Light Fae Academy: Year Two

by Nala Kingsley

  “And guilty.”

  My eyes widen, but I say nothing.

  She eyes me and gives me a wan smile. "I'm still friends with Bracken and Cosmo and Thistle. I know you and Bracken tend to be at odds, you don't care either way about Cosmo, and you and Thistle are friends, but… Holly, I pushed her away. She tried to copy everything I did, everything I wore, my hair, everything, and we had a fight. A month into the school year. A big blow-up. We avoided each other after, and ironically enough, I reached out to her a week before she… before she…"

  “Why did you reach out?”

  “I missed her.”

  I smile. “Bay, you did nothing wrong. In fact, if anything, you reached out to her again. That’s good!”

  “She wasn’t happy with me at first,” Bay admits.

  “And then?”

  "Then, we started talking, and it was better until…"

  “Until what?”

  “Until she hit me up.”

  “For fairy dust?”

  “Yeah. She thought I was holding out on her. I’m not dealing. I’m done with that. I don’t have time.”

  "What have you been up to?" I ask eagerly, hoping she'll give me some details, considering she seems to be in a talkative mood.

  "This and that." She shrugs. "I'm a little behind in my classes, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm sure the professors will understand why I'm out of it."

  “Of course. You have so much on your mind lately.” I bite my lower lip. “Bay, can I ask you a question? It’s about Damon.”

  “Why not ask him yourself?” she asks lazily.

  “It’s about his dad.”

  She eyes me without saying a word.

  “Is his dad the demon?”

  “No. His mom is.”

  “Oh,” I say faintly.

  “I think I’m going to rest a bit now,” Bay says.

  “Sweet dreams.” I offer her a smile and leave her room, heading for mine, my mind racing.

  Damon’s dad is involved in trafficking fairy dust, which means Damon’s fairy parent is dark. Demons are always dark, so Damon’s basically doubly dark.

  Can it be that Damon’s the murderer? No. No way. He couldn’t. I refuse to believe it. In fact, I feel guilty for even considering it. I know Damon would never, don’t I?

  Chapter 22

  A week passes, and I’m slowly trying to reintegrate myself back into the world of Light Fae Academy. I’m going back to classes and meeting up with the guys, individually of course, in order to work on our projects. They’re both due soon, and neither project is finished yet.

  Sage and I are meeting today, and the plant looks so very dead that we have to try something and now.

  “I think we just need to…” I throw up my hands. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Sage says. “It’s a gamble, and it’s not what you would think, but…”

  “Just spit it out already.” I rub my hands together. “If it’s too crazy, I’ll veto it.”

  “You’ll probably want to, but I think the plant needs more water, more sunlight, and to be pruned.”

  I gape at him. “That’s how a human would treat a diseased plant. That doesn’t involve magic at all!”

  “I know. How many fairies would think about that?”

  “It shouldn’t hurt the plant in any case. It might not help, but it shouldn’t hurt. Okay. How much water, though? And how much do we prune?”

  “Let’s just prune a little bit. We can see how the plant fares and prune more if it seems to be helping. As for the water, I don’t know. A little more than enough to dampen the soil.”

  Since it’s his idea, Sage does the prune, a leaf here, a leaf there. He’s been keeping the plant on his windowsill, so it’s been getting sunlight, but who knows if it’s been getting enough water. The soil in the pot soaks up a ton of the water, and it takes a decent amount before there’s a little water resting on top of the soil line.

  “Now, we wait,” Sage says.

  Watching a plant drink water is as boring as watching paint dry, so I turn to watch Sage instead. He finally got his hair trimmed the other day, but it's still longish, a look that fits him well. His eyes seem a bit brighter than they've been before, and he turns and smiles at me.

  “Even if this doesn’t work and we kill the plant, I’ve had a lot of fun working with you,” Sage says.

  “Me too. Feel like you’ve gotten to know me some, Sage?”

  “Yes, Daredevil.” His lips curl into a grin. “Your eyes always brighten when I call you that.”

  “Do they really?”

  “Yes, it only enhances your beauty.”

  I blush. Sage hasn’t given me a compliment like that since we were on our first date and the picnic.

  “I was just thinking that your eyes are a bit brighter than normal too,” I say.

  “Is that so? I think there’s a human expression about that.”

  “Great minds think alike,” I quip.

  “That’s the one.”

  “But it’s not true in this case,” I say and immediately wish I hadn’t. “Because it’s just a coincidence. Our eyes are both brighter for whatever reason.”

  “Except there might be one reason for that.” He moves closer to me.

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  Sage tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Any number of things.”

  I look up at him, gazing into his green eyes. “You mentioned one reason.”

  His smile grows. “I think you know that reason.”

  “Maybe you could just humor me.” I can’t help but press him. I don’t want there to be any confusion this time around.

  He chuckles. “Oh, Rosemary.” He pauses to shake his head. “You wanted confirmation that I know which twin I’m talking to, didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “Maybe,” I say, drawing out the word.

  “What are you doing Friday night?”

