by K. J. Sutton
Amusement glinted in his gaze. “So young. So arrogant. I miss that feeling of invincibility.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Fortuna?” Adam asked suddenly. We both looked at him. His tone was as detached as ever, but there was something different in his eyes. Deep within the darkness. A warning. Leave.
For once in my life, I did what I was told. I spoke over my shoulder as I walked away. “Yeah. I mean, yes. Emma is making this big birthday dinner—oh, God, don’t tell anyone it’s my birthday—and she probably needs help. Appreciate the lesson, Adam. See you later.”
Thankfully, my babbling was cut short by the booming sound of the door handle. I stepped outside and let the door close behind me. The moment I heard it click, my heartbeat began to slow.
The sky was clear and reserved now. Everything was covered in a fresh layer of snow. The boy across the street had given up on his snowball, judging from the set of footprints leading back up the front steps. I started walking in the direction of my car, which I’d parked on the street by habit. The air plucked at my loose t-shirt.
Halfway there, my senses prickled, and I knew I was no longer alone. Confirming this, Laurie’s scent floated past a moment later. It always reminded me of springtime. I didn’t look at him as I said, “You haven’t been around lately.”
The door to the coffee shop opened. Lyari emerged, a strand of long hair lifting in a breeze. She noticed us right away, but something about our expressions made her pause. “I’ll be in the vehicle,” she announced. Then she sifted.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Thanks for making it awkward, Lyari.
Usually, Laurie would fill the silence with a quip or a come on. But the Seelie King just walked with me, his frame lithe and lovely, even beneath the wool coat he wore. He wore no hat or gloves, of course, as fae were hardly bothered by the cold. His silver head shone in the pale sunlight. Surrounded by snow and our plumes of breath, he looked more otherworldly than ever before.
“There’s unrest in my Court,” Laurie said, startling me. It took a moment to realize he was responding to the comment I’d made.
“Anything I can do?” I asked. It was a knee jerk reaction, a question I would ask anyone who had just confided in me.
There was an odd look on Laurie’s face. It was so fleeting that I had no time to define it. “Not at the moment, but I appreciate the offer,” he said. His tone was normal, and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
We’d reached the van by that point. I mustered a smile and rummaged through my bag in search of keys. Lyari was in the passenger seat, but she probably wouldn’t unlock the doors for me. She was spiteful like that. “Of course. That’s what friends are for,” I said, still digging.
I was tired, hardly thinking about the words before they left my mouth, but something about them made Laurie’s expression intensify. At the same moment I found the keys, he moved closer to me. I pressed the UNLOCK button and looked up at him, thinking to say goodbye, and the Seelie King brushed his fingers over the gray smudge beneath my left eye. His touch was warm and feather-light. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
“I never do,” I commented, taking a casual step back. My back hit the van, and Lyari yelped. I would definitely be giving her shit for that later.
Ignoring the Guardian completely, Laurie quirked a brow at me. “Seeing as we are friends, I should return the favor. Is there anything I can do for you?”
I hesitated. There was something I’d thought about asking him for during my sleepless night. Well, since he’s offering…
“You mentioned, once, that you know a witch,” I ventured. I was aware that even as I said it, there would be a price to pay. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but there would be. If Lyari was eavesdropping—and who was I kidding, she absolutely was—I would be getting another lecture on the drive home.
Laurie’s eyes were bright with interest. “My bloodline keeps several on retainer, yes.”
Apprehension flitted through me and my grip tightened on the keys. “Would she know a spell to keep someone out of my house?”
I knew, before he opened his mouth, exactly what he was going to ask. Laurie was too curious not to. “What’s going on, Fortuna?”
“The Wild Hunt stopped by,” I said, annoyed by the ember of fear that flared in my stomach. Gwyn wasn’t like Beetlejuice or Voldemort—talking about her wouldn’t make her appear.
