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“She already knows. Maybe she hasn’t communicated that to you… but she knows.”
“How much longer does she have?”
“A couple weeks maybe.”
“Only two weeks?” he asks in a strangled voice.
“I can’t be sure. I’ve never taken someone her age. It might be different this time.”
“Are you going to tell her what’s going on?”
“Eventually, yes.” I don’t even know how to start that conversation. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find the words. Because I know as soon as I speak them—as soon as Hannah finds out what I am, why I’m here—she’s going to hate me.
And I… can’t bear the thought of that.
“I’m sorry, Bobby,” I apologize, the words stilted and awkward. “I really am. I don’t like this any more than you do. Don’t think I’m not sympathetic to your grief.”
“Don’t pretend like you care.” Bobby points an accusing finger at me, the digit trembling with rage. “If you did, you’d stop this.”
“I’m being completely honest when I tell you that if I could give my own life in exchange for Hannah’s, I would.”
At least then I could say I did something good with the last dying breath that passes through my lips.
Anyone who’s existed for as many countless centuries as I have should be able to say they improved the world, even to a small degree.
Instead, I’ve weaved webs of tragedy everywhere I go.
I guess once upon a time, very long ago, I was normal. Maybe not extraordinarily good, but decent. My memories from such ancient times are hazy, but I remember bits and pieces like a forgotten dream.
Before I went to the dark side of the fae, I knew how to love, how to laugh, how to look forward to the future.
Then I gave up everything—my very soul—for the woman I believed I loved. I sacrificed myself for her, but it was all for nothing. It was a trick, and the betrayal made me bitter. Turned me into the monster I am today.
“How can I explain why you’re sticking around?” Bobby asks, his voice rough. “We can’t keep going with the loan officer shit. Bankers don’t take vacations at places like this.”
“I don’t care what you say. Get creative.”
Thinking out loud, he paces the porch. “I could tell her you’re assessing the property value. Better yet, we could pretend you’re interested in buying. Because then you’d need to see the whole place, learn how it operates. That would take time.”
His contemplation makes an idea come to me. It’s unlikely to work, but at this point, I’ll grasp onto any shred of possibility that I can reverse what I’ve done.
“Bobby,” I start, “would you consider trading your property? For Hannah’s life?”
His eyes go wide with hope, as if I just offered him all the stars in the sky. “Of course. But you said you couldn’t change the deal.”
“I can’t. My master can, though.”
Bobby smiles a little. “So there’s a chance to save her.”
“Don’t get excited,” I backtrack. “Vaeront is unwavering in all things. It would be very difficult to convince him that a place in the Earth realm would be valuable to him.”
Mostly because being here takes years off our lives, since time passes so differently between our worlds. Humans have a pathetically short lifespan. A faerie can live up to thirty thousand years in Valora. In the Lost Land, as far as I can tell, indefinitely.
Vaeront guards his immortality with fervor, and he wouldn’t step foot in the Earth realm because any fae will eventually turn human if they’re here long enough. The body adapts. We lose our ear tips, we can’t use our wings, and our magical ability fades.
Although Vaeront won’t give up his own invincibility, he might be willing to send his minions over to gather the resources the farm can provide.
“It is valuable,” Bobby exclaims excitedly. “We have a profitable business. We’ll show you. Tomorrow, we can give you a tour, and I can put together some numbers for your boss. Anyone would be lucky to have the farm. I think he’ll want it.”
