Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  Oh my—

  Yeah, so I don’t know how I ever thought he was angelically beautiful. The strength of the glamour, I guess, because, in the light of day, he looks as alien as I always knew he was. His slender, lithe body looks stretched; it’s way too thin and I begin to wonder how it’s supporting his oversized head. His shine has dimmed, his long hair looking lanky and pale—more like straw than spun gold—as he watches me suspiciously.

  His eyes are the same. Burning bright with a frightening intensity, Rys’s attention is focused unblinkingly on me. He leans forward, almost like he’s prepared to lunge toward me.

  His casual air? Gone. The charm that seemed to ooze off of him? Nope. With the haze of the glamour dampened, it’s like I can finally see what’s been in front of me all along.

  I couldn’t understand why, whenever Rys popped up, I wasn’t as afraid as I should’ve been. Carolina blamed it on the fae’s magic, and even Nine admitted the fae’s glamour could lull me into a false sense of security if I let it.

  Panic starts to rise up in me. I choke on a breath, desperately trying to force the discomfort and fear back. I cling to the belief that, so long as Rys is still convinced that he loves me, he won’t hurt me.

  I must make sure I don’t give him any excuse to.

  Step one: force the panic back. It’s easy enough because I keep telling myself that Rys won’t touch me. I won’t give him permission, and he’s already proved that he won’t cause himself pain while he’s sure that I’ll come around eventually.

  I promise myself a monster freakout once I get away from Rys.

  Now I just have to get away.

  He knows. He knows something’s up and, without any remorse, the Light Fae plays the only card he has.

  “Zella, listen to me.”

  I listen. I can’t do anything else. Can’t run, can’t flinch, can’t scream. He’s powerful enough that his plea is a command.

  So I listen.

  “Nine can’t save you,” he tells me. “The Cursed Ones have earned their title. Come with me. I’m not the monster you think I am. All I’ve ever wanted was to love you. Forget the prophecy. Forget Nine. He’ll only be your downfall. But I? I’ll be your savior. And all it will cost you is—”

  He takes a pause for dramatic effect. In that second, he stops talking so I can stop listening.

  Angry and scared, I grit out the word through clenched teeth for him:

  “Everything.”

  My stomach tightens and, in a flash, I remember how it’s possible he tried to lure me to Faerie with the use of the enchanted fruit. Nine can’t save me? If he hadn’t used his touch magic to get rid of the curse, I might have ended up just like Carolina.

  And that makes me furious.

  “Love me? Is that what you call trying to trick me into eating the cursed peach so that I’d have to go to Faerie and rely on you to survive? That’s not love. That’s manipulation.”

  “Peach?” echoes Rys, a curious inflection in his lilting voice. “I never offered you a peach.”

  He’s not lying, but that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. He can twist it, tweak it, mold it into something new—but I refuse to buy into it.

  “You didn’t have to. Leaving it in the sewer after you put me to sleep… you had to know I’d eat it.”

  I don’t know what it is that I said, whether my accusation stings, or he’s just pissed that he got caught. Rys stares across the grave at me, his golden eyes unblinking as he drinks me in. Something’s different. Something changes.

  He frowns, then says, “I gave you no peach.”

  I hate that I can feel the ring of truth in his words.

  “Stop it—”

  He raises his hand. “I swear it to Oberon. I’d never hurt you, Riley. I’ve told you that before. But the trickery… that changes things.”

  No. It doesn’t.

  “Zel—” he begins.

  “Don’t call me that,” I snap back. It just bursts out of me. I don’t even know what he was going to say next, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to be forced to listen, either. Blood pounds in my ears. With that racket, I’m not even sure I could. “If you care about me so much, stop using that word against me.”

  “It’s not a word, my love. It’s your name.”

  So what? I figured that out ages ago. After everything Nine told me when it came to him giving me his name, it made too much sense. Considering the way that Rys was able to command and compel me by calling me Zella, it had to be my name.

  Well, my fae name. My true name.

  It’s not my name.

