The Everetts’ old house isn’t the only thing that looks different than it used to.
When I’m finally done grieving the life I lost when Madelaine lost hers, I start to shuffle away from the Everetts’, accepting that I came all this way because I needed to say goodbye one last time. Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye and, well, I can’t help it.
Can’t stop myself, either.
On a shaky breath, my gaze slides over so that I’m peeking at the house at the far end of the street, tucked behind a shield of trees that keep it almost completely hidden from sight.
Six years ago, it was an abandoned two-story house with boarded-up windows. The paint was a paler shade of grey, the shutters peeling, the grass overgrown. They called it the Wilkes House for reasons no one could ever tell me. No one lived there then, or had in recent memory.
I remember it as if it was yesterday.
When it came to Madelaine Everett, I’ve got to admit that I was the bad influence between the two of us. I was thirteen when I came to live with the Everetts, and though Madelaine was almost fifteen, my years in the system had given me a crap ton of experiences—some good, most not—that she’d never had. The Everetts had adopted her when she was three. Unlike me, they were the only family she’d ever had.
Even though we had looked enough alike that we could pass for being blood-related—same blonde hair, though mine was so much lighter, and the same deep blue eyes—our personalities were opposite. I was always the half-empty type, a wary and independent teen who kept expecting to be sent back to the group home because I was too much trouble. Madelaine was sweet. Kind. She did everything to make me feel welcome and, because of that, she became so much more than just my friend.
She was my sister. And she treated me like one, too.
I trusted her. More than I trusted anyone besides Nine, I trusted my new sister.
Six months into my stay with the Everetts, I told her about the fae.
Madelaine, who was older than me yet so much more naive, laughed at my fears. Trying to soothe my worries away, she claimed they were just fairy tales.
Faerie something, all right.
She didn’t believe me. Up until the moment Rys pulled her close for their dance, then snapped her neck because he believed that she was the only thing keeping me from leaving with him, I don’t think Madelaine ever thought the angelic-looking creatures were a threat.
She paid for her ignorance with her life. And I’ve carried the guilt that I couldn’t save her ever since.
This house is a reminder of that terrible night. There’s only one problem, though: it shouldn’t be standing. The last time I saw it, the entire basement was engulfed in flames. It should be a hollow shell, a burned-out husk, or a pile of rubble.
It’s not. It’s a whole freaking house.
I’m stunned by it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that I imagined the whole fire.
I have to get a better look. I have to make sure what I’m seeing is real. Leaving the Everetts’ old place behind me, I head straight for the house at the end. The paint job is fresh. The grass is still kind of tall, though it’s been tended to recently. The windows are new. So are the shutters.
Once I’m standing right in front of it, I notice something I missed before. There, planted by one of the wild bushes forming a border around the front and side of the narrow house, is a wide yellow sign. In black letters, it announces that the Wilkes House is FOR SALE.
Okay, then.
Someone must have rebuilt the house since it burned down, and now they’re selling it.
Just like six years ago.
Throwing a glance over my shoulder, checking to make sure that no one on the quiet street has noticed me skulking closer and closer to the empty house, I quickly dart to the right. The tall trees towering around me are the perfect cover. Once I go around the back, no one can see me.
I know that for a fact. These trees are exactly the same as they used to be and I’d never been caught sneaking in before.
A rush of nostalgia slams into me as I face the back porch—the porch and the same red door that shone like a beacon for a couple of reckless kids once upon a time.
I couldn’t tell you how often me and Madelaine snuck inside of the Wilkes House to hang out because it was always vacant. For as long as I lived in Acorn Falls, this house was for sale without a single taker.
And that was before the tragedy that took place in the basement.
Something tells me that, despite the work someone obviously put into this house, it’s gonna be on the market for quite some time.
Hmm. That gives me an idea.
I wonder…
Biting down on my bottom lip, I force myself to head toward the porch. For some reason, ever since the first time we had the brilliant idea to sneak inside, the back door was always open. It was kind of like the house was waiting for us.
I climb up the stairs, my heart thumping nervously as I reach for the knob. I can feel the solid metal through the thin leather of my worn glove. I take a deep breath and twist.
The knob turns easily under my hand.
It’s open.
I could push the door in and step inside and the only thing that’s stopping me is the smell of burning flesh in my nose and the cracking snap of Madelaine’s broken neck.
It echoes in my ears. That’s not all, either. At that second, I swear I hear the tinkling music that played when I danced with Rys, followed by a haunted scream.
My throat burns with the urge to join in. I nearly lost my voice that day. Between yelling at the golden fae and screaming for Madelaine to be okay before howling in agony as I burned my hands with Rys’s enchanted fire, I wasn’t able to speak for days after the tragedy.
Then, when I did, I told everyone who would listen about the fae and ended up in Black Pine as a result.
Nope.
Can’t do it.
I scurry down the stairs, nearly losing my left shipper in my hurry to flee. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get away. This was a bad idea. A stupid fucking idea. I would’ve been better off going back to the cemetery. At least there I could be with Madelaine and not just her ghost.
