Of Fey and Gabble Ratchets

fascinating!

Chapter One

They came for me the first time two years ago. I had just turned fifteen. After watching this awesome video on YouTube of these Russian guys doing all kinds of crazy flips off of high buildings and leaping over vast gaps of air between said buildings, I convinced myself I would be the first great female free runner. I set off for the neighborhood park and started practicing moves on the playground. I jumped off the tallest slide and learned how to land and roll to absorb the impact. My best friend Anita provided moral support, as she viewed my latest pursuit as bound to end badly. When I made the brilliant decision to go all out and stand on one of the metal bars people do pull-ups on and then do a flip off of it, Anita’s prediction came true. My foot slipped and my forehead struck the bar with a terrible clang. Fortunately, it was a glancing blow, or I’d most likely be dead.

As I lay sprawled on the ground in a daze, a vision came to me of some darkly-clad, scary-looking dude perched atop a black dog. The dog descended toward me from the sky on broad, ragged, bat-like wings. I could just make out its slavering fangs as the dog pulled back its lips into a grimace. I screamed as loudly as I could. Anita rushed to my side and shook me, snapping me out of my hysteria. She later said my screaming had been going on for some time, but I’m still not sure I believe her. The dog and its passenger exploded into a shower of bright sparks and dissipated into the air. Anita and I stared at each other for a long moment.

Are you okay? she finally asked.

I don’t know. Do you think they’re really gone?

Um … who’s really gone? Anita’s dark, somewhat bushy eyebrows drew together.

That badass scary dude and the freakish dog he was riding!

Anita’s frown deepened. What are you talking about?

You mean … you didn’t see the evil-looking guy on the flying dog that looked like it was going to rip out my throat? My voice squeaked.

Okay, Sandy, you’re scaring me. You hit your head and I think it’s making you see things that aren’t there … I’m calling 9-1-1.

No! No—don’t do that! I’m fine. I sat up, maybe too abruptly, and swayed a bit. Whoa …

Anita flipped open her cell and punched in the numbers, despite my continued protests. By the time the ambulance came, I’d managed to crawl to the park bench. I tried to conceal the throbbing in my head, but I think the fact that I had trouble answering simple questions gave me away. After an overnight stay in the hospital my parents brought me home, lecturing me all the way. I had a pretty bad concussion and a giant bruise on my forehead. I came to realize it would take practice to become a better free runner. I’ve been hiding my practice sessions from my parents for the last couple of years. They think being on the cross-country team is my only obsession. I’d be seriously grounded it they found out otherwise.

At home the next night, lying on my comfortable bed, I had just convinced myself that the vision I had at the park was truly a result of my rattled brain. Then my window slowly opened and a strange man slid like quicksilver into my bedroom. I closed my eyes and opened them again slowly but he was still there, now sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning slightly towards me. He wore a dark maroon skin-tight shirt and black pants.

Can you see me? he whispered. He had nearly black hair and pale skin with deep orange eyes. Those eyes kind of freaked me out.

Um … yes—should I be calling for help?

No! he said, obviously alarmed. I’m not here to harm you in any way.

What do you want? I started to giggle, convinced I was headed around the bend.

At the park yesterday … you saw the sluagh and the gabble ratchet?

I burst out in laughter and then covered my mouth when my guest put a finger to his lips. The what? And the what? These pain meds are really fucking with my head.

Keep your voice down. And please don’t use that kind of language in front of me. The sluagh was the evil spirit aboard the gabble ratchet, the spectral hound that transported him.

Wow. Okay, suppose I buy into this and decide you aren’t some drug-induced hallucination? Why would those creatures be coming after me?

The sluagh are spirits, come to harvest souls for their master, and their mounts are dogs from hell—demons, if you will. Neither is alive, so they cannot be killed, but it’s my job to return them to the depths, where they cannot harm the living.

And who, or is it whom, seeing as you want to be so formal, be you? I giggled again, feeling like the ground might slide out from under me.

