Bailey Morgan [2] Fate

by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

  “Bailey, you don't understand what it's like to be Sidhe.”

  How could he say that? I'd run through the Other-world. I'd stood on the Seelie mountains and danced in the caverns of the Unseelie Court. The fact that I was part human meant that I understood what it meant to be Sidhe better than he ever could. He'd never been anything else.

  I had.

  “As part of the Otherworld, we're bound to the courts even before our Reckonings. The connection you feel to all of us is multiplied fourfold after several millennia in the Otherworld, and Eze and Drogan know that. They know how to use it.”

  “So you had no choice?” I asked. “None whatsoever? You know, you're not making a permanent move to the Otherworld sound any more tempting here.”

  “I had a choice,” James admitted. “I didn't know that I had one, but I did. They asked me to get close to you, and I did. They told me to mention your tattoo to pique your interest, and it worked. They asked me to take a human guise so that I could play on your weaknesses in the Otherworld. They asked me to form a bond with you in this world so that if worse came to worse, I could break it and hurt you enough that you might not want to stay here.”

  That had been part of the plan? Make me like James enough to agree to swear off the mortal realm, or, failing that, have James-as-Alec break my heart in this one?

  What Zo said about the Sidhe sucking? Triple that.

  “Like I was ever interested in you,” I said, even though I'd already admitted that I had been. “Either of you.”

  “Eros and Lyria were going to work on that,” James said. “If they needed to, but that's the thing, they didn't. You liked me. Both me's.” He paused. “And I liked you.”

  Like this whole thing wasn't mortifying and painful enough, he had to say that. Sure, he liked me. Just like Kane had “liked” me. Just like nobody ever really did.

  “I do, Bailey. You're funny and you're sweet and it doesn't matter which form you're wearing, you're drop-dead gorgeous.”

  Funny he should mention “dropping dead.” The flames began to form again at my palms, nipping at my skin, begging to be set free.

  “Bailey, I made the wrong choice before. I shouldn't have misled you, and I shouldn't have tried to trick you. At first, I was just following orders and then … I wanted you to stay. I can't be Alec forever, and I don't know if Lyria and Eros have been messing with me, too, or what, but I wanted you to stay in our world, with me.”

  “I'm not going to,” I told him, my resolve stronger than ever. “No matter what you say, I won't go there with you. I won't give any of you what you want.”

  “I know,” James said. “And they know it too. That's why I'm here.”

  I wasn't quite following his logic and I didn't particularly want to, but he kept talking, forcing his words into my ears and leaving them bouncing around my brain, no matter how much I didn't want to listen.

  “They know that they haven't won yet, that the last thing you want to do is give in to their demands and threats. They know that you've had contact with the one whose name we do not speak, and they know that two years ago you and your friends took down a full-blooded Sidhe who'd already begun to harness the power of the mortal soul.” James looked away. “And because of me, because of what I've told them, they know that your friends are the most important thing to you.”

  It didn't matter that I'd told him as much myself. Anyone with half a brain could have figured that out within a couple of hours. Kiste and Cyna certainly had. Delia, Annabelle, and Zo were everything to me. That's why I was so freaked out about next year. That's why, even in the thrall of the Otherworld, I hadn't given in to the temptation to leave.

  “Your friends matter to you, Bailey, and that makes them your weakness.” I was about to protest, but his next words came before I had the chance. “They also strengthen you, and that makes them a threat.” He stared at me, his eyes steady, and waited for his words to sink in.

  The night before, Eze and Drogan had promised me that the longer I stayed in this world, the worse things would get. Today was Mabon, and tonight was my Reckoning, when I would be forced to choose between the courts, and—if the King of Darkness and Queen of Light had their way—to forswear the mortal realm forever.

  I wasn't ready to do it. Even if they followed through on everything they'd threatened, even if my presence in this world put everyone in danger, I wasn't sure I could just walk away, and they knew it.

  But what if it wasn't the world as a whole in danger? What if it wasn't the mean girls at my high school? What if it was my friends?

