When I arrived home, a pair of mud-caked sneakers sat just next to the door. Apparently, one of the boys had decided to take a little outdoor trip but hadn’t bothered to clean up. The smelly sludge of what was probably supposed to be tuna casserole sat on the stove while a box of baked goods waited on the table with a note from Gooding. Apparently, the ladies from the church knitting group had heard that Dad was working late hours and sent over a care package. It looked like there might have been chocolate something in it at some point, but it was long gone. By the sound of the muffled punk rock music from the boys’ room, I didn’t really have to guess what had happened. At least there was still a bag of what looked like lemon bars and a couple of summer sausages tucked into the basket.
“Nice of you to leave something for me!” I called.
The music grew pointedly louder. I frowned. It wasn’t like them not to even show their faces. Was this how Dad had felt when I’d entered high school?
One by one, the shadelings appeared, bright eyes in a dozen shades of ink, all hiding in what little shadow the kitchen afforded. They’d been my secret companions for years … and suddenly the sight of them made my skin crawl. Gwen’s words echoed in my mind. All fairies had to align themselves to a court. What court had they belonged to before they decided to protect my family? Why had they given us their loyalty?
One of the shadelings scrambled onto the table, its little claws skittering against the wood. “The boys are doing homew—ack!” It jerked back as another grabbed its large, batty ear.
“Mister Jake does the homework, Missy, but only him. Not Ash,” it corrected, eyeing the casserole. “We can—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I gestured toward the sludge. “Just leave some for Dad.”
With bright, wicked smiles, the shadelings descended on the dish like a pack of wild dogs on a steak. For one horrible moment, I imagined them biting into human flesh, hot blood trickling down their chins … I swallowed and reached into my pocket, fingering the fairy stone. One peek. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever I might see, and brought it up to my eye. Through the hole in the stone, the shadelings gnawed on bread, fat globs of goo and crumbs falling from their lips to the table. No dark or light surrounded a single one of them.
One of the shadelings glanced up at me, its bright yellow eyes shining like lamps. It was hard to miss the surprise on its face. Or the betrayal. The shadeling set its scrap of pastry down and wrung its long fingers together.
“Missy?”
“Nothing,” I said, stuffing the stone back into my pocket. My hands shook. The shadelings weren’t Unseelie. Of course they weren’t. But I could have cried. They were still on my side. Whatever happened, they were still mine. I shouldn’t have doubted them.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, grabbing the milk jug from the fridge and a bowl from the pantry. Milk sloshed onto the counter as I tried to pour, but they’d clean it all up.
A dozen pairs of eyes stared at me in disbelief. One piped up, its big ears twitching. “Is … is that for us?”
I offered them a little smile. “Sure. Just make sure you clean up after yourselves this time.”
“SO, LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT.” Jasika crossed her arm and leaned back against the worn old library chair. “You want me to put a bowl of milk out on the porch every night?”
“It’ll pacify any you-know-whats that try to come by,” I insisted.
Jasika wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like all we’ll get is a bunch of stray cats. I don’t want to catch ringworm.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re overreacting. Besides, I doubt any of the really dangerous ones are going to go ‘Oh look, milk! Better not do anything nefarious now. In fact, I think I’ll change my whole outlook on humans.’” She sighed and rubbed her temple. “Sorry. That was rude. I was up late last night.”
I hesitated a moment and looked her up and down. Her usual sunny glow had been dampened just a bit, like light blocked by a rain cloud. She still had her makeup and hair clips and a nice floral body lotion that made her smell like a spring garden, but the bags under her eyes didn’t quite fit. “Is, um, everything okay?” I offered lamely.
“I was just up late practicing is all.”
“Practicing…” I waggled my fingers in what I hoped was a universal sign for magic.
Jasika gave me a Look and folded her hands in front of her. “Maybe. Maybe something a little more reliable than putting milk out and praying the right ones respond to it.”
Touchy. She really wasn’t going to let this go, was she? I wanted to retort, but a voice that sounded suspiciously like Father Gooding echoed in my head. Try not to be an asshole. Great. Now my subconscious had decided he needed to be involved.
I leaned in close, dropping my voice low. “Well, the milk can’t hurt. And maybe it’ll get some of the nice ones on our side after I expose the one in school.”
“Fine. I’ll pick some up on the way home.” Jasika held up both hands. “But are you sure you want to do this? Like, here? There are more subtle places to check up on someone. We could try scrying or something.”
My mind flashed to the fairy stone in my pocket, heavy as a brick. I curled my fingers around it, focusing on its comforting weight. All I had to do was confirm that he was, in fact, Unseelie. That was the only goal today.
“The school’s full of iron,” I whispered. “He’ll be weaker here than if I meet him out in the open.”
“Well, he looks pretty healthy to me.” Jasika pointed over my shoulder with a grimace. “Here he comes. Please don’t be weird.”
The last thing anyone was ever supposed to do at a time like that was actually turn around and look, but I was far from super-spy levels of cool and collected. I whirled around, my heart in my throat. There he was. Tall and dark and seething with inhuman charm as he grinned and waved at the assistant librarian, who smiled and waved back. Why was everyone so apparently comfortable around him? Was it some sort of spell? How many people would be in danger if I didn’t get rid of him, and fast?