Trapped in the past with my memories and bad decisions, I make a worse one. I totally forget that the real world exists until I emerge from around the back and hear someone call out to me.
“Riley? Oh my god! Riley? Is that you?”
They know my name.
Wait—
I know that voice.
Against my better judgment, I don’t run. Oh, I’m ready to. Make no mistake, my default state is to book it if she gives me even the slightest sign that I’ve got to go, but I stay standing near the corner of the house, giving her a chance to call out again before I take off.
She’s standing on the sidewalk in front of the Wilkes House, body turned as if she was walking past it when she saw me appearing from the back. She moves slowly, careful not to spook me, and I get a full look at her face.
I was right. I did recognize that voice.
The first thing I notice is the dark brown hair that she’s wearing loose around her shoulders. Next? The oversized burgundy coat that does nothing to conceal her too-small frame; it kind of highlights it instead. Jeans that are way cleaner than mine, plus a pair of expensive fur boots that are way out of season but probably cost an arm and a leg.
I’ve never seen her wearing such nice clothes before. When we were both inside of Black Pine, the patients wore simple sneakers, plain jeans, and a Black Pine tee.
When we were both inside of Black Pine—
Well, we’re not now.
“Carolina?” The name slips out. “What are you doing here?”
“My God, Riley. It is you!”
While I stand here, frozen and still, Carolina surges forward. It’s only when she’s crossed the yard, her arms open as she dashes toward me, that I realize her intention. I take a few hurried steps back, throwing my hands up t
o block her. She might not be fae, but that doesn’t mean anything to me.
Old habits die hard.
She immediately stops dead in her tracks. Her dark eyes go wide, her mouth opening to form a perfect ‘o’ before she lets her arms fall to her side.
“I’m sorry. I… I forgot. It won’t happen again.” She claps her hands together, a silent promise to keep them to herself and not touch me. So she remembers my quirk. Good. That’s something. “I’m just so glad to see you.”
Glad? Really?
Why?
Up close, she looks as tired as I feel. I can see that she’s wearing a heavy layer of caramel-colored powder to hide how deathly pale she’s become. She might have tried to cover up the dark circles that shadow her eyes, but that doesn’t work, either. Still, there’s a spark in their depths that’s undeniable, plus an honest grin splitting her chapped lips.
I don’t know why, but she really is happy to see me.
“Riley, thank goodness. I can’t believe I finally found you after all this time. Everybody’s been so worried about you. Ever since you disappeared from Black Pine, I couldn’t help but think that— oh. Oh.” The winds shifts suddenly and I can tell what caused Carolina’s soft oh by the way her nose wrinkles. “You, uh… where have you been? You kinda smell like you’ve been hiding out in a dirty bathroom or something.”
The words pop up before I can hold them back. “Sewer, actually.”
“What?”
Oops. “Forget it,” I say, shaking my head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back at the asylum?”
It was a simple motion. Shaking my head, I mean. I don’t think anything of it—until Carolina’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes suddenly wide as she stares at me.
She doesn’t say a word. Not to answer me, not to point out that I’m still wearing my slippers, not to ask me more questions about where I’ve been. She just… stares.
I’m immediately self-conscious. Yeah, I know what I must look like. I guess once she got past my stink, she’s finally noticing that I’m a walking disaster.
“You okay?”
“Your ears,” she breathes out.
What’s that supposed to mean? My ears? What’s the matter with my ears?
I reach up, my glove probing gingerly along the lobe, then the rim. Feels fine. Nothing wrong, and if it feels more sensitive than usual, at least there’s no pain. I continue exploring, moving my fingers along the top of my ear—
Whoa.
Hang on.
Gentle exploration turns into freak-out mode in a heartbeat.
“What’s wrong with it?” I demand, tugging the top of my ear.
“They’re, um…” Carolina gulps. “They’re kinda pointy.”
Ah, hell no.
I have to see. I have to know for sure.
There’s a car parked in the next driveway over. Leaving Carolina gawking in the middle of the lawn, I race over to it, shoving my long hair over my shoulder so that I can get a perfect view of my ear as I duck down. I angle my head, getting a peek at my ear in the side view mirror.
That’s not my damn ear.
Holy shit. Carolina wasn’t kidding.
What the—
Last time I looked in a mirror—and who knows how long that’s been?—the top of my ear was rounded. Just like hers. Just like a regular human’s.
Now, though?
The top of my ear extends about a half-inch higher than it used to, with the absolute tip coming to a point.
I push away from the car door, hissing out an angry breath right before I straighten up. My hand reaches for my ear again, as if it’s changed shape in the last few seconds. Nope. Same size. Same shape. No doubt about it, either.
I have fae ears.
Why the fuck do I have fae ears?
The panic is swift and terrible.
Unlike the other times I’ve had attacks, this doesn’t have anything to do with a touch. It’s worse, though. So much worse.