  “They can't,” I said. James caught my chin in his hand.

  “As far as I know,” he said, “they already have.”

  I'd been so set on finding James and making him pay for hurting me that I'd left Delia, Annabelle, and Zo to go to their first periods and figure things out, if they could. It hadn't occurred to me that they might be in danger or that while I was in the bathroom talking to James, someone might be out there, hurting them.

  “What did they do?” I asked. “What are they doing? Why are you even telling me this? I have to go. I have to help them. I—”

  “You aren't going to be able to do this alone,” James said. “I know what their plans are, and I don't care if Kiste and Cyna don't see it, this is wrong. You can think whatever awful things you want about the three of us, but at the end of the day, right and wrong matter to us. They matter to me, and so do you.”

  I barely even heard his words. Maybe they were romantic. Maybe they were cheesy. Maybe they were true, and maybe they weren't, but right now that didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure that my friends were all right, so I didn't respond to James's confession. Instead, I turned on my heels and ran out the door and down the hall, casting my mind out for the others and hoping I wasn't too late.

  Annabelle? Delia? Zo? I called out their names silently, lowering my shields completely and trying to ignore any thought that came my way that wasn't theirs.

  I'm here, Bay. What's the matter?

  Zo. She was okay. And, if I was reading her thoughts correctly, she was dying for an excuse to skip out on math.

  The Sidhe are going after you guys, I told her. I need you where I can protect you. Now.

  I got Zo's next thought in pictures and feelings instead of words, but the bits and pieces of memories and the desire to protect me made her thought process clear. Zo would barge out of math class, completely ignoring any consequences, not because I needed to keep her safe, but because she wasn't about to let me face any danger on my own.

  Annabelle? Delia?

  At first, there was no reply, and I thought my body was just going to give out, that the fact that I couldn't find their minds was going to end me then and there, but the next second, two things happened to keep me together.

  The first was that Zo arrived at my side.

  The second was that Annabelle ran by wearing nothing on top but a neon bra.

  “Okay, somebody's taking the skanky Hollywood fashion thing a little too far,” Zo said.

  “Somebody?” I repeated. “That was Annabelle.”

  “Yeah, right, Bay. There aren't enough fairies in the freaking world to make Annabelle run around topless. This whole situation is just messing with your brain.”

  “No,” I said. “Seriously. That was Annabelle.”

  Somehow, this kind of “attack” wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind. I'd pictured something a little more sinister and a lot less lewd. I mean, what were they going to do, embarrass A-belle to death?

  “Come on,” I said, tugging at Zo's sleeve, and then I took off running in the general direction in which Annabelle had streaked a moment before.

  We found her in a Spanish class. She was, to put things as nicely as humanly possible, making a scene.

  “Boys! Boys! Hello, boys!”

  When we walked into the room, Annabelle was greeting the entire male population of the Spanish class in an up close and personal manner. As we watched,
frozen in shock and morbid fascination, she walked up to one of the most popular boys in our grade, jumped onto his lap and straddled him, burying her hands in his hair.

  “This form is pleasing,” she purred. “Isn't it?”

  The boy, his eyes glued on the bright pink bra, just nodded, and Annabelle brought her lips to his.

  “She thinks she isn't pretty,” Annabelle said, dragging herself away from the kiss. “She thinks that boys don't like her.” She moved on to the next boy, pulling him to his feet and in close to her body. “She's wrong.”

  Okay, I thought slowly, my ability to process this turn of events severely compromised by the absurdity of it all. Annabelle's running around in a bra kissing every boy in sight and referring to herself in the third person.

  This could not end well.

  “Annabelle?” Zo said, physically incapable of believing what she was seeing. She turned to me. “Annabelle?” she asked again, unable to manage more than that single, strangled word.

  It must be Lyria, I said silently. She's Aphrodite, remember? All about the lust. She must have done something to Annabelle to make her … ummm … lusty.

  Please do not say the word lust in reference to my cousin, Zo returned. Out loud, she just repeated herself, her voice going high and squeaky. “Annabelle?”

