Ashes of the Fae: (Leila Davis Book 1) Read online

  Finally the phone rang.

  “Yes, hello?”

  “Leila, Leila… dear…”

  “Oh… Hey, Jean. “

  “My dear, you’ll never believe—”

  “Believe? Believe what? Oh please, Jean… tell me they—” But the happiness inside had swelled up all too soon.

  “What? Oh, dear… no. I’m sorry. They haven’t found Iris yet, but they have found one of the kids.”

  “They… a—alive?”

  “Yes. And she went missing a little over a week ago. So I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard. Keep your hopes up, dear. I’m praying for your dear Iris to return home to you safely.”

  “But, how? Who? Where? How did the police find her?”

  “Oh, well. As far as I know they didn’t. Her mom found some private detective from out of town. He apparently has a good reputation for missing persons’ cases. A Mathis? Or was it Matthews, I think. He found her when they searched the woods today, but she said he’s a bit ro—”

  “Jean, thank you. Thank you so much.”

  I had cut her off before she could finish, but this was the first glimmer of hope I had in days. If this Matthews could find a girl that had been missing this long alive, maybe there was still hope.

  Just maybe.

  How I didn’t get pulled over on my way to the station, I haven’t a clue. I had done well over the thirty-five-mile speed limit on my way there, and I knew I ran at least two red lights in the process. My car screeched to a halt with one wheel grinding against the curb.

  My newfound strength had me opening the door so fast it bounced and knocked me back in. I needed to find out who this detective was. Had he seen or found anything to explain what was happening? Had he found any clues about any of the other children? I was adorned with nothing but socks on my feet, and an oversized brown jacket to hide the pajamas I had been wearing since I was here last.

  The cold bit through my socks, and it took me a second to realize that the sidewalk was covered with a thin layer of freezing rain—in…May? It was 5 p.m. and the skies had darkened, but it could’ve just been the clouds. I wasn’t even looking in front of me as I followed the cracked cobblestone up to the steps.

  And just like that I ran head first into a hulking wall of a man, knocking him back a step as I grabbed onto his coat. He caught me in my clumsiness, holding my arm tightly with an able grip before steadying us both. For a moment I swear I heard him sniff, and all I could do was hope it was because of the cold and not my poor hygiene.

  I began to laugh uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact at first. And as I did, I almost wished I hadn’t.

  “I am so sorry I…” I was taken aback as I laid my sights on the man because, cruelly and honestly, I almost didn’t take him for a man at all. “I um… Uh…” More uncomfortable laughter escaped.

  But for the life of me, I couldn’t stop staring.

  He was dressed in a smart khaki suit, like any other detective I had seen, but his skin was badly splotched and misshapen from what looked like burns. The scars crept all the way down his neck and disappeared underneath his cream-colored button down. Head topped with a fedora, his features were still mostly distinguishable, but any and all hair or minute detail were completely gone. His silvery eyes were still vibrant, and they burned into mine like molten metal.

  “Please…excuse— forgive… me. I’m so rude, I don’t mean to… to stare.” Though trying to avert my eyes made me feel worse.

  To that he simply tipped the brim of his hat with a leathered chestnut glove. A small, uneasy smirk stretched across his rugged lips as he proceeded to avert his gaze and walk past me. I wanted to chase after and apologize further, but I had to find Matthews.

  The bronze-haired officer at the reception desk didn’t seem too thrilled with my being there, as my crazy stories about God knows what had probably made their rounds at the station by now. I could see him sigh under his breath as I made my way through the door.

  “Hey, look… I know I’m the last person you probably want to see right now, okay, but all I want to know is where I can find this guy Matthews and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Matthews?”

  “Yes? The guy who helped find one of the missing kids?”

  “Oh, Maddox,” he corrected, his tone condescending.

  “Maddox? Is that his name?”

  “Mmhm, and you just missed him.”

  “What? Where is he? Please…”

  “You literally just missed him, Ms. Davis. But you might still be able to catch him if you hurry. You can’t miss him. Big fellow, face burned all to hell. Nice guy, though. Still can’t believe he found that girl.”

  “Oh no…”

  Of course it had to be the man I had already left an unfavorable impression on. I could just see it now. Sorry I gawked at you like some kind of freak, but could you help me find my daughter, who seems to have been abducted by a monster? Yeah, that would go well.

  My legs carried me out the door with an urgency, as I searched up and down the street for the man. Seeing him nowhere, I ran to the parking garage, the streets already emptying as the sun continued its descent into the horizon. Desperation had almost driven me to calling out for him until I spotted what looked like the man I ran into resting against an unmarked black car. He was reading some kind of book.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  That roused him, his hand craftily shooting the book into his jacket before he looked up at me. His fists now stuffed in his pockets, he lifted himself from the car as I came closer. My chest now stung from exertion, so I had to force my words.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but…are you Maddox?” I heaved, hands trying to steady my buckling knees.

  He cleared his throat before speaking.

  “Mm hmm… yes.” As he spoke, I realized again I’d been guilty of judging him. I thought he would have a hard, gritty voice that leapt from him abrasively. I hadn’t expected such a low and mellow tone to be associated with such a rough exterior. It almost carried a comfort to it, like it was given to him to ease others and not detract from his appearance.