“Yeah, he looks like a real menace.” Jasika’s sunny smile really was too bright for the situation. “I bet he wants to steal my soul right now.”
“Fairies don’t steal souls,” I pointed out.
“No, but the point is I’m making fun of you because I think you’re wrong. I think he’s a nice guy, and if you aren’t careful, you’re going to scare the hell out of him.”
If that was our worst-case scenario, I could probably live with myself. I watched as he selected a book and checked it out. The librarian laughed at something. He gave her a little half salute. I pulled the fairy stone out of my pocket and took a deep breath. Even if he saw me, even if he got angry, he wouldn’t know Jasika knew. “I guess it’s time to settle our bet.”
Jasika’s brows knitted together as she folded her hands in front of her. “Hey. In case I’m wrong, and I’m not saying I am, just be careful, all right?”
I nodded and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it came out feeling like kind of a queasy grimace. All I was doing was getting close enough to get a good look at him. The getting-close bit was going to be the problem.
I tightened my grip around the stone as I followed him out into the hall. Predictably, nobody spared me a second glance as I wove through the crowd. Good. An uncomfortable warmth crept up my neck, and it only worsened with each step I took near him. I brought the fairy stone to my eye, focusing it on Dom.
The would-be spy laughed and even fist-bumped Body Spray Blake. Through the hole in the fairy stone, he looked like an unsuspecting target in the scope of a rifle. Crooked smile, bright eyes … and no aura of either light or dark. Nothing at all. My stomach sank. Was this thing busted? Even if he was from a lesser court, this stupid rock was supposed to show me his real face.
Body Spray Blake went on his rank, merry way, and Dom turned, his dark eyes locking with mine. Shit. My face burned. I fumbled with the stone, trying to shove it back in my pocket. It clattered to the ground, skittering across the tile. I scrambled after it, but within seconds, it was lost under foot traffic. Dom strode toward me, his expression open. Positively sweet. That’s how their kind always were.
At least, that’s how the prince in the woods was.
I turned and pushed my way down the hall. I’d screwed up. Now he knew I was onto him. The bell screeched overhead, and the storm of footsteps picked up, all rushing toward their classrooms. I swallowed the sour taste in my mouth and veered toward the girls’ bathroom.
“Hey. Bryn, right?”
He knew my name. My heart hammered in my chest. The prince in the woods. He knew my name. What if … Oh God. My vision swam. I couldn’t breathe. He was following me. He knew, and he was following me.
“Hey. You dropped—”
A hand fell on my shoulder. White-hot panic burst in my chest. I grabbed his hand, jerking him off-balance and dragging him through the swinging door into the girls’ bathroom. The overpowering stench of antiseptic washed over me, making me gag. I shoved the Fae against the wall and popped my nail off the chain on my neck.
“Holy—no no no, stop, I am very sorry, geez!” The Fae bastard pressed himself against the wall, his dark eyes fixed on the little spike of iron in my hand. “Look, you obviously don’t know this about me, but I-I’m really not a big fan of violence.”
I held the nail an inch away from his throat. “What do you want with my brothers?” I demanded. By some sort of miracle, I managed to keep the tremor out of my voice.
The Fae took a deep breath. “All right. I—I can see you are very upset here, uh … but I really don’t think there’s any call for uh, for bloodshed—”
“What do you want?” I pressed the side of the nail to his tan skin, gritting my teeth in preparation for the hiss of heat and the bubbling of blistered skin. It never came.
“To say hi! Geez, that’s all. It’s a thing people do when they want to meet someone.” The nail shifted as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Oh my God. Okay. Look, clearly we’ve had some kind of misunderstanding,” he said, like some kind of professional damned negotiator. “But if you would move the nail just a little farther away from my jugular, I’m sure we can talk about this like rational people.”
I stared at his perfectly smooth, healthy skin, free from burns or blisters despite the iron. The queasy realization of it crept into my stomach. There was no Fae in existence who could stand iron. Not one. I had a human boy, Dom, pinned against the wall in the girl’s bathroom with a nail to his throat and no good explanation.
My mouth bobbed open, but for the life of me, I couldn’t form a word. He stared back, a bead of sweat running down his temple. This poor guy had no idea what was going on.
“Missy!” The shrill voice pierced the quiet of the bathroom, and just like that, Dom wasn’t staring at me anymore.
“Holy fuck!” Dom jerked so fast, the nail drew a thin line of blood across his neck, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stumbled back into the corner, pinned between the sink and the hand dryer, his eyes fixed on the dark form perched atop the stall.
In the harsh, fluorescent light of the bathroom, the shadeling looked violet. Perfect. Abso-freaking-lutely cheese-and-cherry-pie perfect. I pointed the nail at the shadeling.
“I told you never to show yourself!”
“Oh my God, don’t talk to it!” Dom’s voice shot up an octave.
The shadeling hopped from foot to foot, clutching one of its large ears like a security blanket. “Tân. Brysio,” it squeaked.
Welsh. Always a bad sign. For about half a second, I tried to translate, but my frantic mind wouldn’t have any of it. “What are you—speak English!”
The shadeling released its ear and sprang down onto the ground, landing with a soft pat. “Fire!”