“It’s a formality,” she says. “But in your case, since you’re Alexander’s wife, it would be too risky to put every detail in the card. Based on what happened here a few minutes ago, it’s safe to assume that you’re being targeted.” She shrugs. “Which is why I thought it necessary to give this to you now.” She beams at me. “Most young ladies are thrilled to get their invitation, you know.”
“Young ladies? Invitation? Is this some kind of society ball?” I ask, wondering what Jane Austen novel my mother just fell out of. “Mom, seriously. What is this? I’m not going all the way to…” I glance at the card again. “Nevermoor, New Hampshire without knowing what it’s for.”
She sighs and closes her eyes. “If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise,” she says.
“I hate surprises,” I say, although most my life has been one enormous surprise after another. “Look, either you tell me what this is about, or I’m not going.”
I make these threats, but I’m not sure I can let an opportunity to visit Nevermoor, New Hampshire, escape me.
“Will you keep an open mind?” asks my mother. “You have to promise you’ll keep an open mind.”
“Fine, fine,” I say. “Open mind. Got it.”
My mother takes a deep breath and leads me back to the couch, urging me to sit down.
“Nevermoor, New Hampshire is home to a school… an institution of higher learning—“
“Yes, I am aware of what a school is.”
I swear the suspense will kill me.
“For witches,” she finishes.
3
“Witches?” I shout. “Like… broomstick-riding, cauldron-toting… witches?”
“It’s considered an elite establishment,” Chris pipes in. “It’s very well-respected in the supernatural community.”
“Oh, who asked you?” I snap.
“To be clear, it’s a school for high-school-aged witches and warlocks,” my mother clarifies as if adding warlocks to the mix makes it any more normal. “It is where they learn to protect and defend the interests of the Fae here in this realm. Their magic was a gift given to them at birth by the Fae. In exchange for their service. So, when you think about it, since you’re practically a Fae Princess, you sort of belong there.”
She lets out a nervous laugh.
“Except I am hardly a Fae Princess. And my magic wasn’t a gift. I was holding onto it for… him,” I growl, gesturing toward Alexander. “Because my wonderful father sold me out, remember?”
“Well, yes, there was that,” my mother says dismissively. “But look at all the gifts you’ve gained since then.”
My mouth falls open. It makes sense,. That the ancient Fae race would have interests and secrets stashed in various realms that need protecting. Never in a million years would I have thought that witch-diplomats were an actual thing.
“What do they want with me?” I ask. “I’m well above the high school age, and I will not be the oldest kid in class. No way.”
“They will help you tap into your true gifts—the magic you lost on your journey back from Berlin. And they will groom you for your role as a Fae Princess in the Seelie Court.” My mother pauses. “Obviously, Alexander would prefer you receive your education in Faerie, but they are dealing with too much right now. This is the next-best thing.”
Alexander would prefer? Education? On how to become a Fae Princess? I did sign away my life.
What have I done?
“My place is here.” I raise my chin and look my mother in the eye. “With Greg. I can’t just leave him when there are vampires running around out there.”
I shove in the invitation inside my little beaded handbag and toss it aside.
“The Council will handle the vampire situation,” Chris says. “And while I almost always oppose anything pertaining to the Fae and their interests here, I believe it is the best place for you, Miss Kelly. As a future… princess, you need to know and understand your natural magic.” He makes a face.
“What if I have no true magic?” I shoot him a dirty look. Whose side is he on these days, anyway? “And what’s it to you, anyway? Do you have an ‘in’ with these witches or something, Chris?”
He looks away, and I swear I see a flash of guilt in those pale blue eyes.
My mother pats my hand. “You have a week to decide, Sophia,” she says. “When you’re ready to accept, sign the invitation, and they will send someone for you.”
Except I’m pretty sure I’ve already made my decision. And it’s a big, fat, resounding ‘no’. Fixing my friendship with Greg is more important to me right now than Faerie Charm School.