  I pretend to consult a mental social calendar. “I think I’m available. Why? You want to wait until then to have another crack at the—”

  “No. Not for the project. A date. You and me.”

  “Another picnic?”

  “Maybe something different this time.”

  “Oh, there’s one thing I want different this time around,” I tell him pointedly.

  His grin is wide, but it’s more sweet than sexy. What in the world? When did things start to shift for me that my definition of sexy equals reckless?

  Equals Damon.

  I shake my head, but Sage doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Is that a yes, then?” he presses.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Great.” Sage appears all smug and then looks at the plant. “Do you see this?”

  “See what?” I lean toward him, looking over his shoulder. “The red veins, they’re fading.”

  “I knew it,” Sage crowed.

  “You really do have a great mind.”

  “You played your part.”

  “Hmm. By not vetoing your idea? That’s a bit lame, to be great via acquiescence.”

  “Sometimes, it’s about what you’re willing to accept that makes all the difference. You know, testing something out, seeing if it works, rejecting it if it doesn’t. We all have times when it seems like the dark might be fun to try out, but it’s not you, and it’s not me.”

  I say nothing. I’m not sure where this is coming from, but a pit is forming in my stomach.

  “Speaking of darkness,” he continues.

  If he mentions Damon, I’m going to be furious.

  “Those murders. I can’t believe it,” he finishes.

  Okay, good. A better topic… maybe.

  "We better hope the police don't lock down the campus before Friday," I say lightly.

  He waves his hand. “We can figure out a way regardless.”

  I lift my eyebrows. Didn’t he just say that neither of us is dark? Is it because he wants sex that badly? I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but some
thing seems a bit off with him.

  “I think there’s one person who should be investigated,” Sage adds.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Damon. Think about it. The murders didn’t start until after he came here—”

  “Then you can also lump in any other new students as well as every single first year,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “And he’s a demon,” Sage concludes.

  “A half-demon,” I spit out, appalled. “Do you really think I would be friends with someone who could have the ability to commit murder not just once but multiple times? Do you think I’m that poor of a judge of character?”

  “This has nothing to do with you,” he protests.

  “Doesn’t it, though? Why else would you be telling me that Damon should be looked into?”

  “To keep your guard up. You’re close to him, for whatever reason.”

  “Maybe he and I are friends because he isn’t controlling,” I snap.

  A silence falls between us, dark and ugly, broken only by the sound of my heavy breathing.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “I just remembered. I have to help Bay with something on Friday night.”

  Sage nods curtly, but then I see a flash of pain cross his handsome features.

  “That’s fine,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Rosemary. Your heart is in the right place, but some people can’t be saved. Your sister was. Others…”

  “Do you mean to say that Holly got what she deserved.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He pulls on the ends of his hair.

  “Good. Because no one, not even a dark fairy, deserves to be murdered, and I don’t think any dark fairies attend here.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “None?”

  “It is Light Fae Academy, after all.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that everyone here is light.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but still.” I shake my head sadly. I’m hurt, and it looks like Sage is too.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. “I am sorry for that.”

  “But you still think Damon should be investigated.”

  He says nothing.

  I turn and watch the plant. It does seem to slowly heal. I prune a little more, maybe a bit more than I should, and turn back to Sage.

  “I’ll see you around, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Rosemary.”

  “I am too.”

  I fly away, fighting my emotions. Unreal. I can’t believe what he said, how he changed like that right after I agreed to go on a date with him. If anything, I would’ve thought he would try that before asking me out, not after. He feels threatened by Damon, that much is clear, or is it more than that? Does he really think Damon could kill someone? Does Sage think he's trying to protect me? Damon would never hurt me. Never. I truly believe that.

  Would he hurt someone else, though? If someone went after Damon or went after me or anyone he cares about, I do see Damon striking back and hard, maybe even enough to kill but to murder someone? No way. That’s not him.

  If anything, I’m going to investigate harder because if Sage thinks Damon is guilty, doubtless others do too. I’m going to find the real murderer and clear Damon’s name.

  Chapter 23

  It’s thrilling, sneaking off campus, especially when you’re doing it all by yourself, but it’s downright frightening to leave the entire world of the fae behind and pass through the barrier to the boundary between our world and that of the humans.

  Yes, I’m going to visit some humans. I know I didn’t want to have my wings pinned down ever again, but it’s the best way to try to pass as a human. I didn’t want to risk being detected and outed, and I need the humans I interview to tryst me.

  Bay’s the only one who knows what I’m doing. Well, she knows I’m going over to the human world. What she doesn’t know is why, though she might suspect, and she also doesn’t know I’m going alone.

  Her knowing, though, is a boon because she took one look at me after she burst into my room and found me putting on a jacket to complete Operation Hide Wings and stopped in her tracks.

  “You’re going to the humans.”

  “Yes. Don’t try to talk me—”

  “You’ll need makeup. You look so pale that they’ll know something’s up. You’ll look too ethereal or otherworldly for them otherwise.”

