Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  “Me? Why would you say that?”

  Carolina shudders out a breath. “Whether you want to tell me or not, I know you’re being chased by the fae. You’ve been touched by them.” She pauses for a heartbeat, sure that I’m not going to argue before she drops another bomb: “Me, too. I’ve been claimed by a Dark Fae who will only let me free if I find the Shadow. That’s you, Riley. You can save me.”

  I just about stop breathing. The way she says that, so earnest, so sure… I swear, I can hear the way she capitalizes the ‘s’ in Shadow. She isn’t just pulling that name out of thin air.

  She doesn’t just know about the fae. She knows about me.

  And, for some absolutely insane reason, she thinks that I can help her.

  Play it cool, Riley. Don’t give it away.

  Deny everything.

  “The what?”

  “The Shadow. From the Shadow Prophecy. It’s why I’ve been searching for you for so long, why I wanted to talk to you inside of the facility. If you were who I hoped you were, my mistress promised me freedom if you do your part.”

  “My part?” I parrot back. Nine told me that my part in the prophecy boils down to offing the terrible Fae Queen. Since that’s never gonna happen, I continue to play dumb. “You sure you shouldn’t check back into the asylum, Carolina? Because you’re sure talking crazy right about now.”

  It’s a low blow. I mean, we met in a psych hospital. Throwing around the c-word… that’s fucked up. I know it is. But I also know that it’ll be impossible for me to escape the burden of this stupid prophecy if I’ve got someone else putting the weight of it on my shoulders.

  I just want the fae to leave me alone. Why doesn’t anyone get that?

  “You don’t believe in the prophecy, do you?” Carolina’s face falls. She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her middle. “You don’t believe you’re the Shadow they’re talking about. Either that, or you don’t know.”

  She’s not entirely wrong. I don’t know all the details—because no one will tell me, and I’ve blocked a lot of what Nine did explain—and I definitely I don’t want to believe that I have anything to do with the Shadow that both Nine and Rys keep bringing up. That’s not important, though.

  First the fae, then the prophecy.

  How does she know?

  I try to scoff, act like I think she’s making it all up. At the same time, my fingers start to tremble inside my leather gloves.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. And, honestly? I don’t really care. You can go now, alright? I told you I was tired. Unless you’re gonna call the cops or, shit, the doctors on me, just leave me alone. I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”

  “But you can. Don’t you understand? You’re the Shadow, Riley. I wasn’t sure, but the way the darkness is drawn to you—”

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  “Look.” She points toward the floor.

  I gasp. It’s dark in the kitchen. I know that. Without electricity, the empty room seems darker than even outside. But from my knees down, there’s a patch of darkness willowing around my jeans, almost vanishing the bottom of my legs in the inky black smoke.

  “What the fuck?” I kick out one of my legs, the wisps clinging to it dissipating like cotton candy hitting your tongue. It’s like they melt away from my body. As soon as my slipper is back on the floor, another strand wraps immediately around my ankle. “What’s happening? Who’s doing that?”

  “You are. I told you. You’re the Shadow. You’re the halfling—half-human, half-fae,” she adds, raising her hand, gesturing to her ear. “You’re the only they talk about in the prophecy.”

  “The prophecy,” I snap. I’m hopping in place, trying to get rid of the shadows that are undeniably following every move I make. I don’t like it and I can’t get rid of it, and the way she just puts it out there—just calls me a halfling—makes my stomach sink as if I swallowed a bellyful of rocks. “I don’t know anything about a damn prophecy.”

  At the anger in my voice, Carolina backs up. She doesn’t go too far, though. “Would you… would you like to?”

  I stop hopping. The shadows are, well, not forgotten, but suddenly not as important. “What are you saying now?”

  “Okay. Hang on. I got something for you—for the Shadow. I’ve been holding onto this for a while, hoping that I could show it to you. I almost memorized it, but I don’t want to get it wrong. Are you… you gonna stay here?”

