Page 45 of By the Fae

Adrenaline spiked my bloodstream. Was I angry with Joey? For inviting Holly to our family time? It would explain the hand trembling.

When I re-entered the room, Holly was sitting cross-legged, smiling up at me. I had been an asshole to her, made sure I was an asshole, and she still smiled at me as though she were happy to see me. I didn’t like the weird feeling in my chest it gave me.

“Good morning,” she said, then corrected herself, “Afternoon.”

“Human.” I made my way over to the couch and shoved the sleeping heap of cat closer to Holly so that there would be something, anything, maintaining the gap between us. “What did you think?” I gestured towards the screen, and helped myself to the last remaining pastry, some flat, custard topped wonder.

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes travelled to the pastry as I took a bite, flakes dropping away. She licked her lips. “Uh, the game is beautiful. The terrain. Where—”

“Kingdom of the Fae.” I held my hand out, showing her the paintings I’d done for Mal.

When I first arrived in Borderlands, four-hundred years ago, with nowhere to go, no job, and no cash, Mal had accepted them in place of rent money.

“You made these too?” Her eyes lit up, and I tried my best not to preen at her awe. Why should I care what she thought of them?

I nodded, affecting calm, weariness even.

“Wow!” Abruptly, she got to her feet and turned to get a better look at the painting above the sofa. The midsection of her pyjamas twisted up, revealing two inches of smooth bare skin. I looked away. I had seen her naked last night, but this felt like I was peeping. She sat back down, the cotton on her top falling back over her tummy. Not Ludo rolled towards her as the cushion dipped under her weight.

“So, you can create images? “Render” them or “paint” them or “draw” them?” she said. I nodded. “Can everyone, I mean all fae, do that?”

“Not all fae. At work, only the ones with a blue dot pin on their lanyard.”

“Ah, yeah.” She smoothed out the legs of her PJs. “Can, uh—”

“Seth can.” My stomach lurched with irritation. “Though some people, like Seth, choose to use their powers for more nefarious reasons.”

“Nefarious?”

Not Ludo, apparently having not finished melting into the gap next to Holly, rolled just an inch too far, and tipped over the edge of the sofa. He landed on the rug on his back and emitted an awful, anus-clenching screech.

“Oh no, poor Not Ludo,” Holly called, her reflexes fractions too slow to rescue him. He sprawled out, legs freewheeling for a second, before righting himself and harrumphing upstairs. Probably to lick his wounded ego on Taur’s bed. His tail flicked high behind him.

“What did you think of the characters?” I said, before the topic could return to Seth.

“Yeah . . .” was her response, which elicited an accidental snort from me. “I know why you’ve done it. Why you made us.”

“You do?” I raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“It won’t work. I’m still going to convince you to make the theme Love.”

My smug smile dropped in an instant. Fuck, she was smart. Like genius smart. And a little scary.

“But I’ll come back to that,” she said. “First though, we need to talk about me. Why did you make my character so weak compared to yours?” Her brow had stitched itself together, and she folded her arms over her chest, those two inches of skin peeking at the hem of her shirt again.

“Humans are weak.”

“In the ways fae are strong. Like health, and strength, and powers, but we have other strengths that fae do not.”

“Like?”

“You won’t want to hear it but love, for one. Compassion. Humanity. Empathy, problem solving, patience, community, listening skills. . .”

I waved her away.

“Change my—the human’s stats. Make her strong in ways that you—the fae are weak.”

I managed to contain mypfft.

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