Eve of the Fae (Modern Fae Book 1)

by E. Menozzi

  I nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.” She kissed my cheek and turned to leave.

  “Have fun!” I called after her.

  I changed into my pajamas and splashed some cold water on my face, then stared at my reflection in the mirror. Angie had been right, of course. And she’d tell me so when I talked to her. I should have cut Connor out completely so I could have healed properly after our breakup. With Connor out of my life, no job to return home to, and Liam occupying the one job I wanted, for the first time in a long time, I had no idea what I was doing with my life. There was always grad school. I still wanted to follow in my uncle’s footsteps. That’s when I remembered what Liam had been saying about local legends.

  I found my slippers, then padded down the hall, past the storage room with the gargoyle, and down the back stairs to the kitchen. Uncle Oscar’s library held probably the best collection of books on local history for miles around. I’d start there. If Liam could learn history from books, then I could, too. Maybe in the process, I could finally figure out why he was really here.

  The light was on in the library when I got home, but I knew the professor and his wife had gone out for the evening. I’d hoped to return early enough that I’d have time for another search of the house before they returned. Then I remembered Evelyn. When I peeked my head into the library, I found her curled up in an armchair, fast asleep.

  I crossed the room and lifted the book out of her hands, glancing at the title before marking her place and setting it on the table. One of her uncle’s books about local history. An empty wineglass. Her laptop. A crumpled foil wrapper. Fuzzy slippers and striped pajama pants. I smiled. She looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake her up, but she’d be much more comfortable in her bed.

  I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Evelyn,” I whispered.

  “Mmm…” She rolled her head to the side but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Eve,” I tried again, a little louder this time.

  Her eyes blinked open and she rubbed her hands over her face. “What time is it? I must have fallen asleep.”

  “It’s late.” I flopped into the chair across from her.

  She stretched her arms and yawned. “Are Aunt Vivian and Uncle Oscar home yet?”

  “I don’t think so.” I hid my own yawn behind my hand. Apparently, the things were contagious. Fae didn’t yawn.

  “What are you doing home? I thought they said you were gone for the evening.”

  “I just returned. Saw the light on and came in to see who was awake.”

  “Oh.” She looked around the room and then down at her pajamas. “I should go to bed.”

  “Or stay up a bit longer. I’ll throw another log on the fire and get some more wine.” I should have been encouraging her to go to bed, but I didn’t want to appear too eager to see her off.

  “No. I should really go to bed.” She started to get up from the chair.

  “I saw you were reading about Lord Edric,” I said, motioning to the book on the table between us. “If you want, I’ll tell you what they left out of that story.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell her everything I knew. According to my family, the story she’d been reading wasn’t even close to right. But my family did like to exaggerate that whole kidnapping-of-Godda thing. Not that I can blame them; Godda was my aunt. My mother had been there that night.

  Evelyn cocked her head. “Why are you going out of your way to help me?”

  “Would you rather I ignore you? Don’t people have conversations with their housemates where you live?”

  “I suppose. It’s just, you’re not really a housemate, you’re…” Her voice trailed off, but I knew where she’d been going with that statement.

  “Your uncle’s secretary?” I offered. If only she knew.

  “Well, yes.” She frowned.

  I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair. “Right.” She thought I was a joke, and I couldn’t prove otherwise.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her cheeks had begun to turn pink, but I didn’t think it was from the warmth of the fire. It took some of the sting out, thinking that she might be embarrassed by her own snobbery.

  “You didn’t mean to imply that I’m hired help? That being someone’s secretary is somehow beneath you?” I had to remind myself that she was human. Her worldview was so small. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did.

  “No. I mean, everyone has to start somewhere.” She winced, possibly realizing how awful that sounded.

  I shook my head. “But what if this is where I want to be? What I want to be doing?”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, I guess. If you’re happy.”

  I groaned. “You think success is a graduate degree? Is that what’s going to make you happy?”

  She shifted in her chair until she was sitting up straight. “It’s a start. Graduating from Oxford would make me happy. So would following in my uncle’s footsteps and traveling as an expert guest lecturer to New York, or San Francisco, or London, or maybe Paris. Or maybe all of them. I don’t know.”

  “So, because I don’t have a degree, I couldn’t possibly be successful, or happy, according to you.” I flexed my hands. My magic surged inside, screaming to be let out, but I pushed it down.

  Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. “I…I didn’t mean it that way—”

  “I get to do something I love and live somewhere I love and spend time with people I admire and respect. What difference does it make where I did or didn’t go to university or what my title is?”

  “It doesn’t.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of having a bad day.”

  “What happened?” I asked. My annoyance melted in the face of her misery.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “I just…I just had this plan, you know? I had it all figured out and now nothing seems to be going right. I think I made a huge mistake coming here.”

  “To Lydbury?” I was completely confused. What could possibly have been so bad about visiting her aunt and uncle for Christmas?

