Away with the Faeries (Get Your Rocks Off Book 1)

by Sam Hall

  She wasn’t happy, my friend, Jen, and I could see that. It was like I could see all too easily what people’s motivations were, but with no real understanding of why. Mark looked at me too, his eyes filled with worry and compassion as his hand moved to close the gap between his and mine, but the set of his shoulders told me he was holding himself back. Why? my mind pondered mildly. Why stop himself from making that connection? Why want to connect at all? What is that weird thrumming feeling that tugged my own hand closer? I wanted to lean over the table, my head on my hand, and reach out and—

  “Kira.”

  When Jen said my name, I noticed my hand was now on her bodyguard’s arm, and he felt warm and solid underneath it. Comforting, that’s what it was, comforting. Perhaps if I got to my feet and curled myself in against this chest, that would be even better. I needed comfort. Everything had been so weird, and I’d met famous people and pretended I was wearing a mask and acted like an opinionated jerk, which was about as far away from being me as I could be. That’s what I needed. To curl up against that Sam Heughan like chest and revert back to old Kira. Creeping around Jen’s house, scared of all the pretty people, normal, old Kira.

  “I’ll make up your bed,” Jen said. “Someone will let your parents know what’s going on.”

  “No, no,” I said, tracing my finger across the surface of the table. I made the shapes there that I’d drawn as a kid when I was left to my own devices —in the sand when we went down the beach, in the mud, painting them on the side of Nana’s house and making her screech. Circle, bisecting line, feathery shapes off the main line, slash. “Must be home before the moon sets, or you’ll draw the attention of the people of stone and moss and wood. Don’t whisper in the wind, don’t hover in doorways, turn your shirt inside out to trick them.”

  “Now, look what you’ve done,” Jen said with a shake of her head.

  “She can’t walk,” Mark said. “She was completely incapacitated by what happened. I’ll have to carry her.”

  “Will you, indeed, Sentinel?” she replied, hands on her hips. “Very well, into the room beside mine. I’ll have to keep an eye on her until the effects wear off.”

  “I can sit with her,” Mark replied as he walked over to me. He might have been talking to Jen, but those grey eyes were trained on me as he moved closer, almost hesitantly for a man his size. Our eyes locked and stayed that way as he went to pick me up again. My hand went to his cheek, and I leant in so close, I could feel the fan of his breath on my face.

  “Those eyes,” I said as I stared into them. “They see it all. The wind, the wilds, the bird on a wing. You’ve been to the deep places, danced with the hidden ones.”

  “What?” he said, frowning.

  “Don’t worry too much. Ki’s just a bit wrecked by the magic mushrooms you gave her.”

  “You never said—”

  “No, I didn’t, and I’m not now. She needs rest after one of her turns. She’ll feel terrible and ashamed, and she’ll want to curl up in a ball from embarrassment when she realises that you were the one who rescued her. Take her to her room and leave her to me. I’ve seen her through this more times than I can count. I know how to get her through it.”

  “Of course… Miss Rutherglen.”

  I was staring at my hands in the moonlight as I lay on the bed I used when staying at Jen’s with her curled up by my side. I watched the way the light flickered, interrupted as I traced the shapes in the air. Light, black, light, black, light.

  “Stop, Ki,” my best friend said wearily, stroking my hair back from my face. “It’s late. You need to rest. There’s so much more to do. You’re leaving, Ki. You’re finally going to leave.”

  There was a strange oppressive hush to her voice, and the words felt like raven’s wings that stroked my skin as I listened to each syllable and the ones in between. The hidden ones, plucked from the song of the universe and wound silently around her words, dragging my eyelids down, smothering the searching, nagging consciousness that reached out constantly. For what? I didn’t know, and wouldn’t any longer.

  “Just sleep, Ki,” Jen said, tears in her voice. “Just sleep.”

  9

  I woke with a start to light streaming through the window, my eyes blinking wildly for a minute as the French blue walls and pretty floral curtains just looked back at me, equally as blankly, until I realised where I was.

