Free The Faery Keepers by Melinda Hellert Page A

vision.
                  “They’re not real,” I tell myself, blinking rapidly to get them to go away. “Just my imagination.”
                  Their mouths open in a great yawning hole, distending into an impossibly sized gap no real human can accomplish in their wildest dreams. Each one seems like it is going to suck me into its abyss.
                  I squeeze my eyes shut but not before flames erupt from their eye sockets, each face becomes corpse-like, more skull bone than warm, live, flesh. If something that’s nearly see through can be warm or alive.
                  A whimper escapes my lips.
                  I can’t bear it any longer; I cover my head with the scratchy blanket. I take deep, slow breaths, inhaling the wooly scent of the fabric.
                  I’m trembling uncontrollably albeit I keep telling myself that the faces aren’t real. Just some grotesque side effect of whatever was in that food. But the knowledge of my father’s death is still too fresh in my head for that particular image to not strike a nerve.
                  I kick my leg blindly at the tray and hear it hit something solid that gives a masculine, “Ow.”
                  I throw the blanket off of me and look around for the source of the culprit, plaintively ignoring the shapes clouding my vision.
                  “Why’d you do that for?” it demands. “Now I’m wet all over.”
                  I squint.
                  Derek stands by the bed shaking liquid from his hair and eyes.
                  “Sorry,” I mumble, swaying unsteadily as the room starts spinning again.
                  “Come on, let’s get you out of her—” he pauses, scrutinizing me. “What’s wrong?”
                  I grimace as one of the skull-like faces comes too close for comfort. “I—”
                  He picks the tray up. Looks from me to it. “ Please tell me you didn’t eat something on here.”
                  “Derek?”
                  “Oh, you idiot. What a stupid thing to do.”
                  He takes my wrist, feeling for a pulse before I can protest. Worry lines his face.
                  “What? What’s wrong?” It comes out slurred. Like I’ve just woken up from a long, deep sleep.
                  “Exactly why would you—” His head swivels around to the door.
                  It’s beginning to open.
                  He swears an oath. “Lay back down!” he whispers.
                  Then he’s gone.
                  “Derek?”
                  “Under here,” comes his voice from beneath me.
                  “Oh.”
                  “Hush. I shouldn’t be in here.”
                  “Oh,” I repeat stupidly.
                  “ Kate ,” a low growl.
                  Any words that may have come from my mouth next are swallowed by the entrance of Queen Chrysantha. She’s alone, in the same gown as earlier. The expression on her face tells me that she isn’t all that thrilled that she’s here. Her crimson lips are pressed together in a thin, angry line. Her elegant wings are tucked close to her body.
                  “I was hesitant to do this before, but I am afraid you have given me no choice.”
                  She steps closer to the bed. I shrink back.
                  “What do you mean?” I ask, alarmed by the severity of her words.
                  “That food you ate has been laced with a poison that will kill you slowly and painfully unless you ingest the antidote which,” she holds up a vial of clear blue liquid, “I happen to have upon my person.”