The silvery wings of fog drifted over my head, twisting like ribbons in the frigid air. I hushed my breath as much as I could, praying that I would have the strength to stay, not to break and run. Fleeing would be the end of me, I knew.

Around me came the screeching cries of tormented beasts, tangled irreverently with the clash of steel against skin. Bile filled my throat. I choked it down. I didn’t dare make a sound.
We few, we mortal few.

Blood flowed through the cracks in the cobblestones at my feet. It pooled in obscene ponds of glossy near-black in the deadened light of night. I couldn’t tell if it was human or Fae.
It didn’t really matter.

A tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another. I scrubbed them off with my sleeve. This was no time for crying.

A light flashed above my head. I squinted in the bright beam of light, sifting through the heavy mist. It pinpointed me. I cowered back as a dark shape dropped from the airship above, sliding like a spider on a dangling rope. The light vanished for a moment, blocked entirely by the man’s huge form. Arms caught at me. I didn’t even struggle, I just let him clasp me tightly, tugging on the rope umbilical cord that bound him to the ship above.

In the mist creatures gibbered and shrieked, prey taken from their foul maws. I couldn’t help staring downwards as we lifted into the air. I could see nothing through the mist, save an occasional flash of scale or metal armor.

A slimy tentacle flashed up out of the mist, wrapping itself around my ankle. It tugged at me, almost ripping me from my savior’s grasp. He grunted and muttered something in a strange language. A sharp shard of silver light pierced the tentacle, severing it entirely.

I stared up at my savior in terror.

He was Fae.

I started to struggle, not caring that we were in the middle of the air and that a fall would surely kill me. All I knew if that I would rather die than be in the hands of the Fae.

With a final jerk we were pulled into the bay of the airship.

I clawed and kicked at my captor. I bit down hard on his wrist. He yelped and let me fall to the wooden floor.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” I turned to see who was speaking. The man, a human man, wore a black uniform with a familiar insignia—the nail of cold Iron. It was the emblem of the resistance.

“He’s Fae,” I accused, pointing a shaking finger at the man who had pulled me out of the mist.

“And you are Lani Strauss,” came the answer. “Correct?”

I squinted suspiciously at him, rubbing my foot against the other to see if my hidden dagger were still in place.

“Who is asking?”

“Your father sent us.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s impossible. My father is dead.”

The man shook his head jerkily. It reminded me of a puppet I had had as a child. I realized that the whole left side of his body was hideously scarred. “He’s not dead, but he was horribly injured in the blast.”

“I don’t believe you,” I snarled. “Why should I believe you?”

He sighed, rubbing his neck where the worst of the scarring was. “How can I convince you that I am speaking the truth? Isn’t rescuing you from the Fae enough?”

I tilted my head, staring meaningfully at the Fae standing next to me.

“Point taken.” There was a touch of laughter in his voice. “I’m Paxton Hughes. I believe you know my name?”

I nodded slightly, still on my guard. “I know the name, but it doesn’t mean I believe that’s who you are or that I can trust you. Tell me this… if you know my father, what does he look like?”

He actually laughed. I scowled at him and he tried to sober up. He rubbed his neck again. “Yes, that is a good question. What does the father of this tiny blond child look like, Oberon?”

The Fae next to me smiled. I shivered. He, like all Fae, was beautiful, but I had learned to mistrust beautiful things.

“Paul Taurino is six feet, eight inches,” he said in a musical voice. “He weighs in at over three hundred pounds.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And he is as black as night, as bald as an egg, as frightening as a dragon, and as sweet as a teddy bear,” the Fae finished.

I swallowed again. Papa Bear. They had gotten it all right.

“Papa?” I asked.

Hughes nodded. “We are flying to meet him.”

My legs suddenly felt weak. The Fae, Oberon, moved to support me and I jerked away from him.

“Oberon is on our side,” Hughes said seriously.

“I don’t trust any of the Fae,” I snarled. “You shouldn’t, either. They are evil, every last one of them.”

“I should think the Fae had more to worry about with you, then vice versa,” Hughes said. He handed me a thick blanket and I wrapped it around my shoulders. It had been so long since I’d been warm.

I looked up at him. “What did Papa tell you about me?”

His eyes lit up with the glow of a true fanatic. “You are the Cure, the key to defeating the Fae.”

