Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  But I usually don’t dream.

  I pinch myself. The leather rubs against me as I squeeze, leaving a red patch on the pale skin peeking out between the end of my glove and my sleeve. It, uh, it kind of hurt, too. Isn’t that the universal test? Pinch yourself and if it hurts you’re not dreaming.

  Well, that can’t be good. Because if I’m not dreaming, then that means I might have shadow traveled here by accident just in time to overhear a conversation between Carolina and her mistress.

  “I need an update. The Shadow has already come of age and, yet, she still hasn’t come to Faerie. What is she doing in the Iron? Gathering weapons? Is she still in contact with the traitors?”

  “No, mistress. I’ve told you before. Her experiences with the fae have left her wounded. She wants nothing to do with the Seelie or the Unseelie. She still believes she’s mostly human, even after I pointed out that she wasn’t. She has no desire to come to Faerie. She doesn’t want to face the queen.”

  A laugh follows. A throaty, terrible laugh.

  A cruel laugh.

  “She doesn’t have to want to do anything, silly girl. It’s been foretold. She will come to Faerie if you have to convince her to open a portal and push her through yourself. Or would you rather I find another human to take your place? You failed me when you couldn’t get to her inside of the asylum. She’s handed to you on a silver platter and still she hides. When will the Shadow play her part? I grow weary of waiting.”

  “I’m sorry. Her time inside has made it difficult for her to believe that Faerie is a real place. She definitely doesn’t think she’s responsible for following the prophecy. I’ve tried. I made her understand that she’s my only hope—”

  “Ah. That is quite clever. She won’t risk leaving her nest to save her enemies. But if you are her friend…”

  “I’m not just her friend,” Carolina corrects. “I’m human. The Shadow doesn’t realize that, sometimes, we can be as dangerous as the fae.”

  She’s not wrong. Before I was in a position to eavesdrop on her, I never would’ve thought Carolina was a threat. She’s so small, I could break her in half if I had to, and my newfound skills with the shadows—and, okay, shade-walking—make me more of a threat.

  But there’s something else I have that Carolina doesn’t: a sense of loyalty. Once I dropped my guard enough to let her in, she was one of my people. Sure, I didn’t really have any intentions of, you know, killing the Fae Queen or anything like she wanted me to. I still would’ve figured out some way to help Lina. Even if I had to swallow my pride and ask Nine to bring us food from Faerie, I would’ve done it.

  What’s worse? Even hearing her plotting with the Dark Fae who holds all of the power over her, I still would. She might be betraying me right now—might have been betraying me all along—but I actually get it. I do. When it comes to doing whatever you can to save your life, you have to make concessions.

  And, after all, who am I really but some chick from Black Pine?

  I want to leave. Last thing I need is to get caught at the door, listening to their conversation. I can’t, though. When the Dark Fae speaks again, I stay.

  I have to listen.

  “Tell me about the fruit. Having my guard leave it for her in the dark of her shadows stole half of his power. I hope it was worth it. Did she eat the peach?”

  “I… She did.”

  “And?”

  A pause, then Carolina admits, “It didn’t work.”

  “Why not? It works on all humans. It certainly worked on you.”

  “Yes. But the Shadow is half-fae. That’s what the prophecy says, and I’ve seen her pointed ears myself. She’s definitely a halfling. So maybe that’s why it didn’t work.”

  Lie. Even in this hazy, strange space, I feel the discomfort tugging at my gut and I’m sure of it. Carolina just told her mistress a lie.

  Of course, she did. When I first discovered the truth behind why she never ate, I wasn’t thinking straight. I immediately told her about the peach and how Nine was able to save me from the curse. I offered to get him to help her. So she knows that the peach made me sick and that Nine’s touch healed me.

  She didn’t tell the Dark Fae female that, though.

  Why?

  And even more importantly, who the hell left me the peach? I was convinced it was Rys. Is he working with this nameless, faceless power? Or was it some other fae who tried to poison me?

  “Perhaps she needs to eat more. Did you give her the other fruit I provided?”

  “She wouldn’t take it. She told me the peach made her sick, that she’d rather stick to the cheese and bread I brought for her. She trusts me more than she did in the beginning, and I’m still working toward leading her to you. I think, after I return from this trip, she’ll be so glad that she’s not alone anymore, she might just leave the house again.”

  “Do what you must. The iron gate surrounding the house makes it difficult for my guards to cross the boundaries, even in daylight. I’d send Unseelie after her, but she controls the shadows in her domain far better than a halfling who’s just come of age. Unless she opens the portal and invites them in herself, she’s impossible to reach in the Iron. I need her in Faerie. I need you to do this for me.”

  Guards again.

  Why does she keep mentioning guards?

  A niggle of suspicion starts to form in the back of my mind. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve purposely forgotten a ton of what Nine taught me about Faerie. When countless social workers, therapists, and psychologists repeat over and over again that the fae aren’t real, the fairy tales told to you by your imaginary friend are some of the first things to go.

  When it comes to guards, though? Who else would have guards except for the woman in control of both courts?

