by K. V. Adair
“We are not in the Sidh.”
I was tired of both of their shit. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I will as soon as Aidan gives us privacy,” Liam said, his eyes firmly fixed on my friend.
Aidan didn’t move, his eyes on me. “That’s M’s call.”
I looked from Aidan to Liam and then back to Aidan.
Stuck in the middle it seemed.
I’d only known my brother for three years. Family had been a foreign word. The closest I had was Aidan, and that was different. When Liam had shown up at on my doorstep claiming to be blood, I hadn’t believed him.
Sure, we looked nearly identical, with hair so light it was almost white and pale green eyes and weirdly shaped ears, but good things didn’t happen to me and wishes didn’t come true.
A blood test later, and I’d finally had someone to call family.
Aidan had been in my life far longer, which meant he had been lying to me for far longer, too.
I made my call entirely on that. Probably not fair, I know.
“I’ll call you later,” I said, giving Aidan a weak smile.
He flinched and his jaw locked before giving a slight nod. “As you wish.”
I knew there would be consequences for my choice. But I was as in the dark about why I had to make that choice in the first place as I was about everything else.
And I wanted answers.
Chapter Three
“Wait,” Liam said before Aidan could go out the door. “Find them. Find who hired them. Who sent them. I want names.”
Aidan narrowed his eyes. “Do you really think you need to order me to do that? That I hadn’t already started?”
“From my position, the only thing you’ve started is drinking.” Liam gestured to Aidan’s full, untouched glass of wine sitting on the end table.
“Don’t get shitty with me because you fucked up.”
Before Liam could respond, Aidan left, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he did, the tension left the air, and I relaxed.
“It’s just us, Liam. Tell me the truth.”
Liam pressed his lips together. “You should probably sit down for this.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Do you rehearse your cliches? Or do they just come naturally?”
He groaned but with a smile on his lips. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Love you, too. Now spill.” I walked over to the couch and plopped down. As I reached over to take another drink, a tiny voice in my head whispered that something wasn’t right. Something was off.
I was pissed. Wasn’t I? I’d been lied to, kept in the dark, attacked by assassins.
It had been a long, stressful day, and all I wanted were answers. And no one was being forthcoming.
And yet, I felt a sense of calmness, serenity even. Before I could give another thought to my growing paranoia, Liam sat down on the opposite couch and reached for Aidan’s wine glass.
When he looked at me, his face softened. “We are Fae.”
He said that like I should have understood. “Uh, what?”
I couldn’t deny something weird as shit had happened at Starbucks. But an inhuman species of wee folk seemed right out of a fairy tale.
No pun intended.
“We are Fae, Morgan,” Liam repeated as if repetition would somehow make his words clearer.
“So, like, I’m an elf?”
I took another sip of wine.
“No, you’re Fae,” he said, looking very much like an exasperated older sibling. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back into the sofa cushions like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I snorted. “What’s the difference?”
“For starters, elves are imaginary.”
He didn’t actually roll his eyes. He didn’t have to. The tone in his voice showed his feelings just fine.
“But fairies are real?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “No, Fae, or more specifically, Sidhe. Fairy is…” Uncertainty warred with distaste on his features as he sought the right way to phrase it. “We don’t like that term.”
“Why not?”
He gave me a crooked smile and raised his eyebrow. “Has anyone ever called someone a fairy and meant it in a good way?”
Light from the fireplace lit his pale features with an ethereal glow and reflected off his light green eyes, turning them into blazing emeralds. The combined effect made him look unearthly. Even the tips of his ears seemed a little more pointed than what was normal.
Or maybe I had just drunk too much wine.
“If you’re a fair—excuse me, Fae—why don’t you have an Irish accent? Aren’t all Fae from Ireland? Or is that leprechauns? So confusing,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. If you make something a joke, it can’t make you insane.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “The Fae aren’t from Ireland or anywhere else you’ve heard of.”
“Ah, so I confused those with leprechauns. Unless those are fictional as well? I hope not. I could use a pot of gold and a good dose of luck.”
“No, they exist, but the whole pot of gold thing is bullshit. They are an endangered species now though, on account of overhunting.”
“Overhunting? What are they? Deer?”
He chuckled. “Leprechauns are hunted and consumed for their luck. A pound of their flesh could mean the difference between rolling sixes or rolling snake eyes.”
I laughed. Not a feminine one, either. This was a rollicking belly laugh that worked the abs better than a hundred crunches at the gym.
“Consume? As in eat? Now I know you’re screwing with me.”
His smile faltered. “I’m not.”
“Come on. I’m twenty, not ten.”
I rose from the sofa, the empty wine glass in hand.
“Where are you going?” he asked, getting to his feet as well.
I lifted the glass and wiggled it side to side. “Refill. I expect when I get back we’ll move on and talk about something important. Like who will win the Super Bowl or who the Bachelor will choose: the blonde or the red-head.”
