Blood, Glass and Sugar
Page 21
Evie sat down in the chair beside his bed, and smiled. “Dad called.”
Bran raised his eyebrows. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.” Evie shrugged. “I don’t want him coming back yet. He didn’t ask to speak to Lou anyway.”
Bran nodded slowly. “If he’s the same as the last father you had, that’s probably for the best.”
Evie just ignored his casual comment. To think of a previous life still made her feel mixed up. The thought that she had died at least once before was harder to accept than seven incarnate deadly sins and a wicked faerie king.
She leaned over and slid her hand into Bran’s. “I brought some of the apples like you asked.” She nodded to the plastic bag beside her chair. He wanted to keep eating the fruit; afraid he would turn to dust if he didn’t keep his connection to the otherworld strong. Evie didn’t tell him she was eating them too. “You look better today. It won’t be long until you’re out and we can start looking for everyone.”
Bran squeezed her hand, but he bit his lip, sliding his eyes away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she pressed.
“Well, it’s just that we really have no idea what to do, do we? There is no way I can remember where the Unseelie Court is. Mayhap they’ve moved.”
“Well, that’s where I have some good news. I did some research on Google, just to see. Something came up, could be useful.”
“Pardon?” Bran said, his eyes darting to the machine beside him that measured his heart rate, as if wondering if Google had something to do with it.
“It’s like a big library. Kind of,” Evie said. “Anyway, I found a faerie hunting group, for real, apparently. Could be a big joke, but the stuff on their site seems genuine. I think they might help us, and they’re based in a school just outside London. I emailed and they sent me a contact number.”
“Faerie Hunters…in a school.” Bran couldn’t hide his doubt.
Evie shrugged. “The organisation is supposedly four hundred years old,” she said, hearing the doubt in her own voice. “And it’s all we’ve got.”
“It’s not all,” Bran said, and ran a finger gently around the palm of her hand. He looked into her eyes. Lying weak and drained in a hospital bed, he was still confident and beautiful.
Evie felt her cheeks burn, and a shiver of happiness danced down her spine. It made her feel guilty. How could she feel any small piece of happiness when her best friend and stepmother were lost, in some realm she had little chance of ever finding.
She gripped the Internet page she’d printed out with her free hand, detailing the mobile contact number for a Miss Ember Blair, supposed Faerie Hunter. She would call it tonight.