  “No,” she said. She shook her head. “Or maybe. I don’t know. I should have just told Aunt Vivian.” Her face twisted like she was in pain, and she pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and clutched the fabric.

  “Told her what?” I scooted to the edge of my seat and placed a hand on the arm of her chair.

  “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand,” she said.

  My frustration flared in response to her dismissal. Was she saying this because she didn’t respect me?

  “Try me,” I said. A tiny bit of anger might have leaked into my voice because she looked up at me with wide eyes.

  “Well, for starters, I should have told her I wanted to work with Uncle Oscar,” she said, glaring at me.

  “What?” That wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

  “That was my plan. But now you’re here. Doing what I wanted to be doing. And I think I may have ruined everything.”

  “Ruined how?” I asked. Dread flooded my chest as I waited for her response.

  She stared at me for a moment, clearly evaluating me. Trying to decide if she could open up to me. For the first time, I suspected her annoyance with me had been because she’d seen me as competition.

  “You can talk to me,” I said. “I won’t say a word unless you want me to.”

  “You promise?”

  I nodded.

  “Fine.” She sighed and leaned back in the chair. “First, I quit a perfectly acceptable job, because my boss was a sleaze.”

  I leaned forward. “I’m sure there are other jobs—”

  She cut me off with a glare. “You said you wouldn’t say anything.”

  I pressed my lips together and pretended to zip them shut.

  A small smile flashed across her face. Then she continued. “I don’t want thos
e jobs. I don’t want to put myself in that position again. Powerless.” She blinked and shook her head, but I’d already spotted the tears welling in her eyes.

  I strained against the urge to speak but kept my lips glued together.

  “I decided to apply to graduate schools. But I don’t know the first thing about history. I was a business major. But I do have experience working in a museum. That’s why I’d hoped I’d have a chance to work with my uncle.” She gave me a pointed look.

  I knew it. She’d been mad about me taking this job.

  “I thought he’d understand. I thought he’d just know that was why I’d decided to spend the holidays here. I’d said I wanted to help. I guess I didn’t make it clear enough what I really wanted. Now I think I ruined everything. I received this today.” She reached for the history book, pulled out a folded printout, and handed it to me.

  I unfolded the paper and scanned the page. The block of text at the top made little sense to me. It appeared to be a letter, but not one sent by mail. The professor didn’t use technology the way most humans did, but I’d snooped around his study enough that I’d seen printed messages like this lying about and recognized the correspondence as an email. The message was short, but a few key words jumped out at me. Oxford. Admissions. Waitlist. I glanced up from the paper and met her eyes. They were brimming with tears, threatening to overflow.

  I slipped out of my chair and stood, dropping the paper on the table between us. Then I perched on the arm of her chair and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, careful not to speak and break my promise to her.

  She sniffed. “I thought everything would just work out, and now I have nothing.”

  I touched her chin and tilted her face up toward me, wiping away a few tears with my thumb. I raised my eyebrows and hoped she’d get the hint and free me from my vow of silence.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine,” she said. “Go ahead. Say whatever you’re going to say.”

  “It’s not all ruined,” I said. “You can still work with your uncle.”

  “But what about you?” she asked.

  “What about me? You think there’s not enough work here for two people?” I watched her face and searched for a reaction.

  “Maybe,” she said softly.

  “Or you don’t want to work with me because I don’t have a fancy degree?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “No. It’s not that. It’s just…”

  I reached out and brushed another tear from the soft skin of her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into my hand. I traced my fingers along her jaw and under her earlobe until they were wrapped around the back of her neck. I’d wanted to do this since I’d first set eyes on her.

  She tilted her head back and looked up at me. She wasn’t stopping me. She appeared to be waiting to see what I’d do next. I leaned down until my lips brushed against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed and our lips pressed together, our breath mingling. I pulled back to search her face and give her a chance to push me away. I knew this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t resist. Instead of pushing me away, she wrapped her arms around my neck and tugged me back down.

  A part of my brain worried her actions had more to do with her reaction to her bad day than they did with how she felt about me, but it was probably better that way. We could never be together. Feelings would just complicate things.

  I leaned on the arm of the chair to keep my balance as my fingers explored her skin and my lips met hers again and again. She tangled her fingers in my hair and placed a hand on my cheek as her lips parted, and I reached for her tongue with mine. I knew I was in trouble when she pulled me down and arched her body up. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I lifted her from the chair until we were standing with her body pressed against my chest.

  A log shifted in the hearth and the fire collapsed in on itself. Evelyn jumped at the sound and took a step backward, out of my arms. I reached for her, but she shook her head and stepped away. “What am I doing?” she mumbled as she walked over to stand in front of the fire.

  I started to reply, but a flash of light caught my attention. Damn. Arabella had the worst timing.

  I ignored my cousin’s signal and walked over to the hearth to stand behind Evelyn. I slipped my hands around her waist and pulled her against me. Arabella could wait.