  “You sat through community group with me. You knew about Acorn Falls. Black Pine is out,” I add uselessly. “Where else do you think I can go?”

  Carolina is kind enough not to point out that I’m right. Instead, she gestures for me to stay where I am before turning toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “It’s in my car. I’ll be right back.”

  Car, huh? I guess that’s just another difference between Carolina and me. I spent the last six years inside the asylum. Now that Nine admitted that it was as much as a “safe” place to stick me to keep me off the Fae Queen’s radar as it was a psych hospital—sorry, facility for wayward juveniles—to convince me that the fae aren’t a threat, I’m even more jealous of the experiences I missed.

  Driving? Nope. I was fifteen when I got tossed inside. No learner’s permit, even if I might have taken a joyride or two. A license? Forget it. It’s why walking all over Acorn Falls almost seems natural to me. It’s not like I could do anything else.

  I don’t have a phone. No ID. No money.

  No food.

  And Carolina has it all. The expensive clothes. The freedom to come and go from the asylum as she pleases. Now a car?

  Damn it. I should hate her.

  She knows more about the fae than I do, too. Now she knows that, thanks to my weird ears, I have something to do with them. And, for whatever reason, she’s actually willing to help me understand what’s going on. She actually seems desperate.

  I should hate her.

  I can’t.

  That’s not hate that twists my gut when I look at her bony frame, her sunken-in cheeks, and the haunted look in her eyes. That’s pity.

  “Fine.” I nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Girl’s fast. I don’t know exactly where she left her car, but she’s gone and back in a couple of minutes. She knocks on the back door, obviously expecting that I might have locked it behind her, then slinks back in slightly out of breath.

  A hesitant yet almost triumphant grin stretches her lips as she holds out a folded piece of paper.

  “Here you go. The Shadow Prophecy.”

  My pulse picks up at those three words. Can’t help it. It seems to happen every time I hear them.

  Shadow Prophecy.

  Freak out.

  Shadow Prophecy.

  Panic.

  I try to shove it aside, focusing on what’s in Carolina’s outstretched hand. I glance at the paper, but I don’t take it. Instead, I jerk my chin over at it. “What’s that?”

  “You said you don’t know what it is. Here. It’s not much, but it’s something.” As if she’s just remembered that I don’t like getting too close to others, she sets the folded piece of paper onto the counter. “It’s handwritten. You might need to use the moonlight to read what it says.”

  “My eyes are good in the dark,” I mumble, already reaching for the paper. I need to know what this paper says.

  I recognize the handwriting. It’s the same as the scribble on the greasy napkin Carolina slipped to me that last dinner at Black Pine. It must be hers.

  The kitchen is gloomy, the only light streaming in from the window overhanging the sink. I don’t need it, though. Like I told Carolina, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness and it only takes a small amount of squinting to read what’s scrawled on the page:

  …with the Iron she’s destined to stay

  more than an adviser,

  a confidante, a friend

  when Dark me
ets Shadow

  the Reign of the Damned

  shall end...

  Even though it’s only a couple of lines, I read them again and again, trying to make sense of them, then turn the paper around to see if I’m missing anything. “Is this all?”

  “It’s all I have,” Carolina answers. “There’s supposed to be more to the prophecy, but you don’t want to know what I went through just to get this part. Since I was supposed to find out if you were the Shadow, my mistress gave me just enough to know what was at stake.” Her brown eyes light up. “She wants to see you end the Fae Queen’s reign. If you do, I’m free.”

  The Reign of the Damned. That’s what Nine said they called Melisandre’s reign—right before he added that part about the queen cutting out the tongues of the poor creatures who called it that.

  I gulp. The action is reflexive.

  So is my lie.

  “I don’t know what any of this means.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nope.” I hold the note back out to her. “Sorry.”

  She’s looking at me as if she’s hung all of her hope on me. I’m thrown back to my last night at Black Pine. When Carolina nervously approached me at the empty dinner table, offering up her biscuit while wearing an expression eerily like the one crossing her too-thin face right now.