Laurie had gone still. Like Lyari, he gave nothing away in his expression, but there was something preternatural about how he stood. Even the slight movements of his chest, as he breathed in and out, had ceased. That was his tell, I realized. I tucked the information away, where I kept all the knowledge I could potentially use to my advantage, if the need ever arose.
“This is bad,” the faerie murmured, staring at something across the street. A moment later, his eyes fixed on me again. “This is bad.”
“You said that already,” I muttered, unwilling to admit how much his reaction had unnerved me.
Laurie moved so that he stood on my other side, his back pressed to the van. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “It seemed worth repeating.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
His answer was slow in coming. I could practically hear his mind working, those sharp gears turning and shifting. “She’s in countless history books and children’s tales,” Laurie said eventually. “All of it is true. Her prowess in battle is unparalleled. She can’t be killed. Then there’s that nasty business with the Courts—they found leverage over Gwyn and used it to stop her bloody rampages. I voted against blackmailing her, but alas, I was not king then. My input didn’t hold much weight.”
“What leverage? Why did you vote against it?”
At this, Laurie looked at me and raised his pale brows. “Because spells are meant to be broken, my queen, and once she was inevitably freed, who would she hunt first?”
I didn’t need to think about it. “She would go after ones that bound her,” I said instantly.
“Precisely, and I happen to like being alive. There are still far too many beautiful people to ravage.” Laurie stared at the horizon, and the light made his eyes bluer. “She can’t be here on a hunt; she would’ve moved on already.”
“Dracula is in town, too,” I added with a note of false cheer. “We should throw a welcome party.”
I saw Laurie blink at my words. His face turned back to mine. “Did you say Dracula?”
“Yeah, why?”
The faerie king opened his mouth to respond, but a car pulled up alongside us, and we both looked toward it. My stomach instantly dropped when I saw the words GRAND COUNTY SHERIFF along its side. A moment later, Ian rolled down his window and gave me a two-finger salute. Though he was smiling, his eyes didn’t quite match it. He didn’t say a word as the car pulled away, and that made my nausea worse, somehow.
Laurie watched my reaction with narrowed eyes. “Who is he to you?” he asked.
“Just another asshole. Don’t worry about it.” My voice was slightly off. I reached for the door handle, but Laurie was still leaning against it. I adjusted the strap of the gym bag with rough fingers. “Do you mind?”
Laurie tilted his head and looked at me more closely. “What happened to you, Firecracker? Where’s that lovely spark?”
Once again, I hesitated. The lies waited in my mouth, on my tongue, creating a sour taste. Strangely enough, I caught myself thinking about telling Laurie the truth. But Lyari was in the van and we were on a public street. Not exactly ideal circumstances for such a private conversation. I heaved a sigh and pushed the faerie off the van. “That ‘spark’ went out after all the closing shifts and sleepless nights. No one else seems to worry about how we’ll buy groceries, or pay Cyrus rent, or get Matthew the toys that every kid should have. Have you heard of those, by the way? Bills?”
I pointed at the bar to accentuate my point. Laurie looked over at Bea’s, and his expression twisted with distaste. “If you need mone
y, my dear, all you need to do is ask.”
“That’s not what… you know what? Never mind.” I got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Laurie stood there as I jammed the key in the ignition and turned it, bringing the battery to life. Remembering the request I’d made of him, I rolled the window down. “About the spell—”
“If she was here for you, a spell wouldn’t stop Gwyn. Nothing would.” In an obvious dismissal, he looked past me. His next words were for Lyari. “It’s unlikely that Gwyn intends to harm the Queen of the Unseelie Court, but don’t leave Fortuna alone. Ever. Do you understand?”
My Right Hand nodded. “I understand, King Laurelis.”
“If you don’t think she’s here for me, why do I smell your fear?” I asked bluntly, pulling my seatbelt across me. I twisted the key and the engine grumbled at me before turning over.
