The Treachery of Beautiful Things (9 page)

“Jenny? Jenny, can you hear me, lass?”

She tried to answer, but her voice was just a croak. She swallowed. “I can hear you. I’m okay.”

It felt like a lie, though. She was exhausted, her heart still racing, and every nerve sparking with terror. But she was alive. She was here. And she was safe.

She hadn’t imagined it was still possible to feel safe. Certainly not here, in the forest at night.

They’re only trees. Only trees. This is just in my—

But it isn’t.

Puck lifted his face to the brambles and bushes hanging over her and she heard him whistling, a curious, inhuman tune. All around her the plants shuddered, not from the wind and the rain, but with sudden life. They moved, drawing closer together, closing up the gaps until the rain no longer reached her and the wind was locked outside. She huddled in the center, arms wrapped tight and shivering. Her teeth hammered against each other, and though her muscles ached from tension, she could not make them relax. Terror had turned them into hard, unyielding wires.

“Puck,” she managed to ask at last, “where’s Jack?”

“He’s coming, lass. He’ll be here. You’ll see.”

“Why didn’t he come back?”

Puck eyed her curiously, studying her face, and compassion flooded his gimlet eyes. “He won’t desert you. No, little Wren, he won’t make that mistake again.”

J
enny jerked awake, the itch of the Redcaps lingering, the leering faces of the Goodwife and her husband filling her groggy mind. Light stained green and gold as it filtered through the undergrowth that twisted around her like a cocoon. Her hair was tangled and filthy. Scabs of dirt and dried blood clung to her. Her body ached everywhere, every pinprick bite still burning on her skin. The nightdress clung to her in a twist, a mud- and bloodstained rag.

She was still alive. It didn’t seem possible. Though she hurt everywhere, though she was filthy and exhausted, she was still alive.

She reached out and pushed back the bushes surrounding her, unfolding them like an unlikely moth emerging from a chrysalis. Sunlight warmed her skin. Its touch helped. She could almost believe it had just been a nightmare…

Almost.

Jack appeared at her side in an instant, crouching near enough to be attentive, far enough away to remain
nonthreatening. He raked his dark hair back from his forehead, his bright, mismatched eyes fixed on her, as if he was trying to see inside her and solve a riddle.

“Are you…” he began carefully and reached out a hand. He tried to smile, but faltered when she didn’t return it. “Are you all right?”

“I need to wash,” she told him stiffly. Jack just frowned for a moment, as if he didn’t quite understand. She tried again. “Those things were all over me. I need to wash.”

“There’s a river nearby, and a pool. I’ll show you.”

Jenny nodded and ignored his offered hand, pulling herself to her feet.

Jack had sent her to that house. And left her there.

“I need my clothes. I need to change…” She picked them up and then realized they weren’t in much better shape than the muddy nightdress that hung from her.

“This way,” he said, apparently unaffected by her mood, though he kept his eyes from lingering on her for too long. She caught Puck’s attempt at a reassuring nod, but could find little solace in that. Jack had tricked her. Just to be rid of her. And it had almost worked too well. He could have at least said he was sorry. He could at least say
something
.

But as they walked, he was as silent as a stone.

He hadn’t even come back for her in the night. No, he’d left Puck to do that. Anything might have happened. Jenny tightened her fists, knotting them on the material. It didn’t
help. If he
did
turn around now, if he
dared
to say anything to her, she…Well, she didn’t know what she would do, but it would be bad.

Jack didn’t say a word. She hugged her clothes against her chest. They were filthy, but it didn’t really matter. She just wanted to get rid of the nightdress and pull on some semblance of normality again.

Normality, sure. She snorted a bitter laugh. Jack stiffened and glanced back at her, frowning, but he still didn’t speak. Instead he led her to the most beautiful stream Jenny had ever seen outside of a picture book and all thoughts fled her mind. The amber-tinged water danced over the rocks to fill the pool.

Lights drifted on the air, over the surface of the water, little dots of brightness that spun on the breeze and against it. As Jenny stopped at the water’s edge, they flew away, like luminous thistledown on the breeze, one moment there, the next gone. Jenny hesitated—they reminded her too much of the Folletti—but they didn’t return.