  She presses her lips together, shuddering on an inhale through her nose, then a rough exhale. For a second, I have this sinking suspicion that she’s gonna start sobbing—like I saw her do a couple of times inside the asylum—before she turns so that the paper is facing me again.

  She points to the top line. “This part? Iron? That means here. The human world. Iron is harmful to fae and you won’t find barely any in Faerie. Then this.” Her finger moves down the page. “The adviser and confidante part? It’s talking about the Dark Fae who’s supposed to partner with the Shadow and help her face the Fae Queen.”

  You know what? I remember Rys saying something like that to me when we were in the sewer. That the prophecy mentioned a Dark Fae who was supposed to help me end the Fae Queen’s reign somehow. He seemed to think it meant Nine and, not gonna lie, I’m kind of thinking the same thing, too.

  I’m still stuck on the whole end the Reign of the Damned line, though. Nine’s convinced that means I’m supposed to freaking kill the Fae Queen. Me. Riley Thorne, who can’t even get close to another person without wanting to scream out a warning.

  “Is any of this making it clearer for you?”

  Yes, actually. But Carolina doesn’t need to know that.

  “Not really.”

  “It will. It has to.” After carefully folding the note again, she slips it into her jeans pocket. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. It’s not important. We’re both in the human world together. The Fae Queen never leaves Faerie so, as long as we stay on this side, we can figure this out. The only thing is that the Shadow… that you have to defeat Melisandre. And I’ll do whatever you want me to do to help.”

  Wait a second. Hold on. Who said anything about me signing up to kill the Fae Queen? I can barely fight off a Light Fae who’s going easy on me because he’s sure we’re supposed to be bonded or something like that. How am I supposed to be able to defeat their queen?

  I don’t care what the prophecy says. Not gonna happen.

  “What if I don’t want your help?” I shoot back. “Who says I even want to see the Fae Queen? I definitely don’t want to kill her. Let her stay queen. She’s not hurting me.”

  “Now.”

  “What?”

  “She’s not hurting you now,” Carolina whispers. “And that’s only because a human girl is beneath her notice unless she decides to play with you. And, trust me, you won’t like her games. But you’re not a human anymore, are you?”

  My hand lifts up to my new fae ear, the leather smoothing down the pointed tip.

  Shit.

  I’ve been hoping that, if I forgot about them, they might’ve gotten better.

  Nope.

  “Carolina—”

  “Please.” Her voice drops even lower. I can barely hear the single word as she looks up at me, meeting my gaze straight-on. Tears well in her big, dark eyes, shining in the moonlight. “As long as Melisandre is queen, I’m trapped. Maybe not inside of Black Pine, but I’m still trapped. You’re my only hope.”

  Ah, hell. I feel like I’ve kicked a defenseless puppy.

  I know what’s it like to be trapped, too. In my foster homes, the kids’ homes, the asylum… this is the first time in my life that I’m on my own, and even now I’m still looking over my shoulder, running from the fae—and my past.

  Maybe coming back to this house—actually sneaking inside like I used to do when I was a kid—is messing me up more than I thought it would. Normally, I wouldn’t even bat my eyes at that puppy dog awful look she’s giving me.

  Now, though?

  Part of me wants to throw open the door and tell her to go. The other part? It wonders if maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. You can only run for so long before someone eventually catches up. But if being the Shadow and accepting that the stupid Shadow Prophecy is something bigger than I am means that I can maybe do something to free Carolina, who knows? Maybe I can free myself at the same time.

  I failed Madelaine. Carolina thinks that I can help her.

  Sure, I can’t even help myself half the time, but I might as well try.

  “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I’m not about to start planning how to kill the Fae Queen or nothing, but if you think I can do something to help you with your fae problem, I’ll try. No promises—”

  Carolina starts toward me. I go stiff and, sensing my discomfort, she holds up her hands. “I won’t hug you, Riley. I really, really want to, but you’d hate it, and I’m not about to push my luck.”

