Monster Garden
She blinks with her eyes like big gold coins, and looks up at the mansion warily. “Shhh. Don’t hate him too hard. He doesn’t listen to my connection much, but he still listens.”
I quell my shaking hands and sip my own pineapple soda, pushing the heart-shaped sunglasses Estella leant me higher on my nose.
“You would’ve liked her, I think,” Estella says, clearly trying to distract me from my dark thoughts. “And she would’ve liked you.”
“Why?” I grunt, bitter for no reason at all. “I’m just a human.”
Estella laughs, rolling over on her stomach. “A human who cares. The only thing she didn’t like was apathy. And I can tell you don’t have an apathetic bone in your body. Which is probably why you and Dane -“ She stops. We’ve talked enough about Dane that she knows my feelings on him are complicated. “Why you and Dane butted heads so much.”
“Because I care and he doesn’t.”
“Because you both care,” She corrects. “Way too much.”
If there’s one thing Estella can do to me that no other high fae can, it’s get me out of my own head. She claps her hands and the stone women in the fountain nearby suddenly move like they’re alive, turning to us and spraying the two of us with the water coming out of their hands. I shriek and Estella shrieks, and Sir Charles comes bounding over and barks like crazy, snapping at the water gleefully.
But it isn’t all fun and games.
Vil reminds us of that constantly, and tonight at the long dinner table most of all.
“You will leave immediately for the front when Dane and Altair return,” He looks over at Estella sitting at my side. She watches me eat my filet mignon and braids a piece of my hair idly.
“I know,” She says lightly.
The sudden violent thump makes us jump in our seat, and even Quinn, who’s dusting a statue in the corner, looks surprised. Vil’s fist is firmly on the table, his face eerily calm compared to the loud noise he just made.
“Take this a little more seriously, would you?” He smiles out at Estella, and she lets my braid drop instantly.
“Yes,” She nods to him, voice lower. “I will.”
It kills me to hear her usual lively voice so flat. I flashback to when Dane refused to bow to him the first time I came to Monster Garden, and how Vil forced him to do it. I hide my shudder under my woven poncho - what else has he forced them to do for such proud high fae to act so subservient?
“And you, Miss James,” Vil turns his mild brown eyes to me. “When they return you will head to the feeding room immediately. They’ve been away for you for too long, and will require Brightness.”
“Right.” I swallow a bite of glazed carrot that nearly goes down the wrong pipe with how furious I am.
In my bath upstairs, I really think about it. Not like daydream or lightly consider, but well and truly think about it, like the hardest problem on a quiz. No sentient being should be enslaved to another. It’s wrong. Just because some Brightened humans have the ability doesn’t mean they should use it, but even after Vil’s dead people like him will still pop up, won’t they? People will always try to control things for their own gain. Vil isn’t special - he’s just one human in a million that let his selfish desires override his ‘being a good person’ mandate. There’ll be Brightened who try to do the right thing, like this Giselle person he’s fighting, but there will always be bad apples. Quinn made it clear the fae just accept Brightened humans invading periodically as reality. But if there was some way to guard the border, if there was some way to teach other Brightened, show them that fae aren’t inherently something to be afraid of.
Vil calls this place Monster Garden because he was afraid of the fae at first. He thought they were monsters. All the things I’ve seen from fae - I could see how they could seem like monsters. But I’ve seen them act more human than me, sometimes.
Humans can act like monsters too, Vil. You’re living proof of that.
If I could show other Brightened, when they first come to the Bright Place, that fae aren’t as scary as they think they are, that magic and magic contracts aren’t things to be taken lightly - that would make the Bright Place a better, well, place. It’s because humans don’t understand fae and vice versa that we have problems.
I stop scrubbing my back. The same could be said for me and Dane. It’s because I don’t understand Dane and he doesn’t understand me that we have…problems.
I’m drying my hair in my pajamas when the house fae squeaks in my doorway excitedly. I hear Estella faintly call from the hall; “They’re back!”
They.
I rush over to the window, and sure enough Altair’s dark figure and Dane’s pale one are striding across the lawn and to the front door. Estella rockets to my doorway, hanging in it and bouncing on her heels, her pink hair bouncing with her.
“C’mon! Let’s go say hi!”
“In my pajamas?”
“No better time!” She grabs for my hand, stretching over the threshold, and yanks me into the hallway laughing. We tear down the lengths of carpet, her legs much longer than mine and I struggle to keep up.
“I haven’t seen them in years,” She laughs. I smile, happy for her, but at the same time sad for the other dormant fae in the garden. How long have they been asleep? How long has it been since they’ve seen the others?
I hate the fact my heart starts to pound the moment Dane’s lean silhouette walks through the front door. The very moment my eyes find his broad shoulders and his flyaway white-blonde hair my entire body feels lighter, deeper, more at home even though I wasn’t the one who left to begin with.
Altair sees me and Estella and sweeps both of us into a hug, spinning us around in his huge arms.
