Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  “Touch her,” I tell him. My voice is thick. I swallow roughly, then try again. “Nine, please.”

  He doesn’t say no. Instead, he asks softly, “She’s eaten food from Faerie, hasn’t she?”

  He slowly straightens. Since that’s the opposite of what I want him to do, I can’t handle it. I start to beg. Anything to save Carolina. “It’s okay, right? You saved me when I did. All it took was a touch. Touch her. She won’t care if it fixes her.”

  “I’d do anything you asked of me. But this is beyond even my type of magic.” He backs away. “Say your goodbyes, Riley. I’ll take care of her after you do.”

  “Take care of her now! She’s not dead… she can’t be. She was just fine. She was supposed to have another apple. Her mistress promised her another apple.” Carolina’s stubborn expression, the way she told me fiercely that she would never beg for a bite. Is that what happened? “Damn it, Lina, why didn’t you eat the fucking apple?”

  “It was too late. Even if she did, and she might have, it would’ve only prolonged the inevitable,” he murmurs. “The brand’s too deep. She was charmed for too long.”

  “She wasn’t charmed. She was cursed.” I whirl on Nine. I want to lash out, to hit him, to make him hurt like I’m hurting. I don’t. I can’t. I’m right back where I began. Just the idea of touching anyone else—even Nine—has me ready to crawl out of my skin. Instead, I point a leather finger at him. “You could have touched her. You could have saved her.”

  “It wouldn’t have helped. You know that, Riley. When the shock fades, when you get past your grief, you’ll accept that.”

  “She was my friend,” I whisper. I don’t care what she did or what she planned, she was still my friend. She didn’t deserve this.”

  “I’m sorry. I am. But we’re fae. It’s part of our nature.”

  I goggle up at him. I’m not as furious as I was. More… stunned.

  “Are you justifying what that other Dark Fae did?”

  “Shadow—”

  My voice is nasally. Dull. I swallow my tears, then croak out a warning. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Riley. Listen to me. Sometimes this happens. The girl made her choice when she made her bargain. No one eats faerie food by accident.”

  “I did.”

  “No. You didn’t,” Nine argues. “You were tricked. You’d been to the garden where that peach grew, your fae side recognized it for what it was, and you ate it. If you were human, you never would’ve been so tempted—and I never would’ve been able to reverse the curse. I’m sorry. This human was as good as dead from the minute she took her first bite. It’s why my kind risk coming to the world of iron. Humans are susceptible to magic because it doesn’t exist in this world. Not really. A touch, a bite… the rush of power is worth every risk. Unfortunately, the fae think of humans as playthings. Nothing more. And, sometimes, some of us can be a little… rough.”

  Rough. Right.

  Rough, like snapping the brittle neck of a sixteen-year-old girl like it was a twig.

  Rough, like using food to control a twenty-year-old woman, and allowing her to waste away to nothing.

  Rough, like sending soldiers after a young mother and her fae mate because a prophecy had your panties in a twist.

  Nine might be cold, he might be guarded, but at least he’d never been rough. That caress across my cheek that night in the sewer was as loving a touch as I’ve ever had. And he’s fae.

  Is that his nature?

  Thinking about how his touch made me feel as he drew the peach’s poison out is so much better than focusing on what happened to Carolina. What if—

  I shove up my sleeve and hold my arm out. “Touch me.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

  Oh, yes. Yes, I do. “I won’t command you, but I’m asking you to. Do it. Touch me. I don’t care how you do it, just take the pain away. Glamour doesn’t work, okay, but what about compelling me? If you’re all I care about, then it won’t matter that someone else I cared about is dead.”

  My mom.

  Madelaine.

  Carolina.

  They’re all gone. And I’m still standing here.

  Nine’s not. Not anymore. As if he expects me to lunge toward him and grab his hand in mine, he backs away until a couple of feet separate us.

  And then he tells me no.

  “If I could, I would. I’d do anything for you, but I can’t do that. Don’t ask it of me.”

  “Why not?”