  Annabelle didn't reply. She ripped out her ponytail holder, threw her hair over her shoulder, and moved on to the next shell-shocked boy.

  “Dios mío,” the boy murmured as Annabelle lifted him from his seat and slammed him against a wall, pressing her lips hard to his.

  “My eyes,” Zo said, “they're burning.”

  “Don't just stand there,” I told Zo. “Stop her.”

  Sidhe.

  The feeling of connection and familiarity didn't surprise me. Neither did the way the hairs on my arms were elevated with a charge from the presence of another Sidhe in the room. James might have fooled my senses, but Lyria either wasn't trying to mask herself, or her ability to cast a glamour didn't extend to hiding the mystical quality of her presence.

  I grabbed for my necklace, expecting to see blue-green color permeating the air. Instead, all I saw was the reflection of one very angry teacher, who'd finally overcome his initial shock at Annabelle's lusty invasion of his classroom.

  “You!” he yelled. “In the hallway! Now!”

  Forget finding Lyria, I thought. I needed to do damage control. Stat.

  “You're imagining things,” I told the teacher, willing my words to become truth in his eyes. “There's nothing to see here.”

  He blinked several times and then ran a hand through his hair. “Must be imagining things,” he said. “Nothing to see here.”

  The students looked at him like he was crazy, and as Annabelle moved on to a boy with a girlfriend in the class, things started to get ugly. I had to extend the mind meld to everyone in the room, save for Annabelle, Zo, and myself.

  “Nothing is happening here,” I said. “You won't remember any of this. You should go back to work.”

  Soon they were all scribbling on worksheets, and I approached Annabelle.

  A-belle, I called out to her silently, hoping to break through whatever hold Lyria had on her. It's me. You've got to stop this. You've got to fight it. You don't want to be doing this.

  “Oh,” Annabelle said softly, “but she does. People think that just because she's the quiet one, just because she's shy, she doesn't have the same kind of feelings other girls do.”

  “That's not true,” I said. “We love Annabelle—I mean, you.”

  “But who does Annabelle get to love?” Annabelle asked. “Who does she get to date? Who does she get to kiss? Too shy to ask anyone out. Too quiet to draw attention to herself. She thinks she's not pretty, but she is, and she loves doing this.”

  With those words, Annabelle sashayed up to the teacher and plunked herself down on his desk. She stretched out her long legs and leaned back on her elbows. “Hellllooooooooo, teacher,” she said.

  Having a nubile young girl lying across his desk proved to be too much for the mind meld I had on the teacher. He stared at Annabelle, and, lasciviously, she ran her tongue over her lips.

  And Zo thought her eyes were burning before.

  Annabelle! Stop it.

  “A-belle, I don't care what kind of mojo you're under, that's just wrong.” Zo, finally snapping out of her stupor, ran over to her cousin and tried to yank her off the desk.

  “Nothing to see here,” I said, reinforcing the hold I had on the rest of the class, lest they, like the teacher, break free.

  Annabelle shrugged off Zo's grip, and when Zo, forceful and determined, reached for her a second time, Annabelle lashed out with her leg and managed to kick Zo clear across the room.

  “Zo!” I couldn't believe Annabelle had just done that. In fact, given the fact that Zo had flown a good six or seven feet through the air, I was beginning to suspect that maybe Annabelle hadn't done anything at all, because the last time I checked, none of my friends had superstrength.

  Are you okay? I sent the question to Zo silently as I approached the teacher's desk, carefully keeping myself out of kicking range.

  “Nope,” Zo said out loud. “I'm traumatized for life, and also, that hurt. Dang it, A-belle.”

  “That's not A-belle,” I said. I'd thought that Lyria was using her abilities as an expath to manipulate Annabelle, but her display of supernatural strength had given me pause. I felt a Sidhe in this room, but I hadn't seen one in my mirror. And hadn't James said that Lyria was a master of the glamour? That meant she could make herself look like anyone at any time. And if that was the case, then maybe shirtless A-belle wasn't actually Annabelle at all.