  I bounced out of bed, feeling as clean and sharp as a knife, and the light itself had this oddly invigorating air to it. I glanced around, flexing my hands and rolling my shoulders. Damn, I felt good.

  Which then made me feel bad. Memories of yesterday hit me like a Mack truck. My audacity, my invasive questions, watching Jake fucking Riley get a hand job, Mark carrying me inside the house to help with my attack. My crisp, clear mind gave me a very thorough list of all of the insane things I’d done, complete with helpful replays of Liam’s flashing eyes and Lucas’ expression of disgust. My phone vibrated in my pocket, briefly aborting me from the self-recrimination train I was currently riding. Fuck! I thought. Mum and Dad!

  But it wasn’t them who’d sent me a message. Nope, there under the identifier ‘JH’ was a text reading, Hey, camera girl. Looking forward to tonight. Hope it’ll be just as revealing.

  What the actual fuck? I thought as my thumb hovered over the screen of my phone. To do what? I couldn’t decide, my eyes reading what was written over and over, like somehow that would help me glean meaning from what was already completely transparent.

  Or was it?

  Revealing? Did he mean me asking crazy questions again or did he mean…? I got a quick mental image of Jake in all his penile glory. Goddam, if the guy ever broke that pedal thing that hit the big bass drum, he had a handy backup right between his legs. And while I was tempted to fall down that ruminative rabbit hole, I was saved by the bedroom door opening.

  “There she is!” Jen said, throwing it wide, then her arms were up in the air as she rushed towards me with a gleeful giggle. I blinked, not entirely sure why being awake would rate such a response, and with my brain still spinning its wheels over a member of my favourite band sending me a text, I wasn’t able to reply. She swept me into a hug, jumping up and down as she gripped me tight. “You did it, you clever girl! You fucking did it! Daddy is losing his goddamn mind, asking me how the hell I’d sat on you for all this time without saying a word, despite me trying to show him your portfolio more than once. But, Ki, you’ve made a massive splash!”

  “Here you go,” Marlow said, slinking inside and tossing magazines and papers on the bed, one after the other, then waving Anna forward with a laptop. “We ran some of your images as full-page ads in the tabloids. Dave had already organised with the major music publications to delay publishing until the promo packs went out. Your work is in every single one of them.” I watched the grin spread across his face, his eyes dancing as he glanced at us, then back at the screen Anna brought over. I took a step backwards as he brought up The Changelings website, the usual splash page replaced with a mosaic of my images. Liam furious and half naked, Jake looking like he wanted to lick your pussy, Billy as some kind of apex predator forced into human form, and Johnno staring into the camera, golden eyes wide and naked. It felt like his whole soul was there, shimmering and ready to come spilling out. When had that happened? I looked down at my phone, seeing another text had popped up. I saw the words ‘tour’ and ‘offer,’ but that was all I was able to make out.

  I needed to go home, I knew that as sure as breathing, and that was difficult. A wave of fear, pure and unadulterated, rose within me. No, I shook my head, unable to get the words out. This is not how it went. You didn’t just get given twenty grand of photographic equipment and take a few shots and get this kind of attention. People bought good gear all the time and couldn’t get anything more than shitty snapshots. I wasn’t sure my work was much better than that. I’d definitely had commendations from my lecturers about my work when I completed my arts degree online, but nothing to w
arrant this.

  I dimly heard the excited declarations of every single one of them, famous designers, magazines, fan sites, and other musicians listed, but it all just blended into one incoherent blur. My phone buzzed again, and I shoved it into my pocket, not paying attention to anything else that anyone had to say. I needed out of here, now.

  I made for the door, weaving around an increasingly surprised Marlow and Jen, then stopped when I saw my camera bag and reached for it automatically. Should I take it with me? That mask-like feeling, of being someone else, someone a whole lot bolder, more talented than me came back as soon as I got near it. I dropped my hand, backing away and out, and felt better the minute I walked out into the hallway.