  “Thanks.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Appreciate it.”

  10

  All I want to do is go to sleep. After promising her that we could talk more in the morning, I realize that she’s too hyped up to want to leave me alone just yet. Too bad. I either need food or sleep, and since Carolina is, well, Carolina, sleep is my only option.

  When she immediately tries to convince me that I need to leave the empty house, trade it for someplace safer, I start to regret being such a soft touch.

  I mean, her arguments make total sense. Not gonna deny that. I’m technically squatting, and what’ll happen if the realtor comes by or a neighbor notices that the for sale sign is gone? Since I’m still hiding the fact that, no matter how long it’s been, I’m a fugitive from the asylum, I’m really pushing my luck, hoping that the cops don’t find me hiding out here.

  She offers to take me anywhere I want to go. She’s got the car, right? I could get out of Acorn Falls—but I don’t want to. Not yet. Not while my biggest threat can follow me anywhere and won’t rest until I’m back in Faerie.

  Like I said, no one will ever think to look for me here.

  Eventually, she backs down. Either that, or she finally gets that she’s not going to get me to change my mind. I’m stubborn like that. And Carolina? She wasn’t kidding when she said she wants to help me, even appearing to be unwilling to push me to the point where I tell her to go away and leave me alone. Dropping the subject for the second, she instead offers to go back to the sewer and get the gifts I purposely left behind when I ran.

  I sure as hell don’t want them, but she points out that, in an empty house with no electricity, a magic-fueled lantern full of Faerie fire will come in handy. The blanket, too. And, with a knowing look in her dark eyes, she repeats the very same warning Rys gave me the last time I saw him.

  It’s a mistake to turn down a gift from a fae. You never know who you’re offending—or how they will repay the “slight”.

  We sneak out after it gets dark. Carolina kept her expensive-looking, shiny car parked a few streets away from the Everetts’ place. My jaw drops when she points out which one is hers, and it hangs open for the whole ten-minute d
rive across Acorn Falls, heading back into the heart of the small town toward the alley I’d been hiding out in.

  The girl drives like the devil himself is behind her. The devil, or maybe one of the fae.

  It’s a possibility. I can’t help but stare in the rearview mirror, expecting to see someone on our ass. Add that fear to my tendency to get car sick and, by the time I’m shuffling toward the familiar manhole cover from this morning, my stomach is so queasy that I’m glad Carolina didn’t have any food on her.

  I refuse to let her climb down into the sewer. Her clothes are too nice and, well, I don’t really want her to see where I was hiding out for so long. I won’t say I’m embarrassed or ashamed, because I’m not, but Carolina has her own demons. She doesn’t need to share mine any more than she already is.

  Plus, I’m not sure what I would do if Nine decided to pop his head in right about now.

  The climb into the sewer is a lot easier after Carolina offers to swap her sneakers for my slippers. She engages the flashlight on her fancy phone, giving me a little light to work with as I climb down the rusted, pitted rungs again.

  Oof. It stinks worse than I remember.

  The lantern is right where I left it. The fire hasn’t died one bit since he conjured it, the flames dancing willfully against the confines of the lantern. I hate it. After opening the wound of Madelaine’s murder by returning to the old house, seeing the magic fire is like pouring salt right in there and rubbing it for good measure.

  I grab the stupid thing, my fingers aching with the memory of what it felt to burn. Gritting my teeth, I do a quick sweep. No blanket, I notice. The silk scarf Nine gave me is gone, too.

  On a second sweep, I see the remains of the demon peach that nearly poisoned me. When I notice there’s a shadowy lump next to it, I move the lantern closer, strangling my scream when I recognize what the lump is: a dead rat.

  How much do I want to bet that it’s the same rat I threw my scarf at this morning—or that the peach worked way faster on its little furry body than it did on me?