Small Faces in Dark Places

The mansion had been there.

Grant was certain of it.

One moment, they’d been driving toward its warm golden windows.

The next, all five of them stood on a narrow path beneath towering blue trees.

Grant couldn’t remember stopping the Escalade.

Couldn’t remember opening his door.

Couldn’t remember stepping into the woods.

“Where the hell did it go?”

Nobody answered.

Because nobody knew.

No mansion.

No lights.

No road.

Only blue trees swallowing the darkness around them.

Grant swept his phone's flashlight across the path.

The beam barely reached the nearest trunks before the darkness swallowed it.

Tess tried hers.

No better.

It felt less like shining a light into the woods...

and more like shining it into deep water.

"Anybody else think these flashlights suck?" Clint asked.

"They're phone lights," Sloane replied. "Not lighthouses."

Grant turned slowly in a circle.

The Escalade should have been behind them.

Or the road.

Or something.

Instead, every direction looked exactly the same.

Blue trunks.

Fog.

Darkness.

The path beneath their feet remained the only thing that seemed certain.

"Maybe we just missed it," Blaine offered quietly.

Grant looked down the trail.

It stretched forward as though it had been waiting for them.

Someone had cleared it recently.

No fallen branches.

No thick undergrowth.

No thorn bushes.

The trail curved naturally through the forest as though it expected visitors.

That bothered him.

"Anybody else think this is weird?" Tess asked.

Grant glanced sideways.

"We're in a forest with blue trees."

"No," she said. "This."

She pointed down the path.

"Someone uses this trail."

Grant couldn't argue with that.

She was right.

The realization sat heavily in his stomach.

Because if someone used the trail...

Then somebody lived out here.

Or had.

Or still did.

Clint stretched his arms above his head.

"Good."

"What do you mean good?" Tess asked.

"Means we're not lost."

"We are absolutely lost."

"We're following a road."

"It's not a road."

"It's road-adjacent."

Sloane groaned.

"I hate all of you."

"Love you too, babe."

He reached for her hand.

She let him take it.

Grant smiled despite himself.

Even in a nightmare forest Clint somehow managed to act like he was at a backyard barbecue.

A cool breeze swept through the trees.

The leaves rustled overhead.

Then another gust followed.

Stronger this time.

Grant looked up.

The moon had disappeared completely.

Not behind clouds.

Behind something else.

A pale haze drifted through the branches.

Fog.

"Where did that come from?" Blaine asked.

Nobody answered.

Because nobody knew.

The fog hadn't rolled in from a distance.

It seemed to be appearing.

Materializing between the trees.

One moment the forest was clear.

The next it wasn't.

The white mist crept across the ground and wrapped around the trunks.

Sloane folded her arms.

"Okay. I officially hate this place."

"Seconded," Tess said.

Grant rubbed the back of his neck.

The temperature had dropped several degrees.

The forest felt colder now.

Quieter.

The sounds of insects had vanished.

No crickets.

No frogs.

No birds.

Nothing.

Just their footsteps.

Then something wet landed on Grant's shoulder.

He looked down.

A tiny droplet.

Another landed on his arm.

Then another.

"Rain?" Blaine asked.

Grant held out his hand.

More droplets fell.

Small.

Warm.

Random.

"Guess so."

Tess looked upward.

"I don't see any clouds."

The droplets increased.

Pat.

Pat.

Pat.

Clint suddenly stopped walking.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Sloane asked.

Clint wiped something from his forehead.

Stared at it.

Then looked upward.

His expression twisted into disgust.

"Oh, hell no."

"What?" Grant asked.

Clint pointed.

Directly above them.

Everyone looked.

At first Grant didn't see anything.

Then he saw movement.

Tiny shapes.

Hundreds of them.

Flitting between branches.

Darting through the fog.

Little silhouettes with wings.

A droplet landed directly on his cheek.

The shape above him zipped away.

Clint's face contorted.

"I knew it."

"Knew what?" Tess asked.

"Those little bastards are peeing on us."

For a second nobody spoke.

Then Sloane laughed.

Hard.

The laugh caught Grant completely off guard.

Soon Tess was laughing too.