  “I’m Riley. Not Zella. Not Shadow. Riley. Use it.”

  Rys regards me for a moment, a sly grin forming on his pouty lips again. Whatever passed between us before over the peach, it’s gone. As his eyes grow impossibly brighter, I know I made a mistake somewhere.

  But where?

  He waves his hand downward, a slash through the air. “Done.”

  I sag as he lifts the compulsion.

  That was way too easy, I think. I’m still waiting for him to point out where I went wrong; if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the fae love to gloat.

  And then Rys starts talking again. I’m not compelled to listen, though I can’t block out what he says next.

  “But, since I’ve done something for you, you must do something for me. It’s only fair.”

  More alarm bells go off. Fair? Just like I’ve learned that the fae don’t do favors, there’s no such thing as fair. If Rys is throwing that word around, trying to tempt me into a devil’s bargain, I’m screwed.

  He’s holding off on commanding me with my name because he wants me to give in on my own. The fae like to know that they have the power—they like to win.

  It’s not going to last. I know it won’t.

  I have to get out of here.

  I back away quickly, going so fast that I nearly land on my ass when I stumble on something in the grass. I throw out my hand, managing to regain my balance before Rys has even risen from his pose against Madelaine’s gravestone.

  “I don’t want much. Just a trifle, really.”

  “Yeah? What do you want from me?”

  “I’d tell you forever, but that would only send you running back to my rival. For now, how about a dance?”

  Dance with me.

  Stay with me.

  I’ll always come for you.

  He’s not letting this go. He’s not letting me go.

  “Give me what I desire and I’ll never have need to command you. One touch, Riley.” His perfect nose wrinkles. “It doesn’t have the same ring as your true name, but if it pleases you, my love, I’ll use it. Now, come to me. I’ve waited long enough.”

  His hand twists. His hands, with those too-long bronze-colored fingers, they’re twitching as if he wants nothing more than to reach out and grab my throat. Gulping, I force myself to meet his stare again.

  My stomach drops to the dirt.

  I know that look. That expression. How many guys looked at me just the same way when I was younger? The older boys in the group homes while I was still in the system, and the rich kids at Acorn Falls who thought I might be a good time when I first moved to the Everetts.

  That’s lust splayed across his face, a desire to get his hands on me, to take everything I have to offer—and then some.

  He wants a touch. He wants my strength. My power. My soul.

  My life.

  He wants me to be his mate.

  And he won’t take no for an answer.

  He hasn’t mentioned how far he’s willing to go to get me to agree to being with him. Not this time, at least. The Light Fae doesn’t have to. Without his glamour tricking me into thinking that this mythical, ruthless killer is charming and kind, I remember who exactly Rys is.

  The golden fae—the monster I’ve spent so long running from—who killed my sister because she was in his way and, well, because he could. However he’s tried to make amends for something
that would never have seemed important to a fae, it doesn’t really matter.

  Not to me.

  Rys is no better than the Dark Fae that let Carolina die.

  I shudder. Can’t help it. Thinking about Lina hurts too damn much. It’s too fresh. I can’t stop remembering the way she was crumpled on the floor, her dark hair fanned out over her face like a mockery of a shroud. Even the way her necklace spilled on top of a chest that was horribly still.

  Her nail—

  Iron.

  Hope slams into me as an idea begins to form. Before he can move away from the grave marker, I reach inside of my sweatshirt, yanking out the nail knotted on the middle of the leather string around my neck.

  Rys laughs. Instead of that light, lyrical laugh that floats on the air, this one grates on my nerves like fingernails down a chalkboard. I wince, but I refuse to drop the string. Instead, as if it’s a crucifix and Rys a demon, I wield it in front of me, warning him back.

  The laugh should have been my first clue that it wasn’t working like I hoped.

  Rys narrows his brilliant gaze at me. A feral grin splits his lips. “Oh, how quaint. So someone has clued you in to the power of iron?” Laughing to himself, he takes another step toward me. “Pity that small trinket isn’t strong enough to stop me from taking what’s mine. I grow tired of playing nice. I won’t command you. But it’s time for us to go.”

