by Amber Lynn
There is no evidence to back the claim up as far as I know, but it’s a story enchanter parents tell their children. I’m not sure if it’s common practice still, which would seem a little silly given how rare the mounds are.
“Sometimes I kind of hope I do get sucked in.”
Ian’s words aren’t much more than a mumble, but I hear them fine. I turn around and see his eyes are glued to the mound. I’ve met a lot of people in my life, thousands, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who looked as lost as Ian does in this moment. He shakes his head, and the veil over his eyes lifts. A small smile appears as he reaches out for my hand.
I stare at it, wondering if he’s completely lost his mind. There is limited light coming through the tree canopy that I look up to see above us. The little light that there is shines down on his pale skin, making it look almost translucent.
“I don’t bite. Not now, not ever.”
As if I’m afraid of him biting me. I roll my eyes and grab his hand to prove that point. The second our skin touches, I remember why I don’t voluntarily do the whole touching thing. I shiver and try to tap down the gurgle of my stomach.
There was a time I didn’t mind touch. In fact, I loved it. But, around the time I was cursed, any contact started giving me the willies.
“We should probably hurry up and just get this talk over with,” he said.
Our hands are still connected as he takes a seat on the mound. My eyes grow wide as I watch in slight horror.
“It doesn’t bite either.”
He tries to pull me down, but I fight the tug and free my hand from his hold. If he thinks a faery mound doesn’t bite, he is completely clueless. If the faeries in charge of the mound are around, biting would be the least of my problems.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
The mix of beauty and danger that faery mounds can bring feels like a slap in the face. Apparently, I needed one because I let my guard down. Yet, another thing I cannot remember the last time it happened.
“But you want to hear about my dad, right?”
Crap. Instinct tells me I need to get away from the faery mound as quickly as possible, but I do want to hear the details. I don’t know why, but I do.
Sighing, I take two big steps away from the mound and let the lush green grass tickle my fingers as I settle in for his story. He’s been coming to the mound for years and doesn’t seem to be too worse for the wear, so a few minutes probably won’t hurt me.
Chapter Fourteen
“I guess we might as well start with your question about when he changed. I was three when it happened, so it’s been around fourteen years. At least that’s what Mom says. I wasn’t really allowed to talk to my dad before the trial and such.”
Interesting. It’s not surprising if his mom was unwilling to be turned that she didn’t let him speak to his dad, but it is interesting that he said changed and not turned. There’s a difference, but I hadn’t expected that his dad was cursed.
The original bloodsuckers started out that way, but over the years, any new ones have basically all been turned from a bite or something. As I already hinted, what that something is, isn’t all that important to me. I just know they make more of themselves.
“Does that mean you don’t know why he was cursed?”
“The only reason I know his change was different than mom’s is because Mr. Hamilton told me. I guess he’s the same way.”
I probably look stupid as I sit there and blink a few times. I expect him to say he’s just kidding or something, but he’s simply patiently waiting for my response. It makes me think he knows how rare the curse aspect is, which surprises me.
“Were they cursed around the same time, or something?”
I guess I don’t really know Ian’s dad’s or Mr. Hamilton’s history. I’ve felt that Mr. Hamilton isn’t originally from around here. He seems older. With the power coming from him, he’s got to be older, which tells me he’s moved around.
Ian laughs, indicating I’m as off base as I think. Reaching to his left, he plucks a verbena flower and starts playing with it. I’m not close enough to reach one myself, so I briefly consider grabbing one with my powers. The second I remember that they’re on a faery mound, I think better. Ian is playing with fire stealing one of their flowers.
“Mr. Hamilton is ancient. Like, I’m pretty sure he’s twice your age. I know the Fae think Michael rules the school because he’s an angel and all, but I heard Mr. Hamilton really pulls all the strings.”
There’s part of me that believes that, but the rational side of my brain says there is no way. We’ve gone over how much I hate to admit it, but angels trump all.
“Maybe that’s what they want you to think. After all, you’re a human who only knows about us because of a technicality. I’m surprise they didn’t cover that up too.”
Wiping a person’s mind is easy, and the Council loves to prove it. I could do a wiping in my sleep, so there must be some strong circumstances leading them not to.
“Honestly, sometimes, I which they had. It’s awesome to know people like you exist, but no matter what my mom and Mr. Hamilton say, I’m not really part of your world.”
“And yet, you’re the one sitting on a faery mound,” I say as I shrug. “You do know how crazy that is to me, right?”
There’s no way he understands it, not since he seems so comfortable. The initial draw from it was broken when he snapped me out of my daze, but faery mounds shouldn’t be messed around with. They have so much magical energy deep under their surface that they could essentially be like a nuclear bomb if used incorrectly.
“Maybe that’s why I like it so much here. No one’s tried to follow me or anything, but it sounds like one of you wouldn’t hangout here long unless invited.”
That’s a weird way of saying it, but I can’t imagine many people would find the place on their own. If I had just been wandering around without Ian, I might have felt an energy burst, but I wouldn’t have found the place without him. That’s just how faery mounds work.
