hair. I didn’t trust him anymore. Not until I knew who he served.
I turned my attention back to the man. His eyes roved around the room, unable to keep still. I kept my gaze on him, but spoke to Lila. “Have you ever heard stories of people, young men usually, who meet beautiful faerie girls and follow them into their hills, only to emerge decades or centuries later, befuddled and sure that no time at all has passed?”
“Faeries,” Lila said with a wistful sigh.
It seemed I had failed in this aspect of her education if she found them anything but dangerous.
“Faeries,” the man repeated and closed his eyes, as though that would take him back to his hill.
“Faeries,” I echoed. “They take young and attractive humans who are seeking adventure, and lure them into their glens and hills and rivers to enslave them. They make them slaves to their every whim.”
The man cast me a wild look. “I’ll be returning. Soon enough. I’ll go back after….” He tried to say more, but seemed unable to make another sound.
“Even though you were their willing servant, even though you adored it, think, man. Was it truly voluntary? What would you do for a hit of faerie dust?”
“Anything,” he whispered and closed his eyes.
I gestured to Lila, who brought him a mug of coffee that read Keep Calm and Wicca On .
“Drink,” I ordered. “Begin to take care of yourself, and I will consider helping your faeries.”
He took a sip and scowled. More sweat rolled down his face. He grew white as paper. “They speak of you at times, Morgan le Fay. The witch of Seattle who knows of the old ways. They fear none, and yet you they speak of in whispers. They need you but cannot bear to ask you for aid.”
“Where is this faerie hill in Seattle?” I asked lightly. It was impressive that they’d kept the location hidden from me.
He opened his mouth and closed it with a snapping motion. He made the same odd gesture again, and then shook all over. His eyes rolled upward and sweat streamed down his face.
Of all the drugs this world had ever produced, faerie dust was the nastiest. The first stages hitting him were delirium tremors: anxiety, faerie hallucinations, seizures and disorientation. The next stage, which might come hours or days later, would feel like being flayed alive. It typically lasted for a week. And then came a depression so dark that the only recourse was to tie the person down until it passed. I’d once helped a friend come off faerie dust, and at times I had wondered if it would have been more of a mercy to let her perish.
I watched the man and thought about my own… well, I should name it an addiction, though it had always felt more complicated than that. My addiction to Grail water. I breathed, licked my lips, and did my best to pretend that I did not sear with desire at the thought of one drop, one taste of it. All that was over. Gone forever.
“Where is this faerie hill?” I repeated. “I will need to visit it, if it needs my help.”
He opened his mouth but it snapped shut again.
I had the sense that he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.
I watched him for another long moment. “Do you truly not mind being so controlled by them?” I asked. “Do you not mind this spell they put upon you that makes it so you can't even speak, not truly, of the life you lead with them? See how they do not trust you. How they fear you should ever escape,” I said.
He gave me a glowering stare, blinked, and then drew his legs closer to him, on the edge of passing out. He pressed himself against the wall, as though wishing to push through it and run away.
“I have something that may help, though I am not sure your masters deserve it,” I said. I was plenty annoyed at helping any unders who had made this man their pet. The only thing that kept me interested was learning where a fae population might be living and hiding in my city.
I stood and walked to the back of my store, to a shelf that kept odds and curios. I
I turned my attention back to the man. His eyes roved around the room, unable to keep still. I kept my gaze on him, but spoke to Lila. “Have you ever heard stories of people, young men usually, who meet beautiful faerie girls and follow them into their hills, only to emerge decades or centuries later, befuddled and sure that no time at all has passed?”
“Faeries,” Lila said with a wistful sigh.
It seemed I had failed in this aspect of her education if she found them anything but dangerous.
“Faeries,” the man repeated and closed his eyes, as though that would take him back to his hill.
“Faeries,” I echoed. “They take young and attractive humans who are seeking adventure, and lure them into their glens and hills and rivers to enslave them. They make them slaves to their every whim.”
The man cast me a wild look. “I’ll be returning. Soon enough. I’ll go back after….” He tried to say more, but seemed unable to make another sound.
“Even though you were their willing servant, even though you adored it, think, man. Was it truly voluntary? What would you do for a hit of faerie dust?”
“Anything,” he whispered and closed his eyes.
I gestured to Lila, who brought him a mug of coffee that read Keep Calm and Wicca On .
“Drink,” I ordered. “Begin to take care of yourself, and I will consider helping your faeries.”
He took a sip and scowled. More sweat rolled down his face. He grew white as paper. “They speak of you at times, Morgan le Fay. The witch of Seattle who knows of the old ways. They fear none, and yet you they speak of in whispers. They need you but cannot bear to ask you for aid.”
“Where is this faerie hill in Seattle?” I asked lightly. It was impressive that they’d kept the location hidden from me.
He opened his mouth and closed it with a snapping motion. He made the same odd gesture again, and then shook all over. His eyes rolled upward and sweat streamed down his face.
Of all the drugs this world had ever produced, faerie dust was the nastiest. The first stages hitting him were delirium tremors: anxiety, faerie hallucinations, seizures and disorientation. The next stage, which might come hours or days later, would feel like being flayed alive. It typically lasted for a week. And then came a depression so dark that the only recourse was to tie the person down until it passed. I’d once helped a friend come off faerie dust, and at times I had wondered if it would have been more of a mercy to let her perish.
I watched the man and thought about my own… well, I should name it an addiction, though it had always felt more complicated than that. My addiction to Grail water. I breathed, licked my lips, and did my best to pretend that I did not sear with desire at the thought of one drop, one taste of it. All that was over. Gone forever.
“Where is this faerie hill?” I repeated. “I will need to visit it, if it needs my help.”
He opened his mouth but it snapped shut again.
I had the sense that he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.
I watched him for another long moment. “Do you truly not mind being so controlled by them?” I asked. “Do you not mind this spell they put upon you that makes it so you can't even speak, not truly, of the life you lead with them? See how they do not trust you. How they fear you should ever escape,” I said.
He gave me a glowering stare, blinked, and then drew his legs closer to him, on the edge of passing out. He pressed himself against the wall, as though wishing to push through it and run away.
“I have something that may help, though I am not sure your masters deserve it,” I said. I was plenty annoyed at helping any unders who had made this man their pet. The only thing that kept me interested was learning where a fae population might be living and hiding in my city.
I stood and walked to the back of my store, to a shelf that kept odds and curios. I
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