Court of Aether and Shadows (Crowned Monster Trilogy #1)

3. The Whispers Of Another World

The Whispers Of Another World

~SPARROW~

T he first thing I became aware of was pain.

It radiated through my body in dull waves, centering on my left side where I vaguely remembered being shot. The second thing I noticed was the smell – antiseptic and copper, undercut by something earthier.

Definitely not a hospital.

Now it clues in that I had to have been hallucinating to think I’d be in an actual hospital. We’re not that privileged. Not people like me anyway. Guess being on the brink of death can do that to you.

Wishful thinking when you’re on the borders of life and six feet under.

I cracked open my eyes, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lighting. The ceiling above me was bare concrete, water stains mapping out continents I'd never visited.

Turning my head slightly, I took in my surroundings.

I was lying on a narrow cot in what appeared to be a converted storage room. Medical equipment beeped softly beside me, and various crates and shelves lined the walls, filled with supplies I couldn't quite make out.

"Well, look who's finally decided to rejoin the land of the living."

The voice was warm and husky, with just a hint of amusement.

I turned towards it, wincing as the movement pulled at my wound. A woman stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

She was older, maybe in her thirties, with brunette roots that shifted into steel-silver hair pulled back in a severe bun. Even though I was assuming her age, her face was a map of laugh lines and frown lines in equal measure.

She could have lived a harsh life like my daily occurrence and the stress of survival was easing into her facial lines, stealing her youth, or maybe that’s just how her genetics worked.

Her eyes – a startling shade of violet – sparkled with intelligence.

"Where am I?" I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy.

The woman moved into the room, reaching a table with two empty glasses and a pitcher that I had to assume was filled with water. Pouring a glass, she decides to grace me with some answers.

"Somewhere safe," she said, before walking back to the bed. Lowering the glass, she doesn’t hesitate to help me sit up slightly so I can be at the right angle to sip the cool liquid. I’d be lying if I pretended I wasn’t desperate for some hydration. "Or as safe as people like us ever get."

As the fog of unconsciousness cleared, memories started flooding back.

The warehouse. The job gone sideways. The bullet...

"How long have I been out?" I asked, settling back against the thin pillow once I’ve downed not one, but three glasses of chilled water.

"Three days," the woman replied, checking the IV bag hanging beside my bed. I’m still in shock as it dawns upon me that I was really unconscious for that length of time.

Was the dream that long? It couldn’t be. It felt so fast. Shit…three fucking days?! Boss is going to be pissed.

"And you're lucky it wasn't permanent. That bullet was laced with something nasty. If your friend hadn't gotten you here as quickly as he did, we might be having a very different conversation right now."

I nodded, processing this information while taking her in.

We were the same height of 5’2” but she was a lot skinnier than me. She had that athletic build that told you she was easily a long-distance runner. I could probably beat her in a short-distance race.

"You're the medic?" I decide to ask so I don’t look so awkward staring at her like I haven’t seen a normal human being in a long minute.

Well, I was stuck in a different realm of sorts for three days thanks to being unconscious, so maybe that relates to my situation just a little bit.

She smiled, her expression transforming her stern features into something almost motherly. It’s weird, but then again, she could have children.

"Dr. Elenore Vasquez, at your service. Though 'medic' works just fine in our circles. Less paperwork that way."

I couldn't help but return her smile. There was something comforting about her presence, a steadiness that put me at ease despite the unfamiliar surroundings.

"I'm-"

"I know who you are, Sparrow," she cut me off gently. "Your reputation precedes you. Now, let's take a look at those bandages, shall we?"

Reputation? Oh right. People in the underground assume I’m some sort of prodigy murderer. Apparently, it’s not normal for someone in their early twenties to be able to kill so flawlessly.

Alright, it’s a bit fucked up, but I take pride in succeeding in surviving and killing my prey, near or far.

If such behaviors end up getting me a reputation — good or bad — I should just be grateful and move right along.

As Elenore carefully unwrapped the dressing on my side, I hissed through clenched teeth, because fuck! It hurts like a bitch. It’s been a hot minute since I got wounded like this. I don’t normally make such errors in judgment when on the “battlefield”.