“It’s my two favorite ladies in the world!” He crows, pecking me on the cheek with a kiss, then Estella. “When did you wake up?”
“Just a few days ago,” Estella laughs as he puts us down. I wobble a bit with dizziness, and an arm catches me in the side. Long fingers, hot skin. I look up to see Dane beside me, just how I remember him; a face like a sword, sharp and hard to look at even now, his emerald-streaked blue eyes glinting down at me with the slightest dark circles under them and his broad lips pulled into a lopsided smirk.
“Watch where you’re tripping, idiot.”
Don’t think about Vil’s planned murder. It doesn’t exist. There’s only Dane. Only think about him. I give myself a single second- just one second to savor his dark, sable voice, to like a part of him instead of hating it. I can feel the glamor rising up like high tide but I’m still in control. I’m still me and what I’m feeling right now is what I really feel. I listen to my body, desperate to hear what it thinks before the glamor takes over; my heart thudding so hard it hurts, my mind a chaotic mess but thankfulness running through it like a clear, strong thread - thankfulness that he’s back and unharmed and the same way I remember him. My arms ache, the urge to feel him -
I cut myself off. That’s enough listening. It’s time to talk.
“I have a name, you know,” I sniff.
“Not a good one by any means,” He agrees. “Who names their child after a month of the human calendar?”
“A lot of people, it turns out,” I bristle. “Who names their fae kid after a pastry?”
He blinks. “What?”
“A danish.”
“What’s that?” He looks completely lost, and I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing his brows knit hard over his eyes.
“That’s it,” I announce. “Next time we’re in the human realm we’re going to a bakery and we’ll see how much you like being named after a cream-filled diet-ruiner.”
Altair and Estella laugh, and I expect Dane to scowl harder. But his eyes flash up to them, then to me, and ever-so-faintly his scowl pulls into the smallest of grins as he says;
“It’s good to be back.”
My entire digestive system does a backflip at the same time my heart does a f
ront flip. Estella staggers like she’s been shocked with a taser.
“Dane! Since when did you get all sentimental? I must’ve been asleep for longer than I thought!”
“Shut it,” He growls, but that only makes Estella and Altair laugh louder and I try to hold on to the moment, but the second Vil walks down the stairs to us the laughing stops and all the joy evaporates.
“Altair, Dane,” Vil nods at the two of them. “Thank you for your service. Estella, please head to the entrance of the garden. Quinn will be with you shortly for deployment.”
Estella flashes me a look, and before I know it I’m bundled up in her thin arms, her whole scent like sweet grapefruit and primrose.
“I’m going to miss you, May.” She mutters. I hold her close and tight.
“Come back safe, okay?”
She pulls away from me and pats my cheek. “I always do. You’re the one I have to worry about - I don’t need any extra cuts on the battlefield just because you decided to help the house fae chop vegetables that day.”
I laugh, though it sounds watery. She squeezes my hand and tip-toes to kiss Altair and Dane on the cheeks.
“You boys be nice.”
“Definitely,” Altair agrees with a brilliant smile.
“No promises,” Dane drawls.
She waves and struts out the front door with her head held high and I’m in awe of her all over again - she’s fought who knows how many times in her hundreds-of-years-long-life. She’s a seasoned veteran, but this time she’s being forced to fight against her will and even still she manages to ooze gorgeous, haughty pride. I would be terrified. I would be useless.
The fae are much stronger than me. Than any human I know. Mentally and physically and spiritually. For a second I’m almost afraid of it, of them, like a rabbit is afraid of the sheer concept of a hawk, but I steel myself.
Vil’s fear consumes him. I won’t let it consume me. I’ll turn it into respect - I’ll fight my human instincts, my mortal gut, like anybody with a working sense of empathy would.
I am afraid. But I won’t be afraid.
“Miss James, please feed Altair and Dane immediately, as we agreed,” Vil insists. I look up into his mild brown eyes.
“I want to see Quinn off, at least.”
A spark of something like that cruel possessiveness I saw in his eyes when he said the ‘high fae are mine’ shows through again. I’m not going to get to see Quinn off, am I? Not if I want to keep Vil off my scent.
“A-Alright,” I start, bowing my head slightly. “I’ll feed them now.”
Vil’s face melts into a smile. “Thank you.”
Dane mumbles for Altair to go first. The dark-haired fae happily agrees, and we make our way down to the feeding room as a trio. I catch Altair up on everything that’s happened since he was gone - minus the whole death-fae pact, of course.
I see Altair’s eyebrow twitch, confusion and worry there, and my throat tightens up. Shit. Think about anything else - something so strong it’ll drown out any hint of the plan. Taxes? No, he’s still frowning. Anything else. Quick!
I look over at Dane and do the only thing I can think of. It’s strong. It works fast.
I surrender to his glamor.
