I arch a brow. “As if there would’ve been a good time?”
“No, of course not, I just mean that . . .” she pauses, and her brows tug close as if she’s trying to decide how to say something. “I think you should know all of the facts before you walk into work on Monday.”
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. “I’m all ears.”
She blows out a breath. “This is going to be a lot, but try not to freak out, okay?”
“You’re really not making me want to hear this anymore.”
She laughs, but it’s forced and awkward. “Right, okay. People like me and Tristan, we aren’t the only type of fae.” She gives me a minute to absorb that. “There are light and dark fae. Tristan and the rest of us are dark, and then there are others who are light.”
All this time, I was under the impression there were just fae. Now there are different types? I can’t keep up with this shit. “There’s a difference?”
She taps her fingers against her thighs. “No, we’re all the same. We have identical abilities. We’re one race, divided because of politics—much like the humans. It’s all boring history.”
“I want to know,” I say without a thought.
She nods. “It all started with our ancestors many years ago. I’m talking the beginning of humankind. Since there were humans, there have been fae. Some are born that way, and some are transformed—either intentionally or by accident. This didn’t really start happening until the fae were forced to inhabit Earth after our world was destroyed during the last war. That was before my time. But it’s why some of the fae—from both sides—don’t look on the humans in the most flattering way. They’re jealous. The humans get to live in their own world, while the fae—we’re stuck here.”
I blink a few times, unable to form a coherent response. This is . . . a lot.
“Do you want me to stop?” she checks.
I shake my head. As overwhelming as this information is, it’ll give me a better understanding of this world I’m trying to wrap my head around.
“We used to be a single race of supernatural creatures,” she continues. “There were no light or dark, just fae. For the longest time, there were no leaders, but there were always a few who showed leadership qualities when conflicts needed to be handled. The fae, as one group, decided to elect several of these individuals to be the decision-makers of our race. There were four or five of them in the beginning, from what I remember reading. These fae were in charge of making laws and deciding the consequences for those who broke them.
“That was all well and good until the leaders started disagreeing with each other on things I don’t know about. Two, in particular, seemed to butt heads often. In fact, it got to the point where the other leaders started choosing which one they stood with, and alas, one race with several leaders split into those who followed one—the light fae—and those who followed the other—the dark fae.”
“Why light and dark?” I ask.
“Because after the fae had split into two groups, there was an agreement signed by the leaders from each side. The light fae were permitted to walk the human world during the day, and the dark at night.”
“Obviously that rule is no longer in place.”
Allison frowns. “Tristan’s great-great-grandfather, the dark leader at one time, decided he and his people were tired of living in the human world at night. The fae world was much like New York City. Always awake. The human world, it closes at night. And so, the dark fae fell into poverty. So Tristan’s grandfather breached the contract his ancestor created with the first light fae leader and started a territory war. If the dark fae were going to walk the human world during the day, there was going to be some pushback. Now, Tristan refuses to throw his people back into that life of not being able to attend school or hold whatever kind of job they want. It was a quality of life consideration.”
“That’s what the war is about? Sharing the human world?”
She nods but doesn’t add anything else.
“Can’t they come to a new agreement? Both sides are breaking the same rule now anyway, so doesn’t that make it irrelevant?”
“You would think so.” She pulls at a loose thread on her shirt. “I’m not actively involved with the politics. All I know is what I’ve told you.”
I let out a breath. “This war, the rules and responsibility, that’s a lot to put on one person.”
Allison raises a brow at me, her eyes widening slightly.
The tops of my ears burn once again. “I just mean, I couldn’t imagine being in that position, that’s all.”
“Well, the position you are in isn’t exactly ideal, either.” She presses her lips together. You’re sure there’s no way around it?”
My chest feels tight. “Without this placement, I’ll fall behind and won’t be able to look for a job until next semester ends.” My voice increases in pitch. Graduating late is not an option. It will shred my plan for the future into pieces. I’m in no position to take my time finding work after next semester is over. I need to start paying my parents back as soon as possible. Shortly before Adam got sick, they took out a second mortgage on the house to pay my steep tuition bill. I wasn’t all that involved with the process at the time, but the seriousness of the situation weighs on me now.
When my phone chimes from my desk, I slide off the bed and walk over to grab it. “Adam, what’s going on? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t feeling well, so Mom and Dad let me stay home.”
I bite my lower lip. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not dying,” he says with a laugh. “I have a headache, and my stomach is sick. I’ve been puking all morning.” Adam doesn’t mind making jokes about dying, considering he’s survived cancer and isn’t even thirteen.
“Why didn’t they take you to the hospital?”
“Because it’s nothing. Probably just a bug. You know my immune system sucks. Don’t worry about it, Roar.”
His nickname for me makes my chest swell with warmth. He’s been calling me that since he was old enough to talk. In the beginning, he couldn’t say my whole name but managed to learn part of it, and it stuck. “Get some rest, okay? If you’re not feeling better later, ask Mom and Dad to take you to the hospital, okay? Please?”
