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The worst three words in the English language are without a doubt, the one’s spoken by the handsome prowler in my bedroom. “Time for school.”
“How did you get past my aunts?” I mumble and burrow deeper under the covers, doing my level best to ignore the half wolf, half god that equaled one giant pain-in-the-ass alarm clock.
“You left the window open.” Aiden gestures to the slit in the windowsill where sure enough, there is a one-inch crack. “I took it as an invitation.”
Aiden’s abilities include turning himself into nothing more than a collection of sparks. If he ever decides on a life of crime, he’ll be the world’s best cat burglar. “I’d tell you to go to hell but then you’d literally have to do it.”
“Someone’s in a mood. Training go that well last night?” Aiden, fresh from the shower and smelling of cedar, sage and his own unique wild scent, plops himself down on my bed. His weight makes the entire mattress quake and my sore muscles scream in protest. He tosses back the covers, exposing me to the late summer morning breeze that hints at cooler weather. The boxer shorts and tank top I sleep in provide no real barrier from the chilly air.
Or from Aiden.
I hiss and swat at him. Regret accompanies the groan that bubbles up as the aches and pains in my muscles intensify. “Freda’s a sadist.”
A chuckle from the werewolf. “Probably why the two of you get along so well. Turn over.”
I glare up into his leaf green eyes. “Why?”
He’s all normal innocence, eyes wide, dark hair neatly combed. The picture-perfect all-American teenage boy, and about as trustworthy. “I’m going to give you a massage.”
Yeah, right. “You’ve gotten way too handsy with me since you figured out I’m not
going to kill you.” It isn’t an idle remark. I have killed people, several of them in fact, most recently a jealous fey queen who wanted my head on a plate.
In my defense, she started it.
“Who says I have to use my hands?” He makes a grab but I dodge him and sprint for the bathroom. The lock clicks. A rumble of masculine laughter emanates from the other side of the door. “Next time then, my little queen.”
“In your dreams.” I call through the oak.
“Every night,” he murmurs, totally unashamed to admit such a weakness.
I rest my forehead against the door and press my palm to the scarred wood. That was close, too close. I want Aiden’s hands all over me almost as much as he wants to put them there. But a physical connection will complicate an already overly thorny relationship.
No time to dwell on that now. Instead, I turn to the shower and set the water to tepid. Even though I crave lingering beneath a scalding spray, something needs to cool my blood, so I can face the world calm and collected. As the Ice Bitch.
A pang goes through me. It was a nickname that my best friend, Sarah Larkin had given me what felt like a lifetime ago. Sarah died last spring, in a head on collision with a downed tree. It wasn’t until Sarah was gone that I realized how much she meant to me and how much I regretted not sharing my darkest secret with her.
Namely, that I am a sixteen-year-old serial killer. A punisher of evil incarnate. A hunter of men.
And that’s not even the half of it.
Clean and shivering, I step from the shower and wrap one towel around my hair, another around my body before tip-toeing to the bedroom door and opening it a crack. Not that I suspect Aiden is lying in wait for me. Better safe than sorry.
No sign of him. The window is still open, the sheer curtains dancing in the morning breeze. I shut it and turn back to make the bed. It’s then I see it, a lone pink rose on my pillow. My heart kicks up as I retrieve the flower. It’s perfect, the petals still tightly closed but soft as a newborn’s cheek. There’s a note, too, four words written in spidery scrawl on a page torn out of one of my notebooks.
It’s not all bad.
I blow out a sigh and plunk the rose in the glass of water on my nightstand. Aiden’s right, it’s not all bad. He’s the most understanding potential boyfriend an asexual sixteen-year-old girl could ever hope to have. He doesn’t try to pressure me or convert me. He’s willing to wait until I am ready, even if that means we never have sex. He just wants to be with me, whatever that entails.
I’m not sure what that says about his sense of self-preservation, since I can kill a full-grown man with a kiss. And since my adoptive parents are two of the Fates who give him the hairy eyeball at every opportunity.
Fully dressed in cut off denim shorts and a black tank top, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. “This is stupid,” I tell the petite blonde with narrowed blue eyes. “I have better things to do than repeat the tenth grade.”
