Page 39 of The Fox Heir

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Isn’t it?” He blinks at me with his wet black eyes. “Ah, but it’s no bother. I love my cozy little bed in this dark corner of the world. It keeps away the pests … and the light.” He squints at my torch warily. A strand of stringy black hair falls over his face.

“Why are you kept down here?”

“Kept? I just told you; I likes it down here.” He pauses. “As long as the pests bring me my dinner.”

“Pests.”

It nods, looking me up and down.

“People.”

He twists his face in distaste. “Humans! Blech. They are only good for one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiles, and rows of sharp baby teeth glint in the light. “Dinner, of course.” The creature licks its lips with a pointed, black tongue.

Unwittingly, my gaze drifts to the skeletons lining the hall. The torchlight flickers across what remains of their bodies. “You ate them?”

He grins wider, excited that I finally understand him. “Delicious. But I do have standards, of course. Mens taste icky.” The creature gags, illustrating his dislike.

“You eat women.”

He nods enthusiastically.

Fear makes my breath grow shallow. There is nothing between me and this woman-eating fae except a wooden door covered in iron chains.

“Why?” I ask.

He glowers at me as if my question were ludicrous. “Why do humans eat squirrels and rabbits or … apples?” He punctuates the last word with another gag. “But I don’t eats them all. No, only the supple ones. The ones with clean hair.”

I can’t control the grimace on my face. “Your standard is clean hair?”

His eyes grow wide, and he nods enthusiastically again. He grips the bars of the grate tightly, as if he can barely control his excitement at the thought.

My eyes dart back to the looming nest in the back of the cell. “What else is in there with you?”

The fae cocks his head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, little bug? Open the door and I’ll let you in.” The creature gives me a horrible childlike grin.

I shake my head.

He pouts. “Oh, but I don’t offer that to any little bug who comes to my house.” Saliva drips from his tiny teeth as he growls. “It has been such a long time since I had my last meal.” He pauses, squinting against the torchlight. His eyes trail over my auburn hair where it’s braided over my shoulder. “Your fur is dirty. It’s not gold, like they usually send me. But, I likes it. What is it?”

He squints, leaning closer to the bars. His eyes widen. “No, it cannot be! Copper-hair like a fox? Ooooo, I must add you to my collection.”

I take another step back, my heart racing as the fae’s laughter bounces off the stone walls. The sound makes me cringe. He’s unnatural, like something that doesn’t belong in this world. I try to swallow, but my throat feels tight, dry. The air is thick with rot and mildew, and my pulse is hammering in my ears.

It’s time to leave.

The fae pauses, eyes lingering on me. “You think that you’re safe there, on the other side of this door.” His finger drifts lazily down one of the bars before his gaze lifts to mine. “Safety is only an illusion, fox-haired bug.”

In an instant, the door and its iron chains dissolve into nothing. Fae tricks. I should have expected it. I should have been more careful. Now there’s nothing between me and the hungry fae who feasts on women.

He giggles, high and strange, covering his mouth like a coy child before clapping his hands together. “Oh, you’re frightened.” His grin spreads, teeth glinting. “I can smell it. You want to run, but I want something first.”

I glance over my shoulder toward the spiral staircase at the end of the long corridor, measuring the distance. My legs tense, ready to bolt, but I know better than to turn my back on a predator.