Shimmerspell: The Shimmer Trilogy, #1

by Kimberly Spencer

  She closed her eyes, and pushed those thoughts from her mind, realizing it would do no good to get herself worked up about the what-ifs. But just when she decided to let herself drift off into a world where her arms weren’t bound behind her back, the door creaked open and in walked two of the Sidhe Guard.

  Contempt glowed in their deep blue eyes along with something else Jensen couldn’t identify. Without saying a word, one of the light-elves leaned down and sliced through the bindings at her wrist. “Walk or be carried,” he said.

  Not liking how he spat out the word “carried,” Jensen braced her arm on the wall and got up on wobbly legs, trudging out the door behind them. Two more guards took up the rear and her breath hitched in her throat. The whole scene just screamed “dead girl walking” and she hoped they weren’t leading her to some kind of faerie electric chair.

  Her calf muscles burned as she followed them up a steep flight of stairs to a doorway leading outside. The sun had set, painting the sky in strokes of orange and denim blue, and she wondered, not for the first time, how many days had passed since she’d been locked away.

  The scent of rain on the horizon filled her nose as the wind ruffled her hair, blowing tangled strands into her face. She reached up to brush them back and a gasp escaped her parched lips. The iron bindings had burned her wrists, leaving thin bracelets of bright red blisters in their place. Her hands were filthy and her pink sleep-shirt looked like it had been dipped in car oil.

  “Keep walking!” a guard ordered, shoving her so hard she almost fell over the squiggly, exposed roots of a longleaf pine.

  She was in a dense forest of entangled trees and underbrush now. Odd looking leaves in shades of green, honey orange, russet, and yellow ochre drifted to the forest floor from gnarled branches that looked like long, skinless fingers.

  The Sidhe Guard and other allies of the Seelie Court had gathered in a large ring of grass surrounded by red and white spotted toadstools. Within earshot, she could hear the murmuring. “Unseelie,” they called her. “Dark Nixie. Granddaughter of the betrayer.” But many didn’t utter a word, the disgust scrawled across their faces saying more than enough. Enemy. Guilty.

  Jensen stepped into the clearing and the restless crowd parted, revealing a small mound of dirt by an ancient gnarled maple. A much smaller tree, covered in tiny clusters of blood red berries and leaves that resembled the feathers of an eagle, had somehow taken root and seemed to fly out the middle of the maple’s trunk.

  Her eyes darted from face to face, never finding Liam’s sapphire eyes or Fee’s glossy blond spirals. But Eiden stood beside their father, the one eye that wasn’t swollen focused on the ground.

  And with a sudden dreadful clarity, his words finally sunk in. That empty mound of dirt was where she’d be standing. The Seelie Court was putting her on trial.

  ***

  Nimue clasped her hands behind her back while she took a cursory stroll around the silent crowd. No matter how far she walked, her voice carried loud and clear over the howling wind. “The blood coursing through this girl’s veins is that of the betrayer. She would have us believe she is ignorant of the ways of the Unseelie. Therefore, I’ve decided to gift her with the opportunity to prove where her loyalty lies.” Nimue turned around, eyeing Jensen pointedly. “Tell us what Lorelei is planning.”

  Jensen blinked up at her, amazed that no one else seemed to notice the wildness in her eyes. “How would I know?”

  “She’s your mother and she sent you here for a reason.”

  “No. My mom died when I was two. I came here with my sister Lauren to start over again at a new school.”

  Nimue crossed her arms over her chest. “And where is this Lauren now?”

  Jensen wet her lips. “I don’t know.”

  The crowd began to murmur again as Nimue tapped her fingers against her lips, staring at Jensen in wonderment. “I was told you possessed the ability to speak untruths, but I must admit it is still a strange thing to witness for myself.”

  “Sounds like you’re not used to people telling you the truth then, because that’s all I’m doing.”

  “No, you’re not.” Nimue turned around, pacing away from Jensen. “Years ago, Lorelei sought the assistance of an exile to divide the vision of a Two-Sighted child. Her daughter. Now, sixteen years later, you show up, nixie just as she, and expect us to believe this is all mere coincidence, that your own mother kept you in the dark about her plans.”

  “She is not my mother!”

  “She is.”

  Tears welled up in Jensen’s eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered past the growing lump in her throat. “I don’t believe anything you say.” Except, the more she thought about it, the more Nimue’s claims made sense. Her whole life was starting to sound like one big carefully cultivated lie. And if everything that made her “her” was all just make-believe, what did that leave her? Nothing more than a faerie tale.

  “Tell us what the unseelie want,” someone yelled from the crowd.

  Jensen closed her eyes, and swallowed her tears. She felt helpless and weak, and more than anything, alone. And for that, a part of her hated Lauren and hoped she was suffering wherever she was. “I already told you. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

  Patience running thin, Nimue snatched an iron-tipped arrow from the quiver of a nearby guard and aimed it at Jensen’s throat. “I won’t ask you again nixie.”