My shoulders slumped.

“It’s too much of a task for a child,” Oberon murmured musically. “Too much to ask.”

“She will save our world!” Hughes shouted.
Oberon looked down at me. His beautiful face looked sad and worried. I didn’t want a Fae to feel sorry for me. I scowled at him.

“Are you hungry?” Hughes asked.

I nodded numbly. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had anything good to eat. My last meal had been dug out of the dump outside the Fae encampment.

He guided me through the bowels of the airship, past the hissing of the steam engine with its raucous moans. Cold Iron was everywhere around me. No wonder the Fae had been unable to prevent my rescue. I glanced at Oberon, wondering how he could bear being exposed to so much of the Fae-destroying metal.

He held up his hands which, I noticed for the first time, were covered in gloves. “I try not to get too near,” he murmured wryly.

I smiled despite myself.

Food was waiting in the Captain’s quarters. So was an overly familiar contraption—the twisted rubber and blades of a blood-letting kit.

“No,” I whimpered.

“Please,” Hughes said, it sounded more like an order than a plea.

Oberon’s hands tightened on my shoulders.

“She’s a child,” he said simply.

“She is the key to human survival!” Hughes shouted. His scar bulged with veins and his eyes burned with her fervor.

I stepped back instinctively.

Hughes leapt forward and caught my arms, dragging me towards the table.

“It won’t be much,” he said soothingly.

“What are you going to do with it?” I whimpered, trying to get away from his grasp. The razor-sharp blades in front of me made my stomach twist with terror.

“I have a volunteer,” he said, pointedly looking over my head.

Oberon sighed with resignation. “Yes. I did agree, and I will uphold my end of the bargain.”

He stepped around me and sat in the chair opposite of the one designated for me. He began to roll his sleeve up, baring silvery-blue skin.

I swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Hughes slammed his fist forcefully into the table. I jumped. “How many have already died because of you?” He shook his fist at me. “This is how you can repay the damage you have done.”

“By existing?” Oberon asked quietly.

As suddenly as the tempest had broken, Hughes was calm and smiling again. “Please, little one. We need your help if we are to survive.”

I swallowed, but let him lead me to my seat. My feet didn’t reach the floor.

A bespectacled man entered the room, rubbing his hands nervously. He eyed me doubtfully. “I dare not let too much blood,” he told Hughes. “She’s puny.”

“Do as you must,” Hughes said dismissively.
The doctor picked up one of his razors and drew it gently across the veins nestled along the inside of my elbow. Burgundy blood immediately began to pour down my arm, into the basin he held beneath my arm.

I grew dizzy, watching the steady drip.

“Enough,” Oberon said sharply. “The child grows faint.”

The doctor pressed a stained rag to my arm.

“Human medicine is barbaric,” the Fae muttered.

I couldn’t watch as they pumped my blood into his arm. I watched his face instead, seeing the sweat breaking out around his brow, his eyes staring in what had to be agony. He never flinched, never made a sound, even when his breathing grew ragged.

“It’s working,” Hughes gloated.

“Stop it!” I shouted. “You’re hurting him!”

“It’s too late now,” said the doctor. “The blood is taking effect.”

Oberon’s chair began to shake violently. The table and its contents followed suit, along with all the objects in the room. Just when I feared this minor earthquake would shake the airship right out of the sky, it stopped.

Oberon slipped forward limply, his unconscious head dropping to his chest.

“Did it work?” Hughes demanded excitedly. He clutched the doctor’s arm. “Did it work?”

The doctor smoothed back Oberon’s sweat-slicked hair. With a jerk, I stared at his young, vulnerable face. He looked not much older than me. How had I missed how young he was?

“It worked!” Hughes gloated. “He’s mortal!” He turned towards me, grinning manically. “Think what we can do together!”

“I only have so much blood,” I whispered. The gleam in his eyes made my stomach twist.

Oberon moaned. His fingers dug into arms of his chair as he blinked his eyes open. He looked pale and… ordinary. He looked human.

He looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers. He rubbed his forehead, half of his mouth curling up in a tired smile. “I see it worked.”

“And you survived!” Hughes gloated. “Any powers?”

Oberon muttered something and flicked his fingers. He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Why?” I demanded, “Why would you give up being Fae and having powers?”