That evening after my mother has departed, Chris leaves me alone so he can keep watch outside and give me time to think. To figure out my next move. And I spend close to an hour walking from one room to another. Trying to summon my magic and trying to summon the Elements for guidance, all while trying not to worry about Alexander and Greg. But it’s useless. My mind won’t stop racing, and my entire body is numb with exhaustion. It doesn’t help that my phone seems to be out of commission, too.
With a frustrated sigh, I set aside the grease-splattered Chinese takeout menu and nubby pencil I’d been using to communicate with the Elements. I close my eyes. The little music notes I’d just doodled still dance in the forefront of my mind, but the melody, for whatever reason, is just beyond my grasp.
“The Four,” I murmur, the music weaving a strange melody through my brain. “The Four… what? The Four Seasons? Beautiful, but cliche.” The notes seem to come alive on the page. “The Chosen Four?” I chew my bottom lip. “What is that? This whole witch-school-thing?”
After a few minutes, I give up trying to figure it out. Whatever musical lead I had has faded back into my subconscious, leaving me even more confused and humming an excerpt from Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this Fae Princess stuff after all. Maybe Alexander made a mistake in binding himself to me.
I move back over to the couch where I flop down, weak from exhaustion and hunger, and turn the TV, flipping until I find a news channel. It’s no surprise that everyone is in a state of panic over the looming darkness that blankets our world. There is no talk of vampires or vampire attacks, which means they’re likely keeping a low profile right now.
But why? What is Atticus Drake planning?
I turn off the TV and pull the invitation back out of my little beaded purse. Is this little witchy boarding school the best place for me? Or am I only playing into a scheme Alexander has cooked up to get me out of the way?
“Your true magic lies with the Chosen Four,” a voice whispers in my ear.
I jump and look around for the source of the playful voice, but there is no one there.
“Is someone there? Show yourself. This is dumb,” I say, gripping the edges of the couch, unsure if I want a response to my command. When nothing happens, I lie back and let out a slow breath. “I’m officially losing my mind,” I say aloud.
After a few minutes, the front door bangs open. Greg steps in, shivering as a gust of wind blows the door open again, just as he’s trying to close it. There is a bag of groceries tucked in the crook of his arm, and my stomach growls at the sight of it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. I didn’t even get cake at our wedding reception.
“Oh, thank God you’re back.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
I rush to greet him at the door, but he only glares at me, reminding me I should probably keep my distance.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he grumbles. “I live here, don’t I?” He brushes past me and heads to the kitchen. “And you were supposed to leave.”
“Look, I know you said you wanted us all gone. And I sent everyone else away. Except Chris, who is…” I stop myself before I reveal what Chris is really doing. If Greg can’t handle the fact that Chris is a vampire, there’s no way he’ll be okay with multiple vampires running amok through the city. “He’ll be leaving soon…. He’s just checking on so
me stuff with the house. As for me? I have no other place to go.” I follow him into the kitchen. “I’m sort of… stuck here. But I can go to my room and stay out of your way if that’s easier.”
“Your little magical friends can’t whisk you away to some faraway land?”
I ignore that statement.
“I’ll be in my room,” I mutter
“No.” He sighs as I walk away. “No, Sophe, stop. That won’t be necessary… just… maybe just keep your weird friends away for now, okay? Can you do that? Let me process this?”
I ponder this for a minute. Trying to keep Horace from popping in whenever he wants will be a challenge. But I think everyone else will cooperate if I ask.
“I assume you’re hungry,” he says, glancing at me as he puts away the bag of groceries, and for a moment, the rift between us seems to fade.
“You know me. I’m always hungry,” I say with a shrug as I fall into our usual grocery-unpacking ritual and take the cold items to the refrigerator while he replenishes the cabinets and pantry.
“I got a chicken.” He holds up a rotisserie chicken in its grease-soaked container that makes my mouth water just looking at it. “I assume you still eat? People food?”