If we can even call it that.

The wound looked angry and red, but she seemed satisfied enough with what she saw because she was bobbing her head in approval.

"Healing nicely," she murmured, applying some kind of salve that smelled of herbs and electricity. "Another day or two and you should be mobile. Though I'd advise against any acrobatics for at least a week."

I snorted.

Yeah fucking right.

You can’t pick and choose whether you have to jump out a window and cartwheel your way down a fleet of stairs to enjoy another day in the land of the living.

"No promises, doc."

She fixed me with a stern look, but I could see the amusement lurking in her violet eyes.

"I mean it, young lady. I didn't pull you back from the brink of your demise, just to have you undo all my hard work."

“Alright, alright. I’ll be good.” I can promise that much, because, despite everything and her being relatively a stranger outside of her name and profession, I was grateful to live another day.

You always express your gratitude, for you never know when it’ll come back in return.

As she worked, rebandaging the wound with practiced efficiency, I found myself studying her more closely. There was something... different about her. A kind of energy that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

It could be this weird sense of energy around her. Like some sort of aura, only it’s something that burns in the depths of its invisibility. Moving in waves of hypnotic intrigue, but fading in and out of existence whenever I dare try to focus on one or the other.

"So," I said, trying to distract myself from the discomfort of an awkward silence, "what's new in the world? Did I miss anything exciting while I was out?"

Brilliant Sparrow. Just act as if you were in a coma for five years and missed out on WWIII, the presidential elections, and watching the new seasons of You on Netflix.

Elenore's hands stilled for just a moment, so briefly I almost thought I'd imagined it. It’s an odd jerk of action, but I can’t tell what it was for. I decide to dismiss it because there’s nothing I can say to make such a “regular” reaction sound odd.

When Elenore spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

"Oh, you know how it is. The usual chaos and corruption. Though there have been some... unsettling reports lately."

Unsettling reports? Like what?

I raised an eyebrow, hoping to follow along so my curiosity can be fed.

"Oh?"

She sighed, finishing with the bandage before pulling up a chair beside my bed. "There's been a rash of kidnappings. Young women, mostly.”

That already sounds alarming, but she continues.

“But it's not just the disappearances that have people talking. It's what happens to the ones who come back."

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool air of the underground room. There’s this layer of uncertainty with where this is going, but I feel as if this involves me in some way.

Weird, right?

"What do you mean?"

Elenore leaned in, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. I’m pretty sure we’re alone, and yet her need to keep her next words an obvious secret means this is something everyone shouldn’t know.

"They come back... changed,” she accentuates those words as if revealing a riddle that shouldn’t be spoken with words. “Raving about monsters and magical worlds. Dreams so vivid they can't tell what's real anymore. Most of them end up in mental institutions, sedated out of their minds."

Shit….

Shit. Shit. Shit!

My heart began to race, the steady beep of the heart monitor betraying my sudden anxiety. Flashes of my own vivid dreams danced at the edges of my consciousness – a world of shadow and starlight, a prince with burning eyes...

"That's... disturbing," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady. Thankfully, I’m good at making a masked face and just as good at calming my heart rate, which happens in seconds. The machine no longer beeps in warning. "Any leads on who's behind it?"

Elenore shook her head, looking puzzled with a hint of defeat.

"Nothing concrete. But there are whispers... rumors of things that don't fit neatly into our understanding of the world, but again, you speak too much about it and you’re on coo-coo street”.

I forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"What, like magic and monsters? Come on, Doc,” I dismiss the ideology, despite the cold sweat running down my spine. I know she’s just a medic, but seeing as she’s the only one who managed to save my life, she’s a doctor in my books. “We deal with the brute force of the real world. Guns and knives and good old-fashioned human cruelty. Let’s not get started with the gun violence and motorcycle gangs.” I shake my head in dismay. “No need to bring fairy tales into it."

But even as I spoke, doubt gnawed at me.

How real had those dreams felt?