“Because she’s old, cunning, and unpredictable.” Laurie gripped the edge of the window and stepped so close that it reminded me of the night we danced together at that bar in Denver. I pulled a strand of hair away from my face. His gaze followed the movement, then moved back to linger on my mouth. “And I would… regret losing your company.”
By now I knew better than to attempt a response, and right on cue, Laurie performed one of his vanishing acts. I sat there, trying to define the feelings creeping through me. A leaf skittered past. I frowned at it absently, still picturing the Seelie King’s solemn eyes.
Lyari said my name, more loudly than usual. I turned to her, blinking, and she looked back with an annoyed glare. “I’ve been sitting in this foul smell for five minutes,” she snapped.
I rolled my eyes and changed gears. As I checked for traffic, Lyari started fiddling with the radio. She couldn’t hide a hint of fascination in her gaze. I pulled onto Main Street, listening to different stations blare through the speakers. I barely heard it, really—my thoughts had gone back to Gwyn.
The entire ride home, I stared at the skyline with a troubled frown, wondering if I’d see the silhouettes of galloping horses.
Chapter Eight
Hot water pounded down on me.
The steam was so thick that it was difficult to see. I knew the water was too hot—my skin was turning red—but I closed my eyes and leaned into it. The longer I stayed in the shower, the longer I could delay the impending celebration.
In the darkness of my eyelids, though, I saw everything else I was avoiding. Oliver, Ian O’Connell, Gwyn, Dracula. Their faces went around me like horses on a carousel.
My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the plastic wall of the shower, trying not to make a sound in case there was a certain werewolf nearby. I finished washing my hair and ignored the knots inside me, tightening and loosening with every breath. As soapy water rain into the drain, I turned the valve. Stillness coiled through the air, replacing the steam.
The moment I stepped out of the shower, I could hear Emma in the kitchen, working on the birthday dinner she’d insisted on. My conscious wouldn’t let me hide anymore. Sighing, I left the bathroom and headed for my room. Evening light streamed through the window. Water still trickled from my clean-smelling hair. I toweled it dry as best I could, then opened the closet doors to see my options.
Despite the cold outside, and a chill clinging to the air within the house itself, I pulled a dress off one of the hangers. Maybe my time at the Unseelie Court had led to a dependence, of sorts, on masks and costumes. But this one was not nearly as elaborate—it was a black, long-sleeved dress I wore to church services and funerals. I pulled it over my head, and once the material settled onto my shoulders, I saw immediately that it was too big. I checked my reflection in the mirror to see how bad it looked. Damn it. No wonder Emma had been force-feeding me every time I entered a room.
Down the hall, I could hear Matthew crying. He’d been battling a cold for the past two days, and Damon was worried he had an ear infection, too. Listening to my nephew’s pained whimpers, I added getting health insurance to my endless list of responsibilities. Between our shifts at Bea’s and my salary as the Unseelie Queen, Damon and I should be able to make it work.
I knew Emma would lend us the money without hesitation, if we asked her for it. But she’d already paid a high price for loving us. I couldn’t take anything else from her.
Suddenly a crash came from the kitchen. I swore and turned my back on the mirror, then hurried toward the kitchen. Emma was picking up a pot from the floor, singing as if nothing was amiss. Hip hop music played from an iPad propped on the table. “Are you okay?” I asked, breathless.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Emma asked, putting the pot back on the stove. Without any warning, she started twerking.
I squealed and leapt back, then bit my lip to hold back a peal of laughter. I reached for the iPad and increased the volume. “Damn, Ems! Work it, girl.”
As the old woman bent down even farther, her hand brushed against the handle of a spatula, and the utensil flipped onto the floor. Grease splattered across the tiles. Emma swore and moved to pick it up, but I beat her to it.
“Will you please let me help you?” I demanded, putting the spatula in the sink. This brought my attention to a bowl of leftover cake batter.