I am Drambuie. I am one of the sluagh fighters from the Seelie Court. I defend humans against the revenants. You, apparently, are meant to do the same, Saundra.

Okay … first off, isn’t your name some kind of liquor? What’s up with that? Drambuie looked irked and embarrassed. "Secondly, my name is Sandy, and if you think I’m fighting some demons from hell, you are out of your mind!"

Drambuie’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained level. Firstly, Saundra is your given name, and it means ‘defender of humankind’. Secondly, I have no need to explain my name. I couldn’t suppress a sarcastic huff of air at that one. He cleared his throat irritably. Once you have seen the sluagh, who are not demons, but spirits—only their dogs are demons—they will hunt you down. It’s best if you know how to defend yourself, and I will teach you.

I lay propped up on my pillows, momentarily speechless. Could I really fall for this bizarre story—I mean, faeries? Gabble ratchets? Yeah, I found myself drawn to this strange guy with his intense eyes, but the world he presented was such a downer. Is this what I had signed up for?

*   *   *

Two years have passed since the night that I met Drambuie. I realize that at fifteen I tended towards naiveté, as Drambuie had no romantic impulses towards me. When I got over my crush, I saw him for the mentor he really was, and he’s helped to keep me as safe as he can. Learning to hunt sluagh has been a wild ride. Between intense physical conditioning (running, weights, you name it) and the use of specialized firearms and dangerously sharp daggers, I learned how to take a hit and dish one out. Drambuie didn’t hold back during his teachings, and I’m grateful for that. This job isn’t for pansies. Anita knows my secret. She can’t see the revenants or the gabble ratchets, and for that she should be really frickin’ grateful, because they’re not a pretty sight, but Drambuie revealed himself to her. I think he did it so I could retain my best friend. I am one of a select few who can see faeries without the faeries wanting them to.

Now I’m plagued by a new problem. The other day I lay on my bed listening to New Politics on my iPod and reading The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. Suddenly, the words on the page blurred and I felt a slight vibration. My room seemed to whip away in some crazy wind. When my vision came back into focus, I found myself in the park two miles from our house. After a rough landing in the wet grass I jumped up to check my ass, only to see a giant stain on my new running shorts.

Damn it! This truly pissed me off. We weren’t rich, and I had to buy all my running clothes with money I earned working at a kennel. I looked up to see a guy who appeared to be about my age sprinting away. I gave chase. I’m not slow. I can run sub-seven-minute-miles for a good long ways and even faster for a short while, but this guy smoked me. I never saw his face, only the back of his head. He had dark blonde hair, muscular legs and broad shoulders. He sped away and veered off the path into the woods. I raced to the spot where he had disappeared and yelled, Come back here! But nothing moved among the trees.

When I got home my mother gave me a puzzled look as she stirred soup on the stove. Sandy, am I crazy, or did you already go for a run earlier?

I yanked out my ear buds and gave my mom a smile that I hoped was convincing. Yeah, well, I’ve got that race coming up and I’m trying a new technique.

Okay … well, after you shower, maybe you should start on your homework. My mom gave me a meaningful look. I had gotten my first C on a statistics test, and she felt compelled to nag. My parents were no help when it came to math, so I was pretty much screwed. I made my way upstairs, hoping Drambuie would provide some answers to what had just occurred. I wanted to know who the stranger in the park was and maybe even kick his ass.

Chapter Two

Okay, so Monday rolled around during the second month of my junior year at South River High School, and I was on my way to school in my ancient Honda Civic hatchback that feels like you’re riding in a buckboard. I saw some poor sod step out in front of a minivan fast approaching from the other direction. The lady in the minivan didn’t even slow down. Maybe she didn’t have much of a chance, but I swore I saw her toss her cell phone onto the passenger seat right after it happened.

