What the Fae?

Chapter 4 - aftermath

Ernie slumped down to the ground, weak from the fight. "I have a feeling that last one's going to come back and bite me in the ass."

Picking herself off the ground, she winced at the pain in her wrist. Red marks crossed her light skin where that stinkin' faery had burned her. Of course, now that the adrenaline faded from her system, her wrist flared with pain. "Son of a bitch!"

Shaking her arm, Ernie glanced over at the two homeless men nearby, still fast asleep—or dead. They didn't so much as twitch with all the commotion going on right next to them.

After making sure they were still breathing, she gathered her stuff by the bench. Finding the first aid kit was her top priority once she reached her truck. Amid the wooden stakes, silver bullets, and iron blades she finally reached the ice pack. Relief came swiftly once the palliative numbed the burning pain. She taped the pack in place and then hopped into the cab.

Using the cabin light and rearview mirror, she examined her body to see how bad the damage was. A nice shiner on her right eye had already begun to swell. Scratches from the glass covered her shoulders and arms. As her eyes traveled down, she caught sight of a huge silver splotch splattered across her tank top.

 "Those freakin' faeries ruined my favorite top!" No detergent in this world was strong enough to clean faery blood. As she stared at the stain, the images of the faeries dissolving into dust burst through her mental block and replayed over and over in her mind. The pops and crackles of the first fairy's death echoed in her ears—her first kill. Guilt lodged in her throat like a stone. She failed. Failed to correct the situation without bloodshed and now her soul matched her face—broken and scarred.

She sat in silence while tears of frustration and anger and regret pushed past her eyelids and dripped off her chin.

She rehashed each kill in her head, trying out every what-if scenario she could think of to see where she could've spared their lives. After minutes of torture, knowing only her own death was the answer, the weight upon her chest merely increased. A sob broke free, opening the floodgates.

After every emotion she could possibly possess was wrenched away, she scrubbed her face dry with her gym towel. Now all she felt was hollow. At least the pain disappeared.

The drive home was quick. Their house was just a few miles from the park, in the small town of Loomis. They had a couple acres of land on which the three bedroom ranch style home sat. The truck wheels crunched over the gravel driveway, alerting all the animals of her return. As always, she was greeted with wagging tails, quacks, clucks, and baas. The llamas didn't say much.

"I'm home," Ernie said as she walked through the doorway and tossed her pack on the nearby chair.

A hand popped up from the couch and pointed at her. "You're late," her stepsister, Ashley, said.

"Hello to you, too." Ernie veered left after shutting the door and headed straight for the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of water, she chugged it down as she made her way to the bathroom to clean up. She tried to ignore the footsteps that followed, but that was impossible.

When she got in the bathroom and turned on the light, she cringed. Florescent lights had a way of highlighting every flaw like no light on earth. Every cut and bruise stood out like a beacon as she stood in front of the mirror, counting every one.

A blond head appeared behind her as she watched her reflection. "Don't tell me, you were mugged again."

Ernie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn't tell Ashley what really happened because the world of vampires, fae, and Eradicators didn't exist for her. But keeping that secret proved more and more difficult after every encounter.