In the House of the Fae

Chapter Two: Hunted

The humming increased and I turned to see another man in identical dark glasses enter the store, look directly at me, and begin moving my way.

Nervousness turning to genuine panic, I thought frantically for a moment. Should I leave immediately and let them know they’d spooked me, or should I pretend there was nothing wrong, and risk exposing myself? I settled on a little of both, moving slowly in the direction of the counter and making a show of stacking my selections neatly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the first man follow.

“Did you find everything okay?” the salesgirl asked cheerily, ringing up my books excruciatingly slowly (or so I imagined).

“Yes, thanks, I found it all fine.” I tried to keep my voice low and moderate, though I could feel the humming in my head getting louder and louder. I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder and instead concentrated on digging through my purse for cash. When the cashier finally wished me a good day and handed me my bag, I walked out the doors calmly and purposefully; but as soon as I was outside, I couldn’t help breaking into a sprint.

Throwing myself into the car and locking the doors, I finally allowed myself to look back towards the store. One of the men was now standing outside talking on a small, black cell phone; the other was nowhere in sight. Shivering, I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drone in my head lessened as I drove farther and farther away, to be replaced by growing panic. The scene in the bookstore played over and over in my mind, convincing me that what happened was not merely paranoia or an overactive imagination. I had definitely been observed and followed by two mysterious men, but the question was…why?

One obvious reason popped into my head, but surely if that had been their intent, they wouldn’t have picked so public a place to scope out a victim. No, the encounter had felt more subtle than that; it had felt personal. Somehow, they had known exactly who they were looking for. How else would the second guy have known that I was the target as soon as he stepped into the shop?

I shook my head, trying to clear it. None of my thoughts made any sense logically, yet they felt correct. Not at all comforted by that fact, I decided to push the whole disturbing event out of my mind.

Pulling onto the dirt track that led to my house, I also resolved not to tell my mother about anything that had happened. It would only make her worry unnecessarily and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I had been the source of quite enough anxiety for my mother over the years.

“Mom?” I called, closing the front door behind me.

“In the studio!” came her muffled reply. “I’ll be right out!”

I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of juice and attempt to compose my face before Erika could guess that something was wrong. I was bending down to put the carton back in the fridge when I heard her make her way into the room, crutches squeaking on the linoleum.

“That was a pretty quick trip. Did you find anything interesting?”

“Yeah, a few things,” I said, motioning to the shopping bag on the table.

As my mother skimmed through the books I’d chosen, I leaned against the counter, sipping my juice and trying to look nonchalant. She chattered on about the novels; comparing the titles, guessing which would be the most interesting, and making such normal conversation that I was finally able to relax. When she came to the book of Irish tales, however, she looked confused.

“Honey, why did you buy this? It isn’t even in English,” she said in a puzzled voice, holding up the leather volume.

“Oh, that?” I said, feigning unconcern. “I just really liked the pictures. You should check them out; they’re really beautiful.” In truth, I hadn’t even realized I’d bought the book; in my rush to get out of the store, I must have just added it to my stack of novels without thinking.

Erika flipped through the pages idly, stopping every now and then to examine something more closely. I gazed out the kitchen window, lost in thought. Outside, a strong breeze was blowing through the pine trees and the sky was beginning to darken, sure signs of a storm approaching. The beautiful weather of the afternoon was quickly giving way to dark, menacing clouds; the aptness of this didn’t escape me.

My reverie was interrupted by my mother’s voice.

“Evie, honey, come look at this.”

Going to stand behind her, I saw that she was looking at a large, colorful map of Ireland. It looked as if it had been drawn by hand and the counties and towns labeled in a lovely, flowing script.

“You know, your great-grandmother was Irish. She was born in County Clare, right here,” my mother said, indicating a section along the coast. “She had the most beautiful accent. I think my mother was always a little embarrassed by her, but I thought she was wonderful.”

“You never told me that before, Mom.”

“Well, it never really came up. She died of a sudden heart attack the year you were born. I only have a few pictures of her; I wish I had more…”

Just then, a blinding line of lightning split the sky over the lake, followed almost immediately by deafening thunder.

“I’d better start getting dinner ready before the power goes out,” I said, hurrying to the fridge.

“Honey, let me do that,” Erika protested. “You made breakfast this morning, and it is still your birthday, after all. I can manage.”

Another bolt of lightning blazed across the sky, making us both jump.

“But maybe you’d better run upstairs and get some candles, just in case.”

The storm raged all the rest of that night, whipping through the forest and stirring the lake into a sea of frothy waves. For reasons I couldn’t explain, the very air felt different, and it made me restless. I tossed and turned, occasionally dozing off, only to wake with a start from dreams marked by lurking, shadowy strangers.

All night I felt a sense of foreboding and unease; it wasn’t until just before dawn that I finally slept.