Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  A chain link fence surrounds the back half of the place. I have much better luck with this one. After landing with a solid oof, I start to run. It doesn’t matter where to. I just have to get away.

  As I put Madelaine’s grave in my rearview, I realize that there’s a reason why I don’t know where I’m going. Just like when I finally left the sewer, it’s not because I’m lost. I literally don’t have anywhere to run to.

  I can’t go back to the Wilkes House.

  The Acorn Falls Cemetery? Not a chance.

  Black Pine? Only if I want to be sedated into a stupor. That would leave me easy pickings for the Fae Queen and whatever touched human she might still have placed inside of the asylum.

  I’ve got to finally say goodbye to Acorn Falls. It’s been months since my break-out and while I doubt they’re looking as intently for me, it would be super risky to stick around when someone might recognize me. With the chilly weather, my gloves and my hoodie are as much of a disguise as Carolina’s baseball cap and sunglasses. It’s still not worth the risk.

  Before I go, I make a decision. It might be a stupid one, but I don’t have much choice. I’m not going to get too far without something to eat and a shit ton of caffeine to keep me moving. I don’t want to risk booking a hotel in town—and it’s not like I have ID or a credit card, either, just a big wad of cash—so I resign myself to another restless night hiding out somewhere safe.

  First, though, I’m going to head into the downtown area, pray no one places my face or my gloves, and try to get something to hold me over for a bit.

  There are plenty of delis and cafes on the crowded main street. I have my pick of them, and decide that the one sandwiched between a make-your-own pottery place and the brick corner seems like a good spot. Shoving my hands in my hoodie pocket, I duck my head and dash across the open alleyway that separates one block from the next.

  I’m forever on alert. Sure, it’s been months and I doubt anyone expects that I’ve been hiding out in Acorn Falls all this time. Even if I wasn’t on the look-out for the cops, I’d still be glancing over my shoulder. I was taught from childhood that the fae could be anyone—or anywhere.

  It wasn’t so bad when I pretended they weren’t real. Now that I’ve lost any hope that I can go back to being ignored by the fae, I’m just waiting for one of the Fae Queen’s soldiers or guards to find me like they did to my poor parents.

  Right as I’m passing the alley, I see a shadowy lump leaning up against the corner’s edge. It looks like it might be a pile of garbage, especially because of the tattered rags and stained blanket that covers most of the mound. I give the pile a second look, though, because I’ve learned that you can’t be too careful.

  And that’s when I see the eyes peering out of a dirty, soot-covered face.

  It’s a man. At least twenty years older than I am, with weathered skin, a tangled beard, and a long, crooked nose, he’s huddled underneath a torn blanket, his chin tucked into his chest as he stares at the brick wall across from his spot.

  His head swivels as I start to pass him by. I hope that he doesn’t ask me for any money. I don’t have much and, until I figure out my next step, the bundle I got from Carolina has to last.

  I lower my gaze, feeling like a piece of trash myself as I pretend not to notice him. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. Acorn Falls is too well-off for the townspeople to allow bums and beggars hanging around their downtown—especially their idyllic main street. It gives me another reason to want to dash past him. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops haven’t already been dispatched to move the guy along.

  Just as I’m going past him, I hear something that has me stopping dead in my tracks.

  “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

  If I had thought to wonder what his voice would sound like, I’d have expected a harsh growl. It’s not. Kind of like the opposite actually. It’s light and lyrical and, unsurprisingly, I’m immediately on guard.

  It was also a whisper. I’m not really sure if he was talking to me or himself and, despite my instinct warning me to get out of there, I edge a few steps closer to him.

  Once he knows he has my attention, his head turns, staring straight ahead again.

  A sickly sweet smell clings to his tattered clothes. I recognize it. It might be the middle of the afternoon, but this guy has already had a few. I breathe through my nose, trying to get the scent of booze and sweat out of my nostrils as I lock eyes with the man.