  He doesn’t say a word. And it’s not because he doesn’t know the answer, either. He can’t lie and, if he replies, he’d have to tell me the truth.

  “Seriously? You want me to suffer? I thought you cared about me.”

  “More than you know,” he says, then adds in a harsh aside, “and more than I should.”

  I don’t believe that. “If you won’t do it, I could try calling for Rys.”

  He knows my true name. If I told him he could touch me, glamour me, compel me, the Light Fae would jump at the offer in a heartbeat. Too bad I’m bluffing. I’ll give permission to Nine, or I’ll give it no one.

  But my Shadow Man doesn’t know that.

  “You don’t have his name.”

  “Do you?”

  Again, Nine clenches his jaw, keeping his mouth shut.

  I’ll take that as a yes.

  “Use it. Call him for me. Arrange for him to come in the morning, I don’t care. I just need someone who will make this all go away.”

  “So instead of letting me help you in the ways that I can, you’d ask me to give you up to Rys? After all these years of paying my debt, of protecting the Shadow, of waiting for my—” He cuts off his words with a furious shake of his head. His hair whips around a face that is suddenly beautiful and terrible. “I think you want me to suffer.”

  “Hey! Don’t throw my words back at me.”

  “What do you want from me, Riley? What else do you expect me to do?”

  “Honestly? I just want you to go back to Faerie, if that’s where you came from. A Dark Fae is responsible for this, no matter how you choose to look at it, Nine. It might not have been you, but that doesn’t really change anything about how I feel right now. I… I don’t want you near me. Please go.”

  Nine reacts as if I’ve swung at him. He recoils just enough that I notice, his lips pursed with such force, his cheekbones jut from his face. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him tonight.

  You know what? Good. I want him to hurt, too.

  It’s gone in an instant as the powerful fae regains control. Just like he used to when I was a child and he wanted to slap back at me, he pulls himself to his daunting height, staring down his nose at me.

  Right now, with Carolina’s body a few feet away from me, I just don’t give a shit.

  He looms in front of me. “What? No command this time?”

  I shake my head.

  “So you’d leave me the choice, then, eh, Shadow? You just expect me to leave you alone when you’re like this? I think that’s worse than involving the Blessed One.”

  That’s exactly what I expect. “What does it matter anyway? That’s never stopped you before.”

  I hear a whistle. Only after it dies away do I get that that was Nine sucking in a sharp, furious breath.

  Did I offend him?

  Too damn bad.

  He’s fae. Isn’t that what he just said? It’s in their nature not to be bothered by what happened to some pesky human. So I’ve got some Seelie blood in me. As far as I’m concerned, it means I’ve got pointy ears. That’s it. And being this close to death—finding my friend like this—is too much for me.

  Nine was right. This is shock. The numb feeling that’s overtaken how angry and upset and scared I was right after I found Carolina? The absolute disbelief that this can’t be happening? It’s not going to last. It didn’t with Madelaine, though that’s probably because I had to deal with the third-degree burns on my hands at the same time. I don’t w
ant Nine to be watching me when the shock disappears and it hits me—really hits me—that Carolina is gone.

  “Just go,” I say wearily. “Leave me alone. Leave me and Lina alone.”

  His silver eyes flash a warning. “I won’t always do what you tell me to. You’ve commanded me once before. Will you be able to again?”

  Don’t know. But, if he doesn’t get the hell out of here now, we’re gonna find out.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  He throws that in my face so often. It’s true, too. I don’t know, and that’s because, no matter what, he won’t freaking tell me. You think he’d be jumping at the chance to slip away after the way I treated him last night. Sure, it’s a total one-eighty, and maybe he really was right and his touch finally wore off.

  Suddenly, I’m glad that he refused to touch me again. If I fall even deeper under his spell, I might forget how dangerous the fae really are.

  “I’m asking you to give me space. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll go, on one condition. Fair enough?”

  My laugh is hollow. “Are you trying to bargain with me, Nine?”