  This isn’t me, I decided as I strode through Jen’s massive house. I’ve missed my medication, stuffed up my sleep schedule, and didn’t eat properly yesterday. There was a momentary thrill at that, of being a more typical twenty-something, who balanced fun and responsibility more or less. Who just…lived, rather than adhering to a rigid plan every damn day.

  “It’s what’s best for you,” Dad had said when they first developed it, plotting out each hour of my bloody life, while Nan fussed in the background like some awful warning of what would happen if I didn’t comply.

  And he’d been right. My symptoms had abated, I had felt better under a strict regime, until now.

  “Kira!”

  My head jerked around to see who was calling out for me, my legs already coiled up and ready to bolt. But when I really needed them to move, instead they froze up, my muscles trembling. They descended upon me like a pack of wolves, some striding forward and closing the gap between us swiftly, others lagging sullenly at the back, but they came, they all came. The Changelings stood before me, just a bunch of guys, just a bunch of seriously talented, fucking insanely beautiful guys, that made my eyes ache to look upon them and my whole hand spasm for lack of a camera.

  This must be what it was like when mortals looked upon gods in the legends, I thought before my brain shuddered to a stop. I just stared blankly at Johnno smiling as he held a sheaf of papers, while the others crowded in, forming a wall between me and the exit.

  “I’ve been trying to message you,” Johnno said. “Dave’s ecstatic with what you and Anna put together, and wants the two of you to come on the tour, record the lot. This is the contract.”

  “You just need to sign on the dotted line,” Billy said, sliding forward and pulling a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket.

  “She’ll want her lawyers to take a look first,” Johnno said.

  “Or reject the offer outright,” Lucas said, crossing his arms.

  “She can’t do that,” Jake scoffed, fishing a smoke out of his pocket. “She made me look like a fucking model. Got a whole bunch of ideas for the after parties I want to…explore.”

  Liam said nothing, just staring at me as if to fix my image in his brain for later, to pull apart and dissect. Looking for what? I had no idea.

  And I didn’t want to. My body responded sluggishly, and I stumbled on my first step, Johnno’s arm going out to catch me, but Billy just smiled as he watched me recover, however ungracefully. I felt like I was driving a piece of faulty machinery, the usual responses happening in fits and starts, but I finally managed to stagger away.

  Get out. Get out. Get out, my brain told me. I expected to see little squiggles at the sides of my vision, or an ominous black halo, but instead, my vision was clear and crisp—horrifyingly so. I caught the sidelong looks from decorators and caterers as they rushed about, dodging around me with thinly veiled irritation. I saw the beautiful waitresses, all lined up in identical uniforms look me over and giggle. And then I saw my fucking parents, who said they’d rather die than set foot on the Rutherglen estate, standing there with Mr. bloody Adams. Dad was a reasonably successful crime writer, and Adams was his lawyer.

  “Kira, darling, we’ve just heard the news!” Mum’s eyes narrowed slightly when she looked at me closer, the ecstatic expression starting to falter. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

  “Burning the candle at both ends?” Dad said with an honest to goodness smile, a look so foreign, it took a few seconds to process it. “I know what it’s like, to feel those creative juices flowing. Now, I was speaking to your doctors this morning, and you’ll need to adhere to a new schedule while on tour—”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Adams has taken a look at the contract, and it’s incredibly generous!” Mum said. “He let us know just how rare an opportunity like this is for such a young, untried photographer. And the payment is completely exorbitant.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  We all turned to see Dave and his megawatt smile standing to one side of us, the boys behind him, almost as if they were back up. My eyes darted around and I saw that my family had boxed me in on the other side. The only way out of here was to clamber over some very beautiful decorations, complete with eerily twisted sculptures of animals I’d never seen in a textbook before. I backed up until my hands felt the smooth cool of the wall behind me.

  “What your daughter produced yesterday was nothing short of visionary. Jen told me of the way she transformed my brief, turning it from decadent but prosaic into something…eternal. The fan sites are going completely wild for her work, but so are the high fashion magazines.”

