“I’m so sorry.”
Thistle stares at a tree. “Right there,” he says dully.
I squeeze his hand before releasing it, and then notice a tiny building through the trees. A small outpost for the campus police.
“There’s no doubting it,” Thistle breathes. “Whoever did this attends the school.”
“I know. We’ve already said that, with the stolen—”
“But what if the theory is wrong? What if it’s someone else?”
“Who?” I spit out. If he says Damon, I am going to scream.
“Bracken.”
Chapter 28
I gape at Thistle. “You can’t be seriously considering your friend as the murderer, can you?” I whisper, grabbing his arm by the elbow.
“It’s not something I ever thought I would say to anyone, but… I don’t know where Bracken was that night. He won’t tell me. I’ve asked. And he’s been off campus so much this year.”
“My sister has too, and it’s because she has a boyfriend. I’m sure Bracken has a perfectly good reason—”
“Are you sure?” he interrupts me quietly.
I hesitate. It’s not that I was lying, to him or to me, but it’s more of a hope that Bracken isn’t involved. Yes, I can’t deny that he’s made me feel unsettled and uncomfortable. It certainly doesn’t help any that I know he hates me. Still, why would Bracken do any of this?
“Why would Bracken try to kill Cosmo?”
“I’ve been thinking about this since Cosmo was hurt,” Thistle says darkly. “I can’t think about anything else. My guess is that Bracken wanted to make sure that no one suspected him.”
“But still, it’s a huge leap to go from someone who lives on campus to your friend!”
“I know, but—”
“And Cosmo wasn’t the only one. Holly was killed!” I run a hand through my hair. “Do you have any proof?”
“Just that he won’t talk to me.”
I shake my head. “We need to talk to him. See if we can get him to trip up and either say or refuse to say something that will be more definitive.”
Thistle’s jaw drops. “Are you crazy? No, we can’t go and talk to him. We need to talk to the police!”
“Without any proof? Trust me. They won’t do anything unless there’s proof, and honestly, I don’t trust them.”
“You don’t?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“No. We were on lockdown for weeks because of the burglaries and the arsons. Now, there’s been two students murdered, and we still aren’t? Does that make any sense?”
“I think the person in charge of the police force has been replaced,” Thistle murmurs, “but I’m not sure. There was a lot of heat on the guys because you solved the case out from under their noses.”
I blush. “Yeah, they aren’t exactly fans of me, which is all the more reason to not go to them.”
“If you don’t want to go to the guards, then we should take this to the authorities off campus. They’ll be more willing to listen.”
"No, they won't. Without proof, it's nothing more than speculation, and we'll be wasting their time. It's not a good idea, Thistle."
“What if it is Bracken?” Thistle murmurs. “What if he goes after Bay next?”
“That’s low, Thistle.” I scowl at him. “You aren’t going to force me to see things your way.”
“I’m not trying to,” he says. “I just… I trust you with this, and you’re rejecting it.”
“I’m not! It’s a possibility, but I just don’t see why he would have killed the humans.”
“For sport? To see if he could get away with it? Practice?” Thistle shrugs. “Who knows? Only the killer does.”
I rub my forehead. I’m so very confused about everything, and something doesn’t add up.
In fact, I'm confused about more than just the murders. Damon and Sage. They're always in the back of my mind and in my thoughts and dreams even. My nightmares and daydreams are all mixing up, and sometimes I'll be in bed with one, and the other will show up and kill us both. My dreams are all twisted and dark, and I hate it.
“What’s wrong?” Thistle murmurs, his voice low and soft.
I stare at him. He looks a little heavier than last year, still skinny but not quite thin enough to resemble a beansprout. Maybe a little more muscular as if he’s been working out. I hope he’s not hitting the weights for me. It would be a bit strange. Well, not that strange, and I’m no fairy to talk after I tried to emulate Bay last year to win the wings off of Sage.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Sage,” I blurt out.
“Sage?” Thistle lowers his head, and I can’t see his expression. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but—”
“He’s no better than that half-demon,” he growls.
“Damon? He’s not that bad. Honestly, I would’ve thought you two would hit it off.”
“Because I’m dark like he is?” Thistle snorts.
“You are you, and we’re friends, and I’m not dating Sage or Damon or—”
Thistle wraps his arms around me and yanks me to him. I’m so shocked that I open my mouth to say something, but my mind is frozen, and I can’t think of words to say, and then his tongue is in my mouth.
For a moment, I’m unable to do anything at all. Then, I snap to and shove him away.
“Thistle, don’t.”
“Why?” he asks, breathless, his eyes wide, his smile wider.
“I don’t…”
“You don’t think of me that way, but you can. You can grow to love me.”
“I do love you,” I say patiently, “as a friend.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. I need you in my life. I need you to help me become the fairy I was always meant to be.”
“Why can’t you do that yourself?” I ask softly. I refuse to fly backward even though we’re a little too close for comfort. The last thing I want to do is upset him all the more. He’s hurting, and he has to be feeling so many things between his one friend being dead, another injured, and yet another possibly their attacker/murderer.
