Chapter 10

 

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Robby exploded. “Fucking bitch, you don’t even know what’s going on!” he shouted, and Molly barely managed to sidestep before he grabbed the air where she’d been.

She screamed and opened the door to leave, only to be pushed back in by the crowd at the door. Ted and Belinda were the first to push their way into her room, but several more people followed — there were two elves straight from Lord of the Rings, tall and elegant with their pointed ears and hunting bows and quivers, and a man and a woman both equally covered in copious amounts of leather. All four of them were ready to strike: the arrows were notched, the woman had a gun aimed at Robby, and the man was palming a knife, and he looked like he was getting ready to throw it.

Robby backed toward her window, away from the group at the door. Molly was too dumbstruck to do anything, and she wasn’t sure what she would have done anyway.

“Worthless human,” Robby spat, not taking his eyes from the supernaturals—for that was the only word she had for what they were—then he spun on his heel, opened the window quickly, and jumped through it.

“Robby stop!” Molly shouted, running across the room to lean out and look down. She was on the fourth floor—a fall from this height might not kill him, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

The elves followed her, trying to take aim on either side, and she elbowed them. “Oh, back off, you don’t need to kill him.” Then she looked down, only to discover that Robby wasn’t there. “Where’d he go?” she asked. She looked out across the yard and couldn’t see anyone in the surprisingly well-lit area — it was too early for most people to be awake, though she was certain several of her neighbors had been woken up with all of the shouting.

As if her thoughts had conjured it, there was a knock at the door—who had closed it after the supernaturals had come in? Seconds later, her phone started ringing. She glanced between the door and her cell, trying to decide which she should answer. Then, hopeful that Robby may be trying to contact her, hopeful that he hadn’t been hurt by the fall, she answered the phone.

“Miss Singer?” a male voice asked when she answered.

“Yes, who is this?” The knock sounded at the door again, and Belinda began fluttering around Molly’s head anxiously.

“Miss Singer, this is Detective Baker. I’m one of the people investigating —”

“I remember you, Detective Baker,” Molly said quickly, cutting him off before she could say the words she knew were coming. “How can I help you?”

“We have a few more questions for you. Could you come down to the station sometime this morning?”

She looked out the window one last time, then glanced at the door. “I don’t have a car,” she said. “But if someone can pick me up, I can be ready in ten minutes.”

“I’ll send someone for you. Thank you Miss Singer. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up and answered the door.

“Molly?”

It was a girl she didn’t recognize, but she looked older. An RA maybe? She’d missed the orientation session where she would have met her—she’d been at the library instead of going.

“Yes,” she said. “Can I help you?”

The girl glanced behind her at the five other people in the room. “Is everything okay? I heard a scream.”

Molly nodded quickly, aware that she probably looked pale and stricken. She felt shocky—too much was happening too fast today. “Everything’s fine,” she said, trying to be as convincing as possible.

The girl’s eyes widened as she caught sight of something on the floor. Too late, Molly realized that the imp was still in her room, slumped on the floor where Robby had left her. “It’s not what you think,” Molly said, rushing to calm the girl. “Seriously, everything in okay.”

Ted stepped forward and set his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “It’s too late, Molly,” he said calmly. “She’s not listening anymore. She’s seen too much. Let me leave with her—I’ll try to get her calmed down before the police get here.”

“Shit!” Molly said, not even caring that she was cursing at this point. “Why is everything happening at once?”

Belinda flitted over and took charge. “Ted, go tend to the girl. You two,” she said, pointing to the elves, “Go take care of that imp. Get rid of her so she won’t be found or bring any more trouble to Molly. Don’t let anyone see you. And whatever you do, don’t shoot any humans. And you two,” she said, whirling on the leather-garbed couple. “Fuck, are you really a pair of humans?”

The woman shrugged. “Vampire hunters.”

Belinda rolled her eyes. “Worse than fucking fairies. Fine. Go make yourself useful somewhere else. I don’t know … Go look for Robby or something. Just stay out of the way.” She hesitated. “And don’t let anyone see you either.”

“Wait!” Molly said, stopping the two as they were about to leave. “I don’t care about finding Robby—he’ll come back around eventually anyway. You said you were vampire hunters? One was here last night.”

“What?!” Belinda and the man both shouted. Ted had already left with the girl, and the elves were too busy hauling the imp out the door to pay attention any more.

Molly nodded. “He’s the one who killed Sarah. He seemed … insane. I think he’s going to kill again, keep killing. I tried to stop him but—”

“We’ll find him,” the man said, brow furrowed.

As they were leaving, Molly’s phone rang again.

“Miss Singer? We’re waiting outside to pick you up and take you to the station.”

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Chapter 9

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There was a loud banging at the door, and Molly pulled herself slowly from sleep. Her mind numb and groggy, she opened the door without even thinking about it. Belatedly, she realized that with everything going on lately, she probably shouldn’t just assume it was safe to open her door.

Robby pushed his way into her room, dragging a young girl roughly behind him by the collar of her shirt.

“Robby?” Molly asked, and she rubbed an eye to get some of the stickiness out. “What’s going on? Who’s that?”

He threw the girl to the floor, she looked up at Molly with a pained expression, and Molly realized she recognized the poor thing. “Robby?” she asked again, her brows furrowing. “What are you doing?”

He pointed to the girl. “She’s the one you spoke to at the library the other day?” he asked. His face was calm, but she could tell by his voice that he was angry. He seemed to always be angry these last few days. It made her uneasy—he’d never had such a temper before.

“Well, yes,” she sputtered. “But what does that matter?”

“Ted or whatever the hell his name was said that an imp put a curse on you while you were in the library. She’s an imp. If you saw her in the library, she must be the one who put a curse on you.” Robby said it all like it should have been obvious, and maybe it was, but Molly was having a difficult time putting it together.