  “If you like. It isn’t much I require. Do you still have my gift?”

  Is he serious? “The scarf or whatever it is?” When he nods, I jerk one shoulder. “Yeah. Somewhere.”

  “Keep it close. If you leave this house, bring it with you. Let me believe that, even if I can’t be with you, something that I’ve given you is. Will you do that for me, Shadow?”

  “Fine. Sure. I’ll do it.”

  The words are barely out of my mouth when I feel a whoosh of wind blow the hair away from my face.

  He’s gone.

  I have to visit Madelaine.

  It’s almost a compulsion. Since there’s no way in hell I could stay at the house with Carolina’s body still in it, I had no choice but to get out. I don’t bother with the backpack because I don’t want it to slow me down. Stuffing Carolina’s cash in one pocket, Nine’s silky scarf-thing in the other, I make sure I’m still wearing my necklace. Then, as I’m careful to avoid looking at the shadows that are creeping in, covering every inch of the place, hiding Carolina as I finish packing, I dash through the house and run out of the back door.

  I leave the front door wide open. It’s all I can do. Burning down the house like Rys did… not gonna lie, the thought did run through my mind. It would be so easy, too. Just knock the lantern in the bathroom over and let the enchanted fire take care of this mess for me.

  I couldn’t do it, though. I… I couldn’t. Carolina might have been working against me all along, she might’ve been ready to betray me before her fae betrayed her, but she didn’t deserve what happened to her.

  She didn’t deserve to die.

  Instead, I jerk both windows up as high as they go, then fling the front door open. There. I won’t leave Carolina in the dark, abandoned house forever. Someone will find her—I just need them to find her after I’m gone.

  As soon as I’ve gone a few blocks over, I tug my hands. I’m not sure if the shadows lingered after I left. If they did, I just erased them. As soon as someone goes to check out the open door and cracked windows, they’ll find Carolina and, hopefully, get her back to her parents.

  It’s the best I could do for her.

  After that, I run. I’m not even trying to act natural. I’ve got to get far away from that house and I just don’t care how I do it. If anyone figures out that I was the one hanging around Carolina recently, I know what that will mean.

  I go from being Riley Thorne, escaped Black Pine patient, to Riley Thorne, murder suspect.

  Not again.

  I can’t go through that again.

  I almost got manslaughter after Rys killed Madelaine. I only managed to avoid that because the courts decided I needed to be put in a mental health facility. This time?

  Can’t risk it.

  I’m out of shape. Have I ever been in shape? Probably not. I push myself, though, despite the way each breath is a struggle, the stitch in my side so sharp, it’s like someone is stabbing me repeatedly. I stick to the back roads, the woods, any place that provides cover under the weak moonlight. The ground is uneven. I run into a shadowed bush, the sharp branch tearing through my sock, leaving a trickle of warm blood running down my ankle, staining the once-white fabric.

  It’s all worth it, though, when I make it back to the Acorn Falls cemetery. I bitterly regret not taking the time to learn how to shade-walk since I could’ve arrived in seconds instead of hours, but I let it go when I force my trembling body through the tiny gap left between the locked gates.

  It scrapes the crap out of my belly, my upper arms, and my thighs, but I squeeze through. I’m actually kind of glad to see that the cemetery is locked up. That means, for the rest of the night at least, I won’t have to worry about the groundskeeper.

  Rubbing at the pain in my side, I hobble to the west side of the cemetery, only feeling like I’ve outrun Carolina’s ghost when I see Madelaine’s stone angel looming in front of me.

  Up close, the grave looks slightly disturbed. New flowers line the front of the stone angel that marks my sister’s final resting place. I recognize them. They’re daisies. Definitely out of season for this time of year, but they’d been Madelaine’s favorites.

  I don’t know what the date is. When I met Carolina outside of the Wilkes House—which was less than a week ago, not counting any time I might have lost since then shade-walking to Faerie—she told me it was October.