Even Blaine cracked a smile.

Clint looked offended.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because that's ridiculous," Tess said.

A fresh droplet landed directly in her eye.

She froze.

Slowly wiped her face.

Looked at her fingers.

Then looked upward.

A tiny figure hovering above immediately darted behind a branch.

Tess stared.

The fairy peeked back around the branch.

Then disappeared.

Clint crossed his arms.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Nobody did.

More shapes emerged from the fog.

Blue hair.

Purple hair.

Tiny bodies no larger than Grant’s hand.

Hundreds of glowing eyes.

The air suddenly seemed full of them.

The creatures darted around the group like curious birds.

Some hovered only inches away.

Others circled overhead.

One landed on Blaine's head.

Blaine screamed.

The fairy screamed too.

Both jumped.

The fairy flew away.

Clint nearly doubled over laughing.

"That thing was more scared than you were."

"I thought it bit me."

"It sat on your hair."

"It could've been a bite."

"It could've been a haircut."

Another fairy buzzed past Clint's face.

He swatted at it.

The creature stuck its tongue out at him.

Grant blinked.

"Did that thing just..."

"It did," Sloane confirmed.

The fairies were everywhere now.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

The fog seemed alive with fluttering wings.

Some watched from branches.

Others hovered in front of the group.

Most appeared fascinated by the newcomers.

One particular fairy drifted closer to Grant.

Blue hair.

Blue wings.

Blue eyes.

She hovered in front of him.

Studying him.

Grant studied her back.

She wasn't beautiful.

Not exactly.

She was strange.

Delicate.

Almost doll-like.

Her features looked carved rather than grown.

The fairy tilted her head.

Grant tilted his.

The fairy smiled.

A weird fluttering sensation moved through his chest.

The creature seemed pleased.

"Uh oh," Clint said.

Grant looked away.

"What?"

Clint pointed.

"I think that one likes you."

The fairy immediately flew closer.

Landing on Grant's shoulder.

Everyone stared.

Grant included.

The tiny creature sat comfortably beside his neck.

Like she'd always belonged there.

Tess folded her arms.

"Oh, great."

"What?"

"You made a friend."

Grant laughed.

"It's a fairy."

"Exactly."

The fairy reached over and gently tugged on his earlobe.

Then giggled.

Actually giggled.

Grant couldn't help smiling.

The tiny creature seemed absurdly proud of herself.

Tess looked less amused.

The fairy noticed.

Her smile widened.

Grant missed the exchange completely.

Ahead of them, the path disappeared into thickening fog.

Around them, the swarm continued to grow.

And somewhere deep within the Blue Tree Forest, something unseen was waiting.

The fairies already knew exactly where they were going.

Normal people didn't wander through enchanted forests surrounded by flying creatures.

Normal people didn't allow one of those creatures to sit on their shoulder.

Normal people certainly didn't smile when one started playing with their hair.

Grant had known for a long time he wasn't normal. Things that unsettled other people rarely unsettled him.

The tiny creature had claimed ownership of his shoulder within minutes.

Every time she flew away she returned moments later.

Sometimes carrying leaves.

Sometimes flowers.

Once she returned dragging a dead beetle twice her size.

She proudly dropped it in Grant's hand.

Grant stared at it.

The fairy looked expectantly up at him.

"Uh..."

The fairy bounced excitedly.

"I think she brought you a present," Sloane said.

Grant looked at the beetle.

Then at the fairy.

Then back at the beetle.

"Thank you?"

The fairy beamed.

Tess groaned.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Grant asked.

"You're encouraging her."

"She gave me a bug."

"Exactly."

The fairy flew into the air and did a little spin.

Apparently pleased with herself.

Grant carefully deposited the beetle beside the path.

The fairy immediately retrieved it and returned it to his hand.

Clint nearly fell over laughing.

"She said no refunds."

Even Grant laughed at that.

The fairy pointed at Clint and mimicked vomiting.

Sloane burst out laughing.

"Oh, she definitely understands English."

Clint looked offended.

"Rude."

The fairy crossed her tiny arms.

Grant couldn't explain it.

She wasn’t beautiful.