  No. That can’t be true. As my queasy stomach just proved, I can still sense the difference between the truth and a lie. Over the last few days, I would’ve known if Carolina was really working with the Fae Queen instead of a random Unseelie who wanted to see the queen fall.

  Right?

  I freaking hope so.

  Unfortunately, there’s no time for me to run through every conversation I had with Carolina, every mention of the fae she was compelled to serve. Not when she says with absolute agreement, “I will.”

  “You did well, pet. I think you’ve earned a reward. For your loyalty, I think I can spare an apple from one of the trees in my garden. As I recall, they’re your favorite.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Carolina sounds so strange. It’s like hope mingled with defeat as she bends to the will of the Dark Fae female. It’s the promise of the apple that does it, I figure. She didn’t have to beg for a bite—she just had to sell me out to get one.

  Or did she?

  “However...”

  “Mistress?”

  “Tut, tut, Carolina. I thought I instructed you to come alone.”

  A gasp, followed by a shaky response, “I… I did. I told my parents I was going outside to sit in the sun like you said for me to. I followed your guide to the garden. No one else was there.”

  “Is that so? I sense darkness contaminating my light. There, on the other side of that door. Prove it to me. Prove that you’re still loyal to your mistress and, perhaps, I’ll spare you this time.”

  Oh, shit.

  There’s not enough time for me to move.

  The door swings open. I’m blinded by a flash even brighter than the white room I’m in. I turn to run, but my legs don’t seem to be working right. The shag carpet has turned to tendrils around my feet, keeping me in place. Panic rushes through me. I yank, desperate to get away from the truth of what’s on the other side of that door.

  And that’s when I feel myself begin to fall.

  “Excuse me… Miss? Um. Hello?”

  My eyes fly open.

  A scream’s halfway to my lips when I recognize the round-faced boy who took my ticket at the door. He has one hand outstretched as if he was about to
shake me awake. There’s still enough space between us that my phobia isn’t triggered.

  If he had touched me, no way I could have kept that scream back.

  His other hand clutches a flashlight that’s angled down on the tacky, multi-colored carpet. Faint, dark spots dance in front of my vision. He must have shone it on my face right before I came out of that strange dream.

  At least that explains the flash.

  Now if only I could come up with a rational reason behind the strange conversation I created between Carolina and her mistress…

  The usher’s face is young and worried. He clears his throat when I still haven’t made any move to get out of my seat. “I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you, but the last movie has ended. It’s time to close up the theater.”

  “What?”

  I swivel in the chair, looking over at the massive screen in front of me. The house lights are on; it’s just a big, white rectangle waiting for its next projection. No movie. I glance around. There’s nobody left in the theater except for me and the usher. “Oh, jeez. I didn’t realize I was sleeping for so long. Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He hesitates, and then, since I’m still sitting with my ass firmly planted in the seat, he adds, “Do you need me to show you the way out?”

  I shake my head. I can’t explain my weirdo behavior, though I should probably apologize for it again. It’s not his fault that I’m so freaking out of it.

  I woke up so suddenly, it seems like part of me is still back in that strange place. I remember everything about where I was: the ornately carved banister, the plush rug, the crystalline doorknobs. It takes more energy than I have to pull myself back.

  How much time did I lose? I remember when the first movie began, but not much more than that. Since I’m still inside of the movie theater, I don’t think I actually went anywhere. Then again, how many times did I shade-walk to the cemetery while I was at that asylum only to go back as soon as the sun came up?

  Nine said it was because I felt safe, that even as I was sleeping, my body knew where to take me. Is that what happened here?

  I don’t know. Considering what I overheard, I don’t think I want to stick around and figure it out.

  The usher is hovering near me. With a half-smile I don’t mean, I push up out of the movie seat and slip past him, careful not to brush against him as he turns to follow me out of the theater.

  The manager is waiting at the front entrance to let me out before they lock up for the night. I offer her a mumbled apology, keeping my head down as I hurry out through the glass doors.

  I can’t believe I did that. Sure, I didn’t get any sleep last night after Nine left, but that was just reckless. Drifting off like that? Crap. The whole point of ducking into the movie theater was so that I got out of the Wilkes House while still staying inconspicuous.

  Yeah. Fail.

  No way that manager or the usher is going to forget the strange chick in the baseball cap and the gloves who kept them from closing up. Wonderful. All I need now is for the news to run an update on my story and have one of them put two and two together.

  Tugging my baseball cap low, I tuck my sunglasses in my hoodie pocket—wearing them this late at night is a dead giveaway that I’m up to no good—and start to book it down the empty street.

  It’s late. Cold, too. My poor hoodie and t-shirt aren’t nearly enough to shield me from the way the temperature has dropped while I was inside the theater. I rub my arms, grit my teeth, and suck it up because, hey, it’s not like it’s going to be much warmer when I get back to my hide-out.

  I go back to the Wilkes House because it’s late and I haven’t come up with a better plan. As soon as I sneak around the side of the house, checking that the for sale sign is still hidden among the bushes, I wonder if maybe I’m better off finding a secluded alley to sleep in.

  The back door is open.