  As I move closer, getting a better look, I almost trip over something long and skinny that’s been left in the grass that borders the edge of my sister’s plot. It’s… it’s a shovel. Not a huge one, maybe about two feet long with a metal spade attached at the bottom, I’m betting someone brought it to plant Madelaine’s flowers and accidentally left it behind.

  Just in case, I leave it where it is. I’ve got no use for it.

  Instead, yanking my sleeves over my gloves, trying to preserve any warmth I worked up during my frantic flight, I curl up at the base of Madelaine’s stone angel and let loose the tears I’ve been holding back.

  I couldn’t save Madelaine.

  Couldn’t save Carolina, either.

  According to the Shadow Prophecy, the Shadow is supposed to save Faerie from the cruel Fae Queen.

  What kind of fucking terrible savior am I if I can’t even save the people that matter?

  17

  When I wake up to someone talking to me, my first thought is that it’s the groundskeeper.

  Then I hear my name.

  Whispered in such a lyrical, musical voice, the male voice calls my name and, though I’d give anything I have to fall back into blissful unconsciousness, I warily open my eyes.

  The sun slaps me awake. Holy crap, it’s bright. It’s the first thing I notice. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, though I guess between my shock, my grief, and my exhaustion… it was inevitable.

  So, I have to admit, is this.

  Rys.

  He’s leaning against the right wing of Madelaine’s stone angel, his hip cocked, his lips parted just enough to reveal his blindingly white teeth. Gotta give the Light Fae credit. It’s a perfect pose, highlighting his gloriousness—and I’m willing to bet all the cash in my pocket that he’s done it on purpose.

  Even the bright sun breaking through from behind him pales in comparison to his golden glow.

  Where are my sunglasses? I had them when I sat beside Madelaine’s grave. They must have fallen off when I slumped over. Where— ah. Without taking my squinted gaze off of the threat in front of me, I pat the grass with my palm until I find them.

  I slip the shades on. They don’t do a damn thing to dull his shine.

  “Ah, Riley. I’ve been wondering how long before you came back here. That’s something else I adore about you. You’re so… predictable.”

  Predictable. I think about yanking my shoe off and throwing it at him. I never did get the chance to whac
k him with my slipper the last time we met, and I’m sure he’d change his tune about me being predictable after that.

  No. It’s not worth it.

  “What do you want?” I push up off the ground, backing up so that he’s not so close to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Clever girl. You finally figured out a way to erase the trace I left with my brand. I suppose my rival did it for you.”

  Rival? Oh, hell, no.

  He called Nine that once before, too. It bothered me then because I couldn’t even imagine wanting anything to do with either fae; I was still angry with Nine, and I’d rather dive headfirst into Faerie and take my chances with the Fae Queen than let Rys touch me again.

  It bothers me now because, even after the way I left Nine—again—my feelings for him haven’t changed. And because the only reason I don’t turn and run away screaming whenever Rys pops in for one of these chats is because he’s using glamour to charm me into believing he’s harmless.

  Glamour… Nine warned me about this. I swore when he confessed the truth about the glamour that I wouldn’t allow it to affect me. Sure, the last time Nine warned me against his race’s magic, I developed a phobia of letting anyone touch me. This is different, though.

  Pushing the sunglasses to the top of my head, I squint over at Rys.

  He’s obviously not expecting that reaction and, unsurprisingly, he’s immediately suspicious.

  His playful grin vanishes. “What are you doing?”

  My mom could see through glamour. Carolina taught herself to do it, too.

  If they could do it, so can I.

  It’s tough to look at him so directly. No wonder I let myself be charmed for so long—it hurts too much to stare at his brightness, as if I’m staring at the sun. The shades might be able to help, but I don’t want anything to come between me and finally looking past the layer of magic that Rys has cloaked himself in.

  It works.

  Holy shit.

  It works.

  It’s like I’ve been looking at him through a glass of water. Suddenly, the glass shifts, the water moves, and I can see him clear as day.

  I gasp.

  At first glance, he’s still the same Rys. Bronze skin, golden hair, and vivid eyes. There’s more to it, though.