by Melissa Marr
— Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry by William Butler Yeats (1888)
After the taxi dropped her at the railroad yard, Aislinn paced outside Seth's door. A few faeries stood nearby, watching her, talking among themselves. They never stayed long so close to the old train cars and lengthy tracks, but others would come and replace them. Since Keenan had first spoken to her at Comix, faeries seemed to gather wherever she went.
"She pays too much attention to the mortal boy," a lanky faery with birdlike limbs grumbled. "The Summer King oughtn't put up with it."
"Times are different," said one of the female faeries. Like the others, she had flowering vines creeping over her skin, but unlike them, she wore a slate-colored suit instead of the sort of girly outfit the others seemed to prefer. Her vines started around her neck and snaked through her ankle-length hair, making her seem somehow both wild and sophisticated.
"She goes into his home every day." The bird-thin faery circled the female faery like a predator. "What's she doing in there?"
"I know what I'd be doing," she said. With a sly smile, she reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. "Might as well in case she ends up with Keenan for eternity."
Eternity?
Aislinn turned her back so they didn't see her face. She paced back across the dead grass, close enough to hear the faeries, but not so close that they would find it odd. With Keenan for eternity?
The female faery pulled the birdlike one down toward her until they were nose to nose and added, "Doesn't matter what she's been doing, though. She's changing already," — she licked from the tip of his nose to his eye—"becoming one of our court. Let the girl have her fun with her mortal while she's still able. Soon it won't matter."
Where the hell is Seth? For the fourth time Aislinn pulled out her cell and hit 2 to speed-dial Seth's number.
It rang right behind her.
Stabbing the End button, she turned.
"Relax, Ash." He was walking toward her—holding out the now-silenced cell, strolling obliviously past the faeries.
"Where were you? I was worried that something…"
He lifted an eyebrow.
"…that you forgot," she finished weakly. I know better.
"Forget you?" He looped an arm around her middle and steered her forward. Opening the door, he motioned for her to go inside. "I'd never forget you."
The birdlike faery skittered over, sniffing Seth and wrinkling his nose.
"Answer your phone next time. Please?" Aislinn poked Seth in the chest. "Where were you?"
He nodded and followed her inside, closing the steel door in the faery's face. "I was talking to Donia."
"What?" Aislinn felt like her throat was closing.
"Not terribly friendly, prettier than I realized, though." Seth smiled, calmly, like he hadn't just told her that he'd been chatting up one of Them. "Not so pretty that I didn't tell her to watch her step. But still, she's almost as pretty as you."
"You did what?" Aislinn shoved Seth—gently, but he still winced.
"Talked to her." He put a hand on his chest where she'd touched when she shoved him. He pulled his shirt away and looked. A puzzled expression on his face, he said, "That stung."
"She might seem nice, but she's still one of them. You can't trust them." Aislinn turned to stare at the faeries loitering outside. One of them—the girl in the suit—was sorting a handful of leaves, folding them like origami.
Seth came up behind her and rested his chin on her head. "How many are out there?"
"Too many." She turned so she was facing him, chest to chest, too close to glare up at him. "You can't do stuff like that. You can't risk—"
"Relax." He caught a length of her hair in his hand, letting it slowly sift through his fingers. "I'm not an idiot, Ash. I didn't say, 'nasty faery, stay away. I thanked her for her help the other day and mentioned that it would be bad if anything happened to you. That's all."
He stepped back so he could look down at her upturned face. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Trust me, okay? I'm not going to do anything that could put you in more danger."
"Sorry." Feeling guilty for yelling, for doubting, for the shadows under his eyes, she took his hand and squeezed. "Sit down. I'll make tea."
"I made some progress in the research on faery sight and faery defense. Not a lot, but some." He settled into his favorite chair and pulled out a sheaf of papers.
When she didn't answer, he laid the papers in his lap and asked, "Or do you want to tell me what's got you spooked first?"
She shook her head. "No. Not now, at least."
All the talk of faeries, research on faeries, avoiding faeries. How fair is that to him? "I thought we could try talking about something else for a while. I don't know…"
He rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Do you want to tell me about school?"
"Umm. Definitely not school if we're trying to avoid discussing faeries." She filled up the teakettle and opened the chamomile tea on the counter. Holding it up, she asked, "Does this taste awful?"
"I don't think so, but there's honey in the bottom cupboard if you want it." He stretched, exposing bare stomach where his shirt lifted, flashing the black ring in his navel. "We could talk about after, when life gets back to normal. I was thinking we should go out to dinner when this is all over."
She'd seen him without a shirt before, seen him in his shorts. They'd been friends for a while. What did he say? Dinner? Dinner with Seth. She stood in his kitchen, watching him toy with the ring in his lip. It wasn't quite that he was biting it, but sucking it into his mouth. He did that when he was concentrating. It isn't sexy. He's not sexy.
But he was, and she was staring at him like a fool. "Wow," she whispered.