  I don’t mean just unlocked. Without a key, I couldn’t lock it behind me when I slipped out this morning. But I know for damn sure that I closed it. And now? As I climb the porch, I’m stunned to find the door thrown inward.

  That’s… that’s not good.

  You know what’s also pretty bad? How, without even hesitating, I march right up the porch stairs.

  Once I get to the top, I tiptoe into the kitchen, careful not to make any noise at all. Just in case.

  The kitchen is clear. The bathroom, too. Taking a deep breath, wishing I had a weapon and realizing too late that I don’t, I creep into the living room, my attention immediately zeroing in on the figure lying sprawled out on the floor.

  I squint, then scowl.

  It’s Carolina.

  She’s lying on her side, sleeping on the floor, her long dark hair acting like a pillow instead of the one lying in the far corner. I don’t know what she’s doing here. She told me last night that she wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. Then again, she also told me that she was on my side.

  Some human lie detector I am. I’ve got no doubt she went to the lake house otherwise my Riley senses would’ve been going off like crazy. She probably even expected to be gone that long.

  Guess plotting with a Dark Fae really changes your vacation plans.

  I’m feeling bitter at how she played me, coupled with annoyed at how frightened I was when I saw the back door open. Carolina should’ve known better than to leave it thrown wide like that.

  Was she trying to get us caught?

  She doesn’t stir as I stomp into the room, purposely walking with a heavier step just to be petty. She continues to lie there on the floor, sleeping peacefully, as if she wasn’t recently plotting on how to trick me into eating more faerie food.

  The moonlight streaming in through the window highlights a scrap of white on the floor. I pause, looking down at it. What…?

  Huh.

  A piece of paper lies a few inches away from her outstretched hand. Without bothering to stop and read it, I reach down, pick it up, and shove it in my pocket. It’s not important; if it’s hers, I’m glad it’s mine now. I can look at it later after I wake Lina up and rip her a new one for working with the Unseelie against me.

  Her betrayal sucks. I would’ve liked to pretend that everything I heard was some kind of vivid dream, but after dealing with the fae lately, I know better.

  And I can’t wait to hear how she’s going to explain it.

  “Carolina? Hey. It’s me. Wake up.’

  She doesn’t answer.

  I crouch down next to her, grabbing her by her arm so that I can shake her awake.

  I know in an instant that something’s wrong. She’s too cold. Too stiff.

  She isn’t sleeping.

  I swallow the bubble of terror in my throat. One more shake, and another whisper. “Lina?”

  Why the hell am I whispering? She can’t hear me.

  At that realization, it feels like someone with a giant hand reached in through the window, picked me up like a toy, and squeezed. My breaths are a rattle, short and shaky. I can’t swallow. My eyes are moving rapidly, dancing all over the gloomy room, desperate to land on something, anything except for my dead friend.

  Because she’s dead.

  Carolina is dead.

  Deaddeaddead.

  No matter what I try, I can’t look away. I’m drawn to her body like a moth to a flame.

  And I whimper.

  This isn’t panic. This is so many times worse than the irrational fears I’ve lived with for so long. This is something else entirely. I’ve only known it once before, when the firemen cleared the remains of this old house and I finally understood—without any doubt or alternate explanations—that Madelaine was really, truly dead.

  This is what happens when the shock starts to subside.

  This is grief.

  And, as I stare down at Carolina, I have to wonder why it’s hitting me so hard like this.

  It’s because I let my guard down. Because I let someone in. I only knew Carolina—or thoug
ht I knew her—for a handful of days. How much of it was a lie? Based on what I overheard earlier, it could be most of it. It could be all of it.

  She was going to betray me. She was going to sell me out to the Fae Queen if it meant she could have back her freedom.

  I can’t even blame her. If it came down to it, if throwing Carolina to the fae meant I’d never have to deal with any part of Faerie again, I might have done the same.

  And now she’s dead.

  Oh my god.

  She’s dead.

  16

  I sense Nine the second he comes up behind me.

  I don’t have any idea how long he’s been here, if he stumbled on Carolina before me, or if he just so happened to slip in through the portal some time before I returned to the Wilkes House, or if it’s just bad luck on his part that he’s returned to find me mourning my friend.

  He said he would come back. I see the black bag he’s clutching in his slender fingers. The rowan he promised? I’ve got the t-shirt under my hoodie turned inside out like he told me to, but with my friend lying on the floor in front of me, it all seems too little too late.

  He reaches inside of his duster, disappearing the bag in an instant. He probably realizes it, too.

  “You know this human girl?”

  I can’t find my voice. I nod.

  “Did you know that she was touched by a very strong Dark Fae?”

  Another nod.

  Nine crouches low. His dark coat fans out behind him as he bows his head. His raven-black hair covers him like a curtain, hiding his face and Carolina’s peaceful expression. The way his head is angled, it almost looks like he’s giving her a kiss.

  A sob bubbles up from my throat. Or maybe it’s a laugh.

  The world’s most twisted version of Snow White. That’s what this is. Only Carolina was poisoned from her first bite of apple; it just took almost a year for her to finally succumb to it. And Nine? He might have been my Prince Charming once, but what can he do for Lina now?

  Unless—