Not exactly.

She was strange.

Delicate.

Almost doll-like.

The creature’s expressions felt remarkably human.

Too human for a face that looked carved rather than grown, every feature slightly off-center.

Just enough to make his brain uncomfortable.

The fairy leaned close to his ear.

A series of chirps and musical whistles spilled from her mouth.

Grant blinked.

"I have no idea what you just said."

The fairy frowned.

Then tried again.

More whistles.

More chirps.

Still nothing.

Tess looked over.

"Having trouble communicating with your girlfriend?"

Grant rolled his eyes.

"She's not my girlfriend."

The fairy immediately nodded.

Then pointed at Tess.

Then pretended to gag.

Sloane laughed so hard she had to stop walking.

Tess's eyes narrowed.

"You little bitch."

The fairy looked delighted.

Grant couldn't stop smiling.

The entire situation was ridiculous.

Which made what happened next even stranger.

The fairy tapped her chest.

Then pointed to herself.

A series of sounds followed.

None of them sounded remotely human.

Grant attempted to repeat them.

He failed miserably.

The fairy covered her face.

Whether from embarrassment or secondhand embarrassment he couldn't tell.

"You offended her," Clint said.

"I think I offended the language."

The fairy thought for a moment.

Then tapped her chest again.

This time she said:

"Josephine."

The name hit Grant like a shove.

Not because it was unusual.

Because it wasn't.

It was painfully normal.

Josephine.

The fairy smiled.

"Josephine?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

Grant frowned.

The name stirred an old memory.

A yellow cat.

Saturday mornings.

Cartoons.

His mother standing in a kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Tess asked.

Grant realized everyone was looking at him.

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing face."

Grant sighed.

"She just reminded me of something."

The fairy settled comfortably onto his shoulder.

Listening.

"Growing up, I had a cat."

"Josephine?" Sloane asked.

Grant nodded.

"Actually, I wanted to call her Josie."

"Josie?" Blaine asked.

"Like Josie and the Pussycats."

Clint immediately pointed.

"That's adorable."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. That's adorable."

Grant ignored him.

"My mom hated it."

"Why?" Tess asked.

Grant shrugged.

"Thought it sounded vulgar."

Everyone stared.

"Josie?" Sloane asked.

"Apparently."

"That's insane."

"I didn't make the rules."

The memory felt strangely vivid.

His mother standing over him.

Correcting him.

Telling him the cat needed a proper name.

Not Josie.

Josephine.

The fairy watched his face carefully.

Far too carefully.

As though the memory interested her.

Grant suddenly found that unsettling.

Josephine hugged his neck.

His shoulders relaxed beneath a warmth he couldn’t explain.

Tess noticed.

She didn’t like that.

Not one bit.

Ahead of them, the fog thickened.

The trees seemed closer together now.

The path narrower.

More fairies joined the procession.

Some walked along branches overhead.

Others flew between the trunks.

The entire forest seemed alive with movement.

And despite all the noise, the woods themselves remained silent.

No birds.

No insects.

Nothing.

Only fairies.

Grant found himself scanning the trees.

Looking for signs of whoever maintained the trail.

The mansion.

A cabin.

Anything.

Instead he noticed something else.

The fairies were all facing forward.

Every single one.

Like they were traveling somewhere.

Not wandering.

Traveling.

The realization made him uneasy.

"Do you guys get the feeling we're being escorted?"

Blaine answered immediately.

"Yes."

"Absolutely," Tess said.

"Little late to realize that," Clint added.

Grant frowned.

The fairy on his shoulder patted his cheek reassuringly.

Then pointed ahead.

The gesture seemed innocent.

Friendly.

Helpful.

Yet for the first time Grant wondered:

How does she know where we're going?

The path curved sharply.

The fairies above them scattered.

Several suddenly darted into the trees.

Others hid behind trunks.

The atmosphere shifted.

Grant felt it immediately.

The creatures weren't playful anymore.

They seemed nervous.

Excited.

Agitated.

Something was ahead.

Something they recognized.

The fairy called Josephine grabbed hold of Grant’s earlobe again.

Not playfully this time.

