wasn't bad. It could have been, though.
Aislinn washed her face again and straightened her hair. She tugged off her uniform, balling it up and shoving it into her bag, and slipped into a well-worn pair of jeans and a long tunic-cut blouse she'd found at the thrift store. Then she stepped back into the seemingly empty hallway, letting the bathroom door close softly behind her.
Donia stood, invisible now, talking to one of the bone-girls. Like the rest of the bone-girls, this one was ghastly white and so thin that each of her bones could be seen under her almost-translucent skin. The fact that she was mobile seemed to break some basic law. Surely things that looked so frail should have trouble moving? But the bone-girls glided over the ground without any visible effort. Despite their cadaverous mien, they were eerily beautiful to watch.
It was Donia who was terrible to behold: her white hair whipped around as if a storm surrounded her, and only her. Tiny icicles clattered to the ground beside her. "Find them. Find out why they attacked the girl. If anyone compelled them to do so, I want to know. Aislinn is not to be harmed."
The bone-girl's voice was a dry whisper, as if the words had to rush over something rough before they found form. "Should I tell Keenan?"
Donia didn't answer, but her eyes darkened to the same oil-black sheen they had in Comix.
The bone-girl stepped back, hands held up in supplication. And Donia stepped around the corner, away from the bone-girl, and out of sight.
Momentarily, though, she came back around that same corner—plainly visible to humans now—and smiled at Aislinn. "All better?"
Aislinn's voice wasn't much louder than the bone-girl's had been when she answered, "Sure. I'm fine."
She wasn't fine, though; she was confused about so many things. They—Keenan and Donia—had some reason for following her, but she couldn't ask. Are they just bored, toying with me to pass the time? There were lots of old stories like that, but Donia seemed livid about the guys outside, seemed to believe someone could have sent those guys to hurt her. Why? What's going on?
"I was just reading while I waited. I wanted to see if you have someone to walk you home before I leave." Donia tilted her head, smiling. Her whole posture seemed friendly, safe. She walked back toward the rows of tables. "Ash? Are you…well?"
"Yeah." Aislinn followed Donia around the corner to a table with an open book and a ragged bag.
"Is there someone you can call?"
"Yeah. I'm good."
Donia nodded. She stuffed her book into her leather bag.
The door opened, and a mother with a couple kids came in.
Behind them was a group of faeries, invisible to the other patrons. All six were beautiful—moving like models, wearing clothes that looked like they'd been tailored for their willowy bodies. If it weren't for the flowering vines slithering across their skin, they'd look human. The vines, though, were like living tattoos, moving of their own volition, crawling on the girls' bodies.
One of the girls spun across the floor, in some old-fashioned dance. The others giggled and bowed to one another before following her.
Then the first one saw Donia. She murmured something to the others, and they stopped. Even the undulating vines stilled.
Several moments passed.
Donia didn't say a word; neither did Aislinn. Since we're both pretending not to see them, what could we say?
Finally Aislinn said, "If you hadn't been there …"
"What?" The expression on Donia's face was pained as she looked away from the faeries.
"Outside. If you hadn't been there …"
"But I was." She smiled, but there was a drawn look on her face, making her seem anxious, eager to leave.
"Right. I need to find my…someone." Aislinn motioned toward the stairs that led to the library basement. "Get something, but I wanted to say thanks for everything."
Donia shot a brief glare at the faeries, who were giggling again. "Just be sure to keep your someone with you when you
Aislinn washed her face again and straightened her hair. She tugged off her uniform, balling it up and shoving it into her bag, and slipped into a well-worn pair of jeans and a long tunic-cut blouse she'd found at the thrift store. Then she stepped back into the seemingly empty hallway, letting the bathroom door close softly behind her.
Donia stood, invisible now, talking to one of the bone-girls. Like the rest of the bone-girls, this one was ghastly white and so thin that each of her bones could be seen under her almost-translucent skin. The fact that she was mobile seemed to break some basic law. Surely things that looked so frail should have trouble moving? But the bone-girls glided over the ground without any visible effort. Despite their cadaverous mien, they were eerily beautiful to watch.
It was Donia who was terrible to behold: her white hair whipped around as if a storm surrounded her, and only her. Tiny icicles clattered to the ground beside her. "Find them. Find out why they attacked the girl. If anyone compelled them to do so, I want to know. Aislinn is not to be harmed."
The bone-girl's voice was a dry whisper, as if the words had to rush over something rough before they found form. "Should I tell Keenan?"
Donia didn't answer, but her eyes darkened to the same oil-black sheen they had in Comix.
The bone-girl stepped back, hands held up in supplication. And Donia stepped around the corner, away from the bone-girl, and out of sight.
Momentarily, though, she came back around that same corner—plainly visible to humans now—and smiled at Aislinn. "All better?"
Aislinn's voice wasn't much louder than the bone-girl's had been when she answered, "Sure. I'm fine."
She wasn't fine, though; she was confused about so many things. They—Keenan and Donia—had some reason for following her, but she couldn't ask. Are they just bored, toying with me to pass the time? There were lots of old stories like that, but Donia seemed livid about the guys outside, seemed to believe someone could have sent those guys to hurt her. Why? What's going on?
"I was just reading while I waited. I wanted to see if you have someone to walk you home before I leave." Donia tilted her head, smiling. Her whole posture seemed friendly, safe. She walked back toward the rows of tables. "Ash? Are you…well?"
"Yeah." Aislinn followed Donia around the corner to a table with an open book and a ragged bag.
"Is there someone you can call?"
"Yeah. I'm good."
Donia nodded. She stuffed her book into her leather bag.
The door opened, and a mother with a couple kids came in.
Behind them was a group of faeries, invisible to the other patrons. All six were beautiful—moving like models, wearing clothes that looked like they'd been tailored for their willowy bodies. If it weren't for the flowering vines slithering across their skin, they'd look human. The vines, though, were like living tattoos, moving of their own volition, crawling on the girls' bodies.
One of the girls spun across the floor, in some old-fashioned dance. The others giggled and bowed to one another before following her.
Then the first one saw Donia. She murmured something to the others, and they stopped. Even the undulating vines stilled.
Several moments passed.
Donia didn't say a word; neither did Aislinn. Since we're both pretending not to see them, what could we say?
Finally Aislinn said, "If you hadn't been there …"
"What?" The expression on Donia's face was pained as she looked away from the faeries.
"Outside. If you hadn't been there …"
"But I was." She smiled, but there was a drawn look on her face, making her seem anxious, eager to leave.
"Right. I need to find my…someone." Aislinn motioned toward the stairs that led to the library basement. "Get something, but I wanted to say thanks for everything."
Donia shot a brief glare at the faeries, who were giggling again. "Just be sure to keep your someone with you when you
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