  Maybe it was Lyria. And really, what was the chance of Annabelle actually wearing a hot pink bra? In my calculations, slim to none.

  “Lyria,” I said. “Stop it.”

  The Annabelle look-alike paused in her pursuit of the teacher. “But I like being human,” she said with a pout. “It's fun.”

  I tried to reconcile the being in front of me with the quiet girl I'd seen in the Otherworld. Lyria was shy, apt to blush, and nearly silent. In many ways, she was A-belle's counterpart in that realm, so maybe it wasn't that surprising that she'd chosen my friend's form to wear in this one.

  To confirm my suspicions, I grabbed the mirror charm off my chest and angled it toward “Annabelle's” face, expecting to see Lyria's.

  I saw Annabelle, but instead of the sexy pout on her face in the real world, the Annabelle in the mirror looked shell-shocked, mortified, and dazed, all at once. I knew those expressions. They were Annabelle's, the real Annabelle's. But if the mirror showed me Annabelle, then that meant that Lyria wasn't wearing a glamour that made herself look like my friend.

  It meant that Lyria was in my friend. And that Annabelle was, in fact, wearing a hot pink bra.

  Annabelle's reflection disappeared from the mirror, and when I looked up, I realized that she'd bolted from the room.

  “What is she, possessed?” Zo grumbled.

  I took in her sarcastic words and then sighed. “Yeah,” I said. “She is.”

  It was up to us to get Annabelle de-possessed, and quick.

  I didn't even bother to tell Zo to follow me as I ran out after Annabelle, knowing that she'd be on my heels. By the time we got to the hallway, Annabelle was nowhere in sight. With our luck, Lyria was probably hooking up with all of the guys in AP calculus as we spoke.

  “We need to find her,” I said, “and find a way to kick Lyria out of her body.”

  At times like these, I really needed Annabelle to research the proper method for exorcising a Sidhe, but as she was indisposed at the moment, Zo and I were just going to have to do the best we could.

  And that's when I remembered something that Annabelle's whacked-out sexcapades had completely made me forget.

  Delia.

  I'd wondered what the point of making Annabelle go boy crazy was. It wasn't life-threatening, even if it was fr
eaky beyond all words. It didn't match up with the seriously malevolent quality of the attack on Jessica the day before or the things Eze and Drogan had threatened me with in the Otherworld. Something wasn't right here. But what if Lyria possessing Annabelle wasn't the point? What if it was a distraction?

  Delia! I screamed her name with my mind, hoping that my fashion-loving friend would respond. Instead, Zo took in a sharp breath behind me.

  “Where's Queenie?” she asked.

  I closed my eyes, searching for any hint of Delia, but I came up with a whole lot of nothing. “I don't know.”

  “I do.”

  James's voice took me by surprise. “I tried to warn you,” he said, “and I tried to stop it, but Xane is stronger than I am, and—”

  “Xane?” I interrupted.

  “He took her,” James said. “We have to get her back.”

  “What do you mean he took her?” Zo demanded.

  “He means that Xane takes after his father and that in the Unseelie Court, kidnapping is considered tantamount to wooing.”

  I recognized the voice immediately, and it put me on guard.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Axia. Instinctively, I placed myself between the Seelie heir and Zo. Lyria had possessed Annabelle. Xane had pulled a Hades and taken Delia to the underworld. I would die before I'd let Eze's daughter get her hands on Zo.

  “I brought her,” James said. “When Xane got Delia, I called Axia for help.”

  “Help?” I repeated. “You expect me to believe you're here to help me? This whole thing was probably your mom's master plan!”

  “I didn't know,” Axia said. “Not about this. My mother has ruled the Seelie Court for many of your millennia, and her methods can be ruthless.” She paused. “Someday, I will be a different kind of ruler.”

  Right now that didn't do me a whole lot of good.

  “I know you don't trust us,” James said. “I know you don't trust me, but if you're going to get Delia back and if you don't want Lyria inside of Annabelle's body forever, you're going to need our help.”