  He wasn’t slurring. His eyes? Not only do they seem intelligent and clear, they’re also an electric blue. No red in sight—or, I admit, because I’m suspicious and paranoid as hell, gold.

  Not that that matters. That’s glamour for you. It’s not just a charm. It’s the greatest disguise, the perfect camouflage for a dangerous predator. Unless you have the ability to see through it—like my mother—or develop the skill like Carolina had, glamour is another way for the fae to make humans into their playthings.

  It can’t be Nine. He already told me straight that, for some strange reason, I’m immune to his glamour.

  Could this still be a setup, though?

  Oh, yeah.

  I mean, Rys dressed up as a homeless squatter in the middle of Acorn Falls? Why not? After what just happened in the cemetery, I wouldn’t put it past him to regroup once he recovered, then do whatever he had to to make me pay for it.

  And it’s not like he’s the only one I have to worry about coming after me, either.

  “I’m sorry.” I keep my tone even. Calm. Conversational. No, I don’t suspect that you’re a Light Fae trying to trick me, why do you ask? I cock my head and squint, trying in vain to find some sign that he’s wearing a glamour like I did with Rys. “Did you say something to me?”

  “That I did.” He jerks his thumb behind him. It’s unmistakably in the direction of the cafe I was heading for. “Wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Try Charlie’s on the corner of Main and Honeysuckle. Coffee’s better. Clientele, too.”

  The fae are tricky. I’ve learned that the hard way.

  Me?

  I’m over it.

  I lower my voice and, as bluntly as possible, I ask, “Rys? Is that you?”

  “Reese? Am I supposed to be?”

  I squint, peering closer myself. Either the way I saw through Rys’s glamour earlier was a fluke or this guy is exactly what he appears to be: a dirty, dingy drunk slumped in the alleyway.

  Huh. Guess not.

  I shake my head. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else. Anyway, thanks for the tip, but I think I’m gonna see what this shop’s got to offer. I need the caffeine.”

  He shrugs, hunched shoulders rising, then slumping under the weight of his tattered rags and dirty coat. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Not gonna lie. At that very second, their coffee could be straight up piss and I’d still buy a cup just so I could use the excuse to get away from this weirdo. Mumbling a thanks I don’t mean, I shake the ends of my hoodie so that they’re covering my gloves. A quick swipe up top to make sure that my stupid pointy ears are tucked away and I’m set.

  Purposely hurrying past him, I approach the cafe and immediately reach for the metal door handle—before going still.

  I don’t pull on it just yet. Instead, I wait.

  Ever since I’ve escaped the asylum, the old paranoia is back. It’s not just the fae I’m running from. Humans might not be as dangerous as the Faerie races, but I’ve learned to trust my gut. It’s one of the only things keeping me from getting caught, getting trapped, and getting carted back to Black Pine. I know better than to ignore it.

  So when my stomach goes tight? I pause. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight as a chill shivers down my spine.

  Something’s not right.

  Bowing my head, I let my sunglasses slide down my nose that I can get a better peek inside of the coffee shop. I don’t know why, and it’s entirely possible the bum put the worry in my head,
but it seems as if I’m sensing… not danger, not really… something wrong coming from inside the cozy cafe.

  A second later, I whip the sunglasses off. Using the edge of my sleeve to rub roughly at my eyes, I press my nose against the glass. I squint in disbelief.

  You’ve gotta be kidding me.

  It’s the shock of red hair that hits me first, so bright that I’d put it down to a bad dye job if I didn’t know better. Then there are the gold-rimmed glasses that shield his knowing gaze. The wispy goatee is gone, leaving behind a chin even weaker than I remember.

  I recognize him in an instant. Dr. freaking Gillespie, my psychologist from Black Pine, is standing just inside the cafe, talking to the tall Asian kid manning the counter. The doctor’s stocky body is angled so that I get a full-on peek of his profile.

  It’s enough. I know that it’s him.

  And I’m pretty sure he didn’t come all the way to Acorn Falls for an espresso.