She looked away, feeling stupid. We're friends. Friends go to dinner too. It doesn't mean anything. She opened the cupboard. The bottle of honey sat next to an odd assortment of spices and oils. "Dinner, right. Carla wants to go to the new place over on Vine. You could…"
"Wow, huh?" His voice was low, husky. His chair creaked as he stood. His footsteps seemed strangely loud as he closed the couple yards between them. Then he was beside her. "I can work with wow."
She turned away, quickly, squeezing the bottle and squirting honey on the counter. "I didn't mean anything. Too much flirting lately, and that call, and…I know you probably have a dozen girls waiting. I'm just tired and…"
"Hey." His hand was on her shoulder, trying to turn her to face him. "There's no one else. Just you. No one for the last seven months."
He tugged gently on her shoulder again. "There's no one but you in my life."
She turned, and they stood there. She stared at his shirt; there was a button missing. She clutched the bottle of honey until he pulled it out of her grasp and set it down.
Then he kissed her.
She stretched up on her tiptoes, tilted her head, trying to get even closer. Seth slid a hand around her waist and kissed her like she was the air, and he was suffocating. And she forgot about everything: there were no faeries, no Sight, nothing—just them.
He lifted her onto the counter where she'd sat and talked to him countless times. But this time her hands were in his hair, wrapping her fingers in it, pulling him closer.
It was the most perfect kiss she'd ever had until she realized, Seth. This is Seth.
She pulled away.
"Definitely worth the wait," Seth whispered, his arms still around her.
Her legs were on either side of him; her ankles crossed behind him. She rested her forehead on his shoulder.
Neither of them said anything.
Seth doesn't date. This is a mistake. It'd be weird after: she'd been telling herself that for months. It hadn't made her stop thinking traitorous thoughts.
She lifted her head to look at him. "Seven months?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I thought if I was patient…I don't know…" He gave her a nervous smile, not at all like himself. "I hoped you might stop running away…that af
ter all the talking and time, we…"
"I can't, I didn't…I need to deal with this faery thing and…Seven months?" She felt awful.
Seth's been waiting for me?
"Seven months." He kissed her nose, like everything was normal, like nothing had changed. Then he gently lifted her off the counter and stepped away. "And I'll keep waiting. I'm not going away, and I'm not letting them take you away."
"I don't know…didn't know." She had so many questions: What did he want? What did «waiting» mean? What did she want? None of those were things she could ask.
For the first time that she could think of, she was more comfortable thinking about faeries than anything else. "I need to deal with this—Them—right now, and…"…
"I know. I don't want you to ignore them, but just don't ignore this, either." He brushed back her hair and let his fingers linger on her cheek. "They've been stealing mortals away for centuries, but they can't have you."
"Maybe it's something else."
"I haven't found anything, anything that suggests they go away once they find a mortal they like." He pulled her into his arms, tenderly this time. "We're one up since you can see them, but if this guy really is a king, I don't think he's going to take 'no' very well."
Aislinn didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. She just stood there in Seth's arms as he gave voice to her growing fears.
CHAPTER 14
Fairies seem to [be] especially fond of the chase.
— The Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man by A. W Moore (1891)
By the end of the week, Aislinn was sure of two things— being with Seth had become beyond tempting, and avoiding Keenan was utterly impossible. She needed to do something about both situations.
The faery king could navigate the school just fine, but he still trailed her like a particularly devoted stalker. There would be no waiting him out, and her careful attempts at callousness and indifference were proving futile. She could barely stay upright by the end of the day, exhausted by the sheer effort of not touching him. She needed a new approach.
Faeries chase. That rule, at least, seemed unchanged. Like the lupine fey that prowled the streets, Keenan was chasing her. She might not be physically running, but it was the same thing. So—even though it terrified her—she decided to stop, let him think he could catch her.
In her childhood that was one of the hardest lessons. Grams used to take her to the park for short trips so she could practice not-running when they sniffed and chased, so she could practice making her sudden stops seem normal, uninfluenced by the faeries chasing her. She hated those lessons. Everything inside screamed run faster when they chased, but that was fear, not reason, compelling her. If she stopped running, they lost interest. So she'd stop running from Keenan, once she figured out how to make it seem somehow natural.
She tried a few tentative smiles at Keenan as they walked toward health class.
He responded without hesitation, directing such an intensely happy look at her that she stumbled.
But when he reached out to steady her, she flinched away, and a frustrated frown returned to his face.
She tried again after they left religion class. "So do you have big plans this weekend?"
The expression on his face was an odd one, somewhere between amused and surprised.
"I'd hoped to, but" — he stared at her until she felt that familiar panic and compulsion rise up—"I've been doubting that I'd have much luck."
Don't run.
Her chest hurt too much for her to offer an answer, so she just nodded and said, "Oh."
Silent then, he looked away, but he was smiling and quiet now. He waded through the crowd without another word. He still stayed too close, but the silence was a nice change. The lack of tempting warmth was incredible, like some odd calm radiated from him.
When they walked into Government, he was still smiling. "Can I join you at lunch?"
She paused. "You have every other day."