“Yeah, okay. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek so hard it’s bleeding.
“Can you come home this weekend?”
I finally let out a breath and laugh. “Miss me already?” I tease. I’ve only been away from home for a few weeks.
“No,” he grumbles. “I’m just bored, that’s all. Whatever.”
I muffle a giggle with my hand. I won’t embarrass my twelve-year-old brother over the phone. No, I’ll save that for when I can see his face get all red. “I’ll see what I can do.” I wouldn’t mind taking some time away from the city before Monday. A trip home might be good for me.
I spend the rest of the week locked in my room when I’m not in class, drowning in homework while trying to mentally prepare for Monday morning. When Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m on a train, heading to Mapleville. I want to believe I’m doing this for Adam, but the truth is: I miss home. That, and going home means I’ll get the answers I’ve been terrified to search for since Tristan told me about my ties to the fae.
I get a cab to the house with the intention of dropping my bag off before I meet Adam after school. I walk up the empty driveway and notice the front lawn needs to be cut. The rest of the house looks in order. The dull red brick and giant bay window in the front still make me smile, a lightness in my chest that only blossoms when I’m home.
I unlock the door and let myself in, setting my bag on the bench inside the foyer. I slip my shoes off, my feet padding against the hardwood as I walk into the living room where I’m surprised to find Adam curled up asleep on the couch. He’s home from school again? Frowning at the washed-out color of his face, covered slightl
y with messy brown curls, I pull a blanket over him. I tiptoe out of the room and into the kitchen.
Our kitchen has gone through many renovations, but the one we have now is my favorite, with faux marble countertops and dark wood cabinets, a stark contrast against the stainless steel appliances. The breakfast bar where I always liked to sit while I was doing homework in high school was added at Dad’s request. He wanted somewhere to eat that wasn’t as formal as the table in the attached dining room.
Adam is still asleep when Mom and Dad get home shortly after six o’clock.
“Aurora? What are you doing home?” Dad asks when he walks into the room. He’s dressed in his normal teaching attire: a suit and tie, and his salt and pepper hair is neatly combed to one side. Our eyes meet, and I’m reminded of how much I wish I had inherited his bright blue ones like Adam had instead of Mom’s hazel ones.
“Nice to see you, too, Dad.”
“You know that’s not what your father meant, honey. We weren’t expecting you, is all,” Mom says with a smile, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. My mom and I share many features. I have her long, wavy blond hair. We’re both a little over five feet and a bit curvy in the hip area. If she were a few years younger, we would look more like sisters than mother and daughter.
I smile back at her. “Adam asked me to come home this weekend, and I wanted to, so here I am.”
She nods, glancing at my dad before she says to me, “Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “He was asleep when I got here, but I know he hasn’t been feeling well, so I didn’t want to wake him.”
“I’ll get him,” Dad offers. “He should eat something.” He walks toward the living room, and I turn to my mom.
“Did you take him to the hospital?”
Mom presses her lips together, nodding. “He collapsed at school earlier this week.” Her throat bobs when she swallows, and her hands are gripping the counter so tight her knuckles have gone white.
My pulse races and nausea rolls through me. Adam hadn’t told me that. “Mom, is Adam sick again?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, nodding again before she opens them. “An MRI showed Adam’s cancer came back and spread to his brain.”
My mouth goes dry as my chest tightens. “His brain?” I force out, tears stinging my eyes. No. No way. This isn’t . . . Adam is not sick again.
She nods. “He has an excellent doctor, and he starts chemotherapy next week.”
I bite back several profanities. She waited to tell me Adam was sick until I showed up at home, and she didn’t have a choice. I want to scream. “What—?” I’m about to ask why the hell no one thought to pick up the phone and call me when Adam’s groggy voice makes my stomach drop.
“Hey, Roar.”
I look past Mom to see him standing in the doorway with Dad behind him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Hey there, buddy. How are you feeling?”
He frowns, shifting his gaze to Mom, and pushes the mess of curls away from his face. “You told her?”
Mom smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’re going to get through this as a family.”
Adam looks at me again. “Quit looking at me like that, okay? It’s freaking me out.”
I blink a few times. “Sorry.” How am I supposed to act around him? I shouldn’t treat him like he’s sick, that’s what the doctors told us when he was first diagnosed a few years ago, but all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and never let go.
“Why don’t we order a pizza?” Dad suggests, most likely in an attempt to break the sudden tension that’s hanging in the room.
We sit around the dining room table, eating together for the first time since summer break.
Dad breaks the silence. “You had your work placement interview this week, right?”
The slice of pizza I have in my hand stops halfway to my mouth. “Uh, yeah.” With what was thrown at me when I got here, I hadn’t thought about Tristan for a while. It was nice while it lasted.
“How’d it go? Did you get the company you wanted?”
“I didn’t get to choose. My program coordinator matched the students with mentors from local businesses,” I explain.
“Okay, so where did you get placed?” Mom cuts in.
“At a hotel in the downtown core,” I say.
