Книга - The Lost Prince

The Lost Prince
Julie Kagawa


Don’t look at Them Don’t speak of Them Never enter Their world Those are the rules that Ethan Chase lives by when it comes to the dark fairies that robbed him of his sister. But they are still on his trail and Ethan can’t fight fate forever.Now the deadly fey are at his school, colliding with his real life, Ethan will sacrifice everything to keep his mortal friends safe, even if it means becoming entangled in the world he’s spent his whole life trying to deny. His destiny and birth right are calling. And now there’s no escape.‘a winning combination of magic, suspense and romance’ –Sunday Express on The Iron King












PRAISE FOR BESTSELLING AUTHOR

JULIE KAGAWA

‘Katniss Everdeen better watch out.’

—Huffington Post on The Immortal Rules

‘Julie Kagawa is one killer storyteller.’

—MTV’s Hollywood Crush blog

‘Julie Kagawa’s Iron Fey series is the next Twilight.” —Teen.com

‘Fans of Melissa Marr … will enjoy the ride.’

—Kirkus Reviews on The Iron Queen

‘wholly satisfying’

—Realms of Fantasy on The Iron Queen

‘a book that will keep its readers glued to the

pages until the very end.’

—New York Journal of Books on The Iron Daughter

‘TheIron King surpasses the greater majority of dark fantasies.’ —teenreads.com




Also byJulie Kagawafrom






The Iron Fey series (in reading order)

THE IRON KING

WINTER’S PASSAGE (eBook) THE IRON DAUGHTER THE IRON QUEEN SUMMER’S CROSSING (eBook) THE IRON KNIGHT IRON’S PROPHECY (eBook)

The Iron Fey – Call of the Forgotten (in reading order)

THE LOST PRINCE

Coming soon

THE TRAITOR SON



Blood of Eden series

THE IMMORTAL RULES

Coming soon

THE ETERNITY CURE




The Lost

Prince

Julie Kagawa
















To Guro Ron, and all the ‘badges of courage’

I received in class.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


First and foremost, a huge shout out to my Guro, Ron. Thanks for answering all my crazy kali questions, for all the “badges of courage” I picked up in sparring, and for making Hit-People-With-Sticks class the best night of the week. I could not have written this book without you.

To Natashya Wilson, T. S. Ferguson, and all the awesome HQ people, you guys rock. Tashya, you especially deserve a standing ovation. I don’t know how you juggle so much and still manage to make it look easy.

To my agent, Laurie McLean. This has been one crazy ride, and I’m so grateful to be taking it with you. Let’s keep shooting for the stars.

And of course, to my husband, sparring partner, first editor, and best friend, Nick. To many more years of writing, laughs and giving each other “badges of courage” in kali. You keep me young (and deadly).



PART I




CHAPTER ONE

NEW KID


My name is Ethan Chase.

And I doubt I’ll live to see my eighteenth birthday.

That’s not me being dramatic; it just is. I just wish I hadn’t pulled so many people into this mess. They shouldn’t have to suffer because of me. Especially … her. God, if I could take back anything in my life, I would never have shown her my world, the hidden world all around us. I knew better than to let her in. Once you see Them, they’ll never leave you alone. They’ll never let you go. Maybe if I’d been strong, she wouldn’t be here with me as our seconds tick away, waiting to die.

It all started the day I transferred to a new school. Again.

The alarm clock went off at 6:00 a.m., but I had been awake for an hour, getting ready for another day in my weird, screwed-up life. I wish I was one of those guys who roll out of bed, throw on a shirt and are ready to go, but sadly, my life isn’t that normal. For instance, today I’d filled the side pockets of my backpack with dried Saint-John’s-wort and stuffed a canister of salt in with my pens and notebook. I’d also driven three nails into the heels of the new boots Mom had bought me for the semester. I wore an iron cross on a chain beneath my shirt, and just last summer I’d gotten my ears pierced with metal studs. Originally, I’d gotten a lip ring and an eyebrow bar, too, but Dad had thrown a roof-shaking fit when I came home like that, and the studs were the only things I’d been allowed to keep.

Sighing, I spared a quick glance at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked as unapproachable as possible. Sometimes, I catch Mom looking at me sadly, as if she wonders where her little boy went. I used to have curly brown hair like Dad, until I took a pair of scissors and hacked it into jagged, uneven spikes. I used to have bright blue eyes like Mom and, apparently, like my sister. But over the years, my eyes have become darker, changing to a smoky-blue-gray—from constant glaring, Dad jokes. I never used to sleep with a knife under my mattress, salt around my windows, and a horseshoe over my door. I never used to be “brooding” and “hostile” and “impossible.” I used to smile more, and laugh. I rarely do any of that now.

I know Mom worries about me. Dad says it’s normal teenage rebellion, that I’m going through a “phase,” and that I’ll grow out of it. Sorry, Dad. But my life is far from normal. And I’m dealing with it the only way I know how.