“But how could –“ And then it dawned on her. The dropped book, the strange interaction. The girl had been grinning like a madman. Molly had thought she’d reacted strangely but she hadn’t quite been sure why. “Well, we did touch—I bumped into her and then our hands brushed when I handed the books back.” She frowned again. “But is that really enough?”

Robby let out a bark of laughter. “Molly, that’s more than enough. How could you be so stupid, letting an imp touch you?”

“Well it’s not like I knew,” she muttered, crossing her arms. She crossed the room and flopped onto her bed, missing the spring of her bed back home when she didn’t bounce.

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the girl on the floor. “You. Imp,” he said, his voice harsh. “You put it on her. Take the curse back.”

The girl grinned, and Molly gasped when she saw that the girl’s teeth were filed to a point—how had she not noticed that before?

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s a one-way curse.”

Molly wasn’t sure what that meant, but she didn’t think it sounded very good. “One-way?”

The girl’s lip curled up so that her grin resembled more a baring of teeth than an expression with any real humor to it. “It means I can’t take it back. You’re stuck.” She turned her attention back to Robby. “And X marks the spot. She reeks of you, you know. You didn’t cover it up as well as you thought.”

Robby stepped toward the girl, and in one fluid movement he slapped her with an open palm, hard enough to push her back.

“Robby!” Molly shouted, startled. “What are you doing?”

He ignored her. “Take it off of her. You have to be able to do it – hardly any curses are truly one-way.”

She snarled, and this time Molly was fairly certain she was growling. “Even if I could take it off, I wouldn’t. You’re caught Robby. You screwed up.”

There was a snapping sound, loud and sharp, and the girl fell limp to the floor. Molly stared at the girl while her brain tried to catch up with what her eyes were seeing, but she wasn’t processing. Finally, after several impossibly long seconds had passed, Molly understood that Robby had snapped the girl’s neck.

She screamed.

She ran to the door to leave, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Robby as she could, not even caring that this was her room and not his, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, an arm that she didn’t remember being quite that strong last year, and she was trapped.

She screamed again, and she thrashed, and she clawed at his arms. He wouldn’t let her go, and she had to get away. Run: it was the only thing she could think. She had to get away from the man who had just murdered in cold blood right in front of her. And she had only been a girl…

“Molly, snap out of it!” Robby shouted, and she finally heard him — she had the impression that this wasn’t his first attempt to get her attention. “It’s just me and you know I won’t hurt you,” he said when he realized she was beginning to calm down.

“What —“ she started, having to stop to catch her breath. “What the hell, Robby?!”

He sighed and loosened his grip. “Are you going to try to run away again before I have the chance to explain?”

She hesitated — she should, she thought. The person in her room right now wasn’t the Robby she had met last year, and she shouldn’t trust him. But she wanted to find out what was going on with these book characters showing up, and right now Robby was the only person who wasn’t a book character who knew what was going on.

He can help me, she thought, even as the thought made her shiver.

She forced herself to relax, then she nodded. The second he dropped his arms, she stepped away and turned to face him, uncomfortable with him at her back. “Talk.”

“That thing was an imp. She was not a girl.”

Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “She looked an awful lot like a girl.”

He sighed. “That was glamor. All fae creatures possess a certain amount of glamour — some better than most. Hers was pretty strong for an imp. Molly, she’s the reason your life just turned upside down. I brought her here to force her to take that damned curse off of you so you could have some peace—some semblance of normalcy—return to your life before things got out of hand.”

“And so you killed her?” she asked, her brows shooting up.

“She made it quite clear she wasn’t going to help—that made her useless. Disposable. And I couldn’t just let her go because she could run around telling people things they don’t need to know.”

“Like what? I think people are bound to notice vampires and pixies roaming around the streets of Seattle sooner or later. I’m not sure she could have done much more damage by talking about it.”

He shook his head. “There’s more too it than that. Don’t — don’t worry about that, Molly. What’s important is that I had no choice to kill her. Do you see that now?”

She was silent for almost a minute while she thought about what he said. Then, slowly, she stepped away from the door, ever so slightly towards him. She made eye contact, then stepped to the side and pointed behind her. “Get. Out. Now.”

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Chapter 11

Molly was a bundle of nerves while she sat in the interrogation room. She’d only been there about ten minutes, waiting for Detective Baker and his partner—what was her name? Hunter? — to wrap up with another witness. Molly wasn’t sure what that meant, since as far as she knew she was the only person who really qualified as a witness.

She was jittery, and it was taking all of her energy to keep herself sitting still. She was certain that the detectives would take one look at her and declare her guilty. At least of something. She was certainly acting like she was about to get caught for a crime.

She knew it was silly to think that they suspected her of killing Sarah, but after everything that had happened already this morning, she was getting paranoid. Sarah aside, what if the police found out about the imp and were going to arrest her for assisting in the young girl’s murder?

Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. The police called before the elves took the imp out of my room.

She was going insane. No, she’d lost it already. Elves and imps didn’t exist. Neither did vampires or pixies or fairies. And people didn’t wander around the city dressed completely in leather for regular everyday things, and they certainly didn’t show up in her bedroom. This was all some strange bad dream. Or hallucinations. Maybe she was in a mental hospital and this wasn’t really an interrogation room.

The door opened and Detective Baker and his partner walked into the room. “Miss Singer,” he said, smiling calmly. “Thank you for coming down. We had a few more questions for you come up over the course of our investigation. We’re going to ask a few of the same questions we’ve already asked just for good measure—you were still a bit shocky when we spoke to you last time.”

She nodded mutely, swallowing hard. She was fairly certain she wasn’t much improved from that frame of mind at the moment. There was something nagging at her about this morning that she couldn’t quite place.