The old guy who got hit flew up and smashed into the windshield, making a sunburst of cracks in the glass. The driver sat there, her round cheeks puffed out in surprise, looking paralyzed with fear as the man slowly slid off the front of her car, his face smearing blood on the metal. His glasses dangled from only one ear.

Shit. I pulled over to the side of the road, not sure how badly the man was hurt, but sure it was enough to attract a revenant’s attention if it was close by. How could I defend this poor shmuck in broad daylight? Sluagh often prey upon people alone in the dark, but anytime someone’s soul is in danger, there’s a good chance they’ll show up. Thanks to Drambuie and even a little bit to me, the numbers of sluagh threatening our good citizens had significantly decreased. I stepped from my car and rushed over to the man, his body now slumped on the ground in a heap. The woman who had hit him finally stumbled from her car and came around to the front, looking dazed.

Is he … did I kill him? she whispered.

No. He’s got a pulse. Did you call 9-1-1?

Oh … 9-1-1! Of course! She hurried to her car and retrieved her cell phone from the front seat to call for help.

Please let the ambulance arrive before they come. I tried to calm my racing heart, but then I heard the howling. If you’ve never heard a gabble ratchet howl, count yourself as lucky. The hair on my neck stood up and I felt my palms begin to sweat. The howl was low and long, deeper than that of wolves and filled with an unquenchable hunger. I stood up, scanning the sky desperately.

What are you looking at? the driver asked, sounding confused. She shivered. Even those that don’t have my ability to see and hear the black dogs can often feel their malevolent presence.

Oh—just thinking. Hey could you hold this against his head? Then I can wave down the ambulance when it comes. I held out the t-shirt I had grabbed from my car and had been using to staunch the bleeding from the guy’s forehead. He looked pale and his lips had a bluish tinge.

I’m not touching some stranger’s blood! What if he has AIDS or something? The lady’s over-plucked brows shot up under her blonde bangs, which were curled into a neat row on her forehead.

I sighed in frustration. Fine, you flag them down, then. The woman waddled over to the sidewalk, looking for any sign of help. Fortunately, we were on a quiet street, so I pulled my weapon from my ankle holster, making sure blondie couldn’t see me. I held it under my jacket with one hand, still pressing the old man’s head with my shirt. He looked like a professor to me. He’d been carrying a black briefcase which lay on the path of the park next to us.

A shadow passed over and I could see them spiraling down towards us. The sluagh had an anticipatory grin on her face. I scanned the area in a panic, thinking I’d have to fire my weapon and then I’d be arrested or sent to prison for the criminally insane. Other cars drove past, slowing, the people inside gaping, but no one seemed compelled to stop. I stood and started to pull my weapon, when I heard a whisper in my ear.

I’ve got this one, Saundra.

I jumped about a mile and yelped. The blonde looked over at me like I was nuts, so I gave a nervous laugh. I heard sirens now, and the gabble ratchet tucked its wings and began a steep dive. One of Drambuie’s amazing talents was that he could camouflage himself, and right then, his skin was the exact shade of the minivan. Only his eyes still glowed orange.

Did you have to scare me? I hissed under my breath.

Keep pressure on his wound, he said, ignoring my reprimand.

Drambuie drew his own weapon, a beautiful silver piece with faerie lettering on it and took aim. He was steady and still, something I hadn’t quite mastered. He fired off a shot, silent and true, and the sluagh screamed, clutching her chest. She must have been inexperienced, because most of them are excellent dodgers and this one never even saw it coming. Then came the part I loved. The sluagh and her mount ignited in a ball of orange flame and exploded into tiny sparks that scattered like fireworks.

I gave a little hum of appreciation. Beautiful … nice shot. I always felt a bit in awe of my fey friend.

Thank you. Until later. Drambuie smiled, looking satisfied with himself, and vanished.

The ambulance pulled up and the EMT’s took over. Police arrived and I had to wait around for questioning.