“They won’t hurt you,” said Jack. “They’re just sprites. They’re gone now anyway.”

Hopefully. She frowned, and switched her attention to the river instead. Anything but look at him.

If she knelt in the water, she would be able to wash comfortably enough, though it would only come up to her waist. It was cold to the touch, but that was just the chill of
freshness, and Jenny could not resist its lure right now. The thought of being clean again…

Sunlight fell dappled through the forest canopy, warm and relaxing. She reached for the hem of the nightdress and was about to shed it when she realized Jack still stood there, watching her with a curiosity she found both unnerving and amusing, as if he wasn’t sure what she was doing.

“Go away,” she told him.

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I made a terrible mistake when I sent you down to the cottage because I thought you could not come to harm there. I was wrong. I won’t let you walk into such danger again. Jenny, I’m sorry.”

Sorry. Right
.

She kept her gaze hard as the shining river stones scattered around her. But Jack didn’t say any more. Silence wrapped its web around her, around them both, and eventually forced her to look up. The moment her gaze locked on him, much to her surprise, he blushed. It wasn’t embarrassment, she saw, but shame. Then she realized, the apology wasn’t for not leaving her alone now, but for sending her to the Woodsman and his wife in the first place. Perhaps for not seeing what was happening, or for not coming to her aid.

Shame. She could hardly believe it.

“They were my friends.” He stumbled over the words, knitting his fingers together as he struggled to explain. His
eyes looked so very young. A boy’s eyes, not a man’s, shining but downcast, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. She almost wanted to believe him. “At least I thought they were. I didn’t know…”

Friends
. The word made her stiffen. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he meant that. The spark of anger flared up again, burning away the bit of sympathy that had been growing there. Well, lucky him to have such
friends
. Or perhaps lucky her to never have to deal with
friends
like that. Better no friends at all. Certainly safer.

“They
fed
me to those things! I don’t know how many there were. They were going to let them drain me dry. You said they’d help, but they
tried to kill me
. You left me there!”

Jack looked shocked at first and then, suddenly, unrepentant. “They tried to use you only to save themselves. It was misguided, but— It doesn’t matter now. They’re dead.” The bitterness in his voice soured his features.

“That’s insane,” she growled at him. “They’re monsters. Both of them. They’re—”

“They’re dead!” he shouted, his voice so loud it startled her into silence.

Her anger boiled over then, scalding through her chest and throat. Two steps brought her close enough to shove him as hard as she could. He barely reacted, which made her even angrier. It was like shoving one of the trees standing witness around them.

“Leave me alone, Jack.”

Jack answered quietly, with the patience of stones. “I can’t. I’m Guardian of the Edge. It’s my duty to keep you safe. And it isn’t safe here.”

The problem was, he could be right. She probably wasn’t even safe from Jack himself. His motives were unclear. His alliances always shifting, his moods unnerving…He stood so close now she could feel the warmth from his body, his scent like the forest itself. A deep, beguiling fragrance that curled around her. Jenny shifted her gaze so she was looking over his shoulder. She couldn’t think straight with him that near. She took a measured step back. A deep breath. She glanced at the trees around them shushing faintly in the breeze, and the image of the greenman rose up once more in her mind.

Inside her, everything twisted. She drew in a single constricted breath.

“That thing in the night, that creature…”

“Creature?” He took his own step back, his eyes flicking over her face, blue and green points. “You saw a wood spirit, that’s all. They’re dangerous when raised, worse when crossed. All natural spirits are. Just stay out of its way.”

Dangerous enough that Jack was nowhere near when Puck came to her aid.
Puck,
of all people. But not Jack.

“I saw what it did. What kind of
natural spirit
would do that?”

Jack crept a little closer again, his voice softening to a gentle hum, a balm on her jagged nerves. “Nature is harsh, unforgiving. It can destroy as much as it can create. That’s—that’s its
nature
.” He cast her a nervous smile, as if trying to cheer her but unsure of her reaction, and reached out toward her.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, stepping out of reach. “I don’t know how you influenced me before, but—”

“I had to. You shouldn’t be here. And being elfshot meant you were easily swayed. A touch is sometimes all it takes.”