They asked a few basic questions—What had she been doing before she found Sarah? Why had she stepped outside into the alley?—before they asked her where she had been that night.

Molly blinked, surprised. “You mean, where was I last night?”

Detective Hunter nodded. “We just need to confirm your location. Very rudimentary.”

She frowned. “I was in my room, sleeping. Wh-why?”

“Do you have a roommate who can confirm that, Miss Singer?”

“No, I have a single this year. I’m sorry, are you trying to find out if I have an alibi? Did something happen last night?”

“We really need a way to confirm your location. Can you think of any way we could verify that you were in your dorm room last night?”

Molly shrugged. “No one would have seen me, but the school might keep records of what time we use our ID’s to get into the building. I don’t know, but it would at least tell you I didn’t come back in before Office Whittaker picked me up this morning. Is that good enough?”

Detective Hunter pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, just jotted down a few notes.

“I think there are cameras outside too.”

She nodded. “That will have to do. We’ll look into it.”

Molly turned her attention to Detective Baker—he seemed more inclined to be cooperative. “What happened last night? Did someone else get attacked?”

He took a deep breath, glanced at his partner, then nodded slowly. “Just like Sarah. You don’t seem as surprised as we expected.”

Gee, that might be because the raging vampire that killed Sarah showed up in my room last night, returned my backpack, and wandered back out.

The screen! she thought, surprising herself. That was what had seemed off this morning—there hadn’t been a screen on her window when Robby had jumped through it. That must have been how the vampire had gotten in—he’d somehow managed to fly up to her window—could vampires fly?—slide it open, and slip inside. And then for whatever reason decided to shut it again before approaching her.

“Miss Singer?” Detective Baker prompted her.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you ask again?”

“I was speculating that you don’t seem terribly surprised. Why is that, Molly?”

She shrugged. “I guess it just doesn’t surprise me that someone who could do such a horrible thing to a person would be a serial killer. Do you really think I’m somehow involved with that?” she asked, surprised. Sure, she was involved with it, indirectly at least, but she was offended that someone might actually think she was, even in spite of that. That someone could think she was capable of being involved in such a brutal act …

“Are you pressing charges, Detective?” she asked, standing up. “Because if you’re not, I believe it is in my right to leave. If you would like to ask me any more similar questions, I’m afraid you’ll have to provide me a lawyer first.”

He stared at her, frowning. Detective Hunter didn’t say anything, just watched with her brows raised skeptically. Finally, he nodded, and stepped over to the door to open it for her. “Thank you for your time, Miss Singer.”

She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been sure that would work—she was improvising based on the crime shows she’d watched with her mother back in high school. Who could have guessed those would come in handy?

Officer Whittaker still drove her home even though she’d more or less stormed out of the investigation room. She supposed that police officers didn’t like leaving teenage girls to find their own way home even when they suspected her in at least being complicit to murder, if not directly involved.

When she arrived back at her dorm, she immediately filed a report to have her screen replaced, and when she made it back to her room, it was spotless, absolutely no signs that this morning had been as chaotic as it had been. It even smelled clean.

This whole having supernaturals doing whatever they can to make me happy thing isn’t so bad, she thought, then climbed into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and tried not to think anymore.

Chapter 8

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Molly had trouble getting to sleep that night—the day had been long, and the few minutes she’d had in the library had been all the time she’d had to herself. She liked alone-time—it gave her a chance to refocus and process everything that was going on. Even on a normal day she needed her downtime to think without distraction, and now that her life had taken a turn for the chaotic, she needed it more than ever.

And she wasn’t getting it.

Belinda was driving her absolutely insane. The pixie was the definition of a chatter-box. She couldn’t go ten minutes without saying something. And it usually involved making degrading comments about other students Molly passed. Or about Robby. And she didn’t seem terribly inclined to leave Molly alone. At the rate the day was going, Molly considered herself lucky when the pixie didn’t follow her into the bathroom stall.

But at the very least, when Molly asked for some privacy while she slept, the pixie gave her some sense of it. Molly wasn’t sure that Belinda had ever actually left, but she at least kept quiet and stayed out of sight.

Unfortunately, all that meant was that she was tossing and turning without further distraction.

She wanted to read, to try to shut down her mind, relax, and eventually manage to doze off. But she was afraid to touch the book she was in the middle of. It actually was about a dragon, and that was the last thing she needed. At least a pixie was relatively easy to hide. And Ted looked like an almost-normal student. A dragon would probably draw attention.

So instead of reading herself to sleep, tried music. Classical didn’t work—she ended up paying too much attention to the clarinet part. Nothing with words would work—she paid too much attention to the lyrics. Finally, she settled on some light jazz, otherwise known as elevator music, and she managed to relax. She was just drifting off when a strange sound came from the foot of her bed.

“Belinda, shut up please,” she muttered, rolling over to face the wall.

“Who’s Belinda?” a man’s voice asked.

Molly sat up in a hurry, pulling her comforter up with her and clutching it as if it were a shield.

A man crouched over her bed, his back hunched over like a humpback. He was grinning for no apparently reason, and his teeth were incredibly crooked. And there were fangs.

Fangs.

This was a vampire.

He held out a bag to her, but she was too petrified to take it. All that she could think was that she should have listened to Robby and gone with him. He would know what to do right now. Surely, he would know what to do.

And then she felt like smacking herself. The bag was hers. Her backpack that she’d lost at the library.

Slowly, she reached out for it, and the vampire let go, letting out a low snicker of satisfaction when she set it next to her.

And why would Robby know what to do with a vampire? Molly thought, slowly letting herself relax ever so slightly.

“Wh-who are you?” she asked.

“A friend,” he said, his voice little more than a hiss. She had trouble understanding him.

“Th-then what do you want? Are you here to help me?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was talking to a child. She didn’t think she was very successful.