Tightly.

Almost like she was warning him.

The forest beyond the fog darkened.

A large shape moved between the trees.

Then disappeared.

Grant stopped walking.

Everyone else did too.

"What was that?" Blaine whispered.

No one answered.

The shape moved again.

Bigger this time.

Much bigger.

A silhouette.

Tall.

Broad.

Wrong.

The fairies vanished into the fog around them.

Watching.

Waiting.

Josephine climbed from Grant's shoulder into his hands.

For the first time since meeting her, she looked afraid.

And somewhere ahead in the mist, something enormous let out a low, miserable groan.

Grant felt every hair on his body stand up.

The thing moved again.

Closer now.

Close enough that he could hear branches snapping beneath its weight.

Beside him, Tess grabbed his arm.

Neither of them pulled away.

They stared into the fog.

Waiting.

Whatever waited there wasn’t a fairy.

The thing in the fog groaned again.

Not a growl.

Not a roar.

A groan.

A long, miserable sound that carried through the trees like someone suffering from a nightmare they couldn't wake up from.

Grant found himself taking a step forward before realizing what he was doing.

Tess immediately grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't."

"I just want to see what it is."

"That's exactly how people die."

Clint snorted.

"She's got a point."

The shape moved again.

A massive silhouette emerged between two blue trunks.

Grant's stomach tightened.

At first glance it looked enormous.

Seven feet tall.

Maybe taller.

Its shoulders were impossibly broad.

Something curved upward from its head.

Horns.

The figure staggered into a patch of moonlight.

Blaine gasped.

"Oh God."

The thing looked like a monster.

Antlers jutted from its skull.

Animal hides hung from its body.

Mud covered its face.

Its arms swung awkwardly at its sides.

The creature lurched forward.

One uneven step at a time.

Grant's heart hammered.

The fairies surrounding them had gone completely silent.

Josephine buried herself against his chest.

The monster took another step.

Then another.

Then it stopped.

Its head tilted.

Studying them.

The antlers shifted strangely.

One slipped.

Not much.

Just enough.

Grant frowned.

Something wasn't right.

The creature raised a hand.

A human hand.

Dirty.

Bruised.

Bleeding.

Human.

The realization hit him all at once.

The antlers weren't growing from its head.

They'd been tied there.

The hides weren't part of its body.

They'd been strapped on.

The thing wasn't a monster.

It was a man.

"Oh my God," Sloane whispered.

The man staggered forward.

His beard reached nearly to his chest.

Twigs and leaves tangled through his hair.

His clothes were barely recognizable beneath layers of dirt and stitched animal fur.

One eye was swollen shut.

The other fixed desperately on Grant.

"Help."

The word cracked from his throat.

Human.

Definitely human.

Grant moved instinctively.

"Hey."

The man stumbled toward them.

"Please."

Josephine immediately flew from Grant's hands.

A dozen fairies appeared around the man's head.

Then twenty.

Then fifty.

They buzzed angrily around him.

The man swatted at them.

"Get away!"

A fairy landed on his ear and bit him.

Another yanked his beard.

Several grabbed handfuls of hair.

The man cried out.

"What the hell?" Tess shouted.

Grant started forward.

The fairies immediately moved between him and the man.

A living wall of blue and purple wings.

The man pointed desperately toward them.

"No."

His voice broke.

"No, don't follow them."

Josephine landed on Grant's shoulder.

She shook her head vigorously.

As though the man was lying.

The man saw her.

Pure hatred flooded his face.

"You."

The word came out as a hiss.

Josephine smiled.

The expression made Grant uncomfortable.

The man lunged.

Not at Grant.

At Josephine.

The swarm exploded around him.

Fairies grabbed his hair.

His beard.

His clothes.

His ears.

Dozens of tiny hands pulling in every direction.

The man stumbled.

Fell to one knee.

Still pointing.

Still trying to warn them.

"He's waiting."

Grant froze.

"Who?"

The man's eye widened.

For a moment he looked hopeful.

Like maybe someone was finally listening.

Then a fairy shoved itself directly into his mouth.

The man gagged.

The others laughed.

Actually laughed.