A knock sounds on the bedroom door. “Nic? Are you ready?”
I open the door to Jasmine, the elfin twelve-year-old strawberry blonde cherub whose mother gets off on subjecting me to some of the most gruesome physical challenges known to the forever young. Jasmine grins up at me, practically vibrating with excitement. Today is her first day of school. Ever. And she couldn’t be more thrilled with the prospect. Picking out school supplies with her took a ridiculous amount of time. She lingered over every notebook, tested every pen.
I wonder how long her enthusiasm will last. In my experience, public education has a way of dulling the edges of the sharpest minds.
“There you are.” This from Chloe, the gorgeous red-haired Fate who today smells like cupcakes. “Breakfast just hit the table and coffee will be ready in five.”
“I’m the queen of the Unseelie Court,” I point out. “It’s undignified that I have to repeat a grade.”
Chloe, usually the more understanding of my aunts, shrugs me off. “You should have thought of that before you dropped out of school halfway through last semester.”
“And you’re not the queen yet.” This comes from Addy, the fatalist of our little trio. She peers at me over the top of her glasses, her brown braid bristling like a cat’s tail. “It’s a title you have to earn back.”
“All the more reason I should stay here and train with Freda,” I say but no one is listening, instead, gathering around the table for pancakes topped with late season strawberries and fresh whipped cream.
Frustration makes me grind my molars. How am I supposed to rule the Unseelie Court when I can’t even get my family to hear me out?
Someone raps on the front door.
“Don’t open it,” Addy grumbles from behind her laptop screen.
Chloe sets down her fork. “We have half an army camped in the field, we can’t
ignore the door all day.” She pushes back from the table and rises.
The hinges groan as the farmhouse door swings inward. Chloe casts the newcomer a black look and her cupcake smell shifts to one of burnt toast. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Told you so.” Addy doesn’t bother to look up.
Aiden stands there, wearing the same blue jeans and black t-shirt, military style combat boots he’d been wearing the first day I’d seen him at school. As a part time wolf, Aiden’s need for clothing is limited and so is his wardrobe. While I appreciate his minimalistic style, I’ve been ordering a few more pieces suitable for high country fall and winter. I am, in many ways responsible for his basic needs, the same way I’m responsible for Jasmine’s education and the aforementioned army’s support.
Aiden bows formally to my aunts. “Ladies. I’ve come to escort the queen and Lady Jazz to school.”
His speech is unnecessary, we agreed on the details weeks ago, but Jasmine grins in delight, loving the nickname. Aiden’s courtly manners enchant her, unlike her mother who still harbors ill will against him for things that happened in my past life.
“We know that,” Chloe snaps.
“Come in,” I call. “Have some breakfast.”
There’s a spark in Aiden’s leaf green eyes as he crosses the threshold. The way I phrased the invitation had been worded as a command. And when I issue him a command, he is unable to refuse.
He chooses a seat beside me, takes the plate Jasmine passes to him and loads it with seven pancakes. Under his breath he mutters so only I can hear, “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.”
“I assume you brought your own syrup.” I grin at him, safe in the knowledge that he won’t try any of his shadier tricks with my aunts and Jasmine present.
Aiden might not be willing to break bread with two of the women who had ruined his life on more than one occasion, but his oath to me leaves him with no choice but to obey. It’s a power I hate having over him. Our relationship is made up of a series of whacked-out power struggles. I’ve been needling him lately to encourage him to drink the magic syrup that will break the connection between us once and for all.
“I’d rather have the strawberries. One last taste of summer.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eye as he says the words.
I jolt in my chair as a memory surfaces, not one from my current lifetime.
I am lying on my back in a meadow, long dark hair falling over my shoulders to cover my naked breasts. Aiden, also naked, is kissing his way down my body. The last rays of sunlight bathes our bare skin in an amber hue.
“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” I murmur, my hands fisted in his rumpled hair. It’s clear from the state of dishevelment that it isn’t the first time I’ve done so.
“It’s not over yet,” he kisses the inside of my thigh, his eyes molten with lust. “One last taste of summer.”