“Yesss,” he said, and he bobbed his head up and down as if he were an excited dog. “Yoursss.” He pointed to the backpack.

“Yeah, this is mine. Thanks for bringing it to me.” Her voice was slow and measured. She had the impression that this creature wasn’t entirely there, and she was afraid that if she said something wrong he would snap. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like the result. “Where did you find it?”

“Ssshe took it. I ssstopped her.”

Molly frowned. “Who took it?”

“Sssmoker.”

“A smoker took it?” Molly asked, even more confused.

“At book place.”

The pieces fell into place. A female smoker at a place with books. Sarah.

“You killed Sarah,” Molly said, stiffening.

“I ssstopped her. She was ssstealing from missstresss.”

“You killed her.”

“Yesss.”

She closed her eyes, and realized that was a mistake. All she could picture was Sarah’s body, torn to pieces in the alley. There was no blood. They had guessed that cause of death was exsanguination.

She could remember so much more now than she had processed the night before. None of the words had made sense before. None of the images.

Now they were all too clear.

She wanted to yell and scream. She wanted to kill the monster that was in her room. She’d never wished ill of anyone before, but right now, looking at the creature hunched over the foot of her bed, she wanted his death. Anyone who could do what he had done needed to be removed.

But she wasn’t capable of hurting, much less killing, the thing in her room. And if she lost her temper he might go crazy and do more terrible things.

So instead she tried to remain calm, and she spoke with as soothing as a voice as she could. “Thank you for returning my bag to me. I appreciate your concern.”

“Missstresss,” he said, his grin widening. “You are pleasssed?”

She gulped. “I’m happy to have my bag back,” she said, not wanting to lie.

“I would like to pleassse you again, missstresss. I can give you eternal life,” he said.

Oh, she so didn’t know what she was doing. “N-no thank you,” she stuttered.

“Pleassse, missstresss. You are fragile. I can make you ssstrong. Missstresss should be ssstrong.”

“Th-thanks for the offer,” Molly said, unsure of what exactly she was saying at this point. “But listen, it’s really late. And I have to get some sleep. I can’t do that while you’re here. I’d be really happy if you could leave me alone tonight so I can rest.”

He nodded. “Yesss missstresss. Tomorrow then. I will make you ssstrong tomorrow.”

He left through the door. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in, but after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, she got up and locked the door after him. It would, hopefully, at least keep human pests out, even if it wasn’t enough to stop vampires.

She was amazed she got any sleep at all after that.

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Chapter 7

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It was a short walk to the library, and there they were able to get one of the small group study rooms so they could talk without risk of being overheard. It had the added bonus of having chairs, unlike the sidewalk outside. Unfortunately, Ted and Belinda insisted on coming with, and Molly was too tired to argue anymore. Robby, surprisingly, didn’t say anything when they grabbed a chair in the room before he could close the door to keep them out.

They had barely settled in when Robby leaned across the table and glared at Molly. “What’s going on?”

She pressed herself as far back in her seat as possible, wishing she could get further away from Robby—he was a in a bad mood and she was afraid of what he might do. She didn’t think he would actually hurt her, not intentionally anyway, but he was scaring her. She’d never seen him this upset.

She furrowed her brow and concentrated on where to begin. “I’m not really sure, exactly, what’s happening,” she started slowly. Robby sighed and rolled his eyes, and she tried to get to the point. “Belinda, the pixie, is from out of a book about Peter Pan. Ted’s from a book too. I’m not sure how it’s happening.”

There, she thought, proud of herself. That was a halfway decent summary of what was going on, and she didn’t know much more.

“From books?” Robby asked, and he leaned back in his seat. Clearly that had surprised him, and he must have needed a moment mull over it. It was a long minute before he spoke again. “You’re sure they’re from books?”

Molly shrugged. “I’m pretty certain I know who Ted is. And Belinda told me—”

“Yes, she’s fucking sure,” Belinda snapped. “They cast me as fucking Tinker Bell. Do I look like I should be Tinker Bell? Fucking insulting.”

Molly looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. She didn’t want to look at Robby anymore—he would be disappointed in her, not only because this was happening, but because she hadn’t told him about it already. She didn’t like it when he was disappointed.

“When did this start happening?” Robby asked.

“I’m not sure. I met Belinda this morning right after you left my room. I don’t know when she got there.”

“It was yesterday. I followed you home from the library,” Belinda said, settling in on Molly’s shoulder. It was the cleanest sentence she’d ever heard the pixie say.

“I showed up this morning,” Ted offered. Molly had almost forgotten he was there. He had a tendency to sit quietly.

Molly sighed. “And I haven’t read anything Ted was in since I was in high school. I at least flipped through a fairy-tale book yesterday.”

“So, what, characters out of books are coming to life and following you around? With no apparent pattern?” Robby asked, shaking her head. “There has to be a theme. Not sure what Ted is from, but did you put whatever book you think he’s in away yesterday? Maybe just touching it is enough.”

She scrunched up her face while she thought about it. There had been about four racks of books she’d handled in total, and she honestly didn’t remember most of them. “I’m not sure,” she said, shaking her head in defeat. “I filed too many books yesterday to keep track of them all. And since Sarah…” she trailed off. “Well, I don’t remember all that much from yesterday.”

“You mostly work in the fantasy section, don’t you?” Robby asked. When Molly nodded, he put his face in his hands with his elbows propped on the table between them. “Molly, this could get dangerous. These two are relatively mundane, but who knows what could come out of those books.”

Her face paled. She hadn’t thought about that. “Th-they’re just fictional. They can’t really do anything, can they?”

“I want you to stay with me until this is handled,” Robby said, standing up in a gesture of finality. He clearly felt there was no room for argument. Molly had seen him like this before and she’d never been able to make herself heard.

