It’d taken everything inside of me not to act like Goldilocks and try out each of their cocks to get myself off until I found the “right” one. I almost slipped off my pants so many times. I almost climbed on top of them and used them to ease the ache inside of me. But I’d remembered my plan and asked the first question, knowing that there would never be a better time to feel their emotions without anything being held back.
I’d been so horny and turned on, I’d expected to feel nothing but confusion when I asked the questions. When guilt and anger had colored their arousal, it’d been so damn startling. Like a bucket full of ice water. And as they’d started talking, it’d felt like it was some kind of nightmare.
As I’d walked away, I’d glanced back at them, legs spread, beautiful cocks in the air, and I’d wanted so many things. But I wanted them more than anything.
Well, more than anything but the truth.
I come then, biting down to keep from crying out. The orgasm that wracks my body makes every muscle spasm until I finally sag against the tree I’m leaning against. Then, after my limbs are working again, I fix my pants and go wash my hands in a random bathroom on campus.
When I’m done, night has entirely fallen.
With my needs taken care of, it’s like my thoughts have sharpened. Bron had talked about under the school, just like the ghost had. Some instinct inside of me felt that if I was ever going to know the truth, that was where I had to go.
And luckily for me, I wasn’t afraid of the dark. I just needed to figure out how the hell to find a way under the school. Which, of course, is why I decide to head to the school graveyard. I’ve never been there before, but places like this always have graveyards. Usually for people who die in such a way that they need to be buried right away, like if there might be a curse involved, or something dangerous on the body that makes it impossible to bring them to their family burial ground.
I circle the outskirts of the school, enjoying the darkness, enjoying the way the moon slowly climbs. There’s a crispness in the air tonight that reminds me of home, and I wonder if a mist will sweep these lands the way it does my home.
A strange longing fills me. For some reason, I think back to other times I was away from home as a child. I remember walking among other fae and feeling…alone. How was it that they were sunshine and happiness, and I was the dark? And why was it that their sunshine was better than my moonlight? What made them better than me?
Rayne would say, “Nothing.” He would smile that crooked smile of his and wrap an arm around my shoulders. And then, it didn’t matter that I was so different from everyone around me. Because I wasn’t alone. Not like I am now.
I’m almost in the graveyard when I realize where I’m at. Internally, I scold myself. I’ve grown so accustomed to not having to fear anything that I often slip into my thoughts and disappear. But if I’m going to hunt my brother’s killer, I have to remain vigilant. Thoughts of my brother and my home were better left to when I wasn’t walking alone in the dark.
The graveyard is cloaked in moonlight. It’s small for a school of this size, which means death is rare here, but that’s no surprise amongst the fae. Most of the graves likely belong to other supernatural beings, ones that tend the grounds or the school, whose lives are more fragile than our own.
There are a couple of trees spread amongst the headstones, massive weeping willows. They’re a favorite species of mine, and they tower above the graveyard, covered in long leaves that are like curtains falling from the branches. These trees often attract Black Widows. Not the spiders, of course, but women who murdered their husbands in life. Many of the Black Widows are so poisoned by their choices that they have no rest, even in death, and tend to drift about the weeping willows.
I have a Black Widow back home. She tells the dirtiest jokes.
Opening the small fence around the graveyard, the squeals of the hinges cut through the night and make the hairs on my arms stand on end. I start to walk the well-tended path that weaves through the grounds, but it doesn’t take long to see the shimmering silhouette of a ghost not far ahead. I glance around the shadows of this quiet place, looking for anyone who might be watching me. Anyone who might see a “light” fae talking to herself. When I see nothing, I stretch out my senses and release a slow breath. Still nothing.
I feel my shoulders relax, and I head toward the ghost. It takes a minute of walking to recognize that it’s the young fae woman I’d met the night before. Her dress falls gracefully around her, a color that was probably a pale pink at some point, but now gives her almost the impression of a lady in white. And I have a special fondness for the ladies in white, no matter how much people fear them. Somehow I never imagined even a light fae ghost fitting into a graveyard, but she does. Almost perfectly.
“Hello,” I greet.
Her head jerks up, and she looks back at me with wide eyes, before her expression gentles. “Oh, it’s just you.”
I nod and come to stand beside her. She’s looking down at a grave that reads, “Abigail Moonwood, Beloved Daughter.”
“Is that you?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, and there’s an overwhelming sadness to her voice.
“Do you mind if I ask how you died?” My ghosts and monsters love to tell their stories, but I’ve never encountered a light fae ghost before. I’m not entirely sure of the etiquette.
After a second she says, “I was poisoned. Though they believed it was some kind of virus. My symptoms were similar to the Blood Plague. But that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to scare people into burying me quickly and asking few questions.”
“Who did it?” I ask, surprised. Not that such a thing had happened, but that it happened in a school full of light fae.
She’s quiet for a long moment. “My younger sister. She wanted to rule our house, and she wanted my mate.”
