Touch (Touched by the Fae Book 3)

by Jessica Lynch

  But that doesn’t make sense. If the doctors don’t have anything to do with fae or Faerie, then what is he doing here? He has a degree—and I’ve seen the countless diplomas hanging on his wall myself which, in retrospect, should’ve been a tip-off that he wasn’t as young as he appeared—so I know his credentials are legit.

  “Do they know that you’re part fae?” I ask him.

  I don’t even have to explain who I mean by ‘they’.

  “I’m over three hundred years old. I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting my glamour. I don’t have a prophecy hanging over my head. My human side is my best disguise. They have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  He sounds proud, like he’s happy to be fooling everyone else.

  They have no idea what I’m capable of.

  Considering I’m trapped in a closet, I think I’m beginning to have a good handle on that.

  9

  Our strange game of twenty questions doesn’t last much longer.

  Regardless of my sudden appearance here—and his obvious pleasure at that fact—Gillespie still has a job to do. Just because he’s trapped me behind the barrier of iron and salt, that doesn’t mean that he’s done seeing his patients.

  At least, that’s what he tells me as he gets up to put the chair away.

  With an unnecessary warning to stay quiet, he promises that he’ll check on me again in between patients. I’m not looking forward to it.

  Even if I wanted to shout and draw attention to myself—risking the oblivious humans—I don’t think I could. As soon as he closes the door, the room is silent. Kind of muffled. I can’t hear a single thing through the wood, like it’s been soundproofed or something.

  Considering he’s been prepping for this for longer than I want to think about, he probably did soundproof this space.

  About an hour or so later, he pokes his head in, reminding me to eat my fruit if I’m hungry before asking if I’m ready to accept his proposal yet. I can’t even bring myself to give him an answer. I keep hoping he’s kidding.

  Unfortunately, he’s not.

  Crazy bastard doesn’t let up. After his last session, he decides to have another sit-down with me. I know it’s bad when he pulls the chair back, a closed manila folder resting on his lap.

  How much do I want to bet that that’s my file?

  He tries another approach. Now that we both know there’s no hiding the truth about the fae, he asks me about my relationships with the two in my file. It’s like I’ve been thrown back to the first day I met him, when Amy announced that the new psychologist wanted to meet with some of our group—before telling us all that I was chosen to be the first one to go down to his office.

  In hindsight, I probably should’ve been more suspicious about that than I was.

  Despite his poking and prying, I don’t tell him about Nine. I already regret everything I told him back when I innocently thought he was trying to help me process my issues regarding the fae. With Gillespie putting it out there that he wants to knock me up—cue intense shuddering because ew, no—I keep Nine close to my chest.

  Tough luck, doc. I’ve already got a soul mate.

  And he’s waiting for me to save him.

  Now, if only I can find a way to save myself first...

  “Rise and shine, Riley.”

  His smarmy voice grates on my nerves like fingernails down a chalkboard.

  It’s another morning. Unlike the night before, I barely slept a wink last night. My shitty situation has finally seemed to hit home. My anxiety kept me up while I obsessed over what I could do to get out of here.

  The tips of my leather gloves are blackened. I pushed up against the barrier more times than I’m proud to admit because it was all I could do. Memories of Madelaine and Rys’s Faerie fire beat at my brain the entire time I tried it, too, which made it a million times worse.

  Still, I tried.

  By the time he comes to visit me this morning, I’m torn between snapping and just rolling over and pretending that he’s not there.

  He wants attention. I don’t want to give him any, especially when the bastard teases me with breakfast.

  It’s been almost two full days. My stomach aches from hunger, though I think I’m turning a corner on that. I drank a couple of handfuls of water from the tap when my mouth was too dry to take it any longer, but the fruit is still sitting on its plate, taunting me.

  He brought me a sealed granola bar. I want it so bad, I’m willing to do almost anything for it… until he tells me I have to eat at least one grape from that other plate first. His eagerness as he waves the bar in front of me all but proves my suspicion.