  And so she sat me down, which sitting with my wings tied is not fun, and she did my makeup. Now, I have rosy red cheeks and a much more tanned complexion that highlight my purple eyes.

  "I could just try to use my magic and get them to see my appearance as more human-like," I mentioned even though she had been halfway done with my makeover at that point.

  “Too hard and draining. You’ll be gone for how long? How many will see you? Trust me. Sometimes simple is better than magical.”

  “I never thought you would say that.”

  “Right?” Bay stepped back, eyed my face critically, nodded, and kissed the top of my head. “Off with you, human.”

  Silly me, instinctively wanted to fly, but of course, that hadn’t been an option, and now, I’m sitting in the back of some car. The driver graciously picked me up and agreed to take me into town.

  Thankfully, the driver is too busy yapping on her phone to give me much mind, and she barely acknowledges me as I climb out. She drives off, and I head down the street. I don’t know how much attention she pays to the news, but I didn’t want to announce that I was going to see the aunt and uncle of a murder victim. Hmm. The driver must not be up-to-date on the news. If she was, she would be worried about a killer on the loose, so why would she be willing to give a stranger a lift?

  It’s a five-minute walk from here to their house. Aunt Beth and Uncle Owen Rina live in a small house, one story, made of some strange material, not brick or stone. I guess it’s nice enough. There’s no garden or any flowers at all, which unnerves me. Fairies prefer nature, and the lack of flowers by a homestead just seems wrong.

  I start toward the house when a car rumbles behind me and parks. I watch as a couple climbs out of the car. From the picture in the news article I read online, these are the people I'm looking for.

  “Hello,” I say to them, crossing over with my hand outstretched. “I’m—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” the woman says wearily.

  “I—”

  “We’ve talked to the police already, several times in fact, and we aren’t talking to any reporters so you can just leave now,” the man says, but he sounds just as tired as she does instead of angry.

  “I’m not a reporter. Not the police either. I’m just… I’m sorry for your loss.” I swallow hard. I do not want to fail! “I knew the fourth victim,” I say in a rush.

  “The fourth victim?” Beth tilts her head to the side and glances at her husband. “I thought…”

  Oh. The humans might not know about Holly’s death. It would make sense that the fae would keep that under wraps.

  “The police aren’t certain that Holly’s death is from the same… villain,” I say, “but I’m sure of it. I just… I have a few questions, and I understand if now isn’t a good, if it would never be a good time, but…”

  “Oh, Owen. My name is Beth, dear, but I suspect you know that already, don’t you?”

  I nod. “I’m Rosemary.”

  “Come on in, Rosemary,” Owen says gruffly. “You two can talk. I’m going to make some coffee.”

  “You already had some,” Beth scolds. “He drinks too much of it. Do you drink coffee?”

  “No. Never had any.”

  “See? She’s a smart young lady,” Beth says.

  “Good for her. What she does has no bearing on what I do.” Owen smiles.

  “What I say has no bearing either,” Beth huffs.

  His smile deepens, creating faint lines on his face. “Now, you know that isn’t true. I’ve cut back some.”

  “Cutting back from a pot and a half a day to a pot is still
a pot of coffee!”

  “What can I say? I like my coffee like my soul.”

  I frown.

  “Black,” Beth tells me.

  “Your soul is black?” I ask Owen, shocked. Do they attribute colors to their souls? Black would make me think of darkness, but he doesn’t seem to be dark much at all.

  “Just in his imagination,” Beth assures me as she ushers me inside. “Now, what questions do you have?”

  “Where exactly was Hope found? I’m… I shouldn’t, but I want to be an investigator, I’m studying for it, and I just know the police have to be missing something.”

  "A link." Beth nods, eyeing her husband, who is leaving the sitting area for what must be the kitchen. "Didn't I tell you, Owen, that they're missing a link?" she calls after him. "I've been telling him, but the police won't listen. They're just worried about the MO. Yes, they've all been killed by daggers, but there has to be more. I don't think it's random, who the victims are. At the very least, they should look into it. I commend you for being so young and having such a level head despite what happened to your friend. She was daggered too?"

  I nod.

  “What a shame. I’m so sorry. Well, let’s see…”

  Beth gives me a map with the exact location marked. She said the crime scene tape should've been taken down by now, so it might be hard for me to find the precise spot, and then she asks me a bunch of questions to see if Hope and Holly had any of the same interests. It's not easy for me to answer all of them since I can't lie, but a fair amount of them, I don't know the answer to, which makes bending the truth that I don't even know so much easier.

  Owen joins us at one point, and he almost forces me to try his coffee. Immediately, I know why he says it’s black. It tastes so very bitter. I sputter it down, and Beth and Owen both laugh, and then Beth starts to cry because it’s the first time she laughed since learning about her niece, and I duck on out of there, apologizing profusely. I feel like a completely terrible person for making her cry. I didn’t intend to upset her, but laughing might be a good thing? I’m not sure.

  Quickly, which isn’t all that quickly considering I am on foot, and Hope had been out for a long run, I make my way to the spot where her body had been found. As near as I can tell, she should have been right around here…