“Have you done any research on faeries? Whoever’s the keeper of this mound clearly likes you, but I’d be careful about spending too much time here.”
“When I told Mr. Hamilton about the place, he filled me in. He said, faeries should never be trusted, but if they give you shelter, you shouldn’t turn them down.”
“You sure keep bringing up Mr. Hamilton a lot. Is he like your go-to for Fae information?”
After the weird interactions I’ve had with the man, I wouldn’t say I trusted him to give me the best advice. Even if he’s as old as Ian says, which would mean he has a whole heck of a lot of knowledge, I wouldn’t trust him as a human to be sharing the truth. Ian seems awfully gullible, but I’m hoping he’s not that stupid.
“Look, I have no idea what’s up between the two of you, but he’s been sort of like a stand-in dad since mine’s away. He fought to make sure the Council didn’t clean my brain out.”
“Wait.” I’m not sure if I’m interrupting, but his statement needs a quick clarification. “Are you saying he was there when your dad had his hearing?”
I may finally have an answer for why Mr. Hamilton feels kind of familiar. I know I didn’t make note of him at my trial, but if he was around, even his energy may be the familiarity I feel around him.
“Yeah. That was the first time I heard about you. On the way home, he kept talking about you and how everyone knows who you are.”
I squint my eyes and push my mouth to the side as I think about that. I know I’m notorious, but I don’t think I deserve to be the topic of a road trip.
“What exactly did he say about me?”
Ian said he kept talking about me. That sounds like a little more than just explaining that everyone knows me, unless he kept saying I was crazy over and over. I don’t know how they traveled, but there are hours between Newberry and Spokane, where the Council has their North America chapter. I imagine a pla
ne was involved, but even then, I’m thinking it was at least ten hours.
“I couldn’t tell you for sure,” he says as he shrugs. “I just learned my dad was going to be locked up, so his tales about an enchanter cursed to never grow up didn’t exactly stick. I mean, I remember you that day because I never heard someone cuss as much as you did, but I had no clue who you were until he told me.”
If I do nothing else in my time here, I’m going to have to make sure the poor kid gets a real education when it comes to all things Fae. I’ve never taken someone under my wing, but I figure it might buy me some goodwill. Ophelia keeps talking about needing to grow up, maybe being nice to the lost boy will be just what I need.
After all, I’ve been able to spend over ten minutes with him without wanting to kill him. I’m pretty sure that’s a record.
“And if I remember right, even with what I’m sure wasn’t warm tributes to me, you came up to me on my first day and asked me to go to a dance with you today.”
I could’ve probably gotten through the day with him forgetting to touch on the dance again. I need to start tallying all these brownie points and find somewhere to redeem them.
“I should’ve just told my mom that I asked, and you laughed in my face. I know you’re interested in hearing about my dad, and that’s the only reason you’re hanging out with me.”
His eyes are glued to the flower he somehow hasn’t demolished with all the fiddling he’s done with it. It’s heartier than any verbena I’ve ever seen.
“You seem to know a little about Fae, so I assume you know that Fae and human relationships, even just friendships, don’t tend to work out that great.”
The poor guy needs look no further than his parents to see that’s the truth. Some Fae pretend they can have a normal human life, but it’s a stupid concept.
I don’t know a single Fae species that doesn’t outlive humans by at least a hundred years. That’s a lot of decades to spend growing attached and watching people you care about die. It’s completely moronic to live like that.
“I know, but I’m stuck between worlds. The only reason I’m allowed to know about you guys is because everyone assumes I’ll be one of you someday. Of course, I’ll want to be part of the ‘family.’”
He uses his fingers for the air quotes around family. I get the sense he’s a little bitter about it from his tone.
“If anyone finds out that I have no plans of being turned, all my memories of the last three years will disappear.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this.”
He’s so serene about it all, even with the resentment I picked up, but I’d go nuts if that kind of thing hung over my head. I suppose with all my run-ins with the Council, it does hang over my head. It wouldn’t be just a snap of the fingers, but the same fate is calling me.
“That would be a smart thing, but I figure with your hatred towards the Council and general dislike of humans, you’re probably the only person I can tell. My mom has come to terms with being fang-inclined and is already talking about the day Dad comes home and we make plans for me joining them.”
“You’ve got me there. I’m the last person who would run to the Council to turn someone in. I’ve had enough nightmare interactions with them that I wouldn’t even throw my worst enemy at them.”
I might be overstating with that last thought. If I couldn’t come up with a horrible enough punishment for someone, the Council is always a last option.
“That’s why I’ve been trying to be your friend. I know it’s annoying for someone like you to have a nobody like me pestering you. I just thought that maybe since you’re an outsider, we sort of have something in common.”
Friend. It’s such a weird word. The root meaning has something to do with love, which isn’t what comes to mind when I think about friendship. Backstabbing seems like it’s a better definition based on my experience.
