I splashed my face with cold water until the majority of my sticky emotions flow down the drain with the rest of the liquid. It's quiet in here and the old electric lights give off a soft hum that ripples around the room and dispels any whispers or hushed thoughts. My hands still shake as I grip the counter and my pain medication is starting to wear off. I shouldn't be standing. My heart still hurts.

I can't believe we're fighting again. It's so exhausting. I don't want to spend his last few hours here with me like this. I don't... I don't want him to go. At the same time I never want to see his face again. The conflict grew inside me and ebbed out like lava, and I don't want to cool down. I just want... a hug.

I desperately do not want to be alone again.

Sheryl's gone when I limp downstairs and grab my coat. My parents however, are not, and I felt my Dad's big hand grip my shoulder as I go for the door. Mum was standing behind him, so I know something's wrong from the moment I meet their eyes.

"Asher." Mum's voice was dry. "Where are you going dear?"

"I'm going to find Conway and make sure he's safe."

"What makes you think you'll find him in one night?" Dad asked.

My leg twitched as it did every once in a while. "He'll find me."

"Can we talk to you?" Mum requested, grabbing onto one of my hands.

I don't pull away. "Okay..."

They lead me back to the kitchen and sit me down. Dad's face was harder than Mum's. He was staring at the pictures of our family on the wall. All of the ones with Conway had been removed and placed in a box and shoved into my parent's closet where they couldn't be seen.

"Sheryl told us what happened." Mum started.

My fingers went cold and curled into my palm. "Oh."

"Why did you tell us it was a dryad?" Dad demanded, I could tell he was angry by the way his mustache quivered.

I flinched. "I'm sorry... I wanted to protect you."

"You still want to go after him?" Mum wasn't angry, she was more purplexed.

"He's still my brother. He's always been." I insisted, curling my fingers in.

"How long have you known?" she pressed.

"I didn't. I found out... I f--" I swallowed. Their stares were draining the words from my brain. "The day of the incident. It's kind of obvious now right? He couldn't activate an integral, all those weird rashes... I can't believe we didn't find out sooner."

The two of them shared a look, Mum reached across the table and took one of my hands. "We knew, dear."

My mouth went dry. "Wh-what?"

"We've always known." Dad confirmed, he looked almost ashamed.

My eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. Dad on the left, Mum on the right. They didn't feel like my parents for a moment, their forms were twisted and grew two long horns and a snide grin, like monsters..,

I couldn't even begin to form words for a few moments.

Mum brought her hand up and wiped the corners of her eyes. I've only ever seen her this vulnerable when she thought I was going to die; when she thought it was her fault. It hits me like a transport, she thought she might have raised her son's murderer.

"We were told if we kept him they would give our other son back one day. We should have known that was never going to happen."

She sighed shakily. "We were fools, blinded by our desperation to see our other child again."

"But C-Conway is your other kid..." I breathed.

"Not anymore. Not now that he's killed someone." Dad grimaced.

Mum held her face in her hands. "Oh... poor Greta. She didn't deserve this."

There was a pressure sitting on top of my chest. I could push my fingers against my sternum and feel it, sitting, curled up and waiting, a sick green in colour. I could barely breathe with it on top of me.

"You just want me to stop looking for him?"

Mum glanced up at me, eyes wide. "We never wanted you to find him."

The heavy sensation freezes over and I feel numb. "No... I'm not hearing this. I can't do this again, not twice in a single night."
I pushed myself back up onto my feet with a grunt and Dad tried to grab onto my arm but I yank it out of his grasp and run for the door as fast I can manage, which hurts like hell. It was storming outside when I yanked open the door and I barely feel the rain hitting my face. It was easy to ignore their frantic shouts when I slammed the door.

I hoped the whole house would shake with the power of my fury.

"Show yourself you coward! I know you can see me! I know you're watching me!" I screamed with all my might in the roar of wind.

I never raised my voice at Conway. I never had to, he was always listening.