  Jensen’s heart sputtered in her chest. She wanted to run, but her traitorous body locked down, refusing to budge from the spot. Scrambling for a convincing lie, her gaze darted around the crowd. And that’s when she saw it. A will o’ wisp, buzzing through the air at breakneck speed.

  Jensen stared wide-eyed as the fiery faerie whipped around Nimue’s head, startling the guard so much that she dropped the arrow to swat the air in front of her. Snagging tiny pieces of short blonde hair in its beak, the flying light-bulb tugged on the strands, somehow managing to drag Nimue backwards.

  But before it had the chance to flit away, Nimue snatched the squealing faerie from her shoulder and slung it into a nearby tree. It landed on the ground with a squeak.

  Jensen’s eyes widened. The squeaky will o’ wisp.

  “Enough!” A deep, familiar voice shouted, one Jensen never expected to hear again. Tanner stood in front of the curtain of trees, rage glowing in his aquamarine eyes as he gripped a gnarled, wooden staff in his right hand.

  A hush went out over the clearing. Jensen could see the fear in otherworldly gazes, could hear the worry in their awkward silence.

  “How dare you interfere in Seelie business Dermot?” Nimue snarled.

  He stalked forward, the air around him shimmering faint silver with each step. “Threatening the life of this girl makes it my business.”

  Nimue crossed her arms over her chest. “She is not your concern wizard.”

  “She is my daughter!”

  Shocked gasps rang out over the clearing and the trees seemed to shudder with fear.

  “Your daughter?” Nimue said, echoing Jensen’s surprise. She backed up, then seeming to catch herself, went ramrod stiff. “This girl is nixie, from the line of Morgen, and ours to do as we see fit.”

  “She is Halfling, born in the Isle of Man to a mortal father. You have no claim to her and you know it.”

  Liam’s dad stepped beside Nimue. “The wizard is right. This does indeed change things.”

  Nimue shook her head adamantly. “No! This changes nothing Fintan.”

  “You know the rules just as I mistress,” Fintan countered.

  “It is not our place to interfere in mortal dealings,” another guard added.

  Nimue gritted her teeth, pointing at Jensen. “She speaks untruths. A deceiver. Shall we just sit back idly while history repeats itself?”

  “What would you have us do? Fintan asked. “We were given this task to guard humanity, not punish an innocent for the crimes of another.” He shook his head and crossed his arms. “Have
we fallen so low that we can no longer tell where we end and the Unseelie begin?”

  “We never would have fallen had it not been for Morgen,” Nimue said icily.

  “This child is not Morgen!” Fintan yelled. “And this is not who we are. To try to wash our hands in the blood of a mortal is not the way of the Court of Light.” He spun around, pinning Jensen with his churning stare. “Go child. Depart from this place and let us be done with this.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jensen sat on the edge of the sofa-bed, blotting her hair from her shower. She’d lathered up at least four times, but could still smell the dampness of mildew in her nose. Could taste the bitterness of crumbling concrete in her mouth. She shivered, twisting her hair into a top knot, then wrapped the towel around her head, tucking the ends underneath.

  Dermot strolled into the living room with a plaid throw slung over his forearm. “This should get you warmed up in no time.”

  She arched a skeptical eyebrow, staring at the thin material posing as a blanket. “What? Is it magic or something?”

  Smiling, Dermot dropped it on her lap, pulling a long white cord from beneath it. “No, electric.

  “Oh.” She wrapped it around herself, bundling it tight against her neck, while he plugged it in the socket beside the sofa-bed. “So …”

  Dermot flopped down on the tattered leather recliner, clasping his hands in his lap. “So …”

  “I take it Eiden’s not a traitor?”

  Dermot smiled and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled. “Traitor? No, just a confused kid.”

  “He used the will o’ wisp to contact you.”

  Dermot nodded. “The only way he could do so without drawing Nimue’s suspicion.”

  Jensen licked her lips. “You’re probably out of a job now.”

  His husky laugh bounced around the almost empty living room. “Probably.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly there to teach anyway.”

  “Just there to torture me, huh?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Pretty much. You should try to do better in math.”

  Jensen rolled her eyes. “So where is she?” She, being the big pink elephant not in the room.

  Dermot shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure she’s fine. Your mother is one of the strongest people I know.”

  Jensen ran her hand up and down the smooth edge of the blanket. “So it’s true then; Lauren’s my mother.”

  Dermot waited for her to meet his gaze again, and then nodded. “And I’m your father.”

  “Faeries can’t … well, most faeries can’t lie, so how did she get me to believe we were sisters?’

  “Compulsion when you were young and by nurturing your growing assumptions. From what I understand, you had a vivid imagination.”

  Jensen thought she’d be relieved finally knowing the truth, but her chest only tightened more and her face felt like she’d just eaten a bowl full of jalapeño peppers. “Well, thanks for letting me crash here tonight.”

