Severed :: Chapter 2

It was like she split the sky open to let us in. I felt her hands grab my wrist, and we tumbled onto an ordinary suburban street. 1

At least, I had thought it was ordinary.2

Wherever we were, the glamour fell off of us like ice sliding down a wet roof. My earlier assumptions were brought back into my mind as I looked at her wings. They were unusual, parted into seven sections on each wing. I found myself envying her for the unique quality; most females have three or less. Until now, I had felt blessed to have three. Each wing was a different hue, although they all blended together in the light of the street lamps.3

She looked at me full on for the first time. The power in her eyes was breathtaking and startling. They were a subdued shade of green; flicked with a blue, almost purple, that reminded me of summer tsunamis.4

"Home Sweet Home." 5

I thought I heard sarcasm in her voice; but saving those kinds of questions for later seemed to be the better option. The fey have a tendency to be severely open with their personal lives, but something told me that this wasn't the case tonight.6

"I can trust you." 7

It was a statement, not a question. Apparently my silence had finally broken into her patience. Immediately every nerve in my body went into overdrive. I felt like I'd come out of shock, muscles tense and ready to rip her to pieces where we stood.8

"Can you?"9

It came out acidic, but she didn't seem phased. A small smirk lit up her face and she started down the street. I contemplated staying where I was, or running, but I ended up following her, anyways. I was completely useless in this state, and there was nothing to convince me otherwise.10

We walked another few minutes in silence. Even our footsteps were completely muted in the wake of our abnormally light bodies. Street after street of identical houses and manicured lawns later, we turned down a short dirt road that headed toward a cemetery. 11

It was odd, seeing a cemetery in a clear, open field. Generally, they're surrounding by trees, or at least in a more remote spot. Looking at it, however, I realized that there couldn't have been many people who came here anymore. The tombstones were cracked, some missing pieces or turned on their sides -- Not a single new grave could have been dug in years. Not one flower on a loved one's resting place.12

I could hear the voices and feel the magick from the entrance where we stood. I couldn't see an opening anywhere; but there was clearly a gathering near by. It sounded like we had come in the middle of a festival. I looked again at my pseudo-heroin and stepped slowly behind her to a small patch of flowers that I had somehow overlooked; a small light gleaming in the middle.