He sighed, all humor gone from his face. “You hate sports. Almost as much as you hate reality T.V.”
“Perhaps, but it’s better than you spinning a tale to make me look like a fool.” I faked a smile I didn’t feel. All sense of security had disappeared. “Besides, just because I tell you I hate the Housewives of New York doesn’t mean it’s true. Maybe I don’t want you to look down on me for my guilty pleasures.” I turned and walked toward the kitchen. “Or you could tell me what is going on instead of making up stories.”
He stopped me with a firm grip on my shoulder. I flinched. Almost immediately he let go like I’d burned him.
“I’m trying to, sis. I know how it sounds, but I need you to believe me.” His eyes pleaded with me, his face earnest. “This isn’t a joke or a trick. There are no hidden cameras. Nothing is recording for me put up on YouTube later. I’m Fae; you’re Fae.”
I snorted and glanced toward the kitchen. I really needed another drink. “We’re all just a happy Fae family.”
“Mor—”
“You’ve done nothing but lie since we met, Liam.” There was more antagonism in my voice than I wanted, my automatic defense system booting up, a vestige from my foster years.
Fear couldn’t choke you if you were pissed instead.
“I’m sorry, Morgan, but I had my reasons.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “And in my defense, you assumed we were human. I never said we were.”
I put my hand up, taking a deep breath so I didn’t yell. “Please, stop.”
Before he could speak, I turned and hustled out of the room. I didn’t cross the doorway into the kitchen. Instead, my face smacked against something solid, like I’d ran into an invisible glass door. But there was nothing in front of me.
“Morgan, look at me.” His voice sounded odd, more commanding and more tired of my shit than usual.
I swal
lowed, raising one of my hands and pushing it out in front of me. My palm hit something solid. A pale green shimmer snaked out from the point of impact. I was pretty sure I’d seen the same effect before.
In a sci-fi movie.
I turned, my mind arguing with my eyes about what had just happened.
He stood with his hands folded. Green light emanated from his closed hand. He studied me, trying to gauge my reaction. I didn’t react though.
I freaking didn’t know how to.
“Did you just… was that…the hell is going on, Liam?”
Instead of answering, he unfolded his hands and dragged them apart. Tendrils of green, the shade of morning grass still wet with dew, entwined between his hands like little dancers showing off.
The corner of his mouth lifted. The magic dancers weren’t the ones showing off.
Glass shattered. I looked down. Shards of my wine glass were scattered on the surrounding tile. My knees buckled, and I struggled to remain standing.
He laughed, and the sound of it soothed my roiling stomach. It didn’t matter what was going on—what was real or illusion.
He was my brother, my lifeline. Heaven, hell, or anything in between couldn’t harm me if he were here, as long as he was happy with me.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked.
I blinked three times before tearing my eyes from the magic—holy shit, magic—to his eager face.
There should have been a million questions running through my head. Who sees magic for the first time and doesn’t have question overload? But I only had one.
“Can I do that, too?”
I folded and unfolded my hands, pulling them apart as he had.
Nothing happened.
My forehead scrunched as I focused, really willed something—anything—to happen. “Looks like you’re wrong. I’m not Fae.”
Unexpected disappointment welled up in my chest.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like breathing. You don’t just wake up with the ability to throw fireballs and raise the dead.”
My eyes widened. “You can do that?”
“Not me specifically. There are others who can do those types of magic. And more. So much more, Morgan.” His face softened. “I have a world to show you.”
Excitement rolled from him in waves.
My amazement that my brother was secretly a magician got ran over by a realization semi. “Why would you keep”—I gestured to the forms still tangoing between his hands, even though he focused entirely on me— “this from me? Don’t give me that omission is not a lie crap either.”
The magic dissolved, falling like glitter tears to my floor. Would I have to sweep it up later? Did magic stick around as another mess to clean up?
My eye itched, and when I wiped it, my finger came back wet.
“I told you I have my reasons. I was trying to protect you.”
Betrayal and the pain of it danced through my body like his magical dancers.
“From what? Blowing myself up?”
Warmth flooded my body, soothing my tumultuous emotions. My earlier suspicions came back. I suspected I was right that the comfort came from unnatural means.
Just what could my brother do?
“No, I was protecting you from whatever our mother was running from when she took you from the Sidh to the mortal realm.”
I paused, information overload causing my head to pound. “You don’t even know what you’re protecting me from? How do you even know I need it? Sounds like a really shitty reason.” I steeled my face and took in a deep breath. Yelling at him was making this worse. If I pushed too hard, he’d turn and walk out the door.
Forever.
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I knew this would hurt you, and I didn’t want to. But I would not take chances with your life.”
“So, what changed? Why tell me now after three,"—I took another deep breath— “freaking years?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not now, not ever. My world…it’s not Hogwarts. It’s backstabbing and treachery and never knowing who you can trust, so you trust no one.” He took another step toward me and then hesitated.