“It’s been a hundred years since I’ve eaten.” The joke falls from my lips, and I do not try to conceal my snickering. I am the funniest person I know sometimes. Greg does not seem to agree. “And of course I still eat people food,” I say, dismissing my attempt at lighthearted banter. “I’m not a vampire, you know.”
Greg’s knees buckle beneath him and he leans against the counter, looking as if he might faint. I wish I hadn’t just said that. Vampires are no big deal to me now, but I must remain mindful of Greg. It’s a lot to take in at one time.
“I’m sorry, G. Just… forget I said that.”
It’s probably not the best time to tell him I was just attacked by one, and that a little while ago, Chris came waltzing in with its heart.
He gives me a sharp look, as if I’ve just overstepped my bounds by talking to him like I used to. Before either of us knew I was a Changeling. Before I’d bound myself to a Fae Prince. And well before the world went dark.
“So,” he says as we sit down at the table. “It’s true then. It’s really true? What you told me earlier? You weren’t just… drunk… or something?”
His gaze flicks up at me before he returns his focus to the chicken leg he’s picking at.
“It’s true,” I admit as I shovel food in my mouth as if it’s the first time I’ve eaten in my entire life. “Horace, Jo, and Alexander are Fae. Christoph is a vampire. Colin is a Druid. And I’m half-fae, half-human. I’m what they call a Changeling.”
“And your mother?” Greg asks. “What is she?”
For a second, I’m not sure how to respond. What is my mother anyway, besides nuts?
“Come to think of it, my mother is the most normal of the bunch,” I laugh. “Though she spent some time as an Unseelie… which is a sort of bad-guy faerie… so she could spy on…” I trail off when I see the pale, panicked look settling back over Greg’s face again. “Anyway… that’s another story for another day. If you want to hear it, that is.”
Greg lets out an awkward laugh, but then goes silent. He’s trying, at least. I can almost see the gears of his mind turning as he tries to make sense of it. Or forces himself to believe it. One or the other. He opens his mouth to say something, but then cuts off as if he’s lost his train of thought.
Beads of sweat break out on his forehead, and his face goes even paler than it was before. His breath is ragged, and he sways from side to side like he might fall out of his seat.
“Greg, are you okay?” I ask, leaning forward and grasping his hand, which is freezing.
“It’s nothing,” he says weakly. “I’m just… not feeling so good.”
Pushing back his chair with a loud scrape, he scrambles from his seat at the table and bolts from the room.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, watching him as he staggers across the living room and back into the dining area where he flops back down into his seat.
He looks around the room as if disoriented, and I can see his shoulders rising and falling with every breath he takes.
“I think I just ate something weird,” he mumbles.
I would call bullshit, but he looks so miserable I decide to file it away for another time. He’s under the influence of something potent, and I need to find out what it is.
“I can’t believe it’s all real,” he says with a groan. “Faeries and vampires. Druids. It’s no longer the stuff we see on angsty, teenage soap-operas, is it?”
“They’re very real,” I say. “But if it makes you feel any better, I was just as shocked as you were when I learned the truth. I had plenty of warning growing up with my mother. Faeries surrounded her. I just refused to see them for what they were.” I pause. “I was in so much denial back then.”
He nods and fidgets a little in his chair.
“And so you’ve… married a Fae Prince?” he asks, staring at me through spaced-out, hollow eyes.
“Well, the Fae don’t recognize marriage. We’ve joined forces. Joined power. Alexander… or Auberon as they recognize him in Faerie, calls it a marriage to appease me.” Greg’s mouth twists and tightens like he’s biting back the words he wants to say. “But let’s save that talk for later, too. Tell me what’s happened here. What’s with this everlasting darkness?”
I’m pretty sure I know what’s with the darkness: Atticus Drake. But I want Greg’s perspective. A more human perspective.