  “I should go to bed,” she said, but she leaned into me. I buried my face in her hair and inhaled the sweet tropical scent of her shampoo.

  “What are you worried about?” I asked softly into her hair.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.

  I swept her hair to one side and placed my lips against her neck. The beat of her pulse under my lips proved I had set her heart racing at least as hard as mine. I kissed my way down her long, elegant neck, taking my time, savoring the feel of her skin against my lips.

  The creak of the front door opening and Vivian’s persistent chatter echoed down the hallway. Evelyn froze and pulled away from me.

  “I should go to bed,” she said. She grabbed the book, her laptop, and the empty wineglass off the table. “Good night,” she said. Then she hurried out of the room and turned toward the kitchen. I could hear Vivian and Oscar on the front stairs. They wouldn’t come this way. They’d go straight up to bed. I considered going after Evelyn but remembered Arabella’s signal.

  Oh, well. Might as well see what she wants.

  “Where’d you go?” I whispered to the empty room. I waited, but there was no response. “Getting a good laugh, are you?” I asked. Still no response. I walked in the direction I’d seen the flash, toward the table where I’d left my work earlier. I kept my senses alert, expecting Arabella to jump out at me at any moment. But I made it all the way to the table without her appearing. That’s when I saw the note scratched on a piece of paper lying on my stack of books.

  Forget the girl and come home. Flida fading. Asking for you.

  I struggled to remember to breathe. Something had happened to Mother. I needed to go home.

  After scrambling to find paper and a pen, I sat and scratched out a brief note to the professor. Then I jogged up the back stairs to the attic room to pack a few things for the journey. My family needed me.

  5

  I didn’t want to go down to breakfast. There was no way I could face Liam in front of my aunt and uncle in the light of day after kissing him last night. I mentally kicked myself as I unpacked everything I’d left in my suitcase into the empty dresser drawers. If I closed my eyes, I’d start to imagine Liam’s lips on my neck, his arms around me. So, I just wouldn’t close my eyes. Then maybe that fluttering feeling in my chest would go away.

  I stared down at my empty suitcase. I’d have to face him sooner or later. Better to get this over with. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a weak moment. I was confused after my confrontation with Connor and then discouraged by the email from Oxford. I was jet-lagged. I was half asleep. I’d been drinking. It was only one glass of wine, and I’d been asleep in that chair long enough for the effects to wear off. But still. All the excuses I could name hadn’t managed to relieve the sinking feeling that I’d crossed some sort of line by making out with my uncle’s secretary.

  Then I remembered the look he’d given me just before he’d kissed me the first time, like he was waiting for permission. My heart sped up just thinking about it. I shook my head. No. This was not a good idea.

  My stomach growled. I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t delay this any longer. I checked my hair in the mirror and straightened my sweater. Then I realized what I was doing and stuck my tongue out at my reflection and walked out of my room.

  When I reached the end of the hallway, I couldn’t decide between going down the front stairs and having to walk past the library or going down the hall past what I’d begun to think of as “the gargoyle room” on my way to the back stairs. I stood still and listened. I didn’t hear anyone down that hall, so I took a chance and hurrie
d past all the rooms, not stopping until I’d reached the bottom of the stairs. I paused in the hall, then took a breath and pushed open the kitchen door.

  “Morning,” I said. My aunt and uncle were seated at the table, but there was no sign of Liam. My stomach dropped. I couldn’t be sure if it was in disappointment or in relief.

  “Good morning,” my uncle said, glancing up at me over his paper.

  “Help yourself to breakfast and join us.” She motioned to the serving dishes already on the table. “I was worried you were going to sleep all morning.”

  “I would have been down earlier, but I decided to unpack a little.”

  “Oh! Did you have enough room in the dresser for your things? And the wardrobe? Did you find enough hangers? Do you need more?”

  Her thoughtfulness and concern made me smile. “I found everything and there was more than enough room.” I sat down and began heaping eggs and bacon on to my plate.

  “Oh, good. It’s so nice to have you here, dear. If you need anything, just let me know, all right?”

  Uncle Oscar folded his paper and pushed his chair back from the table. “Well, I best get to work. Lots to do with Liam gone.”

  I froze with my fork partway to my lips. “What’s that, Uncle Oscar? Did you say Liam’s gone?” This had been what I’d wanted, only now it didn’t feel right. Did they somehow know we’d kissed? Did Uncle Oscar fire him because of me?

  “Not to worry. It’s likely only for a few days. His mother’s not well, you see. Had to go home for a bit to take care of her. I’m sure he’ll have it all sorted soon enough.” He gave me a kiss on my cheek and opened the door to the hallway. “Have a good day, you two.” He slipped out into the hallway and the door swung closed behind him.

  “Did you get enough?” Aunt Vivian asked, inspecting my plate. “There’s more warming on the stove if you’re hungry.”