Miss, can you tell us what you saw, please? The officer questioning me was downright portly. Don’t they have physical requirements for these people? How he would be able to chase anyone down, I couldn’t fathom.

I’m supposed to be in school, I said, not wanting any part of this. The cop raised one eyebrow, staring me down with his pale blue eyes, so I relented. Fine. What do you want to know?

Just tell me what you saw, and I’ll send you to school with a note.

Well, I was driving this way, I pointed down the street, and the minivan was coming towards me, and the poor old guy stepped out without really looking. The lady—

The driver of the minivan? he interrupted.

Yes. She didn’t really slow down. I’m not sure noticed the man, though. She may have been talking on her cell phone.

The blonde heard me and snapped to attention. In a shrill voice, she said, "I was not on my phone! That man stepped out in front of me! I had no chance—hey!" The officer who had been talking to her pulled her out of earshot.

I told the portly officer the rest, leaving out the visitors from hell, of course.

*   *   *

When I finally made it to web design, all eyes swept over me as I entered, twenty minutes late. I was just as quickly dismissed by all of them but Anita, who gave me a curious look. When I settled behind my computer she whispered, Where were you?

Sluagh, I whispered back, as quietly as I could. Surely no one could have heard me besides Anita, but some guy two rows up whipped his head around and stared at me for a long second before turning around to face the front. My mouth dropped open. WTF? Did he really hear me? Then I noticed his slightly wavy, dark blonde hair, and seen from behind, it made me wonder. Was it possible this was the guy from the park?

I scribbled a quick note to Anita, afraid I’d be heard by Mr. Bionic Ears if I said anything aloud. Who’s that guy two rows up, dirty blonde hair? She started to answer out loud, but I mimed writing, and she got the hint.

Nate Avery. He’s new. Hot, no?

Anything else?

From Arizona—seems pretty shy. Friends with computer geeks. You interested?

No!!

Hmm … I would have pictured him hanging out with the popular crowd, with those looks, but whatever. I wondered what had brought him to western Oregon. I needed to get to the bottom of this. I needed to find out if he was the one I’d seen sprinting away. But how to go about it without seeming unhinged?

I sat with Anita, Mark, and Rosalie in the cafeteria, trying not to wolf down the pb&j sandwich I had packed for lunch, all the while scanning the crowd for Nate.

Are you like some kind of feral animal or something? Rosalie asked, watching me with what could only be described as disgust. My friends constantly tried to improve my manners and habitual swearing. It’s not like I’m the only teenager that swears. Besides, I love words, and sometimes a good swear word is just what you need.

What? I asked, feigning innocence, my mouth full.

OMG! You eat like a Neanderthal. Rosalie, with her shiny dark hair and brown eyes, could only be classified as tiny. Maybe five feet tall, and very petite and neat. Neatness was not something I had any inclination towards. Besides, running forty or so miles a week makes you really hungry.

I laughed at Rosalie and opened my mouth wide, showing my masticated food.

Sandy! Anita hissed, clearly embarrassed. Mark smirked in appreciation. It’s no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend! Anita said, frowning at me.

I gave her my most wounded look. She shrugged, not very apologetically. I’ve often pondered why my friends put up with me, as I am actually aware of my antisocial tendencies, but I’m glad they do. It is true that other than a very brief relationship when I was fifteen, (can you call two weeks a relationship?) I hadn’t had much luck in the boyfriend department. The sluagh incident started something which put a serious dent in my free time—at least I hoped that was the reason. Anita and Mark have been going out for over a year, and Rosalie has her share of boyfriends, although never for long. She’s very independent, and can only tolerate so much adoration. I’d settle for a little.

My eyes roamed over the table of students, past the popular table of giggling bimbos and posturing jocks, including my illustrious brother, and settled on the table farthest away from notice. Nate sat with the computer nerds, but he looked distant from them. As they talked with great animation, their arms flailing, he sat, looking still and watchful. Perhaps he longed to be at the popular table? His eyes wandered until they met mine. Nate stared, but at this distance, I couldn’t read his expression. He leaned in and said something to Mike Richardson, a true computer genius. Several heads turned in my direction from their table, then they went back to talking, and Nate didn’t look back over.