“I’m not strong enough without you.”
“You’ll always have my support, and we’ll always be friends.” I can’t help myself. I reach out and rub his arm.
He jerks away as if my touch burned him. “I don’t want your sympathy. You opened my eyes and made me see that I have worth. Before, I just wanted to block out the world, to experience pleasure, to not worry about anything at all. Why not do lines of fairy dust every night? Why not escape from this world of rules and regulations and classes and work? Just be free to fly and do whatever we want. We like to think we’re free because we don’t bow down to either fairy court, but we still have rules and obligations. It’s possible to be free—”
“We can be free without drugs,” I tell him.
"Maybe it's easy enough for you because everyone thinks you're the lightest fairy here. People see you, and they think you can become something, someone important. Most fairies don't even notice me. They just take their food and go on their way, but you... I thought you saw me. I thought you knew the real me, that you accepted me. You're just like the rest. You think I'm trash."
“That’s not true,” I protest, touching his arm again.
He stares at my hand on him. “Then why can’t we be together? You… I’m so vulnerable with you. I give you everything. I trusted you with a dark worry, something that could cause all of my other friends to leave. That’s how much I trust you, but you can’t even give me back a little piece of yourself.”
“Thistle…”
“But I’m not good enough, am I? And I never will be.”
My heart feels like it’s breaking as Thistle flies away. Tears stream down my face. Thistle might be living yet, but I have a feeling he considers me dead to him. The murderer has not only killed humans and fairies. He or she has also killed my friendship, and honestly, I can’t help being scare
d to death that Thistle might do something dangerous and even deadly toward himself.
Chapter 29
Not two seconds pass before I spy Thistle turning around and flying right toward me.
“You’re crying?” he asks. “Why is that?”
“I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
“A friend. A friend,” he spits out, sounding angrier than I’ve ever heard from him before. “Why would anyone want to be friends with you except to be with you romantically? Look at you!”
“I’m more than just a plaything,” I say, my tears drying up of their own accord. “Look, you’re upset. I understand—”
“No! No, you don’t get to be calm and compassionate, you little whore!”
My eyes narrow, and I grit my teeth. “I’m not a whore.”
“No? Then why have you been flaunting your little fairy ass all over campus with those two fairies? You might as well be fucking them both!”
“Thistle!” I’m so shocked I can’t say more than his name.
“Don’t you see, though?” he continues. “You’re a wonderful fairy. I know you are. Deep down, you’re just confused. Aren’t you?”
Dully, I nod. It’s the truth. Not only am I confused about my feelings toward Sage and Damon, but I’m also confused as can be about Thistle and his attitude. If I thought Sage had treated me wrongly that one time, I was dead wrong. This is abuse, and I won’t stand for it.
“Thistle—”
“No, it’s my turn to talk.” His eyes flash. “You need to stop talking to Sage and to that damned half-demon.”
“He’s half-fairy, and he has a name.”
Thistle backhands me.
I falter and stagger back. My hands curl into fists, and Thistle notices and smirks.
“You know what? I’m going to get that half-demon expelled. He doesn’t belong here.”
“Maybe I’ll go and get you fired,” I snap back.
“Now, now, Rosemary, why would you even say such a thing?” he mocks, tilting his head to the side. “That’s not very nice.”
“Thistle, are you high?”
He throws back his head and roars with laughter.
Now that he’s distracted, I try to fly off, but he clamps his hand on my wrist, yanks me down to standing, and places a blade against my throat.
A dagger
My eyes widen, and I gape at him. No. It can’t be. Thistle? But I thought…
"Yes, I'm the killer," he breathes, standing far too close to me. "Your little theory is all wrong. I hate to disappoint you, but you aren't the smartest little fairy out there. In fact, you're downright stupid for thinking you deserve better than me. Because that's what it is, isn't it? What does that dumbass Sage have on me? He's blind. He doesn't see you for what you're worth, and that piece of shit half-demon doesn't deserve to touch your feet. He should be your servant, your slave."
“I don’t want—”
Thistle touches the dagger against my skin. With just a bit more pressure, he’ll slice my skin. Why did he fly away? To be dramatic? Or to fetch the dagger? That’s my guess. If I gave in and decided to be with him, would he have stopped killing? Planted evidence against Bracken? Who knows, but I don’t think I’m capable of manipulating the truth and playing word games enough to talk my way out of this.
“Can I ask why?” I whisper.
“Why what?”
“Why did you kill those humans? Kill your friend? Hurt another?” My breathing hitches. “How could you try to pin the blame on one of your friends?”
“Oh, Rosemary, don’t you see?” He keeps the dagger against my throat, but one of his hands gently touches my chin. “I did all of this for you.”
What? No. That’s not possible. It’s not possible that those people are dead because of me. Tell me it isn’t so!
“I wanted to get closer to you,” Thistle says, “so I took the job here, but you didn’t seem to see me, not when those two were around. I started to think about last year, how you came by when you were investigating the thefts and arson. I thought a mystery would be the best way to have us spend quality time together.”
“From the start…” I mumble, thinking back to how he asked me if I wanted to look into things when everyone else tried to get me to stay away, to stay safe.