She glared at him. “Don’t touch me,” she said again. “Ever.”

He looked at her steadily. “The influence is gone now and it won’t return. But that’s not to say something else won’t snare you. You have to be careful in the Realm. The sooner you realize its dangers, the better.”

“I thought Faerie was meant to be beautiful,” she said bitterly.

And then he did laugh, a fantastic sound, full and vibrant, infectious the way it rolled through her.

“Look around you.” He spread his arms wide, indicating the little river, the forest with its bright colors and cool shadows, the sea of golden daffodils through which they had waded. She hadn’t noticed at the time. Now that he pointed it out, she was almost ashamed that she had passed it by. “Is this not beautiful?”

She smiled, but it was short-lived.

Yes, beautiful, but too beautiful. Hiding dangers behind that beauty, like its queen, the woman she had seen hunting. Dangers like its greenman.

The stream flowed on, murmuring its song. Sunlight glinted on the surface, tinged with green as it filtered through the leaves. The forest whispered when the breeze shifted through it. She stood on the riverbank, shivering slightly.

“And what was the thing I saw last night?” she asked again, a powerful shudder running through her at the thought. That wasn’t beautiful, but terrible. Terrifying. And worse. It had been there, watching her in the trees that night Tom was taken. She wrapped her arms around her body. “This place isn’t beautiful. It’s two-faced and treacherous, and so is everything here, in this…this…whatever this place is! I saw that creature before—the night I lost Tom. That thing was there. It sent the trees after him. It took him.”

“No.” Jack closed his eyes.

Jenny paused, her mouth still open, and shut it with a click, startled by this sudden show of empathy.

She pulled the sleeves of the nightdress down over the tops of her hands and said, “Well, the sooner I can find Tom and get back home, the better. And I will find him. I have to. Knowing what I know about this place now, I have to.”

Jack drew back with a ragged breath and shook his head.

“I fear you will be disappointed, Jenny.”

“Let me worry about that. Just turn around, if you must stay. Turn around and don’t look at me.”

To her surprise, Jack obeyed. He settled himself on the ground, his back to her, and took out his stone-bladed knife. He picked up a piece of deadwood and began to carve. She watched his hunched shoulders, the way the shavings fell like curls of apple peel on the ground beside him.

Nervous, but sure he would not turn around, Jenny slipped out of the nightdress and threw it, with force, toward the trees. Jack tensed sharply at the sound it made as it hit. It fluttered to the ground beside him and he reached out to pick it up.

“What would you do with this?”

“Burn it.”

He bowed his head but said nothing, laying the white cloth aside next to her own clothes.

The curious urge to trust him rose up again. She shouldn’t, she knew that. He was a guardian, and he’d said the word as if it really meant something to him. But at the same time, something about him scared her more than she could say. Somehow it felt as if his will was the only thing that controlled him, and that if he lost that restraint, things could be very bad indeed. How could he be the guardian of a place as wild as the forests of Faerie without
being infected by the same wildness? The way he looked at her, studied her, as if trying to see beneath her exterior and into her soul…

She shook the thought aside. Everything here unnerved her. She’d been shot at by tiny fairies; she’d been kidnapped by people who served a swarm of monsters; she’d been rescued by Puck while something just as monstrous murdered her captors. No doubt it would have come after her and Puck next.

Anyone sane would give in and go home.

But she wouldn’t, not without finding Tom.

She’d thought she was ready to put it all behind her, that she was finally prepared to forget and move on. And maybe she had been, back there in her own world, when she had no hope of ever seeing him again. Now she knew different. She couldn’t just throw it aside. Every moment she had spent searching for him, wishing for him, turning over her memories of that night…She could not give up now.

The water was blissfully cold. Her skin tingled and the bite marks stung with its touch, but it felt so good to clean off the grime and blood, to run water through her hair and feel it trickle down her back. To scrub herself clean. To feel human again. She closed her eyes.