A moment later, the five-fold Fae jogged into the alley. They searched up and down until, finally, the leader straightened. He stared directly where Zenith hid, through the holes in the dumpster, and into her eyes. He had to see the glint of her glowing sword. She chewed her bottom lip, and her pulse pounded in her ear.
The moment felt like an hour.
He knew. He knew exactly where she was hiding. He could probably see the glow from the sword that wouldn’t disappear. Why else would he look at her?
Zenith’s heart thumped in her chest, and she held her breath. She couldn’t move. If she bolted, they’d catch her for sure. If she was arrested, what would happen to Sam? Who would make sure she woke up every few hours?
Paden’s expression hardened, but he turned away. “Did you hear that? Sounds like it’s down the block.”
His men glanced at one another as though confused. “Sir, would you like us to search the alley to be certain? We haven’t checked the dumpster.”
He shook his head, his plume waving in the light breeze. “Down the block, men.” Then the leader turned away, and his subordinates followed.
She scowled at the blade. Instead, of disappearing, a cardboard piece beside her caught fire. She climbed out of the dumpster fire and shook her fist at the air. “Go away, magic sword. Bippity-boppity-boo.”
Nothing happened, and she sighed. Those words were the only magical ones she knew. She had to make her way home with a weapon she couldn’t get rid of. At the corner, she caught the arm of a stranger. She pointed out the fire, and they ran off to call the peacekeepers.
A lonely crow dove down to land on her droopy shoulder. She slipped out of the alleyway. Zenith began the trudge home. She might as well be caring a neon sign, begging everyone on Unseen Street to notice her. Her whole body sagged.
Glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, she hurried the ten blocks home to their shack near the ocean inlet. Her magic remained volatile, unpredictable, and Zenith didn’t know how to control it any more than Sam did hers. The sword would go away eventually.
What if it doesn’t?
The question popped up, as it always did, but she had to believe this would be like all the others. When would she figure out how to control her magic?
She sighed.
One thing was for sure, if Sam knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t make fun of Zenith’s new appendage. She turned to grimace at the blackbird on her shoulder. Or her new bird friend.
Hideout
Once inside the shack, Zenith frowned at the sword still in her hand. She opened her fingers, but it didn’t go anywhere. The crow on Zenith’s shoulder picked through her hair. Magic could be such a pain in the butt. Someday, Zenith promised herself, she’d figure out how to use it better than anyone else.
Samantha, an earth elemental, slept on the bed they shared as sister-friends. A large square of cardboard served as a floor covering. They’d painted starry night designs across it.
Sam’s dark hair stretched across the burlap pillow. Made out of discarded Fae grass and old newspapers, the mattress had served its purpose since they’d had to move to the shack on the wharf.
Beneath their tattered cover, Samantha whimpered. She had nightmares nearly every time she slept longer than a couple of hours. It was like her brain replayed her parents’ deaths over and over, trying to get it right. She didn’t talk much about it. It wasn’t something they’d figured out how to get rid of.
“Sam,” Zenith said.
Sam didn’t answer, but she trembled until the edges of the cover flapped like a flag in the tide winds. Convulsions came next. They always did.
Zenith shook her hand, opening and closing her fingers. The glittery weapon remained. If she didn’t get Sam awake soon, she might pull their hut down like she had the last one. The raven squawked and flew to the window cut-out on the other side of the shack.
“Sam, wake up,” Zenith spoke loudly into the quiet room. The crow chided her for the excess noise.
Sam groaned, and the ground vibrated. “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “Don’t hurt them,” she cried. “Let them go.”
Zenith kicked the bed. “Sam, wake up.”
Sam’s eyes popped open, the pupils completely obscured by opaque glowing white. “Zenith?”
“It’s okay, Sam. Nightmares.”
The cloudy film dissolved, and her eyes turned their normal red amber. Her eyes dropped to the magic sword. “Magic on the fritz again?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did I damage much?”
“Not this time.”
Sam smoothed her hand across her forehead. “Thank goodness.” She climbed to her feet. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d decided to leave me, you know.”
“I know you wouldn’t have,” Zenith murmured. “It was a good excuse to move closer to the water. You know blue feet would rather be close to water anyway.”
Sam sat up and her eyes widened. “What’s with the bird?”
Zenith shrugged. “Showed up about the same time the sword did. Maybe I summoned him, too.”
Sam reached for the creature, but it hopped to the farthest end of the ledge. Finally, it snapped its beak at her, and she yanked her hand back. “Never mind then.”
It grumbled once and then launched itself out the window. It made one circle and then angled off toward the public beach on the other side of the rock levy.
Zenith turned a cracked bucket upside down and took a seat. Her knees grazed the edge of their bed. The room they lived in wasn’t much bigger than a closet. At least the temperate climate of Unseen Street kept them from freezing to death. The weather wasn’t as agreeable out in the mortal world.
A week ago, Sam rattled their lean-to down around her ears. Zenith hadn’t been around when it happened
