?

We all turned our heads to look at Dad, his question hanging in the air bitterly.

Excuse me? Declan’s mom asked.

"How’d you get the job? I mean, I know how you got the job, and you know how you got the job, but I’d like to see if you’re willing to tell me the truth about it."

Mr. Sterling’s expression grew serious. I’m sorry, but what exactly are you implying?

Dad’s expression matched his. You know exactly what I’m implying. You think I don’t know? You think I don’t know the truth about you guys?

With a straight face, Mrs. Sterling replied, Yes, I do believe that you don’t know the truth.

I know you stole that land from the government. I know you paid off the city council to get the zoning change approved. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, but I did. I know how your kind works. You sneaky, lazy, greedy–

Now hold on, Mr. Ackerman, Mr. Sterling said stiffly. I don’t know where you got your information, but no one paid off anyone. And someone who airs commercials for a politician who’s been convicted of bribery not once, but three times should know a criminal when he sees one by now.

His wife shook her head. Our families worked very hard for a very long time to raise the money to buy the land that Gossamer sits on. The auction that the land was sold in was open to everyone, and that particular plot of land only received one other bid, which was only a few thousand under ours. My husband and I paid our own way through college, without the help of our families, because we were raised to be independent and careful with what we have. We’ve been raising our children to do the same.

Bullshit, Dad spat. These…these children of yours…they drive around in fancy cars and spend money like it’s nothing. Spending ten thousand dollars in an auction, how the hell is that being careful?

Dad! I shouted, but he wasn’t listening to me.

Those cars were gifts from our grandparents for our eighteenth birthday. Didn’t you give Fee a car for her birthday, too? Declan said loudly, his voice crisp and clear.

The money Dex bid was our inheritance from our grandparents before they died, and that auction benefitted the children’s hospital, Merrill added, using the name that Declan preferred to be called.. He gave up everything for Sophia.

The doorbell rang, and Dad seemed to forget almost immediately what he was about to say in argument. He stood up and left the table, his exit a relief to me, but the look on Merrill’s