Seph woke, and she did not hurt. That was the first thing that hit her. The total lack of pain.

The second thing that hit her was the… hunger? Arousal? The two sensations seemed to have melded together into one need. She needed… something. It wasn’t quite ‘Wow Cindy when we crashed here, I know I said I was straight but…’ or ‘This is our last Cliff bar, but Angie probably isn’t going to make it anyway…’ but it was definitely pressing.

Another insistent sensation filtered through to her. It sounded like someone snoring. If that person regularly snorted concrete and had serious sinus pebbles. It was the sort of sound that could wake coma patients and ruin marriages. It grated.

It also wasn’t a snore that she recognized, but the softish surface underneath her felt like a cot. She tried not to judge based on that – maybe there was some reason she shouldn’t be on the ground – but this did not feel like a particularly friendly cot.[1] Still, it meant someone had found her and-

The third thing that hit Persephone Evans was cold-rock-in-the-gut, pants-wetting dread and terror.

She caught me.

Seph didn’t know how, didn’t know when, but she knew. In the pit of her stomach she knew that she had been caught.

Did she send men to drug me? That would explain the lightshow and the monster. Fredericks probably found me trying to punch some innocent deer and dragged me back.

Question: Why am I not dead?

Answer 1: I am dead, and when I open my eyes, I’ll see whatever afterlife I have in store.

Not particularly encouraging, and nothing I can do about it. Not worth considering.

Answer 2: Emily wants to vent her rage on me in person.

That’s even worse. Being beaten to death by a sadistic bitch doesn’t sound like a good way to go.

Answer 3: Some nice passer-by found me hallucinating and took me to the hospital.

That’s the most wildly optimistic answer I have, and it still isn’t great. The second my name gets flagged as a possible missing person, the hospital will ‘helpfully’ inform my registered emergency contact. And then Emily will be here and what better place to kill someone unnoticed than a hospital?

Okay, until I can figure out what’s going on, I’d better pretend I’m still out.

The conspicuous lack of beeping and whirring from monitoring equipment probably ruled out hospital. She could hear distant voices and… metal banging together over the snoring, but no sense of movement or whirring of an engine, so she wasn’t being driven anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t hear any engines or motors at all. That was odd, but maybe she was in some bunker.

That still wasn’t quite right. The air smelled fresh and was warm and dry on her skin. Her skin, which was… quite a bit more exposed than she was expecting, but her motorcycle armor was expensive. No point in getting blood on it when it could be resold.

It already has blood on it. It was torn to shreds by the Greyhind.

If it was torn to shreds, I would be torn to shreds and I don’t hurt. Gods. I don’t hurt. That is. Such a relief.

Yeah. And isn’t that weird? I have no injuries. None. Do you remember why we’re running away? Cracked ribs ringing a bell? Why doesn’t it hurt to breathe?

She took a long, slow breath, still trying to maintain an illusion of sleep. A sharp, stabbing pain completely failed to wrack her chest, but a pang of arousal-hunger made her breath catch.

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

She opened her eyes.

Reflected shadows danced across the white-painted ceiling, the echoes of late-afternoon trees. It was reassuring, as if the forest was reaching out and reminding her that she was never alone. They played down the wall and over a nude marble statue, reclining in a rough-hewn stone seat. It was from the statue that the awful scraping, grinding noise was coming. That was what drew Seph’s attention to the statue, but the figure itself held her gaze like a quarter mile of intricately knotted rope.

It was breathtaking. Pure white stone covered most of the surface, but veins of clear quartz flowed through it. The quartz caught the light and held it, as if silently proclaiming ‘I am here!’ The veins all seemed to run through its flesh and meet in the center of the statue’s chest, between the small pair of perfectly-sculpted breasts. They were slowly rising and falling with the stone woman’s chest, and Seph felt a sudden urge to trace every one of those glowing lines of stone with her lips. She wanted to kiss up the glowing crystal until she could work her way to the museum-worthy mouth. She was idly wondering if it would be worth trying to bite the stone bottom lip when she realized the horny-hungry sensation had been pulsing through her stronger and stronger. Her hand had slipped down beneath the blanket, and was crossing her stubbly mons before she realized. She jerked it back. The cot grumbled at her, probably irritated that she was getting it wet. And she was naked. In a room with nothing but a thin plaid blanket separating her from a statuesque goddess of a woman. Who was also nude. And Seph was wet.

What the hell? More Faerieland fuck-magic?

She glanced back at the entrancing figure on the rough stone chair. She felt a faint pulse of lust and hunger and looked away again, blushing.

Well the Fae were always supposed to be beautiful and bewitching. Okay. So. Fae woman… Snoring like an avalanche in the room where- No. Fae Lady. Respecting honorifics is probably a good way not to die.

She grimaced. That was going to be sticky. She’d sworn not to kneel to anyone who hadn’t earned it, and she wasn’t about to break that vow. But… Being able to smash Seph into a very small stain on the floor probably counted as earning her respect.

By that logic, Emily has ‘earned our respect’

Seph bit back a growl and pushed the whole line of thought away. Instead, she focused on her surroundings. Cinderblock walls, painted white. Plaster ceiling, also painted white. Four chairs, against the wall opposite the door. Three small cots of varying make and age. A rickety table stood at the foot of each cot. Hers held a charred lighter and a small red-orange crystal. She sat up to get a better look, quiet, so she wouldn’t wake up the statue sleeping in the stone chair.

Immediately, there was an awful screech as the cot took its opportunity to ruin her plan. The horrendous[2] screaming of tortured metal awoke the other occupant of the small room. Seph stared, dumbfounded over at the beautiful marble statue now sitting bolt upright in a rough stone chair. The statue stared back.

It should be noted at this point that many people have had staring contests with statues. Usually, they are either terminally bored or suicidally stubborn. It’s quite difficult to win a staring contest with an inanimate object, and those who do invariably cheat. In this case, Seph won the staring contest because the statue collapsed into a fit of giggles. Seph’s mind went into overdrive.

Okay! So. Talking beautiful fae angel statue. Well, giggling statue. Be polite! What did Dad say about meeting one? To never thank an elf, never break your word of honor, and never break a rule of hospitality. Shit. Does not introducing myself count as a lapse?

“My… lady.” Seph ground out the honorific, then did her best to switch to a polite tone. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Se- Persephone Evans, and I fell into your realm a short time ago.”

The giggles had given way to guffaws, pure raucous expressions of mirth that echoed around the small room.

Not good

“My lady,” The honorific didn’t quite feel like spitting broken glass that time, but it was still difficult. “If I have offended you, I apologize. I meant no offence and am unfamiliar with the customs of faerieland.”

The statue wiped a… tear? Bit of grit? From its- Her. From her eye and struggled to get herself under control. Seph shifted uncomfortably and the cot snickered at her.

“No. No you’re… you’re fine. I’m sorry I just. You looked so serious.” The probably-not-a-faerie said.

“Is that a problem?” Seph was cautious, tense, looking for the trap.

“No I just. I haven’t heard that one before. I’ve had The Talk with three or four people and they usually either assume I’m a monster or an angel.”

She returned Seph’s quizzical look with a smile that made her insides melt a little and the hunger-arousal throb.

“You’re not in Faerieland, Persephone. You’re on Earth.”

[1] That isn’t saying much – as a whole, cots are cruel, petty bastards whose only joy is the suffering of those unlucky enough to be relegated to one. Better to sleep on the ground than risk sleeping atop a carnivorous and rickety monster.

[2] And overly dramatic