The taste of the Shadow Prince's kiss still lingered on my lips, the phantom touch of his hands on my skin...

Am I going crazy?

The thought rose unbidden, a tendril of fear coiling in my gut.

Is this how it starts? Vivid dreams bleeding into reality until I can't tell the difference anymore?

Elenore was watching me closely, those violet eyes seeming to peer straight into my soul.

After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice soft but intense.

"What if I told you that those fairy tales might be more real than you think?"

I stared at her, caught between disbelief and a desperate need to understand what was happening to me. I may not be able to show the truth, but I can most certainly investigate what she means by those troubling words of potential.

"What are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath as if steeling herself from something.

"My grandmother used to tell me stories,” she quietly admits as she briefly looks away. Her expression is filled with longing, as if she can picture herself before the very woman she speaks about, listening eagerly to the fabled tales, she expressed with gist “Stories of another world, hidden just beyond the veil of our own. A world full of life and power and beings that defy imagination."

Despite myself, I found myself leaning in, hanging on her every word.

She continued, her eyes taking on a faraway look.

"She spoke of creatures both beautiful and terrifying. Fae, she called them. Beings of such perfection and power that they could drive a mortal mad with a single glance."

Insanity at the mere sight?

"But they weren't all good, these Fae," Elenore went on. "Some were cruel, delighting in the torment of humans. Others were kind, or at least as kind as such alien beings can be. And some... some sought out humans who could perceive their world."

Perceive?

"What do you mean?" I asked, my mouth dry.

Elenore's gaze sharpened, focusing intently on me.

It’s as if she can see right through me.

"There are some humans, rare individuals, who can tap into what my grandmother called the 'Twilight Zone.' Others call it a Starlight Veil that shimmers and weakens depending on the individual’s level of power to manipulate such protective walls. It's a space between worlds, where the barriers are thin. These people can venture into the Fae realms, either in dreams or, in rare cases, physical reality."

Holy shit…

I swallowed hard, trying to process this information.

Part of me wanted to laugh it off, to dismiss it as the ramblings of a madwoman. But another part... another part recognized the truth in her words, resonating with something deep inside me.

"These people," I said carefully, "the ones who can cross over. What... what are they called?"

A small smile played at the corners of Elenore’s mouth.

"My grandmother had a name for them. She called them-"

But before she could finish, the door burst open.

Liam stood there, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled, worry etched across his handsome features.

"Sparrow! Thank God you're awake. I've been going out of my mind with-" He stopped short, taking in the scene before him. His eyes narrowed as they flicked between Elenore and me. "Am I interrupting something?"

Elenore stood smoothly, her demeanor shifting back to that of the professional medic.

"Not at all. I was just finishing up here. Your friend is healing well, but she needs rest. Try not to excite her too much.” She says that with a wink, making Liam blush instantly.

As she gathered her essentials and moved towards the door, I couldn't help but call her out. Because she didn’t tell me what I could be!

"Wait! You didn't finish. What did your grandmother call them?"

Liam looks completely confused, but I don’t care because I yearn to know the title given to such gifted individuals.

Gifted…or cursed.

She paused at the door, looking back at me with an unreadable expression.

"Another time, perhaps. When you're stronger. For now, focus on healing. And..." she hesitated, then added softly, "Be careful of your dreams, Sparrow. Not everything that glitters is gold."

When you’re stronger? Be careful of my dreams?

With that cryptic warning, she was gone, leaving me alone with a visibly baffled Liam.

Not everything that glitters is gold…

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, moving to take Elenore's vacated seat. "And what's this about dreams?"

I shook my head, not quite ready to share the full extent of my experiences.

I mean, how do you tell your male best friend that when you fall asleep, you delve into a different world where creatures walk the lands and beautiful majestic monsters kiss you better than any man has?

He’d be jealous if anything. Wondering who dared try to kiss me without his consent. That makes me smirk just thinking about it.

"Nothing. Just some weird side effects from whatever was on that bullet.” I go with that excuse because it’s something that can be backed up if he did question Elenore about our conversations. “How are you? What happened after... after I went down?"