My gut clenches. “Was she successful on both fronts?”
Abigail smiles. “She got my house, but never my Jareth.”
“At least that I’m glad for,” I say, and then we’re both smiling.
Leaning down, I wipe away some of the dirt from her headstone and tidy the area. When I’m done, she whispers, “Thank you,” but she doesn’t need to. The dead may be gone, but I know better than anyone they’re never truly forgotten. The least I can do is tend the gravesite of a young woman murdered by her own blood.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Surely you’re not just out to see me?”
“Actually,” I rise, wiping my hands on my pants, “I was looking for you. I wanted to see if you could show me how to get to the tunnels under the school.”
A wave of fear hits me so hard that I stagger, then draw my walls up a little tighter. “Abigail…”
“You don’t want to go there,” she rushes out. “It isn’t just that Rayne died in the tunnels. They’re dangerous. There’s dangerous creatures in them, and the secrets within them are meant to be kept.”
I hold her gaze. “I know, but I’m not going to stop until I prove my brother was murdered. Will you please help me?”
She looks reluctant.
“Please. For Rayne.”
Slowly, she nods. “I’ll take you to the entrance, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
As we start to walk, I sense a creature not far behind us. It smells of blood and death. It smells of that strange combination of brimstone and what I imagine sunshine to smell like, if it had a scent. I feel within it such anger and hunger. Tonight, it hunts, and someone or something will die.
But I don’t tell the light fae. It’ll scare her, and she’s already afraid.
So we walk together, leaving behind the graveyard. Rain begins to fall, but it’s so light it’s almost a mist. Dark clouds slip past the moon, cloaking the world in darkness one moment and light the next as the moon peeks between the clouds. Normally, I’d love a night like this. But tonight I’m even more excited, because tonight I’ll be one
step closer to finding my brother’s killer.
We walk for so long I start to wonder if the ghost’s mind has wandered. If she’s forgotten that she leads me somewhere. I want to ask her, but the silence around us is deafening. There’s only the patter of rain, and the heavy breathing of the creature that stalks us.
But then she points. “There.”
I follow her finger and see a crumbling structure near the wall of the academy. It looks like a building that fell into disarray a long time ago and that no one thought worthy of being restored. We continue walking toward it. Large trees grow all around it, cloaking the stone structure in shadows, and moss grows amongst the stones, almost concealing it within nature.
She takes me to the back of it, and I stare in confusion. “How will this take me beneath the tunnels?”
“Here,” she whispers, drawing closer and pointing through the thick grass.
I move to where she gestures and push back the grass only to discover steps leading down to a door. My heart races, and I let my senses stretch out. Beneath that door something evil lurks. Perhaps many, many evil things.
A slow thrill crawls down my spine. Do those creatures know one of their own will be joining them soon? Will they simply know that I’m a dark queen, or will I have to show them?
Goosebumps erupt on my flesh. “Thank you, Abigail. Do you know the path Rayne took the night he died?”
“Yes,” she whispers, and shivers. “I followed him for a short time. I can…I can show you the way, but you might not like what you see.”
The way she says it makes my stomach flip. I’d seen a lot of bad things in my life, but maybe I shouldn’t be quite as eager to follow the path that led to my brother’s death. It seems easy to pretend I’m immortal, but Rayne is a reminder that we all have weaknesses.
“I have to do this,” I tell her, but I’m also reminding myself.
Rayne would’ve done anything for me. I could do this for him.
The creature that stalks us isn’t far. He waits in the shadows beneath a tree, watching us with hunger. Should anyone spot him, I know that they would feel terror beyond anything in their lives, and that they wouldn’t live long enough to even scream.
But I ignore him, focusing on the door.
My boots sound loud as I move down the steps, and I’m surprised by how easy the big stone door pulls opens, as if it’s used regularly. Inside, it’s dark. Not the darkness of a moonlit night, but something deeper.
“There’s a torch just within the door,” she tells me.
I trust her, stepping forward and letting my fingers slide along the wall until I find it. Then I inhale slowly, and sense the right stone rather than see it, jerking the torch along it until fire sparks to life. The magic stones are usually kept near the entrance to places like this, for that very purpose.
This wasn’t my first time creeping into some dark and dangerous place, after all.
The firelight dances on the stone, revealing more unlit torches lining the walls, and the fall of the rain above us seems to grow louder and harder. Somewhere up ahead I hear the slow dripping of water, but everything else is silent. Squaring my shoulders, I start forward, sensing Abigail behind me. As we move, the tunnel slopes downward, taking us further and further from the surface.
Soon, we come to a divide. I look to Abigail.
“He went both ways, exploring most nights, but he took the right path that night.”
I nod, filing away her directions, and continue moving forward.
Behind us, the scrape of the creature’s claws ring through the tunnel, and I sense him pause, uncertain. He’s wondering if his prey knows he’s there. I don’t hesitate. I don’t give him any reason to know I’m aware of him.