“That’s wonderful,” she praises. “Congratulations, honey.”
I clench my teeth together for a second and smile. “Thank you.”
“When do you start?” Dad asks.
“Monday,” I say. “Nine o’clock sharp.” Using Tristan’s words makes it difficult not to cringe.
After dinner, Adam offers to clean up what little mess we made, so I join in to keep him company. I could’ve used this opportunity to do some digging and find out what Mom and Dad might know about our lineage, but I’m still unsure how to bring it up in a way that won’t have them worry that something’s going on, and now doesn’t seem like the time to be concerned about it. The last thing I need is for them to get suspicious and ask questions I can’t answer.
We finish the dishes and meet Mom and Dad in the living room to watch a movie. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open for the first half, and by the second half, I’m dozing in and out before I fall asleep. After the week I’ve had, it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.
I open my eyes, blinking until they focus.
“Is this the part where you start freaking out?”
I gasp at the familiar voice and sit straight up in a flash. My eyes scan what appears to be one fancy-ass bedroom, landing on where Tristan leans in the doorway.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him.
I scramble off the bed, almost slipping off the black silk sheets. “What the hell is going on?” I demand, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Nothing,” he answers in a calm voice.
I gesture around the room. “What is this?”
“My bedroom,” he says.
I glance back at the bed I was in. Oh god. “Your bedroom . . .”
He chuckles. “You’re asleep, Aurora. This is a dream.”
My eyes snap to his. If it’s a dream, why do his blue eyes look so real? So damn captivating? I shake my head, pushing the thought away. “You’re in my head? In my dream?”
“That’s right. You’re dreaming about me.”
“Why? How?”
“Because I want you to,” he explains. “Another perk of being me: dreamwalking.”
I shoot him a dark look. I’m not in the mood to learn what other fae tricks he has up his sleeve. This is pretty close to the last thing I need right now.
“Would you like me to leave?” His question throws me off. He’s giving me a choice.
“I want you to tell me what you’re doing in my dream. Don’t tell me you want to spend more time with me,” I remark. “I’m already stuck with you one day of the week. Isn’t that enough?”
He offers a charming smile, and it occurs to me that dream Tristan is just as dangerously attractive as reality Tristan. “You’re fiery tonight,” he says.
“And you’re annoying. Can I have my dream back now?”
“You don’t like me, do you?” What a loaded question.
I gape at him. “Is that . . . Seriously? Do you want to be my best friend or something, Tristan? Because I’m pretty sure medical professionals have a name for that. It’s called Stockholm Syndrome.”
He huffs out a frustrated sigh. “You left town,” he says. “Or did you run away?” He knows I left. Was he looking for me?
“I went looking for answers about my ancestors. Instead, I found out that my brother is sick.” I sigh. “You can’t scare me away. I’ll be there on Monday. I know what’s at stake here, so not even the idea of you being there could stop me from showing up.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” he says, and the sudden softness in his expression makes my chest ache.
“Thanks,” I say after a stretch of silence. I stare at him fo
r what feels like far too long. I’m still trying to decide whether this is real. “So, you did this to creep me out?”
“I was hoping to learn something,” he admits.
“Learn what? How I’d react to you being invasive as hell?” I counter, resting my hands on my hips.
He offers a bemused smile. “I’m trying to figure you out. Humans are supposed to be simple creatures. They have impulses and fears. Considering what I am and my position in both the human and fae worlds, humans are intimidated by me. And then there’s you. The elusive human with fae lineage. You’re . . . everything I can’t control.”
My breath hitches as it becomes harder to hold his gaze. “Control is overrated,” I say in a shaky voice. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“An interesting concept. One I’d guess was created by someone unable to grasp control.”
I shrug, pushing the hair out of my face. For me, control is necessary. As long as I have it, for the most part, I can keep my anxiety at bay. Dealing with a sick brother and an intense degree, I don’t have time to allow anxiety to suffocate me.
“I expected you to run,” he says. “Even more so when you found out about your family’s involvement in the fae world.”
“Figures.” I sigh. “What would’ve happened if I had? I wouldn’t have gotten far; I know that. I don’t have the energy or desire to fight this. So long as it doesn’t affect my life any more than it already does, I’ll accept it. I think you can agree there are more important things. You have your world, and I have mine. Sometimes they overlap, but when they do, we’ll just have to deal with it. I mean, preferably without the two of us having to interact, but I suppose some sacrifices must be made.” Perhaps this is the wrong moment to be snarky and make jokes.
He stands there, staring at me with what I can only interpret as a look of wonder on his annoyingly attractive face as the scene slips away.
I wake up on the couch with a knitted blanket draped over me and a cushion under my head. The TV is off, and the room is dark except for a crack of light coming from the kitchen.
I stare out into the darkness. Tristan can waltz into my dreams. Great. Now not only do I have to deal with him during the day, but I also can’t escape him at night, either. Can’t escape the way he makes my heart race and my stomach flip. I’m so screwed.
Twisted Fate Page 7