  He’s got a manila folder with him. It’s tucked under his arm, though I watch as he pulls it out, flipping it open, and removing a sheet of paper from inside. The ink bled through the page enough that I can tell it’s a black and white photo.

  How much do you want to bet it’s a picture of me?

  I knew it. I freaking knew it. So what if it’s October now? My gut told me that the Black Pine staff wouldn’t let me get away so easily—and that was before Nine explained how he and Rys arranged it so that I was put in that facility because it was full of fae-touched humans.

  I don’t know how Dr. Gillespie is involved. He only came to take over the psychologist job about a week before Nine broke me out of the asylum. He was so weird, though.

  And now he’s here.

  I let my hand fall away from the door handle. No chance I’m going in this cafe now. I can’t risk Dr. Gillespie seeing me.

  Too late.

  Before I can back away from the door, I watch as he nods at the associate, then turns.

  I curse, then throw my body to the side. My back collides with the brick siding, scraping the crap out of my left arm and my hip as I try desperately to avoid being seen. My heart jumps to my throat and, without glancing behind me to check if he’s coming, I kind of awkwardly half-hop, half-jog a few steps away from the door.

  Anything to escape now.

  Running off again, hiding from the Black Pine doctor… that’s the only thought racing through my mind as I put distance between me and the cafe. Gotta get away, can’t let him see me. Someone might have found Carolina by now. How long before they put two and two together and realize I might know something about that?

  No. No. Running is the only option I’ve got.

  Except I can’t run. Tearing down the street would only make me more memorable, make it easier for someone else to track me. I’ve spent way too long figuring out how to stay under the radar. The glasses hide my eyes, Carolina’s baseball cap covers my distinctive pale hair and the fae ears I can’t disguise.

  Why didn’t I dye my hair?

  I should’ve freaking dyed my hair.

  I hear the door jingle open behind me and I make a split decision. Instead of going straight, I veer left, taking the corner with an awkward turn so that I don’t run right over the man huddled just inside.

  Within seconds, I realize two things.

  One? He’s gone. The homeless man who whispered his prophetic warning about the cafe is gone. I don’t even see a single scrap of soiled fabric lying on the asphalt to mark where he’d been huddled a few minutes before.

  His mysterious disappearance isn’t even the worst of it, either.

  This alley was an open one. I would’ve sworn it. Most of the breaks in this part of the downtown lead from the main street to the back doors; it’s how I avoided the cop last time, taking an open path blocked off by a fence. When I passed by the bearded man earlier, I thought I saw straight through to the other side.

  Not any longer.

  It’s a dead end. I’m boxed in, brick walls on three sides, a narrow opening on the fourth. A stack of boxes is piled up about halfway down the stretch, with a gloomy darkness at the far end. No open path, though. No fence.

  No hope.

  Crap. As I race toward the stack of boxes, crouching down so that I’m somewhat hidden, I have to wonder: did I go the wrong way? Or run further and faster than I thought? Maybe. It honestly doesn’t matter since, with Dr. Gillespie’s heavy footsteps chasing behind me, I’m about to be caught.

  “Riley?” I don’t see him yet, but I sure hear him. Excitement colors his nasally tone. “Riley! Don’t run. I want to help you.”

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  There goes any hope that he was just leaving the cafe at the same time and he didn’t see me.

  Damn it!

  Okay. I’ve only got one shot at getting out of this without having to face off against my old psychologist. There’s nothing left for me to do. If I don’t want to walk out of the alleyway and slam right into the doctor, there’s only one way for me to go.

  Staying as low as possible to hide, I take off again, bolting down the dark depths of the alley, heading right for the shadows that seem to be calling out to me. I squeeze myself up against the wall, twisting my body until I’ve made it as small as possible.

  Fighting back the panic, I risk closing my eyes for a few seconds. Then, hoping that this actually works, I try to pull the shadows toward me.

  Nine was right. Sometimes I just have to forget about what’s possible and what’s not, and when it comes to the power inside of me, I have to just let it happen.