“Nic?” Jasmine’s voice breaks me from the reverie.
I turn to her and realize I’ve completely zoned out, the effects of my cold shower long gone. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Mom said you should stop by the base of operations before we go. Nahini wants to talk to you first thing.”
I turn to Aiden. “Did she say anything to you?”
He shakes his head. “I would have told you if she did.”
Excitement builds in my belly. “Maybe she’s found them.”
Nahini is third in command of the Wild Hunt. A tribal wise woman with the inborn grace of a dancer and the heart of a warrior. Until recently, she controlled the souls of wicked men who were sentenced to the Hunt as punishment. Unfortunately, those souls have been MIA for several weeks, including Nahini’s brother.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Chloe cautions me. “The souls might have moved on, or been consumed by the Veil.”
I spear a few strawberries viscously. “I know. But their disappearance is my fault.” In one of my impulsive decisions, I’d traded their afterlives for the soul of my former best friend.
“Nahini doesn’t blame you, Nic.” Aiden puts a hand over mine. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table.
Uncomfortable with the gentle affection and their scrutiny, I pull away from his comforting touch. “I should probably go if I’m going to speak with her before we leave.”
“Should we come with you?” Jasmine jumps up, nervous energy effervescing from her like bubbles in a champagne glass.
I glance to her half-filled plate. “No, you two should stay and finish eating. Meet me down at HQ when you’re finished and we’ll drive into town together.”
Aiden’s lips twitch as he picks up on the ring of command in my voice. His lids lower, a dark promise of retribution for abandoning him with the Fates and his twelve-year-old fangirl.
My backpack waits on the bench seat by the door. I pick it up on my way out. The thing is worn but sturdy. It holds some sentimental attachment for me as well as books. I carried it into Underhill, the mystical fairy realm on the other side of the Veil, on my quest to save Sarah. Slinging it over my shoulder feels like the beginning of a new journey, its weight a subtle reminder that I have all the tools I need at hand.
It might be a lie, but at least it’s a comforting one.
****
HQ IS THE RUNDOWN STAFF quarters about a half mile from the farmhouse. Members of the Wild Hunt have used a combination of magic and the limited supplies on the farm to fill in the gaps in the collapsed roof and make the space somewhat livable. There are several rows of bunk beds, shower stalls with running water and enough electricity to keep the refrigerator and microwave operational. To me, the space is spartan and barely habitable but it’s about all the Hunt can handle. The fey and modern technology don’t mix.
In the beginning I’d offered to buy them whatever supplies they needed, even hiring humans to build a new bunkhouse. Freda had said, with some pride, that the Hunt would do what they always did and make do. It was enough for them to have a place to stay, to pitch tents and shelter the hounds, horses and birds of prey. I’d been relieved by this answer. Magic is easier than having a slew of contractors wandering around the property, asking questions about all the odd folk with armor and penchant to kill first and ask questions later.
Nahini is in the small room she claimed as her own space. It sits adjacent to the main sleeping quarters. Close enough for her to oversee the troops, but still set apart. Freda and Jasmine have taken over the potting shed on the far side of the training pitch, but someone had to keep an eye on the troops and Nahini had volunteered.
Inside, there is a camp cot, as well as a mat on the floor. The latest book she’d borrowed from my personal library is sitting on the cot, the pages carefully marked with a leather strip. Treasure Island again. I make a note to get her an e-reader, as she’s been through all of my print books at least twice already. Unlike the fey, Nahini is a turned human and has no inborn magic, only forever youth granted by Underhill. With practice, she could use modern technology.
Her weapons are laid out on the dented metal desk. Two long knives, a coiled whip that looks more like a long vine with thorns than anything man made, and a series of daggers. Nothing on the walls, no decoration or personal effects. The Wild Hunt travels light.
Nahini is seated on the mat, posture regal. She wears only a sleek black bodysuit, her armor polished and lined up along the far wall. Her feet are bare, the soles pressed together. Sunlight streams through the evergreen boughs, dappling the light against her smooth dark skin in exotic patterns. Her riot of braids falls halfway down her back. I glance up to see that some sprite had encouraged several trees to grow directly over the hole in the roof, the leafy canopy is so thick it provides decent cover, while still being part of the natural world.