  He’s done something to the fruit. I’d put money on it.

  Come tomorrow, I might be desperate enough to try it. The hunger comes in waves, my anxiety pushing it aside. Right now I’m pissed off enough to refuse his offer.

  He can take that bar and shove it up his ass for all I care. I only have one thing I’m worried about.

  “How much longer are you going to keep me locked up in your office?”

  Gillespie lowers the hand holding the bar out, his face pinching in annoyance. “Don’t be like that. I know you don’t like being stuck in here.”

  “Wow. Really? How did you guess?”

  He ignores that. “I never meant for it to be forever. In fact, I was going to surprise you later, but we’ll actually be leaving after my last patient this evening.”

  Huh?

  We?

  “Leaving? What do you mean? Leaving where?”

  “It’s simple. You’re right. I can’t keep you here forever. You’re stubborn, but I already knew that from your file. If I let you, you’d starve to death and that can’t happen. So I’m taking you with me. Maybe, once you stop entertaining these ideas that I’m going to let you go, you’ll see how much better your life will be once we’re sharing it.”

  He’s absolutely right. I’d rather die. Of course, that’s not something I tell the crazy bastard because, well, he is absolutely nuts.

  Instead, I try to poke holes in his grand plan.

  “How?” One of the techs will recognize me, or a nurse. It’s bound to happen. “What if I see Amy or Penelope? One of the nurses? I’m not supposed to be here.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I can glamour you enough that no one will know it’s you.” Gillespie disappears for a moment, returning with a bag in his hand. He drops it over the edge of the circle. “I can do faces, but not clothes. These scrubs will make it seem like you’re just another tech.”

  He’s thought this all through. He’s… he’s serious about this.

  It’s not just a cruel tease. I’m finally getting the hell out of here.

  This is actually great news.

  I have a chance.

  Easy, Riley. Don’t mess this up.

  I try to hide my excitement, keeping my face as tired and aggravated as it’s been for days as I remind him, “How am I supposed to leave? Don’t know if you forgot, but your fancy salt over there won’t let me anywhere near it.”

  “I’ll let you free on the condition that you follow me home. Once you’re there, I won’t even have to lay the salt down. My wards will keep you inside.”

  If he says so.

  “Okay,” I lie.

  He’s a halfling. He has to know that, as a half-human, my word doesn’t mean shit. I could promise him the stars and the moon and if he believes me, that’s his own stupid fault.

  Or maybe I’m the idiot for believing that I’m fooling anyone.

  He wags his finger at me. “Don’t get any funny ideas, either, Riley. There’s nothing I won’t do to take you with me. No one is indispensable. And even if you tried to hide…” Gillespie slips his hand beneath his shirt, yanking on a slender, leather twine that’s hanging off his neck. Another tug and there it is: the necklace with the pale pink crystal, the rusty nail, and the donut-looking seeing stone. He taps that one with his finger. “You know I’ll find you.”

 
I almost stop breathing as he tucks it back into place.

  He has it. Thank fucking God. He has it. I don’t have to wonder about where he’s kept the crystal, or if all of this was for nothing. If I can figure out a way to escape him after I get my hands on his necklace, then these last few days of hell would’ve been worth it.

  I’ll do anything I have to to get that necklace, even pretend like he’s worn me down.

  “I’ll behave,” I tell him. Then, to prove that I mean it, I crawl across the room, snatch an old, shriveled grape from the plate and pop it in my mouth. “See?”

  All my years of practicing how to fake taking my nighttime meds come in handy. I squish the nasty grape into the gap between my molars and my cheek—and, jeez, it’s super mushy once it’s in there—before opening my mouth and showing him that it’s gone.

  He tosses the bar at me, the magnanimous lord throwing scraps to his dogs, before telling me to get some rest because I’m going to need it.

  As soon as he locks the door again, I hop up from the floor and spit every last bit of the grape out of my mouth. I cup tap water in the well of my glove, rinsing my tongue, my teeth, my lips so that I don’t swallow anything I shouldn’t.