  The shadows greet me like an old friend. They lick at my cheek, causing the ends of my pale hair to flutter and sway before they rise up from the asphalt, wrapping around my legs, my middle, my throat. It’s just about instant. By the time Dr. Gillespie strolls deep into the alley, checking behind the boxes, searching the closed-off space for me, I’m completely covered.

  He pauses when he’s about ten feet away from my hiding place. I have this irrational urge to back further away, moving deeper into the darkness until my back’s up against the other wall. Since I don’t want to risk catching his attention or making any noise, I stay put.

  I might stop breathing a bit, too.

  Go away, I plead inside my head, my teeth gritted to keep from blurting the words out loud. It’s just a shadow, you don’t see me, and you should just go away.

  “Riley?” His voice softens. He doesn’t have to shout because, for some reason, he knows I’m here. He just doesn’t know where. “Come out. The whole facility has been worried sick about you. Black Pine needs you back. You’re not in any trouble. Come on out.”

  That’s gonna be a no.

  Sorry, doc.

  I shudder out a short breath, just enough so that I don’t freaking pass out and land at his feet or something, and crack my eyes open again.

  I don’t know if he heard me. It’s possible. With adrenaline rushing through me, every sound is amplified. I can hear the tiny bits of gravel shift under his feet as the doctor looks around, continuing to search.

  Either way, as he lets the manila envelope fall to the ground, Dr. Gillespie suddenly yanks on his collar with one hand, the other reaching beneath his shirt to pull on… on something.

  What the—

  It almost looks like the necklace Carolina gave me. The same braided sinew strip that makes up the cord, tied securely around an iron nail that’s gotta be at least twice the size as the one Carolina gave me. As if he knows about the fae—as if he believes in the Faerie races—Dr. Gillespie has taken precautions to protect himself.

  And that’s not all.

  Unlike mine, Dr. Gillespie’s necklace has more than just the nail hanging off the cord. It’s one of three things, even if it’s the only one I recognize—or understand the importance of.

  The nail is in the center. Closer to his left hand, there’s some kind of crystalline stone that looks super heavy and kind of strange.

&nb
sp; He ignores the crystal and the nail, using his right hand to lift up the third charm thing. I don’t know what the hell it is. It’s… it’s a rock, just not like the rock Nine carries in his pocket. A little bit bigger than a quarter, the doctor’s rock is shaped in an almost perfect circle, polished smooth, with another open circle in the center.

  It reminds me of a stony donut. I’ve got no idea what it is.

  With a flick of his wrist, he lifts his glasses, letting them rest on the top of his head. After squinting one of his bright blue eyes, Dr. Gillespie raises the donut-looking rock up to the other one. That close, the circle in the middle of the rock is some kind of peephole.

  His head swivels, the tip of his tongue poking out as he peeks through it. Right when he’s aiming the rock at me, he points.

  A foxy grin tugs on his lips. “Gotcha,” he whispers.

  He can see me. I don’t have a single clue how that’s possible with a freaking rock, but my former psychologist is staring right in my direction, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

  Plus, he said gotcha. No one ever says gotcha for a good reason.

  He goes and proves me right a second later. Without lowering his rock or wiping that creepy grin off of his face, Dr. Gillespie calls out into the alley again.

  “Riley, you must trust me. You don’t have to hide, and you don’t have to be afraid. I’m here to help you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Remember? I’m your doctor. Let me help you.”

  Help me? Yeah. Right.

  Help me get back to Black Pine and then, after they hear about what happened to me since Nine grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the asylum, make it so that I’m moved on to the adult facility for the rest of my life.

  And that’s if they don’t blame me when they find Carolina’s body and figure I had something to do with it.

  I avoided manslaughter charges after Madelaine’s murder when I was fifteen. I’m twenty-one now, and it’s not like I can tell the police and the judges that Carolina wasted away because she didn’t get enough Faerie food.