“Robby—”

“No, Molly. You’re staying with me so I can protect you.”

She slumped lower in her chair. She wasn’t going to fight with Robby, but she didn’t want to go with him. She wasn’t sure why she was so reluctant to stay with Robby—they’d been dating for almost a year, after all—but some instinct told her it wouldn’t be very smart. “If you really think they’re going to be that dangerous,” she started, her voice soft, “is there all that much you could do to ‘protect’ me from them?” She didn’t snap, and she didn’t yell. But she wanted to. Today was shaping up to be an interesting day. If she didn’t watch out, she was going to lose her southern charm.

Robby was dumbstruck as he stared at Molly. Apparently she had surprised him too. She was vaguely aware of Belinda letting out some kind of humming sound on her shoulder, and she knew Ted had stiffened where he sat across the room, but she kept her attention on Robby, waiting to see how he would respond. She had a suspicion she was going to regret her boldness.

His voice was low and gravely when he finally spoke, and his hands were clenched into fists at his side. “You will come with me until this is sorted out. I will protect you, and you will fix the problem you started. You have no idea how much danger you’ve put me in.”

“The problem I started?” Molly asked, offended for a reason she couldn’t quite explain.

Robby took a step toward the edge of the table, clearly intending to move towards her, but Ted stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Molly doesn’t want you to touch her right now. I suggest you stay away from her,” he said.

“Molly,” Robby said. His face was turning red by now, and she was afraid of what would happen if he got to her. “Tell Ted to step away so you can come with me. We don’t need to get violent right now.”

“No,” Molly said, trying not to let a quaver into her voice. She hoped she didn’t sound as afraid as she felt.

“Molly, you’re going to get both of us killed. Come with me to my apartment and we can try to fix the mess you made.”

“I didn’t do anything!” she shouted, letting her anger flare at last. Her voice cracked. She was standing now, and Belinda took flight.

Robby tried to push past Ted, and Belinda let loose a stream of red dust over him.

“Shit!” he shouted, stepping back to stare at the patch of skin on his arm where the dust had settled. It looked like there was a rash forming, but Molly was too far away to tell if that was the case, or if it was just the red dust.

“It’s not Molly’s fault,” Ted said, stepping toward Robby and closing the distance once more. “I think it’s your fault, Robby. The imp only found Molly because of you.”

“Imp?” Molly asked, confused.

Belinda settled on her shoulder to explain. “There was a girl yesterday, I think. At the library. She was an imp. Put a curse on you.”

She didn’t curse very often, but this, she decided, was worth it. “What the hell?”

“Molly, you don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Robby said, making an effort to keep his voice calm.

She shook her head. “Robby, just leave me alone. I need some time to process all of this, and you aren’t helping.”

Ted looked over his shoulder at her. “Do you want me to help him leave?” he asked.

Molly hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Please. Thank you Ted.”

Then Ted closed the distance between himself and Robby, grabbed Robby’s arms just above the elbow, and walked him through the door that Belinda had somehow managed to open. Belinda flitted after them, leaving Molly alone at last.

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Forgetting – A Short Story

Author’s Note:I’ve decided to try my hand at the occasional random writing prompt to get the juices flowing. I’m hoping that doing some exercises will push me down the path to being able to write honest-to-goodness short stories. This one actually didn’t turn out too badly, in my humble opinion.

Prompt: “What does routine tell you?  Choose one hour from your daily routine that is often the same.  Write it out as a story.”

This time of year people of all sorts wandered in and out of the park in the early afternoons. There was nothing Emily liked more than getting home from work, settling in on her second story apartment, and people watching. Not to mention that later in the evening she could count on a gorgeous sunset casting the distant mountains in a myriad of purple and pink hues.

It was just such a night when he appeared. The sun had mostly set and all that remained to be seen along the horizon was a faint blue outline of the mountains, mostly visible because of the soft glow of the city to the south rather than any remaining light in the sky. The night was still warm, but it was breezy, and the tennis players and dog-walkers had long since left the park to return to their families.

The park was closed after dark, but there were lights along the sidewalk used for access to the apartment buildings that looked out over the lawn. Emily had set up a light of her own using a desk lamp and some creative clamping just inside the door to the balcony for nights such as this. By its light she was able to sit outside and read as late as she liked. She didn’t even feel self-conscious about it, because no one was ever in the park after dark to see her. And the few neighbors she knew already thought she was weird anyway.

But someone was in the park tonight. A sound drew her out of her novel, and she noticed a silhouette on the far side of the park, standing under the weeping willow that overlooked the man-made pond.

Emily found herself staring, losing track of time. The man was standing solid, not moving a muscle in spite of the wind that was beginning to pick up. She wouldn’t be able to stand so still, she knew. She was a fidgeter. She wondered if he was even moving enough for breath, though surely he was.

The pages of her book began flipping of their own accord, and she snapped out of her trance, looking down to mark her place and close the book before the pages tore. When she looked back up there was a second figure, this one a woman.

Emily couldn’t see her face, but her body language said she was upset. Her arms waved dramatically and her shoulders were square. The man didn’t respond, and the woman grew more and more incensed. Soon enough, Emily could hear snippets of what she was yelling, but it didn’t make any sense to her—the words were too few and far between, most being carried away with the breeze.

Then she pushed the man, and he reacted in a move so lightning fast Emily wasn’t sure what she’d seen. By the time her brain caught up with her eyes, the woman was nothing more than an outline on the ground. And there was a round-shaped object rolling down the hill.

It took her a moment to understand what was happening. Her shoulders were tense as she watched the oddly-shaped object until it finally came to rest looking up at her. And Emily could vaguely make out the shape of a face.

A chill ran down Emily’s spine as she realized what had happened. She knew she should do something, call someone, stop whatever was happening, but she was glued to her seat, paralyzed in shock. And fear.