  He reaches out for me.

  I almost lose my damn mind.

  “You can’t touch me,” I say, the sudden wave of panic slamming into me, making my voice low and rough. I forget all about the iron nail as I fold my fists, drawing them up inside the sleeves of my hoodie. “You’ll burn your hands if you do.”

  “And won’t that be fair? After all, I did do the same to you once. It was necessary to erase Nine’s mark. Once I claimed you as mine, I couldn’t let my ffrindau wear a Cursed One’s brand. I never thought it would damage you as much as it did, though. That would be your human side, I suppose. Anyway, all that to say that I’ve thought it over. I caused you to burn once and didn’t even claim my mate. This time, if it means you’re mine, Riley, I’ll gladly feel the fire.” His lips curve, the points of his teeth almost as bad as the points on his ears. “I’ll heal, but the pain will be worth it for all the pleasure we’ll share, my love.”

  He’s serious. He means it.

  He’s going to touch me.

  “Don’t do that,” I plead. It’s barely a whisper. I hate how close I am to begging, but Rys is advancing and it’s too late to run, and his fingers are too, too close. “I’ll hate you forever. Just… go away. Leave me alone. You love me? Prove it. Don’t steal a touch.”

  “You’ve left me no choice. Don’t fret, though. It will be fine and, in enough time, I know you’ll forgive me. After all, a long life shared with me is far better than the alternative.”

  I gulp, my mind racing, trying to come up with some way to get away from him before I can’t. Carolina’s nail was a joke. He’s still gliding closer and it’s like my sneakers are rooted to the grave soil.

  “What’s the alternative?”

  “Oh, Riley. If the queen stops toying with you, you won’t even have a life at all.”

  Why did I ask him that? I had to know what his answer would be.

  And now I have to add that delightful thought to the mess that’s my poor brain right now.

  Focus, Riley. You’re only gonna get one shot at this.

  This time, when I stumble, it’s completely on purpose. I fall forward, cushioning my knees by landing on one and bending the other, my hands grabbing for the grass as I topple over.

  My heart is thumping wildly. There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t get past. I want to hurl, but I’m already committed to this reckless, stupid plan. Closing my fingers around the handle, I ready myself.

  Rys is leaning down, his hand outstretched. It looks like he’s just trying to offering to help me up.

  No, thanks.

  “I think,” I begin, tightening my grasp, ready to spring up. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

  Know what? The Light Fae has never given me enough credit. Because of my human side, Rys has always underestimated me. That was his mistake. Just like the time in the mausoleum, I have to use whatever advantage I can get.

  Right now, this heavy shovel is all I’ve got.

  He’s not expecting me to lunge toward him. As I spring upward, dragging the shovel with me before swinging the metal blade up at his head, I pray to any god that can hear me that the blade is made of iron.

  I’m not really aiming. A heady cocktail of panic, fear, anger, and grief guide my swing. At that second, Rys is the golden fae who killed Madelaine, the Dark Fae who tricked Carolina into starving to death, the faceless Fae Queen whose paranoia about a ridiculous prophecy ruined my fucking life.

  Okay. So I’m not so strong and the shovel is way heavier than I thought it would be. Except for the way the very edge slices right across the height of his left cheek, I barely make contact at all.

  From the howl Rys lets out, you would’ve thought I bashed his head in.

  His hands fly to his face. I’ve never heard such a terrible scream in my life, not even the high-pitched shriek of terror I let out the second Madelaine’s neck snapped and her body dropped to the floor. Rys’s howl… it’s unearthly and ear-splitting and it stuns me right to my center.

  I drop to the ground. The shovel clatters by my side as I raise my hands, clamping my gloves over my ears.

  It doesn’t help.

  It’s at that moment that I know I’m dead. Believing that Rys would never retaliate against me might have been my mistake.

  A fatal one, too.