We come to another split in the path.
Abigail doesn’t speak.
I look back at her. Her hands are clenched together.
“Which way?” I ask.
“This is a bad idea,” she tells me, and then she looks up. “So many times I wondered if it’d be better if my family knew what my sister did. For a while, I was so angry, I just wanted her to pay for what she did, and I wanted the justice I deserved. But after Rayne died, it finally hit me that knowing the truth wouldn’t help anyone. My parents already lost one daughter. They didn’t need to lose another.”
I open my mouth and close it. Does Abigail realize what she’s saying? Most ghosts remain on this earth because of unfinished business. If she’s found peace with her murder, she can cross over…to wherever ghosts go. It’s been so long that she only needs to find the path and the door will be open for her.
After I knew where my brother had died, I promised myself I’d help her find the door. As much as I liked her company, she deserved to move on. Even if I couldn’t.
“I’m glad you found peace,” I say. “Truly I am. But I’m not like you, Abigail. My kind aren’t capable of things like forgiveness and feeling peace. We’re all anger, vengeance, and cruelty. There’s no acceptance in this, only destruction of my enemies.”
She looks uncertain but points to the left.
I continue on.
But she keeps speaking. “I don’t believe you, you know that right? Everyone acts like light fae are all goodness and joy, but we have darkness within us too. Like my sister. No one would ever think she was capable of murdering me, but she did. So I have to believe dark fae have goodness in them too.”
“We don’t.” And there’s no hesitation in my voice. “Whatever monsters are down here, I guarantee you I’m worse.”
“And yet you’re risking your life to find your brother’s killer.”
My stomach twists. “That’s just revenge, nothing more.”
As if the creature that stalks us hears, it pauses. But continues a second later.
Ahead of me, I sense anticipation, anger, and hunger. So many minds that wish for my death. So many minds that will soon be disappointed.
“Why did you clean up my gravesite?”
I hesitate, but push myself on. “I don’t know. A habit perhaps.”
“No. It wasn’t. You did that because you know how important graves are to ghosts.”
I don’t confirm or deny her assessment. So what if I did it to be kind? That doesn’t mean I’m kind. Even a tiger will submit to a pet every now and then, but they’re just as likely to rip a throat out. If anyone should let their guard down with me, they’d see. Like Dwade, Bron, and Lucian.
My gut turns, and I push away the thought of them. I did what I had to do to know the truth. I wouldn’t feel guilty over using them for information.
We come to another place where the tunnels divide. She points to the right with ease. We walk for a while longer, going left, then right, then right again.
“There used to be a lot of traps and even spells to confuse people, but Rayne removed all of the ones this close to the surface,” she explains, and there’s a smile in her voice.
I’m not surprised. My brother was always good with spells and magic in a way that most fae weren’t. He even sought out apprenticeships with the witches that lived near our home, for reasons I never understood.
His death was…such a waste. Not just because I lost him, but because the world lost someone with so much…potential and knowledge. I have no doubt that one day my name will be forgotten, but Rayne would’ve changed the world.
A tear runs down my face, and I wipe it away before Abigail can see. Will the pain of losing Rayne never leave me? I hated this…weakness inside of me. A dark fae shouldn’t be crying in the dark. She should be coming alive in the shadows.
My need for revenge should quench my sadness. Shouldn’t it?
I didn’t know. Rayne was the only person to ever help me figure out my emotions. Without him, I felt like an alien trying to mimic human emotions. Where one person should be sad, I was angry. And where they should be angry, I was sad. I didn’t know if it was because I was a dark fae, or because I was broken, but I hated never knowing how I should feel.
I’m shocked when I crumble to my knees. I’m shocked when tears fill my eyes. Somehow seeing his blood makes it hit me that this is truly the path my brother took as he died, and the meaning of that changes within me. I’m not just following in his footsteps to find his killer, I’m reliving what my brother saw as he fought for his life. I press a hand to my chest, panting, tears streaming. I see flashes of him that night on my bedroom floor, his gut ripped open. He was attacked here. He staggered down this very tunnel.
The blade that delivered his death blow was here. Here in this very place.
He must have been so afraid. My brave brother knew that his wound meant the end for him.
“Blood of my blood,” I whisper, curling over my chest, pressing my fist harder against my chest. “May I avenge each spilled drop of scarlet with a thousand of my own.”
The words burn within me, and my anger uncoils. Around me I sense a dozen hungry minds. How many of them could I kill with a single thought? How many last screams of death could echo through these halls?
I’m trembling. I want to lash out. I want to kill all of them more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. So why do I fight it? Why am I shaking instead of just releasing my anger?
My father wouldn’t hesitate.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Abigail whispers, kneeling down beside me, her ghostly hand sending a chill through my body when it brushes my arm.
I shake my head, commanding myself to get a grip, to fight this overwhelming feeling of anger and horror at the way my brother was killed. “No.” The word sounds pained, and I swallow before continuing, “This is what I need.”
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