The man looked up at her.

She held her breath and looked right back, not able to look away.

His eyes were blue, and she wasn’t sure how she could tell. He was too far away.

But those eyes …

She wanted to look away, to blink, anything to come back to herself. She was drowning and she couldn’t find the right direction to swim.

Then he was in front of her, standing on her balcony. She hadn’t seen him move, hadn’t heard his footsteps. Hell, she hadn’t even felt a disturbance in the air. He was just … there.

Her eyes met his, and his lips moved. “And then. You forgot,” he said.

And she did.

Chapter 6

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Fridays, it seemed, were going to be Molly’s least favorite day of the week.

Not only did she have her Intro to Biology class, which she was taking only to cover her science-related Gen Ed requirement, but it was lab day. Which meant two of her least favorite things together: biology and group work.

It certainly wasn’t going to help much that there was a pixie taking turns rummaging through her backpack, flitting around her head, and sitting on her shoulder making rude comments into her ear. Molly was still horrified that someone intended to be Tinker Bell could have such awful language.

Molly sat in the front of the room when she got there out of habit. She would decide today if she would stay up front or move to the back depending on how the class went. She was pulling a notebook out of her bag when someone sat down next to her and greeted her by name.

Surprised, she looked up—there weren’t many people who knew her on campus, let alone students who would be taking this class. She avoided most opportunities to meet people, and those few chances she took didn’t expose her to the kinds of people likely to still be taking 100-level classes.

She frowned. “I’m sorry, do—” she wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember meeting you?”

He smiled slightly. “I’m Ted. We haven’t met.”

He said it as if it explained everything, and her frown deepened. She was too tired to have patience for this kind of conversation. “Excuse me, but if we haven’t met before, then how do you know my name?”

He chuckled softly, but it sounded … off, somehow. Like he was choking instead of laughing. “Oh, I think everyone like me knows your name, Molly.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Molly shouted, standing up and smacking the table. The whole class looked at her, including the TA leading the lab session, and she slumped back in her seat. “You’re from out of a book, aren’t you?” she asked in a high pitched whisper. She was afraid she knew which book. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I like you. And this is bio—I could help you get an easy A. Although I really should warn that you should probably—”

She took in a sharp breath and cut him off. “If you tell me that I should stay away from you I will smack you right now.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice quiet enough that not too many people were looking at her now, so of course Belinda decided to make her appearance known.

“Ted, leave off, you dickwad. You can be creepy in your own book to your own fang-banger, but leave Molly alone.”

Before either Molly or Ted could respond, the TA stood up and began introducing himself and started in on the first assignment. Ted kept interjecting with quips about nuances that the TA was ignoring, and Molly did her best to tune him out.

They didn’t start any labwork; mostly it was just taking down notes on proper procedures and safety protocols. Mostly common sense. She wished it were something challenging—maybe real work would serve as a suitable distraction. Instead, she found herself staring at the clock wondering if the minute-hand could possibly move any slower.

Finally it was over, and Molly was the first one out of the classroom. Unfortunately Ted was right behind. She was about to whirl on him and shout something she would probably regret later when Robby came up, snaked his arm around her waist, and ask who her new friend was. The tone of his voice put her even more on edge than she already was.

“Robby!” She tried to sound happy to see him. “Hi. Robby, this is … Well, this is Ted. He’s, uh, in my Bio class.”

“You her lab partner then?” Robby asked.

Ted shrugged. “Not officially. But I’d like to be.” His skin was practically glowing, reflecting the light like a multi-faceted crystal.

Robby’s grip on her waist tightened, and she shifted awkwardly, trying to make space between their bodies. She didn’t remember Robby being quite so grabby last year.

“You leave her alone.”

“Robby, it’s okay,” Molly whispered, trying to calm him down. “He didn’t do anything, and he’s not going to.”

“Hey, if it isn’t the fucking fairy!” Belinda said, darting from Molly’s backpack in a whir of gold dust. “You’re hurting Molly, fucker,” she said, flitting around Robby’s arm.

“I’m not a fairy, pixie. Go back to your nest and mind your own business or I’ll sic the redcaps on you.”

Molly’s eyes widened and she stared up at Robby. “What did you just say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, Molly. You don’t have to worry about it.” He glanced at Ted, at Belinda, and then looked at Molly and tried to steer her away. “How did you acquire a pixie?”

She really wanted to know how he knew what Belinda was, or what he meant when he said he’d sic redcaps on her. She didn’t like the sound of it, but maybe the quickest way out of this mess was to tell him what was going on.

Resigning herself to a long conversation she asked, “Do we have to talk here?”

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Chapter 5

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Molly let out a startled shriek and jumped back, holding the ruler up like a baseball bat.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m obviously not going to hurt you.”

Molly didn’t think there was anything obvious about this whole situation. There was a flying thing that was talking to her. “What the hell are you?” she asked, not bothering to filter her language. She briefly spared a thought for the look of horror her mother would have if she’d heard her daughter.

“I’m a pixie, you dumbass. What does it look like? You might want to close your mouth before you get pixie dust in it. You won’t like the sensation very much.”

Stress. This had to be stress. She’d had a bad day yesterday, that was all. And now she was hallucinating.

The pixie landed on her shoulder in a puff of gold dust. “Are you fucking the fairy? Please tell me you’re not fucking the fairy.”

Molly shook her head, too unsettled to know where to begin. Finally, she asked, “Fairy?”

“The man. The ass. Who was just here?”

“Robby? But he’s not —”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what he is. And you’re shacking up with him? Molly, I’m ashamed of you. Dating fairies is dangerous.”

“Fairies don’t exist.” She paused. “And neither do pixies,” she said, shaking her shoulders until the creature took flight again.