Instead of fighting it, pushing it away like I’ve done this whole time, I give in and it floods me and my whole body feels warm, my thoughts swimming with how handsome his jaw looks, how badly I want him to kiss me again with those broad lips, how lean and limber he looks under his black jacket and leather pants and how perfect all those muscles and bones and sinew would look pressed against mine, pressed into me and drawing out of me and into me again -
“Uh, May?”
Altair’s voice is barely there, but I snap my eyes to him and smile. We’re inside the feeding room, and I’m frozen in front of the herb shelf, my entire body throbbing.
“Sorry,” I manage, and choose the lavender and honey and black sea salt that defines him. I can feel Dane watching from outside the sliding glass door, and I glance at it before I put my blindfold on - sure enough, he’s leaning against the doorframe, back to us. But he turns his head over his shoulder and our eyes meet for a split second and my body screams to fall to my knees in front of him and beg for him to fuck me - I skitter my gaze away instantly. Dangerous. C’mon, May, hold it together.
I put my blindfold on and sit at the stool, the smell of honeycomb and lavender flooding my senses. Altair’s body is tense, his muscles wound tight, but after a few minutes of lacing my hands around him he relaxes, head lolling back.
“Damnit, May,” He sighs. “If only you knew how good it feels to be full again.”
“I do, sort of,” I manage. “Like when you’re hungry, and you eat a really good home-cooked meal, right?”
“It’s so much more,” He presses. “It’s like falling asleep in a warm patch of sun on a cool day. It’s like, I don’t know - I’m not Ioriss, I’m bad at words. It’s like falling asleep after working your body hard all day.”
“Satisfying?” I offer.
He nods. “Definitely that.”
There it is again - that prickling at the back of my neck. Dane’s looking at me, isn’t he? I don’t dare look, because if I so much as turn his way I’m pretty sure I’ll abandon Altair entirely and start grinding on Dane like a mindless cat in heat and then all Altair’s respect for me will fly out the window. Not that I can lock eyes with Dane at all with this blindfold on. Altair was right - take away one sense and the rest get amplified. Dane’s eyes are points of heat roaming over my body.
And his feeding is next. I shudder violently, and Altair sits up.
“You okay?”
“Y-Yeah. Just fine.”
Altair’s feeding is over too soon. No matter how long I try to drag it out to avoid the inevitable he gets out of the tub. I take off my blindfold - he’s glowing brightly and darkly in the stardust cloth of his true form. He ruffles my hair and winks.
“Alright, I get the picture. I’ll leave you two alone, now.”
I almost call for him to come back, but no sooner has Altair walked out does Dane walk in. I keep my eyes on the herb shelf, the floor, anywhere but him as he brushes past me to change - the space left between our bodies crackling with unseen static.
Stiffly, I walk over to the herb shelf. Cloves and sweet orange flower and mint claw at me, begging to be picked up. The sound of Dane’s clothes hitting the floor rings like someone’s struck a bell inside my chest. I tie my blindfold, even if my whole being insists I don’t need it, insists it’d be better without it. I used to be so timid, so afraid of it but now I want to see him, every fucking glorious part of him -
I hear him enter the water, and I walk over the usual five steps and feel for the edge of the tub, my fingers shaking as I tip the herbs in. I feel around for the stool and collapse on it, reaching out for the heat of him.
We can’t have a repeat. Some small part of me, drowning in the glamor, cries out that we can’t have a repeat of last time. But even as I think that my hands are sliding greedily over his shoulders, the feel of him so silky, so real and tangible after being away for so long - I dive into him, every curve of his neck, every swell of his muscle, I linger hungrily, like I’m trying to memorize him, like I’m trying to fill a void I never knew I had, a void shaped just like him.
I run my hand down the seam of his abs, gently, slowly despite the fact I want to do nothing more than go as fast as possible, feel as much of him as fast as possible. He twitches ever-so-slightly, his muscles jumping under the sensation like a wild beast being pet for the first time. I can’t help my soft laugh.
“Don’t be afraid.”
It’s a blur of movement and the sound of water as I’m pushed to my feet - off the stool - my spine pinned against the hard wood wall of the feeding room. I can feel Dane’s long fingers as he pulls my arms wide, pressing his own arms against them on the wall, our hands palm-to-palm and every inch of his damp body bur
ning hot against me. His hips, his chest, and a long, steel-cut length straining just below my belly button.
“You are the one -” His voice comes out so ragged, his breath warm on my neck. “- who should be afraid.”
It’s the glamor. It has to be. That’s what makes my whole body seize up at his words, what blurs my thoughts as something hard offers itself between my legs and I press into it mindlessly, grinding my hips in instinctual circles against it. It’s the glamor that makes me cry out in loss when it retreats, only to celebrate again eagerly as his long fingers slip over my pajama shorts, sliding beneath my soaked underwear and caressing the skin there.
“Strange,” He murmurs sardonically against my neck. “I thought you hated me. What’s all this, then?”