Liam's face darkened.

My protective best friend always gets super serious when explaining “what happened” in situations where I get hurt or in its rarity, “knocked out”.

"It was a mess, Sparrow. Vincent is furious. The job was compromised from the start – someone fed us bad intel.” He’s fuming just revealing the surprising truth, and I can see just how riling it is for him by the tension in his demeanor. “We're lucky to have made it out alive."

I absorbed this information, my mind racing.

A setup? But why? And who could have the power to manipulate a family as well-connected as ours?

"But hey," Liam continued, his tone lightening as he reached out to squeeze my hand. "None of that matters right now. You're alive, you're healing, and that's what's important. I was so worried, Sparrow. When you collapsed in my arms, I thought... I thought I'd lost you."

The raw emotion in his voice brought a lump to my throat. Staring into those burning eyes that dare show me a glimpse of raw vulnerability has my heart aching in an instant.

Liam had been my rock for so long. The one constant in a world of shifting loyalties and betrayals. It was to the point where I couldn’t see myself doing this shit without him. That alone was something to be proud of because I didn’t allow anyone to get close to me anymore.

Too many betrayals and close calls do that to you.

I squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, darling,” I tease him like always, giving him a taunting wink. “You know me – too stubborn to die."

He laughed, but it was a fragile sound.

"Don't joke about that,” he complains, but can’t hide that strike of worry in his thick voice. “I don't know what I'd do if... if you weren't around."

The vulnerability in his eyes made my heart ache yet again.

I wanted to reassure him, to promise that I'd always be there. But the memory of another world tugged at me, a siren call I wasn't sure I could resist.

And he of all people knows when I’m lying. He’d see through my fake declaration with ease.

"Liam," I said softly, "I need to tell you something. About what happened while I was unconscious. About the dreams I had."

I feel bad keeping it from him for so long. It’s not like these have been happening just out of the blue. I’ve been dealing with it…for years.

Since I was eighteen.

I don’t need to dive into the whole ‘having sexual intercourse with a sexy handsome forbidden prince of the shadows’ part, but letting him know I am having very vivid dreams that feel all too real may help me feel not so alone.

He would keep it a secret and wouldn’t deem me crazy. It just would be nice to have someone to converse about them and figure out why I’m experiencing these things.

If other women are enduring it and even being kidnapped for it, something has to be going on. Something in the air that’s affected only women.

He’d help me figure it out without a hint of judgment.

I trust him with my life, so I’d trust him with something less threatening to my well-being. At least, for now.

He leaned in, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What is it, Sparrow? You can tell me anything, you know that."

I took a deep breath, aiming to prepare myself for this confession that seemed to be years in the making, but before I could begin, a commotion in the hallway caught our attention.

What the?

Raised voices, the sound of running feet.

Liam and I exchanged a troubled look, before he was on his feet in an instant, moving to the door with the fluid grace of a trained fighter.

"Stay here," he said, his hand already reaching for the gun I knew he kept concealed in his pocket. "I'll check it out."

With my injuries still healing, I wouldn’t be much help, but I’m looking around, ensuring I have some sort of protection if things go haywire above.

A surgical cabinet and a narcotic cabinet could do some damage.

As he slipped out into the hallway, I was left alone with my thoughts.

Elenore’s words echoed in my mind, mingling with the memory of the Shadowed Prince's touch.

Two worlds, pulling me in opposite directions.

And me, caught in the middle, unsure of where I truly belonged.

I closed my eyes, not intentionally, especially with what was happening outside, but exhaustion suddenly weighed heavily on me.

As I drifted off, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the precipice of something vast and terrifying.

A choice loomed before me, though I couldn't yet see its shape.

In my last moments of consciousness, I heard Elenore's voice again, as if from a great distance.

"Be careful of your dreams, Sparrow. Not everything that glitters is gold."

But even as the warning registered, I felt the pull of that other world.

My Shadow Prince was waiting, his golden eyes burning in the darkness.

And despite everything, a part of me longed to answer his call.