I rap lightly on the open door and her lids flutter up.
“My queen,” she moves to stand. “How fare thee?”
“I’m good.” I pat the air, indicating she should remain where she is. “Jasmine said you wanted to see me. Is it about your brother?” I can’t keep the eagerness from my voice.
She settles easily back into position. “Not yet. There have been more thefts.”
Damn. Not the news I’d been hoping to hear. “Who is it this time?”
“Melrock and Gil.”
Names I’m unfamiliar with. “What did they take?”
“Food mostly, a brown sack of it right out of the trunk of one family’s transportation. Also, some fabric left hanging outside.”
The residents of Underhill didn’t have an industrial revolution. They subsist on a barter system, trading goods for services, usually magical services, and mostly they obtain things like food, clothing and weapons by stealing from humans. A hard habit to break, apparently.
“Food and clothing. Don’t they understand I will provide whatever they need?” The Fates aren’t flashy with their wealth, but after existing over several mortal lifetimes, money has a way of piling up. We could certainly feed and clothe the army, if they would just learn to ask instead of take.
“I don’t think it’s about need, at least not their immediate needs.” Nahini says carefully.
I prop the sole of one sneaker against the wall. “What do you mean?”
“They steal for sport, to get one over on the humans. And because this is the way they have always survived. What they possess today might vanish tomorrow.”
I read between the lines. “You mean, if I don’t pass the gauntlet and reclaim the throne.”
Nahini’s dark eyes are solemn. “The immortal challenge is much more dangerous than Freda has led you to believe. Many have died or disappeared in the attempt.”
Frustration bubbles up. “Maybe if you told me what exactly to expect in there, I might survive.”
The mysterious gauntlet is a challenge I must face in Underhill to become forever young and reclaim the Shadow Throne of the Unseelie Court. All I’ve been told is that a representative from Underhill will come for me when I am adorned with the markings of a gauntleted hopeful. No one has mentioned what sort of challenges I will face and every time I ask I get the same answer.
The one Nahini gives me with a regretful expression. “We are forbidden from speaking about it.”
I can’t think about the gauntlet now, not with school looming. “Any suggestions on how to deal with the thieves?”
“Make an example of them,” Freda says from the door.
I turn to face my first in command. A tall Viking with golden hair which she wears in an elaborate braid. Her falcon helmet is nowhere in sight and like Nahini, she too is in her form fitting bodysuit. Where Nahini resembles a graceful ballerina, Freda is built like a centerfold. If said centerfold was combat trained with every weapon known to man.
Her eyes are the same icy blue as the waters that surround the small Nordic fishing village where she was born centuries before and hold just as much warmth when she speaks of the traitors. “You’ve told them you would provide for them year-round and have been good to your word. Their actions undermine everything we are trying to achieve. If there is no punishment, others will follow their example.”
During my absence—if you can consider death and subsequent rebirth an absence—Freda had been the de facto commander of the Wild Hunt. She knows how to run the day to day command, how to portion out limited resources, how to keep her warriors in check.
I raise a brow. “What sort of punishment?”
“Flogging,” she responds right away. “They need their hands for battle otherwise I’d advocate cutting one off, as was done to thieves in olden times.”
Olden times sound like a bitch and a half. “No.”
“My queen,” Freda begins.
I hold up a hand. “I’m not beating them for habits ingrained over a lifetime. I’ve been to Underhill, I’ve seen how little most of the fey have. Stealing is how they’ve procured what they need to survive. I can’t change that mindset overnight. Think of something else.”
“You mean like mortal incarceration?” Freda scoffs. “A few days of leisure lying abed while everyone around them works? More will follow their example if only for the respite. We’ll lose what little control we have.”
I glance at my phone, checking the time. “Look, I will take care of this in six and a half hours. Jasmine is waiting for me.”
Freda’s face softens and she falls into step beside me. “Thank you for including her. She has talked of little else over the past few weeks.”
“She’s a great kid, if a little misguided about school.” I don’t mention that Jasmine hoped to learn how to read so she could teach her mother. Freda is a proud woman that will show no weakness, not even to someone she considers a friend.