  Once I’ve gotten the taste of the grape out of my mouth, I gobble the bar down. It’s some kind of oatmeal, granola, chocolate chip mix and it’s the best thing I’ve had in ages. I need the sugar. I need the energy. One way or another, I’m going to get myself out of this mess because being moved to a second location is the biggest no-no when it comes to being captured.

  He’ll do it, too. I have no doubt in my mind that Gillespie means every threat he so casually puts out there. He might’ve shown me his necklace, but I still remember the switchblade the outwardly prim and proper doctor keeps stowed in his pocket.

  If I don’t do what he wants, one of the asylum’s patients or staff will pay for it. I can’t let that happen.

  I can’t let him take me from this place, either.

  When Nine first found me in the asylum, he tried to explain how—at that exact moment—Rys was a bigger threat than Melisandre because he was sure that I was supposed to be his mate. His ffrindau. When it comes to a fae claiming their lifelong partner, nothing can stop them.

  I learned that the hard way. Up until the second Nine claimed me in front of the Fae Queen’s Court, Rys kept trying to convince me that I should choose him. He stopped short of grabbing me and dragging me to Faerie with him, but I suspect that that would’ve happened eventually once he realized that I was never going to go with him willingly.

  Now it’s been weeks since I’ve seen Rys. I thought my biggest problem was trying to figure out how to save Nine, then hide from Melisandre. Trying to steal Gillespie’s crystal was supposed to be the easiest part of my plan.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  How was I supposed to know that my former psychologist was a halfling who has decided that he wants to shack up with me?

  Living in his office inside of the asylum is one thing. Moving with him who knows where, leaving the last place that my parents know I was at… being forced into a place that he gleefully says is warded and protected so that I’ll never be able to escape.

  I believe him, too.

  He has almost three hundred years on me. Countless lifetimes of experience. He knows how to glamour. He probably knows how to use the touch against me.

  But I’m the damn Shadow—and I want it more.

  I only had a couple of hours to figure out what to do. It’s rough. Between not eating enough and definitely not getting enough sleep, my head feels hazy even though the sugar kind of helped. I have to force myself to think, knuckling my burning eyes when it seems useless.

  Before I know it, I’ve run out of time.

  “Are you ready?”

  His blue eyes gleam in excitement, his bushy, red eyebrows rising sky-high as he looks me over. My skin crawls under his examination. He smiles as if he likes what he sees.

  Probably because I’ve traded my hoodie and my pants for the pale blue nurses’ scrubs he left for me earlier.

  I have to play nice. So long as he keeps me behind the cursed circle, I’m stuck. So, pulling myself off of the ground, I get to my feet unsteadily, shuffling closer to him. I keep my arms crossed over my chest, a scowl on my face as I nod.

  “The scrubs work perfectly. No one will stop us on our way to the car.”

  Here’s hoping I don’t get that far.

  First things first. I’m still stuck in here. Jerking my chin at the line I just can’t cross, I ask, “I changed like you wanted. Now how do you get me out of here?”

  “It’s simple enough.” He holds out his hand. “You have to let me touch you.”

  I flinch. Can’t help it, either.

  Gillespie laughs.

  “Oh, Riley. And I thought you said you weren’t haphephobic.”

  I remember that. In our opening session, he accused me of having haphephobia. My immediate reaction back then had been to deny it.

  I do the same thing now since he obviously expects me to.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Oh? Then you won’t mind taking my hand.” He extends it a little further. His fingers brush up against the invisible barrier that separates us.

  “So I grab your hand—”

  “And I pull you out. It’s as simple as that.”

  For someone who’s been conditioned her entire life not to willingly touch anyone, it isn’t. Especially since I know that Gillespie is part fae. Touch magic… it could never be as simple as he’s making it out to seem.

  And that’s when it hits me.

  I know what I have to do.

  I just hope it works.

  “Okay.” I nod. My tangled hair, the last of my knotted braids, falls forward as I slowly bob my head up and down. “Anything to get out of here.”