I have tried the whole friend thing. I don’t know if it was because all the girls in my early enchanter classes were trying to be the best and class or what, but I eventually was cursed by one of them, so you can figure out how that went.
“Well, I say we go to this dance together.”
A look of shock crosses his face before he opens his mouth to say something. I hurry to offer a stipulation. I have to make it clear I want something out of the deal, even if my stipulation means nothing.
“But, you have to quit talking to your mom about me. I’m a private person, and I prefer to keep it that way.”
I don’t know why I agreed to go with him. I was already on board for the whole idea of taking him under my wing, but a dance seems a little above those responsibilities. I guess we’ll see how quickly I screw this up.
Chapter Fifteen
“What’s this I hear about you going to the homecoming dance with Ian?”
I had been peacefully pushing the mush they call potatoes around on my plate before Jimmy interrupted me. I like mashed potatoes, but the slop they call gravy spread over these particular potatoes makes me want to eat sweaty socks instead.
Looking up, I see Michael, or Mike, as apparently he prefers to be called, putting his tray down on my table as he sits in a chair across from me. Even after a month, my lunch experience is typically solitary. Just the way I like it.
It was only yesterday that I told Ian we were going to the dance together. I’m not sure whether to be surprised or pissed that Ian is blabbing about the news.
“Don’t tell me you were going to ask me.”
Since our first lunch confrontation, Michael hasn’t paid me any attention. I suppose he thinks whatever message he has for me was received. It makes sense, since I haven’t tried to blow anything up. Truthfully, I just didn’t want to have to spend another painful lunch with him.
The annoyed expression on his face gives me a little relief. I was joking about him asking me, but if he got a crazy idea, I know my instant reaction would’ve included setting something on fire.
“I hadn’t planned on it, but if I knew he was going to ask, I would’ve steered him to a more practical option.”
“Because you are the expert in practicality. And high school students.”
I still don’t understand why Ian thinks Mr. Hamilton has control over the school. I guess he can’t feel the power the two of them give off. I’ve never really thought about what it must feel like for a human, but they must feel at least a tinge of the electricity Michael puts off.
“I’d say I know more about both of those subjects than you. You’ve been here a month and spent absolutely no time really getting to know anyone, human or Fae.”
“And that’s a crime?”
I stab at my potatoes, wondering what I’d change them to if my powers weren’t inhibited enough I’d have to break a sweat to use them. I’m thinking the potatoes would become a giant pile of hot onion rings and the mystery meat next to them would look so much more appetizing as a New York strip steak.
“Not something you can be convicted of, but if you paid more attention, you’d know how protective we are of Ian.”
My brow raises as I level a harsh stare in his direction. I’m not sure exactly what he thinks I’ve done over the last month, but I’ve been paying plenty of attention. For being protective, no one talks to Ian. He’s kept to himself other than trying to get me to stop being my moody, sullen self.
“So, when I told my mom you guys had a human pet, I wasn’t far off.”
“He’s not a pet, and you know that. I know you two went up to the faery mound yesterday. I’d advise against going there with him again.”
Plastic silverware has never been my favorite, and I have to wonder if there’s a reason that’s all they use in this school. I’d think they’d save boatloads of money on something reusable. On the other hand, if I had a metal utensil, it’d be through Michael’s hand, or maybe eye.
“Did you follow us or just know?”
The mode of transportation we took for the majority of the trip would be
impossible for most people to follow. I’m sure my little angel buddy doesn’t have to move to keep tabs on anyone in town.
Michael smiles and shakes his head as he takes a bite of his food. My stomach rolls thinking about how awful it tastes.
“I think I’ll keep that a secret. You live by your own rules, and that’s fine. I just need you to stay away from Ian.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. Not only does he not want me to go to the faery mound with Ian, which isn’t a tough sell, but he thinks he can tell me who I talk to. I can’t help scoffing as I look across the lunchroom to see Ian in line getting his food.
“If his mom doesn’t have a problem with us hanging out, maybe you should chill out a little.”
Michael has his fork almost to his mouth when it stops, and his jaw drops down. My comment didn’t seem like it would shock him, but that look says something I said struck some nerve.
“Why would you say his mom doesn’t have a problem?”
He recovers from whatever issue he had with what I said and puts his fork down. I sit back in my chair as he leans forward. I don’t know what I’m picking up from his tone, but I get the sense it’s an act of sorts. I don’t know how to explain that. It’s just weird.
“Because he told me she’s the one who urged him to ask me to the dance.”
Normally, I wouldn’t hand over that information, at least not that quickly. I’m hoping it puts him in his place as far as butting in when his opinion isn’t asked for. He’ll have to admit his whole claim about protecting Ian doesn’t hold water if Ian’s mom is okay with us hanging out.
Michael looks over his shoulder quickly, then moves his chair so his body easily leans over most of the table. The closeness makes me want to scoot back, but I hold my ground.
“That’s impossible.”
I don’t know why he needs to be almost in my lap to tell me that. Our definitions of the word impossible must not be the same.