My chest hurts. I feel like I’m being squeezed, the whole world collapsing in on me as a girl I barely know watches me with horror on her face. I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I choke as I gasp, my head spinning, my heart racing.
What happened to my ears? They look just like Nine’s. Just like Rys’s. They’re fae ears.
But what are they doing attached to my head?
How did this happen to me?
I walk away from the car, as if by leaving the mirror behind me, I’m somehow making my ears normal again.
How?
I just… how?
It hits me like a brick to the back of my skull when I’m halfway back to where I left Carolina. I stagger, then suck in another breath that does little to help me calm down.
And I curse. “It was the fucking peach.”
She hears me. Her head jerks in my direction, a strange expression crossing her face in a flash. “Peach? Did you just say peach? Riley, what did you do?”
The way her voice goes high-pitched like that, the worry in her tone… she sounds as scared and worried as I am—except I’m all that plus super freaking pissed.
Effects... I thought the way I all but threw myself at Nine was what he was talking about when he said there might be effects from the peach. I remember the feel of the point beneath the thin leather.
Effects? Yeah. That’s an understatement.
Carolina is watching me closely. I can’t tell if she’s waiting for me to answer her, or she’s just hoping for another glimpse of my new weirdo ears.
Okay. First things first. If I don’t want her to ask any other questions—if I don’t want her to wonder if I need a return trip to Black Pine—I need to get myself under control.
It’s difficult. Really difficult. I keep remembering the way my ears looked in the mirror and it takes everything I have not to start to spiral again.
“It’s nothing. I just… I ate a peach I shouldn’t have, alright?” I stomp my foot against the pavement. It sends a jolt all the way up past my knee, my slipper doing nothing to cushion the blow. Panic gives way to absolute anger when I think of Rys’s demon peach again. “I can’t believe this shit. The stomachache was bad enough. Now I’ve got these weirdo ears? Oh, come on.”
“They’re fae ears,” murmurs Carolina. “You… you have fae ears.”
I immediately freeze.
Whoa.
It’s one thing for me to think that. But Carolina… how the hell does she know that?
How does she know?
How does some random patient from Black Pine know?
8
“Fae ears?” I repeat, right back on the edge of losing it again. I reach for the points of my ears, my stomach lurching when I feel how unnatural they are. I have this sudden urge to hide them. I shake my head again, knocking my hair over my shoulder, covering them up. And then I play dumb. “What’s that supposed to mean? Fae? Why would you say that?”
“Because that’s what they are.”
She says that in such a way, it leaves me wondering how she can be so sure.
Then she goes on to ask, “Are you twenty-one?,” and I’m too stunned to do anything but demand to know what that has to do with anything.
“It’s important,” she adds. “I know you were getting close to aging out of Black Pine. Almost twenty-one. Did you hit your birthday yet?”
I… I have no idea. My immediate reaction is to tell her no. I still had two weeks to go until my birthday when Nine pulled me out of the asylum. I lost a week somehow after my trip to Faerie. Who knows how much time I lost after Rys pulled his stunt with the knock-out powder and the peach?
“Depends. What’s today’s date?”
I don’t know what’s worse: the look of pity she gives me when it hits her that I’m serious, that I really don’t have any clue what the date is—or the way my legs feel like they’ve been knocked out from beneath me when she tells me that we’re halfway through October.
“No fucking way,” I breath out. “It w
as just June.”
“Um, it wasn’t. Riley, June was three months ago.” A look of understanding dawns in her dark eyes. “You’ve been to Faerie.”
I’m too rattled by everything else she’s said that she catches me off guard. Instead of denying it, like I’d normally do, all I can say is, “How did you know that? How did you know any of this?”
“Time works differently in Faerie. Depending on how you travel there and where you go, moments on the other side could pass like days or even longer here.”
That answers one question. It always bothered me about how I lost that one week after taking a pit stop inside of the Fae Queen’s garden. Nine told me once that time doesn’t work the same and Carolina just confirmed it.
Again, I have to wonder: how does she know that?
As if she can read my mind, Carolina tells me.
“I’ve been to Faerie myself a few times. I always had to explain it as I was taking a trip out of town. I’m human, so losing time is the worst thing that happens to me. If you were on the other side when you came of age… well, it might have brought your fae side out then, too. It would, uh”—she gestures nervously to my pointy ears—“it would explain what happened to your ears.”
I blink, my hands falling to my side as I pick up on what she’s saying without actually saying it.
No way.
No freaking way.
It’s… I can’t process that statement. Impossible. It was bad enough when I found out that Nine was a Dark Fae. Now this chick I barely know from the psych ward where we met is saying that I’m fae, too.
Oh, hell no.
“Wait. Hold up. Are you telling me that you think I’m fae?”
“Not fully,” she says quickly. “Half, at most. If you were a full-blood, I’d know. Over the last year, I’ve developed a keen eye when it comes to the fae. Not much help now, but I can tell the difference if I pay close enough attention. And you might not have seen me, but that just made it easy for me to watch you. You definitely are part-human.”
My jaw drops.
Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2) Page 7