“Well, all right, to be fair he’s not a fairy. Not really anyway. He’s sidhe, but you probably don’t even know what that is. ‘Fairy’ doesn’t actually mean anything, really, but—”

“Don’t sit on my shoulder!” Molly snapped when the pixie started to settle on her other side. “I don’t even know what you are.”

“I told you. I’m a pixie.”

“I’ve gone insane. Mom was right about coming out here,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s sleep deprivation. And stress. I’ll just go back to sleep and—”

“And I’ll still be here. You need my help Molly.”

Molly frowned. It occurred to her that the pixie had used her name earlier too. “How do you even know who I am, anyway?”

The pixie hovered in front of her and blinked. The dust was clinging to Molly’s shirt now—she was going to have to rinse it out in the sink before she could put it in a load of laundry or all of her clothes would look like she’d washed them in glitter.

“You made me. Of course I know who you are.”

“What do you mean I made you?” Molly asked, her voice incredulous. She set the ruler down on the desk, realizing she was holding it tight enough to bend the cheap plastic.

“You were reading about me, and now here I am. You must need me for something—I’m a helping pixie. Is it to get rid of the sidhe?”

Molly’s jaw dropped. “You mean—You’re trying to tell me that you were in a book, and now you’re not?” She supposed it was no less believable than the fact that the— What did she call herself? A helping pixie? — was here in the room with her. And, she thought, looking more closely at the tiny being getting dust all over her desk now, she did look awfully familiar.

“I should think that would be obvious. If you weren’t just reading about Peter Pan last night, I’ll be a fairy’s whore.”

She blanked for a moment, wondering why in the world she would have possibly read about Peter Pan, then remembered that she’d been sitting in the children’s section while she waited for the detectives. The fairy tale book. “Tinker Bell?”

“Only in the barest of senses. The author of that pitiful book decided to call me that, but everyone knows she’s a fucking myth. Belinda, at your service.”

Molly frowned. “If you were in a children’s book, shouldn’t you have better language than that?”

The pixie’s wings rubbed together, and the dust fell in waves now. “As if. Don’t know why anyone would want to write a pixie into a book written for a child if they care about language. I’m one of the more polite of my kind.”

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Chapter 4

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It was a pounding at her door that woke her the next morning. Still half asleep, Molly cracked her eyes just enough to make out the time. 8:34 really wasn’t all that early, not for her anyway, but yesterday had been so exhausting. All she wanted to do was cocoon herself in her blankets and stay in bed all day.

Alone. Where the world couldn’t get to her.

“Molly, I know you’re in there!” Robby’s voice penetrated her head, and she groaned, covering her head.

“My head hurts,” she murmured, fairly certain she’d spoken too quietly for him to hear her. “Go away.”

Her knob jiggled as he tested the lock, then he pounded again. “Molly, let me in.”

Another door opened, to the room next door she thought, and someone hissed at Robby to be quiet.

“Molly,” he repeated, his voice lower this time. “Please let me in so I can stop waking up your neighbors.”

She groaned again, but managed to push herself up and shuffle over to the door, her comforter wrapped around her and over her head as if it would protect her from anything bad that might happen. More likely it would trip her. She turned the knob just enough to break the lock, then turned back to her bed and flopped down, laying her head back on the warm spot on her pillow.

Robby came in and shut the door behind him, flipping on the light before he came over to stand next to the bed.

“Whhhyyy?” Molly asked incoherently, turning over to face the wall, throwing the blanket back over her head to block out the light.

“You were late last night,” he said, apparently taking no sympathy on her.

“Bad day. Wasn’t allowed to leave the library until late. Go away—I have a headache.”

“Molly, they don’t even pay you. You don’t have to stay late just because you don’t finish all the books you wanted to file. You’re just a volunteer.”

“Go away Robby. I want to go back to sleep.” Even as she said it she knew it would be impossible by now. She had a migraine, yes, but that wouldn’t make it any easier for her to drift back into slumber. She was awake enough now she was stuck. Giving up, she cracked an eye to squint up at him. “How did you even get into the building, anyway?”

He smiled thinly, the twinkle that was normally in his eyes gone. Crossing his arms over his chest and standing fixing his gaze on her. “My charming personality,” he said blandly. “I was expecting you last night. We had plans for dinner.”

“Robby, a lot happened last night,” Molly said, pushing herself up to lean against the wall, her comforting serving as suitable cushion at her back while she held her knees. She grabbed her glasses from the edge of the bed, grateful that they hadn't fallen out of the bed while she slept—she'd been too exhausted last night to even put them on the desk at the foot of her bed like she normally did.

He huffed. "I'll bet. It's not like you to blow off a date."

"Sarah was murdered," she said, her voice so soft she wasn't even sure she could hear it herself.

But Robby apparently could. "What?" he asked, nearly going slack-jawed. He sat on the edge of the bed then and rested what was surely supposed to be a comforting hand on her raised knee. "What happened?"

Molly shrugged. "Not sure. I couldn't find my stuff, and I went to look for Sarah, and … Well, I guess I found her."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

At the softer tone of her voice, she almost wanted nothing more than to curl herself into his arms and let him hold her. Maybe he could make it all better. Robby was resourceful, after all. She was good at fixing things if they made sense—mechanical things, real things. But she was way out of her depth dealing with a crime as bad as this.

“I don’t know Robby,” she said at last. “I think—” She took a deep breath and looked up at him guiltily. “I think I just need some time to process. I know we had plans, but would you be terribly upset if I just stayed in alone today?”

“Molly, I don’t think—”

“Robby, I need some space,” she said, her voice firmer this time. She didn’t want to argue with him right now.

His face was blank when he looked at her now—it was as if all emotion he had ever felt had been wiped clean. It felt…foreign. He clearly didn’t like being asked to leave, even if she hadn’t been quite that direct. She couldn’t blame him, and a large part of her felt bad for shutting him out like that.