“It started about two weeks ago.” He looks up at me. “It’s like the entire country just… fell into darkness suddenly. It was weird. The sun just… quit rising or something… and it’s been that way ever since. It’s affecting people, too. They’re only talking about the celebrities and famous people who have been affected by it, but I know it’s more than that. I haven’t been myself either. So, maybe it’s got me, too.”
“What do you mean, affected?” I ask, a chill rising along my spine.
“Well, for example, about a month ago, there was a story about some Tony-Award-wining actress out of New York City who disappeared. She disappeared for a couple of weeks before she returned, shattered… nothing more than an empty shell of what she had been. She couldn’t remember what had happened and couldn’t even form coherent sentences. She didn’t even realize she was gone. And then someone in Hollywood… oh, what was her name…” He pauses, staring up at the ceiling. “Jessica Naughton… that’s it. She disappeared. No one has seen or heard from her since she posted something on social media about some fancy resort she was headed to. You know how A-Listers are.”
“Jessica Naughton,” I murmur. “Oh yeah, she was in all those rom-com movies with that British guy.” I pause to think. “And her last post was that she was going to some swanky resort?”
“Yes. More and more stories are popping up like that, too. Similar stories. People disappearing and then returning, all spaced out and… empty. They all seem to go to these same resorts. Though even with the FBI and CIA on it, no one can figure out where these resorts are and who’s running them.” He shrugs. “Personally, I’m not too worried about the disappearances yet since they seem to only revolve around the celebrity scene. But this darkness-thing is a little creepy. No one knows what day it is. And everyone is just sort of walking around with these blank looks on their faces.”
“Interesting. What do you think is causing all of this?” I ask, eyeing him.
I suspect supernatural foul play, but once again, I want to know what Greg thinks. I want his take on this.
Greg shrugs. “I think it’s kind of cult,” he says, giving me a strange look. “You know how celebrities are.”
He shoves a forkful of broccoli in his mouth and then makes a face as if he’s struggling to choke it down.
“You realize that’s not what happened to me, right?” I say, watching as he discreetly spits the brocco
li into his napkin and sets it aside. We are finally talking about this, and I want him to understand my side of it calmly and rationally. “You understand I didn’t run off to some resort to join a cult, right? I was on a mission. And I may not have my magic at the moment, but I’m far from spaced out.”
“Well, you told me about the time-traveling portal and how you had to go back to Weimar Berlin to find your Faerie Prince Charming as part of some prophecy.” He looks at me, dark eyes glistening with anger. “Seems pretty spaced-out and cult-like to me.”
Looking disgusted, he pushes his plate aside and shudders.
“Are you so disgusted by me and what I’ve told you you’ve lost your appetite?” I nod toward the broccoli. “I’ve never seen you turn down a plate of broccoli, even the frozen stuff.”
Greg has always been a healthy eater and an avid exercise junkie. But something changed while I was away. He’s all skin and bones now, and the dark circles under his eyes tell me he isn’t sleeping well, if he’s even sleeping at all. I want to ask him about it, especially after he just ran from the room green-faced and sick, but he’s so irritable and on-edge, I don’t want to push him right now.
“I don’t know what it is,” he says with a sigh. “I haven’t had an appetite for much of anything the past few weeks. Guess that’s what happens when your best friend goes missing without a trace.”
He doesn’t believe me. Even after my reassurance, he doesn’t believe a word I’ve told him. He thinks I was captured just like these other people. And it’s making me question my sanity.
“This magic you have,” Greg says, steering the subject in a different direction. “I want to see it. Now that everyone’s gone. Can you show me?”
“I can’t…” I sigh. “I-I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to show you. It’s just that, physically, I can’t.”
Greg’s face hardens, his pale, chapped lips pressing into a thin line.
“Look, Sophe, if you’re going to continue to live here with me, I need to know what I’m in for. So I’m prepared if I see magical things happening and random objects flying around the house.” He pauses. “Can you do what that British guy can do? Move stuff around? Disappear into thin air? Is that it?”
Faebound Rhapsody Page 3