“No. I have at least sixteen birthdays to make up for,” Emma informed me, slapping my hand away from it. I pouted and went to turn the music back down. “The food is almost ready, by the way. Please sit down at the head of the table. Oh, and we’re using the dining room tonight.”
The dining room was, in fact, also the living room. On the left side of the space, there was the couch, the coffee table, and the entertainment center. On the right, there was a long table, stretching along the length of the picture window. It was separated from the entryway by a wall with a wide, arched doorway. We’d never used it, and the fact that we were now worsened my anxiety.
Emma was still waiting for a response. I gave her a weak smile. “You’re the boss. Hey, do you mind if I step outside for a minute, before we start? I just need some fresh air.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Is everything all right?”
I didn’t want to lie to her—fine, fine, everything is fine—so I made a noncommittal sound and left the kitchen before she could ask again. I paused in the entryway long enough to jam my feet into a pair of fur-lined slippers, and then I was yanking the door open and stepping onto the porch.
I walked to the railing and rested my elbows on it. As I looked out at the view, the tightness in my chest eased. It was the sort of quiet that only happened in winter, everything sleeping and dreaming. Shadows spilled away from the setting sun, dragging the night after them.
When a car turned into the driveway, I saw it right away because I’d already been looking toward the horizon. I didn’t recognize the vehicle, and in a town like Granby, that meant it was a stranger. My instinctive wariness kicked in.
When I caught sight of their faces through the windshield, my stomach dropped like a carnival ride. No fucking way.
The engine died and the headlights went dark. Confirming this wasn’t a dream, Dave stepped out and slammed the door.
He looked the same as he did the day I left them six years ago. His brown hair was thinner, maybe, but he still had a mustache and wore a puffy vest over his plaid shirt. “For Pete’s sake, put a coat on, kid,” Dave chided, spotting me on the porch.
Maureen got out from the passenger side, her short legs struggling to close the distance between the seat and the ground. My foster mother—well, technically, she was my adoptive mother—looked like she should be on the PTA board for every local school. Her brown hair, now streaked with gray, had been in a pixie cut for as long as I’d known her. She always wore button-up shirts and whitewashed jeans, despite the eighties being well behind us. Her lips were thin and her nose was a bit too large for her face. But it was her gray eyes that always stood out most, whenever I saw her. They shone with kindness. Even as a child, I’d seen that. It was probably the reason I hadn’t ever run away.
Something in my chest tightened at the sight of her, and all at once, I was reliving every argument we’d ever had.
Thankfully, there was no time to dwell on any of it—Maureen was coming down the walkway. Don’t touch me, I thought, willing power into the words. But it didn’t work, because she was already closing the distance between us, reaching for me with her delicate arms. As they closed around me, her phobias seeped from her skin and into mine.
The flavors were familiar, a combination of mint, rust, and the glue that you lick on the seal of an envelope. My foster mother was terrified of heights, mice, and blood. I hadn’t seen her since becoming the Unseelie Queen, though, which meant I’d never touched her with all this magic humming through my veins. I tried to imagine a wall between us. I refused to delve into her mind.
But the power was hungry. It wasn’t satisfied with those small fears, and my own desires were of little consequence. Between one blink and the next, I was in Maureen’s mind.
There was nothing particularly unique about the structure of it. Her fears were easy to find, like a box of memorabilia that had been shoved at the back of a closet and forgotten. When I realized what was happening, I started to free myself from Maureen’s hold. To put distance between us before it opened. But it was as if that dusty box wanted to be discovered—the lid unlatched and the darkness beckoned.
I found a story inside.
It was the story of a girl. A lonely girl, who never missed a day of school and turned in every assignment on time. She showed every graded paper and perfect test to her father, who always came home from the factory looking more tired than he had the day before. He never looked at Maureen as she waited, no, as she yearned for his approval.
All she ever got was a vague grunt or a muttered word that bore little resemblance to the praise she'd seen her classmates get from their parents.