He cleared his throat. “When I’m there, I’m alone. Always. When I’m here…”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on the brink of breaking down. But who was I kidding? I didn’t know him at all. I stepped back and crossed my arms, but it didn’t stop them from shaking.
“When I’m here with you, I don’t feel alone anymore. I didn’t want to lose this… this respite.”
“What are you worried about? That I’ll change if I knew the truth? That you won’t be able to trust me anymore?” The words poured out of my mouth in a rush, my indignation resurfacing.
He sighed and dragged a hand through his pale blond hair. “I don’t know, but I couldn’t risk it.”
“So, what, a few assassins try to take me out and you want to throw a welcome home party?”
He shook his head. “No. I was planning on telling you already.”
“Then what changed your mind?”
“I’m getting married, and I want you to be there.”
I sucked in a breath, my stomach twisting painfully. Seeing magic for the first time wasn’t nearly as shocking as finding out my brother had a honey.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. There was plenty he had hid from me.
“When are you saying I do?”
“In a few days.”
I gaped. “Days? You gave me days?”
“I went back and forth for months, but then someone I respect made a very good point. It’s not right for me to decide what you should or shouldn’t know about yourself, and I was a dick.”
“I’d like to meet this person. Sounds like good people.” I paused. “Do the Fae call themselves people?”
He laughed. “I don’t think it matters, sis. You’ll call them what you want. And you will meet him. At least if you choose to come.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“The wedding is in the Sidh. And after the attempt on your life, I don’t feel safe you returning to this realm unprotected.”
“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”
His eyes darkened and a look I’d never seen before crossed his face. Well, a look I’d never seen before on him.
Last time someone looked like at me like that I had ended up with bruises, which was better than how she ended up looking.
I pushed the intrusive thoughts away. Liam was my brother. He’d never hurt me.
The storm cloud passed, and I felt even more foolish. Not sensing my temporary distress, he pulled me into his arms. I stiffened, and he was already rigid, so it was probably the most awkward hug that had ever happened.
“I’m not used to being disobeyed,” he whispered, his tone gentle. It was a contrast to the meaning of his words.
“Well, that sounds creepy.”
He chuckled into my hair and then pulled away.
“Will you come?” Hope brightened his features.
Would I go to another world, possibly never to return, and enter what he’d alluded was a viper’s nest?
I grinned. “When do we leave?”
Chapter Four
We sat across from each other in the same places Liam and I had the night before having a staring contest.
“So, you’re a fairy, too,” I said.
“Fae. We don’t like—”
“I know. Not the point.”
He wet his lips and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I wanted to tell you from the beginning.”
He was freaking lying to me.
I’d known him thirteen years. He was accomplished at evading telling the truth when he didn’t want to, but he seldom outright lied to me. Not anymore.
And I always knew when he tried.
“I want to know everything, Aidan. Every damn detail.”
He pursed his lips and hesitated. “I’m sorry, M. I’m an asshole, but I couldn’t disobey Liam.”
> “What does that even mean?”
“It’s a long story.”
I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back into the cushions. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
. Years that had been built on a foundation of lies and deceit. Was anyone who I thought they were?
“When your brother found you, he knew it was too dangerous to come to you himself. But he didn’t want to leave you unprotected, so he sent me instead.”
“Whoa. Hold up. Information overload,” I said, and then took a deep breath. “If it was too dangerous for him, why was it okay for you?”
“Your brother can’t take a shit without someone watching, but nobody cares what I do. And I volunteered.”
“Why?”
“Because Sidh is a cesspool, and I’d have done anything to get out of there.”
“Like pretending to be an orphan so you could keep an eye on me? Shit, Aidan. Was everything a lie? Do you even give a crap about me?”
He reached across the distance between us and grabbed my hand. His palm was sweaty, and his pulse raced. The familiar contact was both comforting and like a knife in the gut.
“I love you, stupid,” he said gently.
And the knife twisted. I pulled my hand away. I needed to change the focus, or I’d lose it on him. And I couldn’t do that. He may have been a lying asshole, but he was my lying asshole.
“He knew where I was for thirteen years?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady all things considered.
“It wasn’t safe. And…” His eyes drifted off with his words.
What was going through his head? Did I even want to know?
“And what?” I asked, tired of waiting for him to continue.
“I think he was scared, scared of what knowing you meant. Maybe even scared of having to lie to you.”
“What about my parents?”
“Your father is dead. Has been for years. And your mother…”
His words, and eyes, drifted off again. I wanted to shake him, yell at him to stay in the present. I needed to pry the information he didn’t want to tell me out of him for my sanity.
“Yeah?”
“She’s the one who dropped you off at the police station. I suspect she’s also dead, but I don’t know for sure. We never found her.”