  “Oh… thank goodness. I… please. First… I want to say that I am so, so sorry for the way I treated you back there. I’m just not myself since…since…” I coughed over and over, unable to finish my apology. Now I was starting to wheeze from the excitement. “Oh…come on…” I was barely able to form words through the burn in my throat.

  “One…second. Please…” I gasped, hunched over with a hand to my chest as I tried for slow, deep breaths.

  “Take your time.”

  Minutes passed, yet he stood there patiently until I recovered.

  “Thank you. For…your patience with me but… I need to be straight with you. My daughter…she…she’s one of the children that are missing.” That alone sparked his attention.

  “For how long?”

  “Well…two days now. Tomorrow will be the third. But…and please, you need to hear me out and if you don’t believe me I understand…but…” Now I began resting against the driver’s side door because I could feel my legs starting to give out. He joined me. Resting his side against the trunk as I continued.

  “See… she wasn’t taken by someone…it was something and…I don’t know what exactly, but I know what I saw. I know I sound like some whacko, okay? But I saw this thing in my daughter’s bed before she…” My lip quivered, but I could tell he caught my drift, his face teeming with a sympathetic worry. And keen interest.

  “Please, can you help me? I will pay you. I’d give you anything, just please…help me find her.”

  “Wait, you say you saw this…thing?”

  Though I still couldn’t tell if he believed me or not, he certainly seemed to take more interest in it than anyone else had. He almost seemed surprised, like he too had seen it. His ridged brow tensed in genuine curiosity.

  “Yes. Not as clearly as I would’ve hoped but I know it was inhumanly big and dark…the sounds it made
were…vile …and its eyes were like giant fiery saucers. God, maybe I’m going insane here, but you’re my only hope. So if you can help me please…please I beg you, I will do anything. Please.”

  For a moment I debated getting on my knees and begging him out of desperation—my feet even carried me a few steps forward in preparation—but his words stopped me.

  “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to search your home for anything that could help. But only if you don’t mind.” His fingers belied his impatience as they rippled away within his pockets.

  “I…of course not. Please do…thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am. I can’t thank you enough but…”

  I outstretched my hand as he reached for mine with a moment’s hesitation. Cold leather chilled my palms as he took hold, shaking firmly while we lingered there a moment. Was he actually taking me seriously?

  “Thank you…”

  I took his hand in both of mine before parting ways. Which, judging by his tenseness, didn’t seem like a gesture he approved of. So I left. As I made my way to the car, I heard the rumble of his engine as he awaited my direction. Maybe this man could actually help me find her.

  He was all I had.

  On the way home I kept running dialogue through my head—going over everything I had already said, things I wanted to say, and all the things I wanted to ask. I still wanted to give a more genuine apology. And, of course, I had to figure out what the catch was. Surely a man who found missing people for a living came at a cost, depending on his history. Speaking of, I now knew where to start my research—with this detective I knew nothing about.

  He followed closely enough, parking on the street as I rolled into the driveway. But as I got out, I was hit with a sudden realization. My house. Coupled with my unkempt appearance, the mess I knew awaited us beyond the front door flustered me. Even my cheeks began to itch against the redness. Nail marks splayed themselves all over my chest as I tried to sate my anxiety with a scratch.

  Dress boots tapped against the concrete behind me as I made my way to the door. But before I started to sift through my keyring, I heard a pause just below the stoop. Key in the lock, I peered over my shoulder and watched as he simply stood there, hand clenched to the railing. He was unmoving, almost statuesque, eyes scanning all around as if taking in his surroundings but not fixating on any one thing. With a deep inhale, his head began to turn through a sigh as the key clicked.

  “Um…please excuse the mess. I’ve been out of sorts, obviously.” With a nervous chuckle, I opened the door to reveal the disaster on the other side, inviting him in with a less-than-confident gesture. I was surprised at how casual and nonjudgmental he seemed to be about the state of everything. He didn’t say anything or stare much, but rather surveyed the house as a whole quietly, hands once again tucked in his pockets.

  “Where was she last?” The silence finally broke. All the while I had been standing behind him fidgeting with the keys.

  “Oh, in her room. Upstairs. Third room on the right. And…if you don’t mind, I think I’d…rather stay down here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes?” I laughed ironically through an unconvincing smile, a heavy sadness in my chest. “…the most valuable thing I had was stolen. My heart is already in pieces so…” My eyes watered at the thought, a few rogue tears escaping. “…you know, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  My sights met the floor as I tugged at an old plastic keychain, trying to hide a sniffle before looking back. I finally met his gaze with a weak smile. He looked at me with only a passing glance, enough to nod his head in an understanding as he made his way up the stairs. Foot after foot, I watched as he politely sidestepped or climbed over any obstacle he met, of which there were quite a few.