“I will see to it that Melrock and Gil are put to hard labor for the day.” There’s a sneer when she says it, but at least she’s listening.
We exit HQ just as a vehicle slows to a stop, kicking up dust in its wake. Aiden is behind the wheel of my battered pick-up truck, with Jasmine on the seat beside him. He hops out when he sees me and bows, his dark hair almost touching the ground. “Your carriage, my queen.”
“You better stop that,” I say. “You can’t do that in school without drawing attention.”
He winks, unfazed by my criticism. “I know how to blend in.”
He does, too. I’ve seen it before, the first day he arrived at school. Every mortal we ran across seemed to know him, though they couldn’t place when or where. It was as though he had always been a character in the background, or maybe part of the scenery.
When I’d approached him about doing the same for Jasmine so she would have an easier time fitting in with the normals, he’d laughed. “We don’t want her to fit in. We want her to stand out. There’s no faster way to instant popularity in a small school than to be the new kid.”
“But what about her skill level? She can’t read.”
“Trust me, Nic. No one will notice.”
I hope he’s right.
Aiden hands me the keys and then offers a nod to Freda. “First.”
“Manwhore,” she curls her lip at him in disgust.
“Freda,” I say, a warning in my tone. “We talked about this.”
“Sorry. Wolfwhore.”
Aiden bares his teeth, his expression not something that could ever be confused with a smile.
“Freda,” I bark again, physically putting myself between them. “Knock it off. Your daughter is watching.”
Freda turns to the truck, where Jasmine looks up from braiding her hair on either side of her head to hide her pointed ears. The commander’s lips press together and she nods once.
I grab Aiden’s arm and tow him to the other side of the truck. “Time to go.”
His gaze is still locked on Freda and I can tell he’s thinking about tearing her throat out. “She insults my honor.”
“Aiden,” I touch his cheek. “Please, let it go.”
His gaze falls to mine. “And yours as well by implying you would accept a faithless traitor.”
“My honor is just peachy, thanks. And we both know the truth, right?”
The truth that Aiden had never sworn an oath to Brigit, had never been her consort the way Freda and every other member of the Wild Hunt believes. He’d spent years locked in a cage beside the Fire Throne, the butt of jokes, an object of scorn. And he’d sacrificed his freedom to keep me safe.
His expression relaxes somewhat, and he brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “We do.”
“If you tell them the why of it,” I begin.
Aiden shakes his head. “It won’t make a difference. Freda and I have never gotten along. She blames me for your death.”
Judging by the haunted look in his eyes, Freda wasn’t the only one who blamed Aiden for my demise.
“Suit yourself,” I sigh. “We need to go.”
Aiden presses his lips to my forehead and hands me the keys. “It will be all right, Nic.”
Easy for him to say. No one would know Aiden was repeating a semester of school. I, on the other hand, went from being the girl no one noticed to the basket case too emotionally distraught to finish tenth grade after her best friend died in a car accident.
If my intention is to solidify my cover as a drama queen, I’m well on my way.
The drive to school takes about fifteen minutes. Jasmine peppers us with questions the entire time. So far, her experience with school comes from television and movies, which she takes as gospel. There’s some trouble explaining to her the difference between real life and pretend for entertainment.
Today she’s focusing on practical musings. Where the cafeteria is located, how long does she have to get from one class to another and should she raise her hand if she knows the answer to a teacher’s question.
“No,” Aiden and I say in unison.
“But I might know some answers.” Jasmine glares between us. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course, you’re not.” Jasmine is clever and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. I’ve taught her basic cooking and I’ve read to her every night. Already she recognizes a few frequently-used words. Her handwriting is awful, but she’s a quick study.
“It’s not about if you know the answers,” Aiden cautions her, “What we know to be true might not be the same answers the mortals are used to.”
“Just watch and listen in the beginning.” I advise her. “We’ll keep practicing your reading at home. You’ll figure it out quickly.”
“Do I look all right?” She fidgets with her purple and white striped tunic top again, rechecks her braids.
You better take this one. I think at Aiden. Male approval will go farther.