"This is all your fault!" My voice cracked, my gesture down at my useless leg.

I was crying again, I didn't think I had it in me, not after my embarrassing display in front of Gus. Way to drive him away again, Asher. Nobody wants to be around you when you're a blubbering mess, much less the brother you're yelling at. I screamed one last time out of rage, and let the feeling pull the anger out of me and fall away into the wind. A hand touched my shoulder. I whipped around and yelped out of pure terror.

It was Greta...in the flesh.

She stood there, breathing heavily, bright orange hair slicked against her forehead from the rain. She was wearing the same bomber jacket and jeans from the last time I saw her alive, except she was soaked to the skin. She looked... surprised to see me but then her expression morphed into disappointment, yep, that was her.

"G-Greta?" I stammered, "you're alive?"

"Asher Northcott." She replied in her familiar thick accent, managing to pronounce both the t's in my last name. "No."

"What?"

"It's a very, very long story, the short version of it is I need gatekeeper blood. You'll do, I suppose." She met my gaze with nothing but fire and disgust. "It'll be the first useful thing you've ever done for me."

Greta started towards me with her hands outstretched like talons. I reached into my back pocket for my integral and whipped it out only to discover it wouldn't change into a crossbow. I was still in the mortal realm. My heart dropped into my stomach and I backed up away from her until I hit a tree. I curled my keys into my fists, it was the only weapon I had.

"Stay back," I warned.

She scoffed, "You're pathetic. I can't believe I ever agreed to marry you."

"I never wanted to be with you either," I spat. "We were both willing to suffer for our families."

Her face crinkled up in anger. "How dare you? I turned down a lot of boys in favour for you."

I sighed. "It's because I'm gay, Ersteche."

Greta paused for a split second. "What?"

"I... I like boys." I couldn't believe the first person I'm telling this to was my zombified ex-girlfriend.

She stared at me with her bright blue eyes and for a millisecond I thought I could see the human in them. Maybe the small part of the Greta I used to know was dimly impressed by my willing sacrifice. If I had to do the thing all over again I knew I would. I would do anything for my family. Greta's body shuddered again and she seemed to snap out of it.

"Like it matters now." She spit at my feet and then threw her fist at me.

I blocked it, but she slammed me back up against the tree. Greta had always been stronger than me but not only was I at a physical disadvantage in almost any situation that insisted I stand, but Zombie Greta was a lot more powerful than she looked. She countered by slamming her knee into my gut, and I felt the air rush out my lungs as I doubled over on the ground, gasping.

She slammed the heel of her boots onto my fingers, then pounced on my bad leg. I frantically clawed at her back with my stinging fingers as I heard the tell-tale sound of velcro being undone. Too late, took only moments for her to yank my leg brace off, and she held it over her shoulder menacingly as she stared down at me.

"That was low." I said through gritted teeth.

She laughed. "You don't know the lengths I've gone for this."

I grimaced, the mud on the ground was seeping into my skin and clothes. "What do you want?"

"Your body." She extended her hand down towards me.
I didn't take it, I would have to be absolutely mad to. She opted to grab onto my shoulder and forced me onto me feet again, pulling my arm over her shoulder and forcing me to lean on her. I responded with digging my keys into her side as hard as I could. She yelped and effectively let go of my arm and I fell. I smirked at her from my spot back in the mud.

"Come on Asher, don't make me knock you out."

"You'll have to kill me before you do whatever it is you keep jabbering on about." I hissed.

I honestly don't know what I was expecting, but the next thing she did was pull back her fist and hit me straight across me brow. I swayed back and forth before my eyes rolled back into my head and I succumbed to unconsciousness.
When I wake up I can instantly tell I'm at least four, maybe five gates deep and I feel dizzy for a second. It's still dark, so I assume I haven't been out long. I can still hear the rain hitting the ground and the trees rustling about so I don't think I'm inside, maybe a cave. I can't see a bloody thing.