So much for that.
“From the start, I knew you were the one for me,” Thistle says. “I’m going to keep you as my own, and together, you’ll find true happiness. You won’t have to worry about having your heart broken like Sage did, and you won’t have to worry about turning dark like you would with that half-demon. As mine—”
“I will never be yours,” I hiss.
“But you already are, Rosemary, you already are. You think I don’t know that the other two are trying to change you, to mold you as if you aren’t perfect already? Daredevil? Warrior Babe? They disgust me.”
I shudder, which only makes the blade touch my skin all the more. There’s something about the material. The blade’s been altered. It’s magically enhanced someway, and I do not want to learn how.
Thistle is a ball of anxious energy, full of rage and hatred. He doesn't have any love for me, not true love, only a distorted, twisted version of love, and that wrath and disgust he feels toward Sage and Damon can turn against me at any time if I'm not careful, but I can't. I can't play a word game with him and try to twist things around to seem like he wants. I can't lie. I'm not dark enough for that, and honestly, that could very well spell my doom.
“Thistle, let’s put the dagger down,” I try. “We can talk and—”
“We’re talking right now,” he says, walking forward, forcing me to move backward until my back slams against a tree.
I close my eyes and try to prevent a tear from falling.
“Unless you want to do something else.” He grins before leaning forward, trying to kiss me again.
Everything in me flares to life. I do not want to kiss him, especially not when there’s a dagger pressed against my throat!
Even though I know it’s stupid and very well could backfire, I put my hands on Thistle’s shoulders and shove with all of my might. He’s scrawny with only a little bit of muscle on his scrawny frame, but he’s a great deal taller than I am, and he doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he tries to deepen the kiss.
Some of his anger leeches into me. I'm honestly not sure what possesses me, but the feel of his tongue in my mouth is enough to get me to react in a terrible way myself. I bite down as hard as I can and even hope that I'll draw blood, but he's pulling away in one instant and then back again, the blade biting into my skin.
Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to cry. The dagger is causing such tremendous pain inside me, not from the cut skin, though. It feels as if the magic of the blade is leeching away my own magic. Considering that fairies are beings of magic, he's essentially stripping me of my essence, and without that, I will die.
“You need to accept that you are mine,” Thistle says. “If you don’t…”
“You can’t—”
“I can, and I will,” he says triumphantly. “You just need to realize how much I love you. A display of my affection? Is that what you will desire so you will stay with me?”
“I’ll never stay with you!” I spit at him.
The saliva lands on his cheek, but he doesn't brush it away. I'm not even sure he realizes it's there. "Fine then, have it your way, but know this. I'll hunt down that damn half-demon. I'll hunt down Sage and Bay, and I'll kill all of them. And then, I'll kill your parents, your friends, everyone. It'll all be your fault, Rosemary, all your fault, but you can save them. You can grant them long, happy lives, so long as you give me your heart. What do you say?"
Chapter 30
A second passes. Another. Another. Thistle’s eyes are a shade of green, a vastly different hue than Sage’s. Thistle’s are more like a puke green color, or maybe that’s just my animosity shining through in a petty fashion.
“Well?” he demands, his e
yes glittering like hard, cold, emotionless jewels. His features, though, are all twisted with desire, lust, and greed, more than making up for the impassive gaze in his eyes.
“You will not hurt them,” I say slowly.
“So you’ll stay then?” he asks, sounding as giddy as a triumphant child, his eyes now sparkling. The blade remains against my skin, though, at least not digging any further.
“I will not let you hurt them,” I rephrase.
Some of the light in his eyes dies.
I don’t want to. I never thought I would use this kind of magic against a fae, but Thistle has given me no choice.
“All I want is peace,” I say, infusing as much magic into my voice as possible. “Do you want peace?”
“I want love,” he says.
“Peace and love are so very, very close,” I say. “As close as we are standing right now.”
He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. I can see him thinking, wondering… worrying.
He’s going to realize what I’m doing!
“Peace and love are all we need,” I start to sing, but I’m so anxious and scared that my voice wobbles. There’s magic in my words but no power. “We don’t need weapons or—”
“If you think you can try to stop this, to stop us, you’re wrong,” he says. “If I have to, I will do what is necessary.”
I swallow hard. “And what is that?”
“If I can’t have you, no one can.”
He shifts his weight, his muscles tightening in preparation of slicing my throat. My hands grip the tree behind me.
A tree with moss growing on it.
Immediately, I have the moss grow and grow and grow until it can shoot out and stretch, almost becoming a vine-type entity.
With barely a thought, I guide the moss to snake out toward Thistle. He eyes the plant and doesn’t recognize it as a threat until I have the moss coil around his wrist and pull the dagger away from my skin.
Thistle yanks back, hard enough that the moss break. The moss around his wrist falls to the ground, and I wince, feeling the pain the moss suffered from the blow. Thistle weaves and dances, trying to cut and hack at the moss that I encourage to grow, dodge, and weave in an attempt to disarm him.
Light Fae Academy: Year Two Page 14