  “If there’s anything you need, or if you find anything… I’ll be in the kitchen making coffee.” This time he didn’t respond, but continued his ascent. As soon as he was out of sight, I tried to clean up what I could, at least enough to make it look less like a bomb went off. Even if he didn’t seem to care, I wanted to hold onto whatever dignity I had left. And cleaning helped to occupy my mind as I heard him walking around above me.

  Once the coffee was prepped, I realized I hadn’t heard further movement from him for a while. I knew he hadn’t come back down. One of the stairs squeaked so badly it would’ve been hard to miss.

  Back down the hallway, I started to pick things up from the stairs, making sure to skip the loudest one. Upon reaching the top, the hamper became the new collective holder for all the junk I was holding. Ears perked, I listened keenly but still I heard nothing.

  Across the floor my feet slid, though I was unsure why I deemed it necessary to sneak my way through my own house. Iris’ door was slightly ajar, and I could see movement inside—the lowering of a shadow. I peered curiously through the crack and sure enough he was still in there. Crouched in a low squat.

  His ungloved hand—splayed with marred skin, like striated bark—hovered above the plush rainbow carpet beside her bed. His hand was like a radar, reading the touch and tickle of each individual fiber. He paused at something that laid just beneath the frame and pulled out poor forgotten Lamby.

  As he studied it, he brought it closer to his face and… inhaled. Several times over. I wasn’t sure how to react, but it was bizarre. Had I misread all the signals and let some crazy man in my house? Why would he be smelling it? I half expected him to stick it inside his jacket and take it home with him. But then maybe I was reading too much into it. It’s not like any bit of what had happened made sense anyway.

  In a turn of events, he slipped the ragged plushy into her bed with almost fatherly intent. He tucked it in the way anyone with a child would before bowing his head into his naked hand, the other still gloved and resting atop the blanket.

  I couldn’t explain it, but something about his reaction was mournful, like he had experienced loss and was living it all over again. And for a second I had almost forgotten I was trying to be sneaky because a chesty lament tried to burst through.

  With fluid movement, he slid his glove back on, body erecting to a stand. In those seconds I took as many quiet steps back as I could. I purposely stepped on the loudest step near the top as if I was just now making my way up as he appeared through the doorway.

  “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just… was wondering if you found anything.”

  “Can we talk? Downstairs?”

  “Yes, yes of course.”

  Down the stairs I trudged, only looking back up long enough to see his slight surprise in how much less cluttered the steps were. But he came down with far less haste than I had. All of his polished movements were still a bit new to me for such a detective type.

  “Coffee?” My back still faced him as I asked, already pouring him a cup before he had time to answer.

  “No, thank you. I don’t—”

  “It’s decaf.” Whatever drove me to say it, it was like somehow I knew. In a swift spin, I held the offering out to him, not sure if I was being rude by implying he drank coffee. His eyes were full of surprise.

  “Oh…”

  I set it in his hand, which he accepted. Again with a slight nod.

  “Thank you…”

  “Mmm hmm…”

  Much as I wanted to look his way, I worried I would stare again. I instead hid myself behind the huge mug during our awkward silence, taking a sip every few seconds before inviting him to sit at the unruly square table. It was still laden with coffee-stained or crumpled papers filled with news, mythical creatures, and missing children reports.

  We both took a seat, him settling in at the end opposite me before he too took a quick sip.

  “I’m not going to hound you for answers, Ms. Davis…”

  I was almost surprised he broke the silence. Mug nestled in his hands, his forearms rested against his thighs.

  “Leila, you can call me Leila.” For that, I met his eyes, both of us perking up in a sort of s
ync as I did. He once again cleared his throat.

  “Okay… Leila.” His broad back pushed against the creak of the old chair, right foot shifting inward a bit before planting itself again. As he set his cup on an empty spot of the tabletop, he pulled out that book again. It was a worn, old, leather thing that he flipped open to a blank page, plucking a marbled ballpoint from his jacket as well. “I need you to tell me everything you saw the night she went missing. Anything you remember at all, even the most unimposing detail. If you can.”

  And so I did.

  I told him everything I could remember. Even things I didn’t deem important like my bad dreams, strange feelings, or the crazy street lights. Amidst tears, I tried my best to explain the sounds, and more so the unusual smells that left almost as quickly as they came.

  With each bit of information, he jotted notes, but never interrupted. Those bright eyes of his fixated on every gesture I made and every odd facial expression, but his own remained unchanged. Though his question after all that threw me a bit off kilter.

  “Was she sick at all before she was taken?”

  “Well, yes but…is that relevant at all?” I wasn’t trying to sound patronizing. I was simply trying to connect the dots. How would her being sick have anything to do with her abduction? Could it have? “…I mean, I’d say similar to like… mild flu symptoms but mostly just…”

  “A stomach ache?”

  “Yeah…how…how did you know?”

  “Well,” he slapped his book shut, and I jolted a bit, “the girl I found had something similar. It may be nothing, but every bit of information may help.”

  “I see. Well…honestly I think I’ve exhausted every detail. I hope it helps…”

  A stretch of silence fell before he continued.

  “And this thing. Has it been back since?”

  “Well no, should I…expect it to be?” The idea of seeing it again horrified me. I couldn’t imagine what it looked like in further detail.