He laughed, a sound as musical as the chiming song of the lupine fey when they ran. "Yes. But you resented it every other day."
"What makes you think I won't resent it today?"
"Hope. It's what I live on…"
She bit her lip, considering: he was too easily encouraged by a few friendly remarks, but when he wasn't trying so hard she seemed able to breathe around him, felt less overwhelmed by odd compulsions.
Tentatively she said, "I still don't like you."
"Maybe you'll change your mind if you spend more time with me." He reached out like he'd touch her cheek.
She didn't flinch, but she tensed.
Neither of them moved.
"I'm not a bad person, Aislinn. I just…" He stopped and shook his head.
She knew she was walking on precarious ground, but it was the closest to honest he'd sounded and the closest to peace she'd felt since he'd started attending Bishop O.C.
She prompted, "What?"
"I just want to get to know you. Is that so strange?"
"Why? Why me?" Her heart sped as she waited for him to respond, as if he'd answer the real question. "Why not someone else?"
He stepped closer, watching her predatorily, his mood shirting rapidly once more. "Honestly? I don't know. There's something about you. From the first time I saw you, I just knew."
He took her hand.
She actually let him. Play along. It wasn't just playing, though: she'd been resisting the need to reach out to him since they first met. It wasn't logical, but it was definitely there.
At his touch, her Sight sharpened. It appeared as if the faeries around them had all donned human glamours simultaneously.
No one in the classroom reacted; no one screamed. Obviously, the faeries hadn't suddenly become visible.
What happened? She trembled.
Keenan was staring at her, too intently for comfort. "I don't know why certain people shine for others. I don't know why you and not someone else." He gently pulled her forward and whispered, "But it's you I think of when I wake each morning. It's your face in my dreams."
Aislinn swallowed. That would seem odd even if he were normal. And he wasn't. What he was—unfortunately—was completely serious.
She shivered. "I don't know."
Keenan stroked her hand with his thumb. "Give me a chance. Let's start over."
Aislinn froze. Years of Grams' warnings tumbled through her mind, a symphony of wisdom and worry. She heard her own voice telling Seth that the way things were done wasn't working. Try something new. She nodded. "Start over. Sure."
And he smiled at her, truly smiled—wicked and lovely and so tempting that the stories of faery kidnapping came crashing into her mind. Kidnapping? Following by choice is more like it. She all but collapsed into her chair. He's a faery. Faeries are bad. But if I can find out what they want…
Class was half over before she realized she hadn't heard a word of the lecture or—she glanced at the notebook she didn't remember opening—written any of it down.
Afterward, still in a daze, she walked beside Keenan to her locker.
He was talking, asking her something, "…carnival? I could pick you up or meet you. Your choice."
"Sure." She blinked, feeling like she was sleepwalking in someone else's dream. "What?"
The faery guards exchanged knowing looks.
"There's a carnival tonight." He held out a hand for her books.
Stupidly she started to hand them to him, but stopped herself. "What about your big plans?"
"Just say yes." He waited expectantly.
Finally she nodded. "As friends."
He stepped back as she closed her locker. "Of course. Friends."
Rianne, Leslie, and Carla came over then.
"Well?" Rianne prompted. "Did she say yes?"
"She shot him down, didn't you, Ash?" Leslie patted Keenan's arm consolingly. "Don't worry. She turns everyone down."
"Not everyone." Keenan looked entirely too pleased with himself. "We're going to the carnival."
<
br /> "What?" Aislinn looked from Rianne to Keenan. They knew?
"Pay up." Rianne held a hand out to Leslie, who grudgingly pulled a crumpled bill out of her pocket, and then turned to Carla. "You too."
"Pay up?" Aislinn echoed, following them toward the cafeteria.
Behind her, she heard several guards laughing.
"I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him."
"He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look. "We've tried to teach her manners, but…" She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was still a puppy, maybe."
Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof."
Turning to Aislinn, Carla lowered her voice. "When we saw you two talking, she wouldn't let us come over until she was sure he had asked you. She actually grabbed Leslie."
"It's not a date," Aislinn muttered.
"Right. We're just going to talk, get to know each other," Keenan agreed. He paused, looking at each of them, glowing just a little as he did it. "In fact, you can join us if you want. Meet some of my old friends."
Aislinn's heart sped. "No."
"Sounds like a date to me. Don't worry. I'm not coming on your date, Ash." Rianne sighed, like something wonderful had just happened, and turned to Carla. "What do you think?"
Carla nodded. "Definitely a date."
"Aislinn is accompanying me as a friend," Keenan said with a contented look. "I'm simply honored that she's joining me at all."
Aislinn looked at him, at her friends who were staring at him adoringly.
He caught her gaze and smiled.
She didn't speed up as he kept pace with her. Now that Keenan seemed pleased, the compulsion she'd been feeling had faded to barely a whisper.
I can handle this.
But as he pulled out her chair with an unusual courtly gesture, she saw her reflection in his eyes, surrounded by a tiny halo of sun.
I hope.
CHAPTER 15
They live much longer than we; yet die at last, or [at] least vanish from that State.