  Dermot bit his bottom lip. “You say that like it’s a one-time deal Button.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Ok Jensen, I know you’re upset—”

  She shook her head and the towel loosened, falling into her face. She snatched it off and threw it down beside her. “Upset? I’m not upset. I’m pissed.” Upset didn’t come close to describing how she felt. Now had he used enraged, hurt, or grossly neglected, then there wouldn’t have been a discussion.

  “And you have every right to be, but you have to understand. This was the only way Lorelei knew to protect you.”

  “By keeping me in the dark and leaving me unprepared? Had it not been for Liam and Fee, I’d probably be dead right now, all because neither of you had the decency to tell me what the hell was going on.” She jumped up from the bed and the blanket puddled at her feet. “I don’t even know my real name. Is it Reilly or is it Tanner?”

  “Reilly. Jensen Ava Reilly.”

  She closed her eyes and hugged her arms to herself. “At least something wasn’t a lie.”

  “Will you at least give me the chance to explain?”

  “What’s the point?”

  “You need to hear the truth.”

  “I needed to hear it six years ago,” she snapped. “Not now.”

  He looked down. “Your mother thought it best that you didn’t know.”

  “Don’t you dare blame everything on her. You weren’t even around.”

  “I had very little choice in the matter.”

  “So you’re saying she left you?”

  He smiled, which somehow made him look sadder. “When Lorelei makes up her mind about something, there’s no talking her out of it. I only found out where you were a few months ago. By then, I couldn’t help much. The blinding spell had already begun to fade, and—”

  Jensen’s butt hit the bed and she realized she’d sat back down. “Blinding spell?”

  “A spell to remove the ability to see through faerie glamours.”

  She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to sit there and listen to the rest of the story. “Go on.”

  Dermot sighed, rubbing his hand down the side of his face. “At that point, all we could do was watch and wait. I took the teaching position at the school to monitor your days. Lorelei watched you at night. But neither of us anticipated your sight would return this soon.”

  “So what do you suppose happens now?” she asked, rubbing the barbed-wire shaped scars on her wrists. Dermot had treated them as soon as they’d made it to his apartment and they looked better already. But he doubted they would ever fade completely. They would be a constant reminder of her run-in with Nimue. An ugly one at that.

  “Well, the Sidhe Guard is on high alert right now, so staying here will be safer in the long run. And this is where Lorelei wants you to be. So once you’re up to it, I think you should return to school with the light-elves and try not to draw either court’s attention.”

  With everything that had happened to her, she was beginning to think the light and dark courts were one in the same. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but stopped, noticing Dermot’s brows drawn together in confusion. “What is it now?”

  “Jensen, when did you first start seeing things?”

  “The day the Unseelie attacked on campus. I saw Liam in the hallway and suddenly he had wings.” She shrugged.

  “And what were you doing right before that?”

  “Breaking into someone’s locker.” No point lying now. Besides, she was merely the product of her environment.

  Dermot leaned forward, his eyes wide. “How?”

  Her mouth stretched into a grin. “With the aid of one of my trusty hairpins.”

  “So you picked the lock then?”

  Her smile fell away and she felt the space between her eyebrows wrinkle. “In a way, I guess.”

  Dermot’s body went stiff. “What does that mean?”

  She frowned, not knowing how to explain it. It was like she did, but didn’t. “I guess you could say it just happened.”

  “I see.” He closed his eyes, massaging his temples. “And in the Isle of Mermen when I freed you from the satyr’s horn? What did you do then?”

  “Besides standing there with my mouth hanging open? Nothing. You were there; you saw how I reacted.”

  “But something was running through your mind?”

  “Why are you asking me all this?”

  He met her gaze. “Because it’s very important that I know what you were thinking at that moment.”

  Jensen blew out a frustrated breath. She couldn’t understand how a person could go sixteen years without speaking to her, then suddenly decide he deserved access to her private thoughts. “I was thinking we were trapped and I wanted out.”

  He closed his eyes again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “How did I not see t
his?” he mumbled.

  “See what?” He was freaking her out.

  “So the first time it happened, you wanted to get into something, and the second time, you wanted out?”

  Her hands trembled now. Her legs too. “First time what happened?”

  “Breaking into the locker. Breaking out of the Isle of Mermen. The two times you’ve used Shimmerspell.”

  “I didn’t. I couldn’t. Liam says only the Lady of the Lake has that

  and two fingers rubbed massaged his temples.sitive skin. She laid her head against his neck and smell the freshness of his soapability.”

  Dermot laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. The corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle with amusement either. And then he spoke. Six words Jensen never expected to hear. Six words she never wanted to know. And six words that would change her life forever. “Tag Button; looks like you’re it.”

  ###

  Kimberly Spencer is an avid reader, writer and non-arithmeticer. Yes, she knows that last one is not a real word, but seriously, don’t ask her to count anything. If she’s not working on the next book in The Faerie Tale Girl Series, she’s probably fighting with her three-year-old shih tzu Macho. And just like Charlie Sheen, he’s usually winning.

  Check out my blog: https://kimberlyspencer.blogspot.com