  I lift my hand, pressing the edge of my glove to the invisible barrier. Right as the tip of the leather begins to burn, Gillespie takes my fingers into his grip and pulls.

  At that exact moment, I eagerly let him tug me toward him.

  The second I step over the line, I make my move. Honestly, it was his own fault. He should’ve been expecting me to do something. And maybe he did. Maybe Gillespie had braced himself for me to push him away or something.

  He probably didn’t guess that I would want to touch him again.

  His grip was too light. It’s easy for me to slip my fingers out of his hold. But, instead of rising up to slap him or shove at his chest, I lash my hand out, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. I press the flat of my palm against his bare skin and let my fae side take over.

  I did something just like this right after Nine claimed me in front of the Fae Queen’s Court. Following his lead, totally unaware that it was even possible, I turned the touch around on Nine, taking his strength and his power into me.

  Touch magic. Fae magic.

  I’m part fae. It’s about time I acted like it. Even more, I’m the Shadow.

  Gillespie picked the wrong chick to mess with.

  Who knows? Maybe he doesn’t realize the extent of what I could do. Fair enough since I don’t, either. Doesn’t matter. As soon as I turn the touch around on him, my former doctor goes rigid as I suck out as much of his… I don’t know, soul?… his soul as I can.

  Something pops over my head. The magic humming between us has blown out one of the lightbulbs. I can hear a high-pitched whine, then another pop as a second bulb goes kaput, then another.

  Darkness falls around us, tendrils of shadows wisping their way around my legs as I use the touch to my advantage. Forget being weak. Forget being tired. I’m starving, but not for food.

  I hunger for everything I can take from him.

  I hunger for revenge.

  I don’t know how much more I can steal. Gillespie is bigger than me, stronger than me—or he was. His body bows as I tighten my grip on his arm. The leather doesn’t stop me. Why would it? It’s a part of me. I
made it that way.

  Time seems to stop. Riley doesn’t exist.

  Only the Shadow.

  Shadow… my Shadow Man.

  Nine.

  I almost forgot. So wrapped up in making Gillespie pay, I almost forgot my whole reason for being here in the first place. Nine… I have to save Nine.

  With my free hand, I slip my fingers under his shirt, grasping the leather twined around his neck. I yank it upward, lifting it over his head.

  With the other one, I finally shove him away. I’m buzzing. I feel fucking powerful. One quick shove and Gillespie goes flying, his back slamming into his desk before he crumples in a heap.

  I’m not touching him anymore. Good chance he busted the crap out of his back when he smashed into the hard wood, but he’s a halfling like me. The touch is the only thing that matters—and I’m not touching him anymore.

  The spell is broken. His paralysis? Gone. His immediate reaction is to let loose an angry, primal scream while he struggles to climb out of the wreckage of his desk.

  I don’t think he meant to do it. If he was thinking clearly—if he had realized that he’s already let me out of the salt and iron circle—he wouldn’t have done that. Because I learned something when he first trapped me in his hidden room.

  When the door is closed, my prison is soundproofed. But when the door is open… the good doctor’s office isn’t.

  Seconds. If I’m lucky, I only have seconds. Thanks to the power I stole from Gillespie, I reach out with my senses, pulling the shadows toward me easily. Avoiding the desk, I launch myself in the corner opposite the door. With my body crammed against the wall, my shadows melt into the ones that were already there.

  I’m as good as invisible—at least, I hope so.

  I can hear the slapping of non-slip shoes outside the office door. It’s not just one person, either. His scream must have caught the attention of every staff member working on this floor.

  It certainly seems that way when the door suddenly flies open.

  “Dr. Gillespie, did that scream come from— oh, no!”

  I recognize a couple of the curious faces in front. There’s Amy, the one who opened the door and who stopped talking when she saw Gillespie fighting against the rubble of his former desk. Kelsey is standing next to her. Frankie is at their back, his slicked-back, oily hair reflecting the few remaining overhead lights.