I wondered what they had said and felt my face flushing, one of the curses of being a redhead (dark auburn, really).

Sandy, what’s up? Anita asked, then caught the direction of my gaze. Oh, I see …

No—you just shut up, I whispered, glaring.

What? Rosalie was very attentive now, sensing some drama.

Sandy has a crush on—

Be quiet! My heart raced with panic.

Who? Rosalie and Mark said in unison. I reached across the table, intending to grab Anita’s wrist and twist it, but she leaned out of reach.

That new guy, Nate, she said, motioning towards his table with her head.

Well, she might actually have a chance with him, Mark said, then caught the look on my face. I mean, you’re really pretty, but …

Go on, I said, anger making my throat tighten.

You have a reputation for being a bit strange … Mark squirmed in his seat. He was tall and lanky with longish brown hair. You could tell he’d grow into a real hottie in time, but he seemed like he still hadn’t gotten used to his long limbs.

"I don’t give a rat’s ass what people think about me, except for you guys, and I do not have a crush on Nate, okay?"

Whatever you say, Chiquita. Rosalie rolled her eyes.

You should work on that swearing issue, though, Anita said pointedly.

I gave her the finger and the bell rang.

Chapter Three

Talk about a disaster. In P.E. class we were ordered to run twice around the track to warm up. Surprisingly, quite a few people in my class didn’t even try to run the half mile, walking most of the way. I’m all for technology, but it’s put a serious damper on the drive to move through space in a whole lot of people. Anyway, when we started running around the track I was barely doing nine-minute-miles, trying not to show off, but I was still leaving everyone behind. Everyone, that is, except for Nate, who breezed past me, all smooth and relaxed. Then I was sure of it. The back of his thighs looked very nicely muscled, and those broad shoulders—it had to be the same guy.

After our warm up, I walked over towards him, but when he saw me coming, he made a point of turning away and talking to one of his computer geek friends who was huffing from the exertion. I strode right up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face me, and I found myself staring into the most deeply blue eyes I had ever seen—they were verging on the purple the sky gets just before dark. It threw me.

Um … hi. I’m um … Sandy. Sandy McTavish. I just wanted to welcome you, being new and all. I could feel my face flaming. This wasn’t at all how I had imagined this going.

He stepped slightly closer to me while his friend gaped at us.

I know who you are, he said, and the weird thing was, he sounded almost angry.

Okay … You know the polite thing to do would be to say, ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Nate’. I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice.

Why bother, when you obviously know my name? He smirked at me rudely, and I could feel my eye twitch. I wanted to haul off and punch him, but I decided to give it one last shot, and laughed as if he’d been joking.

So, you seem to be pretty fast. Are you going to join the cross-country team?

I don’t think so. He made a face, as if I had just suggested he strip off his clothes and run naked around the track.

Okay, then. I turned away and rejoined Rosalie, who looked particularly cute in her pink shorts and black t-shirt with an Owl City logo on it. She had ridiculously bad taste in music.

Humiliate yourself much? she asked, shaking her head.

Don’t rub it in; that’s rude. My stomach clenched with embarrassment.

You still gonna’ say you don’t have a crush on him?

After that non-conversation? No frickin’ way.

Yeah, he’s incredibly hot, but obviously a prick. How he thinks he can get away with that when he’s hanging out with Mike Richardson, I don’t know. Despite her somewhat harsh tongue, Rosalie really is on my side.

Seriously. I think I’ll keep my distance from now on. Not only did I make an utter fool out of myself, but I hadn’t learned anything new about him.

Mr. Snodgrass yelled at us to stop talking and line up to be chosen for soccer teams. At least I wasn’t one of the last ones picked.

*    *    *

That night, it happened again. I had