Free Halfway (Wizards and Faeries) by Stephanie Void Page B

vibrating in the air.
    And I saw her face.
    It wasn’t me.   It was Nessy.
    Had Nessy been to this city?
    #
         I awoke with a start.   What did Nessy do that the people from the fountain wanted to hurt her so badly?   “Oh,” I groaned at the ceiling.   “Why did you keep secrets from me, Nessy?   Why didn’t you tell me?”
         My forehead felt sore. Was I getting sick?
    I noticed the bowl on the table had been refilled and I made my way to it, hungry again.
    As I ate, I gazed around the room. Tapestries graced the walls in warm colors, skillfully made.   The colors in them danced before my eyes…lovely, strange shapes.
         Squinting my eyes, I stared harder.   No, that wasn’t right.   Slowly, I cocked my head.
    The shapes were pictures!   I stared, the tips of my fingers growing colder.
    A picture of a savage lion’s head stared back at me, its mouth open to reveal a snake’s tongue.   Below it, human figures danced, their bodies bent at horrible angles. Below that , twin serpents writhed, their bodies half-alive, half-skeleton.
    Shuddering, I turned away, refusing to stare at any more of the ghastly tapestry.  
    “No wonder the duke puts it in the guest room,” I murmured.   “He doesn’t want to look at something like that.”
    Through the sheer curtains over the windows, I could see that it was rainy and nearly dark outside. How long had I slept?
    My appetite for food forgotten, I padded to the door, opened it, and looked out. The door to my room was one of many along a long, high-ceilinged hallway, dimly lit by lamps set in the walls. Pulling my shawl over my shoulders, I wandered past at least ten other doors like my own.   They were all locked.
    At the end of the hall was a room, geometrically shaped to hold a wide, angular window that looked down onto the city below.   It was dark, so I could see nothing but black shapes below me.   The patter on the windows told me it was raining.
    Lighting flashed, illuminating the city.   I backpedaled away from the window, startled, as the city momentarily spread itself before me in white light.
    I looked down, trying to see through the darkness. Glimpsing faint light from a lantern far below, I realized someone was outside the duke’s house, banging on the gate. I heard shouting. I could discern two words: “help” and “hurt.”
    Maybe no one else was awake on this rainy night, but I was not going to let someone in need shiver in the rain. I hurried to the stairs.
    And stopped abruptly, still in the shadows on the staircase, as the door banged shut. Whoever was outside had been tended to, but I was curious, so I craned my neck to see.
    Below, two of the duke’s men carried a body sprawled on a canvas stretcher, a hand hanging limply towards the ground. The fingers dripped, but I was relieved to see it was only water from the rain outside, not blood.
    The duke’s men moved silently, making the whole thing look like a funeral procession out of one of my books. I crept after them.
    They placed the body on a cushioned sofa, lit candles nearby, and left.  
    It was all too eerie.
         I crept into the room towards the body, my breath sounding harshly loud to my ears. In the light of the few candles, I could see a young man lying still, eyes shut. His black hair was plastered by the rain to his face, which was pale.
    I was about to turn away when his eyelids fluttered, revealing steel-gray eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion.
    His eyes darted wildly, taking in the surroundings, registering alarm at seeing me. His arm shot out, grabbing my wrist in a strong but almost skeletal grip.
    I gasped as I felt a mental assault. His mind bored into mine. His consciousness, though keen and skilled, was fogged and panicky. But I could feel its strength. He had done this before.
    Who are you? he demanded.
    Cemanga.   I was taken aback. You—you are in my head. I probed a bit into his mind. You’re injured.
         That’s not your concern,