Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

that, he doesn't. "So find a way to have this annulled and get his voice out of my head, or we'll see to it that everyone at Court knows that you sold a fairy— your own son — to a mortal."
    Emyr's pearly skin warmed visibly over tight-stretched cheekbones.
    Awela linked her arm in Aeron's. She stuck out her chin. "It's the least you can do for him, Father."
    "Awela, leave us," he said.
    "No."
    Aeron patted his sister's arm, wings twitching in approval. No matter what, he would never, ever blame her for being their father's choice. It was the sensible one, as they'd proven time and again, growing up.
    But this was about him. "I understand now, Father. I was dead to you the day you signed my magic away. I'm not here for revenge. Only set Tammas and me free."
    Emyr tucked the paper into his desk. "I will take it to Advisor Marth. You have my word."
    Aeron made to leave the Hill.
    "Did Mother know? Did she know what you did to him?" Awela asked.
    Aeron paused.
    "She smelled the binding on her precious boy." Emyr snorted. "Why do you think she went mad?"
    The final riddle solved. Mad of a broken heart.
    For him.
    "I hate you," Awela said.
    "I feel sorry for you," Aeron said around a terrible lump in his throat. When he left the Hill for the last time, his sister went with him.
    EPILOGUE
    "What will she do?" Tam asked as they wandered back through his forest toward the little house. He slipped his arm around Aeron's waist and held him close, as if he might disappear into thin air again.
    And sometimes he might. But even if his father actually did manage to have the binding destroyed, Aeron had a feeling he would always be called back. "She's a resourceful girl. I think she's finished with the Court, but she'll find a place. She has a lot of friends."
    Tammas grinned. "So, nothing like you?"
    Aeron fluttered his wings in mock-irritation. "You're lucky I missed you, or I'd make you pay for that."
    He chuckled. "And what will you do?"
    "I don't know." Aeron breathed the lingering evergreen-lemon magic scent deeply and smiled. "I suppose I could help you improve yourself, for now. You want to teach, still."
    Tam nodded. "And I found the berry bush, by the way."
    "I didn't know if I'd be coming back when I did that. I couldn't let you forget me."
    "Not likely. But it did make me feel better to look at it. Every couple of hours, I'd panic and decide you wouldn't answer the call, this time."
    " Idiot ."
    Tam kissed his cheek. "Idiot. Come on, I made you a welcome home stew."
    Aeron sighed. "Oh gods."
     
    THE END?
    Author bio: Katey Hawthorne is an avid reader and writer of dark fiction and super powered romance, even though the only degree she holds is in the history of art. (Or, possibly, because the only degree she holds is in the history of art.) Originally from the Appalachian foothills of West Virginia, she currently lives in the D.C. Metro Area. In her spare time she enjoys comic books, B-movies, loud music, Epiphones, and Bushmills.
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    ****

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN (THE MASKED MAN SERENADE)
    by Gabbo de la Parra

    It's been five blasted years since the dust plague wiped out 90% of the population of Nova Gaia. I guess I was one of the lucky ones, left to scrape out a living amid the ruins of the abandoned colonies. Truth be told, I'd be dead now if it wasn't for him . I've never seen his face, and I've never heard him speak. I'd think he's just another dust-dream, except he always seems to appear when I most need him …
    ~ Zee

    genre: sci-fi
    tags: survivors; futuristic; post-apocalyptic; mysterious savior; hopeful; HFN
    word count: 6,255
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    DARKEST BEFORE DAWN
    (THE MASKED MAN SERENADE)
    by Gabbo de la Parra
    Blast me.
    If Alaric Aquinas hadn't been ravenous, he wouldn't have been chasing the furry thing; ergo he wouldn't be in this predicament, hanging from a precipice. A damned man-made precipice nonetheless, outcome of the improvised junkyard when people started to throw everything they didn't need any more into this former depression of the terrain.
    Perhaps today would be his last day in Nova Gaia.
    A mighty fine day to end twenty-six years of shenanigans.
    The straps about his torso— preventing his fall— were not meant to support his weight, just to carry the few things he used whenever he was away from his quarters. Weak after so many days without food, he wasn't strong enough to propel himself upward, not even to