“You are radiant as the sun,” Aiden tells her.
“Really?” Jasmine is blushing, but looks pleased at the compliment.
“On my honor.” Aiden bobs his head and then thinks at me. You could outshine the stars, my queen.
Flattery will get you nowhere. But even as I think the words at him, I feel my own face flush.
All too soon, I park the truck at the edge of the gravel lot. Jasmine watches as students spew from the big yellow buses and funnel into the concrete and brick buildings. Her small hand slips into mine, as though afraid I will disappear in the crowd.
“You’ll do great.” The words sound hollow in my own ears. She had built this moment up in her head so much, how could reality not disappoint?
She nods and unwilling to prolong the moment, I pop the door and slide to the ground. Aiden whispers something in her ear and a laugh bursts from her. He opens his own door and offers her a hand and she takes it without hesitation.
Freda may not trust Aiden, but her daughter has no such reservations.
Together, the three of us head up the cracked concrete steps and through the open glass doors. The building is already buzzing with noise and activity. Jasmine’s eyes are wide as she tries to take it all in. “There must be a million people here.”
“Only about four hundred including the teachers,” I correct. In terms of modern day schools, ours is on the small side, with the seventh and eighth grades shoehorned into the same building as the high school.
“The good news is, this is the first day in the building for all the kids in your grade.” Aiden puts a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be the only one overwhelmed.”
Jasmine nods, eyes round.
“Do you want us to walk you to class?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Better if I do it on my own.”
Brave girl.
The warning bell rings. I put a tentative hand on her shoulder and squeeze. Aiden, who is much more affectionate by nature, wraps one arm around her shoulder. “Remember what I said.”
Jasmine giggles and then squares her shoulders and trots off.
“You’re not helping her crush one bit, acting that way.” I glare at him.
“Jazz knows my heart is devoted only to you.” Aiden smiles fondly after the girl. “It’s innocent and she needs people to be kind to her. We all do.”
I study him out of the corner of my eye and wonder if he’s talking about me or himself. “Do I want to know what you told her?”
He drapes an arm over my shoulders, the gesture somehow more intimate than what he’d done with Jasmine. “That if anyone gives her any shit, we know plenty of creatures that would be happy to eat them.”
A snort escapes. “That’s probably not the best way to deal with conflict.”
He shrugs and keeps a hold of me as we walk toward homeroom. “Still effective. And it reminds her that someone has her back. She’ll need that today.”
I notice several people glance our way as we pass by, but the looks of pity I’d been dreading are nowhere in sight. A few smiles, one wave from a girl who’d been in my American History class. It dawns on me that by sticking so close, Aiden’s shielding me from the gossip about Sarah, giving people another bit of fat to chew. At the same time, he’s pretty much staked a claim on me in front of the rest of the school. He might as well have peed a circle around me. “Tricksy wolf.”
Aiden blinks down at me, the picture of innocence. “What?”
“Everyone will think we’re going out.”
He frowns. “Going out where?”
“No, I mean that you’re my boyfriend.”
He raises a brow. “And you don’t wish them to have this impression?”
I shift away, uncomfortable. “Not really.”
“Then you want to keep me a secret.” His face closes up. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me.”
“It’s not that.” I hunt for words to explain why I don’t want to make such a public declaration when I feel someone’s eyes on me. It’s not a glance of curiosity like the others. No, this one is malevolent. I peek over my shoulder, trying to spot whoever is making all the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Students passing in the hallways. The glint off Vice Principal Steinburg’s greasy black hair as he speaks with Coach Dunn, who must be pushing seventy but sees no reason to retire. Laughing, talking, yelling. No one paying any special attention to us.
Still, I feel like I’m being stalked.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden’s wolf instincts are on high alert, his pique forgotten.
“I’m not sure. I just feel like we’re being watched. By something... other.” It’s the best explanation I can give.
He scans the hall with a brief glance that I know misses nothing. “I don’t see anyone out of place. Doesn’t mean no one is here though.”
I take one more look in the bustling corridor, searching for signs of something unnatural. Magical. Anything that doesn’t belong. Whatever it is, it’s well hidden. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