A hissing sound comes from deeper in what I assumed was a cave, and a ball of fire appear out of the darkness. It's not coming from a torch though, it changed and morphed into a human-like face. Greta's flaming body melts into view, I guessed whatever spell she used to make herself look human has worn off. She turned towards me, her green eyes the only color on her body besides the hot orange flames that makes up her form.

That's when I noticed the other pair of eyes lurking in the shadows.

"Greta Ersteche," it breathed, its voice was like splintered wood, "this is not the changeling you promised me."

"I know, he's hiding from me. If you can give me this one's body I can get him for us," she rasped.

I realized I was in the middle of some lunatic scheme involving magic Gus would probably turn pale at and then go on for twenty minutes about how illegal it was, maybe even longer.

Greta floated closer to the other fae until I can see its face illuminated by her firelight. There was nothing there but the skull of a deer which stared at me with unnervingly dark eye sockets. He wore a dark cloak that was torn and frayed on it's edges and looked several hundred years old, it was held together by an ornate, half-broken clasp of a lion and a unicorn surrounding a shield, which I recognized as the royal family's coat of arms. A bow was strung across his shoulders, and when he turned slightly I could see dozens of decaying arrows were embedded in his back. I racked my brain for any information about a fae like him but I was so nervous I could barely think. Conway would have known.

"You'll still be spilling gatekeeper blood, my lord," she hissed into his ear. "Better the true blood of the lineage you so hate than that pale, petty imitation."

I glanced around frantically, looking for wherever they've hid my leg brace. Bloody hell, I'm in a real predicament now. I really would love to take Gus with me on these dumb reckless missions if it weren't for the fact he's a backstabbing snitch. His only redeeming feature right now is he can walk, and he's not even here. I blinked, it dawned on me I could possibly die here. That scared me more than I would like to admit.

The deer skull loomed over me, the light from Greta's fire flickering back and forth and giving his dark eye sockets the appearance of flicking back and forth. Chills ran down my spine as he floated closer. I scooted back as fast as I could and felt my breath come out in fast panicked gasps, my back hit the wall. I was face to face with the cloaked fae, I had never been more scared in my life.

"He will do." The fae begrudgingly agreed.

     "Who are you? What do you want?" I demanded, as he floated towards me.

     A soft hissing noise emanated from the skull, like a raspy inhale. "I'm Herne the Hunter, I am vengeance, I am death."

     "You're pretentious, that's obvious." I snarled. 

I swung my arm around and slammed my fist into his skull, I half expected it to fly away into the darkness but instead it snapped back like it was connected to this fae's neck. He grunted, then turned back towards me with immeasurable rage in his skull face. I yelped as the fae drew back his massive fist, and just managed to roll clumsily out of the way before in smashed into the earth behind me. I heard a distinct crack that reminded me of how easily that could have been my skull.

The fae's cloak swept around and its dark hands pressed against my chest, pinning me against the ground. My eyes trailed up his arms to see they were heavily tattooed with powerful, painful, marks of magic, there were leaves growing out of his skin in patches like the scales of a salamander. I could barely breathe under the crushing weight of this terrifying fae.

He started to chant something under his breath, I recognized it as a mixture of Old English and Faerie. The marks on his gaudy skin glow faintly and then I let slip a cry of pain from my lips as my whole body started to sting. My vision went in and out of focus but I can tell there's a red and orange glow coming off my body. It looked like I was on fire, scratch that, I was definitely on fire.

I was just about to pass out when someone punched the fae's pale, fire-lit skull again, pushing him off me and allowing me to breathe again. A third person was standing above me. Greta's fire blazes up in her rage and filled the whole space with light. I stare at the person above me, he pulled off the hood of his raincoat to unveil a mess of red curly hair and freckles, two horns poked out. He brandished two wooden, leafy fists and fell into a protective stance.

"Don't you dare touch him." Conway snarled. "I'm the one you really want."