  Because Rys sure isn’t and, despite the way he professed his love for me, he’s still an unpredictable fae male and I seriously doubt he’s going to let me live after that attack.

  Nothing happens right away. As quickly as it started, Rys’s unholy screams stop. Or maybe that’s the leather muffling my hearing. I’m not about to drop my hands and check, though I do jerk my head up. I’m scared—absolutely terrified—but I’m also stubborn as hell.

  He wants to kill me? He’s going to have to look me in the eye as he does it.

  Only something’s not right. I… I can’t see his face. I can’t see much of anything at all.

  Rys usually has a golden shine. He’s a Light Fae. I’ve gotten used to it. This, though? Something totally different. In the middle of Madelaine’s plot, he’s burning up like the sun, bright and blinding. As I stare up in shock, a blazing heat blasts from him, shooting out in all directions.

  Flames lick at the grass, the dirt, the graves surrounding us. The source of the fire? Rys.

  Oh, man.

  Rys has transformed himself into a fireball.

  Yup. I was right.

  I’m toast.

  Beads of sweat erupt all over my body. The stink of burning hair fills the air. My mouth dries up, my eyes stinging from the heat. It’s like I’ve climbed into an oven. I start to choke, to gag, and I just manage to yank the collar of my hoodie up so that I can breathe a few seconds longer.

  This is it, I realize. This is the end. Rys is going to burn me to death using his enchanted fire. No quick death for me.

  Sucks, but I probably didn’t deserve one.

  Closing my eyes, I wait for the all-consuming pain.

  It, uh, it never comes.

  Just when I expected my skin to start blistering or for me to pass out from holding my breath, a brisk wind blows past. Or maybe it’s not a wind that’s pushing through the fire, but the sudden absence of the hot air that makes it seem so much cooler.

  What the—

  Wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve, I wait until they’re not stinging any longer before I crack them open slowly, afraid of what I’m going to see.

  The heat is gone because the fire is gone.

  Rys, too.

  Not gonna question it. No more Light Fae looming over me,
a murderous glare twisting his once-perfect features? Yeah. That’s my cue to get the hell out of here while I still can.

  I stand up. My legs are shaky as I rise. Too bad. I have to get out of here. It’s too much to hope that I imagined the way Rys dissolved into flames like that. And, now that he’s left me here on my own, I’ve got no one else to blame for the scorched grass and piles of ash.

  So, yeah. Definitely didn’t imagine it.

  Adrenaline starts pumping through my veins; it’s overwhelming, but it’s not panic, so I’ll take it. The fight or flight reflex is in charge right now. My limbs feel free and light, instead of every step being a chore. Okay. I can do this. If I’m careful, I can get the hell out of the cemetery before anyone figures out that I’ve been to visit Madelaine.

  I don’t know what makes me look back one last time before I book it— but I do, and then I stare. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  No—

  I don’t want to believe it.

  There’s at least a ten foot radius of damaged ground: flowers reduced to ash, charred grass, black dirt. It’s all dead except for one perfect circle of untouched green grass that survived the flames. I see the remains of the shovel: the handle unscathed on the inside of the circle, the blade a fiery shade of red.

  And I realize that the exact spot where I huddled on the ground is the only spot that is still alive.

  Because I’m alive.

  Because, despite being a murderous fae who had his face slashed with the sharp edge of a shovel, Rys kept his word and didn’t hurt me.

  Whoa.

  18

  I hate myself for it, and I would never admit what I did to anyone else, but before I left the Wilkes House for the final time, I checked Carolina’s pockets. I found some extra money that I shoved in my pocket with the scrap of paper she left behind, but no keys.

  Probably a good thing, too, since I don’t know how to drive. I would’ve figured it out, though.

  Anything to get away from there as soon as possible.

  That same disappointment coupled with the frantic need to escape is rushing through me as I sneak out of the back of the cemetery. Rys’s fire had to have attracted someone’s attention. Sure, maybe the old caretaker is off duty since it’s the middle of the afternoon. This was prime visiting time. Someone had to have seen that.