Tiny musical giggles echoed through the trees.

Grant felt cold.

Very cold.

The fairies weren't protecting anyone.

They were tormenting him.

Josephine flew down and landed on the man's shoulder.

She whispered something into his ear.

The man's face immediately drained of color.

Whatever she said terrified him.

He began shaking.

"Grant," Tess said quietly.

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do."

She pointed.

The man's eyes weren't focused on the fairies anymore.

They were focused on the path behind them.

On where the group had come from.

Not where they were going.

As if he'd rather run deeper into whatever had happened to him than face whatever waited ahead.

Josephine returned to Grant's shoulder.

The fairy patted his cheek.

Then pointed farther down the path.

Grant looked at her.

"What about him?"

Josephine chirped happily.

Then made a dismissive motion with her hand.

Like swatting away a fly.

"We'll take care of him."

The words weren't spoken.

Not exactly.

Yet somehow Grant understood.

The meaning arrived in his head.

Simple.

Clear.

Friendly.

Grant glanced back at the man.

The man looked horrified.

"No."

His voice cracked.

"No."

The fairies descended on him again.

Grant winced.

The tiny creatures pulled his beard.

Twisted his ears.

Stole pieces of his clothing.

One landed on his head and smacked him repeatedly with a poison ivy leaf.

The swarm pushed him backward into the fog.

The man never stopped staring at them.

Never stopped pleading.

Never stopped shaking his head.

Then the mist swallowed him.

Gone.

The forest became silent again.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Finally Clint broke the tension.

"Well."

Nobody answered.

Clint swallowed.

"That was messed up."

For once, nobody disagreed.

They continued walking.

The fairies resumed their escort.

But the mood had changed.

Grant couldn't stop thinking about Grom.

The name had appeared in his mind the same way the message about taking care of him had.

Grom.

Not a name so much as what the fairies had decided he was.

Or maybe taken his real one.

The farther they walked, the more excited the fairies became.

They zipped through the trees.

Whispering.

Laughing.

Racing ahead.

Josephine never left Grant's shoulder.

Not once.

Several times he caught Tess staring at her.

Or rather glaring at her.

Josephine seemed to enjoy it.

A lot.

The little fairy would smile.

Tess would scowl.

Grant would pretend not to notice.

The path widened.

Moonlight appeared ahead.

Not much.

Just enough.

The trees began thinning.

The fairies grew quieter.

Then quieter still.

One by one the laughter stopped.

The games ended.

The teasing vanished.

Even Josephine became still.

Grant noticed immediately.

She wasn't playing with his hair.

Wasn't tugging his ear.

Wasn't chirping.

She simply watched.

Waiting.

The forest opened.

A clearing stretched before them.

Everyone stopped.

Nobody spoke.

At the center stood a willow tree.

A massive willow tree.

Larger than any Grant had ever seen.

Its branches hung like curtains.

Trailing almost to the ground.

The bark was dark.

Nearly black.

And it was weeping.

Drops fell continuously from its branches.

Like tears.

Thousands of them.

The sight rooted Grant to the spot.

Something about the tree felt wrong.

Not evil.

Not dangerous.

Ancient.

Sad.

The air around it seemed heavier than the rest of the forest.

The fairies gathered around the clearing's edge.

None crossed into it.

Not one.

Josephine climbed onto Grant's shoulder and sat perfectly still.

Grant followed her gaze.

Beneath the weeping branches sat a figure.

A man.

Motionless.

Waiting.

The tears of the willow dripped around him.

The fairies watched in complete silence.

For the first time since entering the Blue Tree Forest, they seemed small.

Grant couldn't explain why.

The figure beneath the tree never moved.

Yet every fairy's attention remained fixed upon him.

The entire forest seemed to hold its breath.

Beside Grant, Tess tightened her grip on his arm.

Clint stopped smiling.

Sloane looked pale.

Blaine took an unconscious step backward.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody needed to.

Because somehow they all understood the same thing.

The fairies hadn’t found help.

They had been leading the group here the entire time.

The group had reached its destination.

The tears of the Weeping Willow continued to fall.

And beneath its branches, someone waited.