  “So quickly?” Dad said with a small frown.

  “It’s a strange world, my world. There are people whose whole job is trend analysis, to spot the next big thing before it’s even had a chance to get off the ground. When the ‘Ache’ interview teasers started to go viral, your girl tripped a few triggers and they reached out to their contacts…” Dave spread his hands wide, as if to indicate the process was beyond description. “Your daughter will need an agent and soon.”

  “Something I am already on top of. George Adams,” the lawyer said, stepping forward and offering his hand. Dave took it with a smile.

  “Of course. Well, seeing as you have your legal counsel, let’s go into the boardroom, shall we?”

  No, let’s not. Let’s get in the car and go home, I pleaded with my parents, but the words never made it past my lips. I just trailed after them, and took a seat on one side of the table, the band on the other. My eyes flicked to Dad and Mr. Adams, and I caught them shifting uncomfortably under the steady gaze of the five young men. That was weird. To them, these were just a bunch of guys with piercings and tattoos. Why would they give them any respect?

  Because power, I thought as I let my eyes trail down the other side of the desk. If I’d come home with a guy up the street that looked like Jake, with his kilt and pierced lip and bright red hair ruffled into an almost mohawk, they’d have had a fit. But he was powerful, famous, and Mum and Dad didn’t need to be fans to acknowledge that. The Changelings got into the gossip rags often enough for misbehaviour. And they were about to sign me over to them.

  “We’d like to broaden the arrangement in the agreement I sent over,” Dave said to Adams. “She’ll still receive the full amount in the original contract, plus a healthy bonus for what she’s achieved so far.” Dad’s eyes flicked to Adams, but he just beamed as he nodded. Apparently, I was getting a really good deal. “The second contract…” He nodded to Johnno, who pushed the papers forward. “This would entail hiring Miss Leigh’s services for the entirety of the new tour. She’d be the concert photographer, document life on the road, and do some more interviews of the same ilk she has already produced with the videographer she used yesterday, or another of her choice.”

  Dave scented blood in the water, I could tell. Those steely eyes strayed more and more to me, taking in the way I shifted in my seat, unable to get comfortable, his gaze lifting to my mouth as I shoved a thumbnail into it and gnawed.

  “The offer is incredibly generous,” Adams gushed, but when he paused, I looked down the table to see Dad staring at the man. “But this is a six-month tour. You’ll be requiring a young person who has largely lived with the
support of her family to branch out and follow a group of men that are…that have been involved in some questionable activities which has been well documented in the media.”

  “We know. We want her to document more of them,” Liam said drily.

  “And that is a concern to me,” Dad said. “She is very capable. I’m glad you’ve noticed that. This attention…” He poked at the magazines splayed across the conference room table with a finger. “It’s unprecedented in our lives.”

  “So what do you want?” Billy said, eyes sliding to me. “A chaperone?” His eyebrow arched as he smiled slowly.

  “No, but I can’t just send my daughter off on tour. She has certain conditions—”

  “Dad!” I hissed at him, but he waved me off. I was not going to do this, go on tour and take photos. It was ridiculous, something only made more so by the fact that everyone was taking it so seriously. But talking about my condition…

  “That need to be managed. She has medical appointments and a medication regime she must adhere to.”

  “So we’re getting to the negotiation stage. Good, good,” Dave said. “I was made aware of some of the…challenges Kira faces every day, and I’d like to…”

  I stopped paying attention. I’d dreamed many times about different elements of the last two days—meeting my favourite band, seeing some of them naked, being a ‘real’ photographer with a name and a profile, people knocking down my door to get to my work. But never in my wildest dreams had I expected it to go like this. The achievement tasted like ashes in my mouth as the ‘adults’ in the room talked about my mental health issues with politely damning words. All the dreadfully intimate details of the horror I lived with were out there and on the table, and I just sat there, letting them describe me using the kind of distancing medical terminology that made all of this seem perfectly reasonable.