But Robby would most likely try to distract her with other things, and she was fairly certain they would be things she wasn’t ready to think about yet either.

Without another word, he stood and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Molly sighed and lifted her laptop from the floor where it was tucked under her bed, then booted it up. It wasn’t any use trying to get back to sleep now. She’d gotten as far as checking her e-mail when a rustling noise from the corner drew her attention. Frowning, she set her laptop aside and walked over to the trash can with crumpled papers and tissues, surprised to see that the contents were moving ever so slightly. Bracing herself, she grabbed a ruler from her desk and pushed the top layer of contents aside, fully expecting to see a mouse or rat.

“God, I thought he would never leave!” a shrill voice sounded in the corner of the room, and a bright light flitted out of the trash can, dust trailing after it. “Is he always that irritating? God, fairies. They’re all jerks!”

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Chapter 3

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“Miss Singer, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She heard the words but they didn’t mean anything to her. The chaos that had ensued was too much for her, and as soon as the paramedics had said she was done with her shock, Mark had set up a desk in the children’s section and closed off the wing so she could have some peace and quiet. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she was paging through a large book of fairytales – the kinder, gentler versions that were common in more modern times – when the officers had come up.

It was a woman who had spoken. She was average height, which made her short for her profession, but she was slender and looked to be in shape. She also seemed young to Molly, but she also pictured police officers to generally be aging old men, so she supposed her expectations weren’t much basis for judgement anyway. Or maybe detectives were different – that had to be why she was wearing a suit instead of a uniform.

Her partner was a youngish man, though slightly older, maybe in his mid-thirties. His brown hair was cut military-style, and Molly wondered if he had done service before going into law enforcement. It couldn’t have been a rare occurrence, she figured.

“Then can I go home?” she asked, setting the book aside.

The woman smiled and nodded. “As soon as we finish we’ll arrange for a ride for you.” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Detective Hunter. This is Detective Baker.”

Molly wasn’t sure if she should stand or not. Deciding she’d just been through a traumatic experience and could shirk on propriety just this once, she stayed seated when she shook the detective’s hand. “Nice to meet you. What would you like to know?”

The questions went quickly, and she couldn’t imagine that she had been able to provide any useless information. Yes, she had worked for Sarah. No, she didn’t know much about her. Yes, she had found her outside when her shift was done. No, she didn’t know why she’d gone outside. Molly had gone looking for her because she couldn’t find her jacket or purse. No, she still hadn’t found them. No, she couldn’t imagine that her missing belongings had anything to do with Sarah’s … well, circumstance. They went on and on, and Molly decided sometime during their conversation that she would make a terrible detective – she didn’t have the patience to ask these kinds of questions.

It made her re-think her journalism minor. Journalists probably spent at least this much time asking questions. They were probably more interesting questions, she admitted, but people were probably less willing to answer. It seemed to her that no rational person would ever willing speak to the press. Maybe she should change to business, she thought. She’d only picked up a minor at all to please her parents, who wanted her to have something practical to put on her resume when she graduated—they were convinced she wouldn’t be able to do anything with a history major. They were probably right, but that wasn’t the point.

Her mind was wandering again, and she took a deep breath and tried to focus on the officer’s questions. But she was tired, and she was confident that several hours had passed. She would be going home even later tonight than she had the night she’d seen Robbie.

Finally, finally, the detectives were done with their questions. The walked her to the front of the building where Mark was waiting. “Thank you for your time, Miss Singer,” Detective Baker said, nodding. “Here’s my card. Please call if you think of anything helpful or need someone to talk to. Detective Hunter’s phone number is written on back too, if you’d prefer a female voice.”

Molly nodded and took the card, pocketing it without thinking too much about what she was doing. The detective left the room to rejoin his partner in the break room.

“There are too many people in here,” Molly murmured, turning to Mark and rubbing her arms as if warding off the cold. Officers were walking back and forth, and Molly wondered how so many people could possibly be needed at one crime scene. Didn’t they get in each other’s ways?

“Do you need a ride home?” Mark offered, his voice soft. “I have to stay here for the most part, but I can probably get permission to duck out and get you home real quick—you’re pretty close, right?”

Of course, Molly thought to herself, Mark was the on-sight manager at the library and he would have to stay as long as the police needed access to the library. He’d have to lock up after them when they were done. “A ride would be great,” she said, looking outside. It was definitely dark out, and she wondered what time it was.

Mark nodded and disappeared into the breakroom, then came back a few seconds later carrying two lightweight jackets. He handed one to her and put the other on. “You can use this one, since yours hasn’t been found yet. It’s from the lost and found, been there for ages.” Then he put his on and held the front door open for her.

They drove in silence other than her quick, quiet instructions on when to turn. When they reached her apartment, she slipped out and muttered her thanks before hurrying up the steps to her dorm. The outside door was still unlocked, so it couldn’t be all that late – the doors locked at nine and would need keys to get in. Too late it occurred to her that even though she could get into the building, she couldn’t get onto her floor or into her room without her keys. Last year, when she’d had a roommate, she would have been able to call. Now she would have to go to the front desk and hope that they had a spare key on hand.

And hopefully they wouldn’t charge her for the replacement. After all, her purse had been stolen. She suspect her conversation with the detectives would even count as filing a report, though she might check with them the next day to make sure.

The desk attendant was happy to help her, and he had her sign a piece of paper agreeing that she had been given the only spare key. He’d also pulled out paperwork to order a replacement lock for her door, and he said if he could show her a police report of the theft he would waive the charge from her account.

She’d barely changed into her pajamas before she collapsed into bed. As she drifted asleep, she could have sworn she saw a pixie flitting through the air above her bed.

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