Page 2

The store owner, Victor looks up and smiles when he sees me. He always liked my grandmother. They used to be friends before everything went to shit.

“Elora dear, how is your grandmother?” he asks. Victor appears concerned at seeing me this late in the day; he knows I have to be quick to get home, night is not safe on these streets. That’s when night creatures like the vamps come out to hunt down their victims. It is never safe to be on the street after dark, easy picking for the more malevolent creatures.

“Not good, Victor. The cough hasn’t gone away. She’s getting worse.” I retrieve my grandmother’s wedding band from my pocket.

I drop it on the counter, shooting him a knowing look. He snatches it, places it in his pocket, and nods, ducking out the back and bringing back a bottle of liquid. Victor knows what my grandmother is, yet he never mentions it, knowing it is a death sentence if anyone heard him speak of the Fae.

“Give her this three times a day; I haven’t got anything stronger. Herbs are becoming harder to find, especially in the winter.” I nod, grabbing the bottle and placing my hood back over my head.

“Elora, stay safe out there,” he warns, following behind me, getting ready to barricade himself in before those who go bump in the night come out to play.

I step into the freezing air. My toes have gone numb from the mud and snow sinking into my shoes. Bowing my head against prying eyes, I take off for home, running. When I reach the corner, I run into someone.

I mutter “Sorry” at them. I go to take off, only for them to grab my arm, ripping me in front of them. I can see the man’s black boots as my eyes remain fixed on the ground. His grip on my arm is tight and warm as I feel his heat seep into my skin through the jacket.

“Take the hood off,” a man’s deep voice commands. I try to free myself of his grip, yet he is stronger, his fingers bruising, his grip unwavering. He yanks my hood off, revealing my black hair. I continue averting my eyes. Anyone could tell I wear contact lenses if they look closely. My heart skips a beat when I hear his voice again.

“Look at me, girl,” the voice grumbles.

I shake my head, trying yet again to wriggle out of his grip. He grabs my face, forcing my eyes to look into his. I can see people watching the scene play out, fear clear on their faces. I soon figure out why when I dart my eyes to his gold reptilian ones, bearing into mine. This man is Dragon, I hear him growl lowly; it rumbles through his chest, his eyes flicker dangerously, eyes that aren’t human. His tan skin is warm even through my parka. I barely reach the middle of his chest. His hair is dark, almost black in color, longer on top and shorter at the sides. He looks like he hasn’t shaved for a couple of days, stubble lining his face, his features sharp. He has high cheekbones and nice full lips—a woman’s wet dream. Yet his aura is intimidating, his grip on me unrelenting.

“What are you?” he demands.

One thing I hate about being Fae is our inability to lie. We can beat around the bush but can’t answer a direct question dishonestly. I press my lips into a tight line, fighting the urge to answer as I stare wide eyed at the man.

A fight between two homeless people breaks out up the street, distracting him for a second. I don’t waste any time ripping my parka off and sliding my arms out, escaping his clutches. I run up an alleyway using the dumpster to jump the fence and sprinting behind the next building. My muscles seize in the cold and my breath leaves clouds in the air with each breath. I hear a mighty roar and know he is chasing after me. I keep running, refusing to look back.

When I see houses lined up along the street, I dart through their yards, jumping fence after fence and finally losing him. Though that’s not all I lost. In the jacket was my grandmother’s medicine. And I don’t have time to turn back. Desperate, I continue to run until I find our house, bursting through the door and slamming it shut behind me. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I can hear its erratic rhythm. That was close, too close.

“Elora, dear, is that you?” my grandma calls out before a violent coughing fit takes over.

I hurry to her, finding her still at the kitchen table. She smiles softly, then her expression shifts when she notices my jacket is missing.

“What happened?” she asks breathlessly. Worry making her thin brows furrow.

“I ran into a Dragon,” I say, my voice shaking. “He chased me. I think I lost him.”

My grandmother frowns in mild panic and starts coughing again. I race to her side, looking on helplessly as the coughing fit racks her slight frame.

“I lost the medicine grandma; it was in the jacket. I will have to try again tomorrow,” I tell her, tears welling in my eyes.

“It is okay, dear, what matters is you are safe, now,” she murmurs, though I can sense the fear of me nearly being caught worrying her. Her hands tremble slightly on the table as her nails tap with worry.

The night goes quickly. We were asleep when we heard the voices of people out in the street screaming. I jolt upright, paralyzed with fear. Striding to the window, I pull the curtain back slightly making sure to not stand where I can be seen. I peer out, seeing men with torches, some in human form, others not. They are ripping people into the street, going from door to door. I see a man in armor go to the house next door to us then hear the shrill sound of a woman screaming as she is dragged into the street, her family looking on helplessly as he drags her by her hair.

My blood runs cold hearing her begging and pleading with them as they drag her from her house. The entire street is in chaos. I run over to the couch where my grandmother is sleeping, only she, too, is now wide awake and alert, having heard the cries of everyone on the street.

“Grandma get up we need to leave. They are going door to door,” I whisper, slipping my holey boots on my feet and quickly doing the laces. I pull my hair into a ponytail, so it doesn’t get in my face. Slipping my contacts in, I hear more screams coming from outside and people fighting.

“Come on, grandma, get up,” I tell her, pulling on her arm. She shakes her head, pulling a small knife from the coffee table drawer into her lap. She peers up at me with a sad look on her face.

“Run, Elora. I won’t allow them to know. I will only slow you down. You need to leave without me,” she whispers. I stare at her, panicked. What is she talking about?

“No, grandma. Come on. We need to leave now,” I tell her, trying to get her to her feet. She shakes me off and shakes her head.

“I promised to keep you safe. I can’t if you don’t go, now.”

“What are you talking about, Grandma? Promised who?”