Oberon looked past me at Hughes.

Hughes cackled. “Meet the one Fae in the world who has a conscience.”

I stared. “That’s impossible. No Fae cares about consequences.”

Hughes clapped his hands together. “This one does.”

“About as probable as a human immune to magic, right?” Oberon’s eyes gleamed at me.

“Fair enough,” I conceded.

Hughes began to pace up and down the length of the cabin. His boots tromped hollowly on the wooden floors. His scar twisted in the light of the gas lamps.

“I need more blood,” he said. “Gallons of it!”

I shifted nervously in my chair.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” the doctor said cautiously. “She cannot spare much more.”

“Do you think I care what she can spare?” Hughes demanded. I recoiled in my seat. “Do you know what this means?”

“Don’t kill the goose who lays the golden eggs,” Oberon said.

Hughes laughed. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore. You have nothing. You are human now.”

Oberon’s face paled. I could see his hands curl into impotent fists.

“More blood,” Hughes shouted. “Now! And bring me the prisoners!”

The doctor stumbled backwards. “Sir! I must protest! Her father…”

“Do you think I care one whit about the girl or her relationship with Taurino? He can’t do anything to stop me. He’s not here now. She’s the Cure, man! The fate of the world rests in her veins!”

“She’s a human,” the doctor stuttered. “Doesn’t she have any rights at all?”

“Rights?” Hughes eyes bulged. “Does a sword have rights? That’s all she is—a God-given weapon to wipe out our enemies!”

“Sir!” The doctor protested.

Hughes’ fist smashed into the doctor’s glasses, throwing the small man across the room. “If you won’t do this,” he snarled. “I will do it myself.”

He lunged towards me, dragging me towards the tin tub in the corner.

“How much blood does a body contain,” he muttered gleefully.

“No!” I screamed. “Stop!”

“Sir!” The doctor protested, his nose pouring blood.

“One more word,” Hughes snapped, pointing at the small man. “And I will kill you and her, do you understand?”

The doctor nodded, cowering into the corner, clutching his broken face.

“You swore an oath,” Oberon said scornfully. “You swore to bring the girl to Taurino safely. Do you foreswear yourself so easily? Does your honor mean nothing?”

“Honor?” Hughes spat on the floor. “That’s all I care for honor. Honor is what left me with these scars. Honor and the Fae. Foresworn am I? Foresworn? I would be foresworn if I let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I have sworn vengeance on all Fae, you fool. And now you are powerless to stop me.”

“Not powerless,” Oberon said, lurching up from his chair. “Mortal.”

With his gloved hands he grasped a poker right out of the fireplace and brought it down with full force on Hughes’ head. I screamed and hid my face, hearing the meaty thuds of impact over and over again.

When it was over, I looked up into Oberon’s face. He was pale and grim, blood spattered over his face. His eyes looked sad. “He was mad,” he said softly. “Destroying him was what my conscience demanded.”

I shuddered, terrified and trembling with relief. I threw my arms around him and sobbed.

He patted my head awkwardly.

In the corner, the doctor sniveled.

“You,” Oberon commanded. “You will tell the crew that there was a terrible accident and the Captain fell from the ship, understood?”

The doctor nodded, his eyes wide.

“I am in command now,” Oberon said. “I made a vow to get this girl to her father and I will not be foresworn. Understood?”

The doctor nodded again, scrambling through the door as if he feared for his own life.

“Thank you.” I sniffed. “If it’s not wrong to say thank you for killing someone.”

“He would have killed you.” Oberon’s voice was matter-of-fact.

I shivered. “Yes.”

He shook his head sadly. “He was mad,” he repeated. “You mortals would put down a dog for such a thing.”

“No,” I said. He blinked at me. “Not ‘you mortals’,” I corrected. “’We mortals’. You are one of us now.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “You are right,” he marveled. He looked down at his hands. The gloves were stained with gore.

Slowly, loosening the fingers one by one, he drew the gloves off of his hands. He stood for a moment, looking down at them, a reminder of his old life.

With one swift movement, he threw them into the fire and watched them burn.

“He was right about one thing,” I said soberly.

Oberon turned to regard me with his brilliantly blue eyes.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “I am the Cure. How am I going to save the world?”