“Ethan?” Mom’s voice drifted into the room from beyond the door, soft and hesitant. “It’s past six. Are you up?”

“I’m up.” I grabbed my backpack and swung it over my white shirt, which was inside out, the tag poking up from the collar. Another small quirk my parents have gotten used to. “I’ll be right out.”

Grabbing my keys, I left my room with that familiar sense of resignation and dread stealing over me. Okay, then. Let’s get this day over with.

I have a weird family.

You’d never know it by looking at us. We seem perfectly normal; a nice American family living in a nice suburban neighborhood, with nice clean streets and nice neighbors on either side. Ten years ago we lived in the swamps, raising pigs. Ten years ago we were poor, backwater folk, and we were happy. That was before we moved into the city, before we joined civilization again. My dad didn’t like it at first; he’d spent his whole life as a farmer. It was hard for him to adjust, but he did, eventually. Mom finally convinced him that we needed to be closer to people, that I needed to be closer to people, that the constant isolation was bad for me. That was what she told Dad, of course, but I knew the real reason. She was afraid. She was afraid of Them, that They would take me away again, that I would be kidnapped by faeries and taken into the Nevernever.

Yeah, I told you, my family is weird. And that’s not even the worst of it.

Somewhere out there, I have a sister. A half sister I haven’t seen in years, and not because she’s busy or married or across the ocean in some other country.

No, it’s because she’s a queen. A faery queen, one of Them, and she can’t ever come home.

Tell me that’s not messed up.

Of course, I can’t ever tell anyone. To normal humans, the fey world is hidden—glamoured and invisible. Most people wouldn’t see a goblin if it sauntered up and bit them on the nose. There are very few mortals cursed with the Sight, who can see faeries lurking in dark corners and under beds. Who know that the creepy feeling of being watched isn’t just their imagination, and that the noises in the cellar or the attic aren’t really the house settling.

Lucky me. I happen to be one of them.

My parents worry, of course, Mom especially. People already think I’m weird, dangerous, maybe a little crazy. Seeing faeries everywhere will do that to you. Because if the fey know you can see them, they tend to make your life a living hell. Last year, I was kicked out of school for setting fire to the library. What could I tell them? I was innocent because I was trying to escape a redcap motley that followed me in from the street? And that wasn’t the first time the fey had gotten me into trouble. I was the “bad kid,” the one the teachers spoke about in hushed voices, the quiet, dangerous kid whom everyone expected would end up on the evening news for some awful, shocking crime. Sometimes, it was infuriating. I didn’t really care what they thought of me, but it was hard on Mom, so I tried to be good, futile as it was.

This semester, I’d be going to a new school, a new location. A place I could “start clean,” but it wouldn’t matter. As long as I could see the fey, they would never leave me alone. All I could do was protect myself and my family, and hope I wouldn’t end up hurting anyone else.

Mom was at the kitchen table when I came out, waiting for me. Dad wasn’t around. He worked the graveyard shift at UPS and often slept till the middle of the afternoon. Usually, I’d see him only at dinner and on weekends. That’s not to say he was happily oblivious when it came to my life; Mom might know me better, but Dad had no problem doling out punishments if he thought I was slacking, or if Mom complained. I’d gotten one D in science two years ago, and it was the last bad grade I’d ever received.

“Big day,” Mom greeted me as I tossed the backpack on the counter and opened the fridge, reaching for the orange juice. “Are you sure you know the way to your new school?”

I nodded. “I’ve got it set to my phone’s GPS. It’s not that far. I’ll be fine.”

She hesitated. I knew she didn’t want me driving there alone, even though I’d worked my butt off saving up for a car. The rusty, gray-green pickup sitting next to Dad’s truck in the driveway represented an entire summer of work—flipping burgers, washing dishes, mopping up spilled drinks and food and vomit. It represented weekends spent working late, watching other kids my age hanging out, kissing girlfriends, tossing away money like it fell from the sky. I’d earned that truck, and I certainly wasn’t going to take the freaking bus to school.

But because Mom was watching me with that sad, almost fearful look on her face, I sighed and muttered, “Do you want me to call you when I get there?”

“No, honey.” Mom straightened, waving it off. “It’s all right, you don’t have to do that. Just … please be careful.”

I heard the unspoken words in her voice. Be careful of Them. Don’t attract their attention. Don’t let Them get you into trouble. Try to stay in school this time.

“I will.”

She hovered a moment longer, then placed a quick peck on my cheek and wandered into the living room, pretending to be busy. I drained my juice, poured another glass, and opened the fridge to put the container back.

As I closed the door, a magnet slipped loose and pinged to the floor, and the note it was holding fluttered to the ground. Kali demonstration, Sat., it read. I picked it up, and I let myself feel a tiny bit nervous. I’d started taking kali, a Filipino martial art, several years ago, to better protect myself from the things I knew were out there. I was drawn to kali because not only did it teach how to defend yourself empty-handed, it also taught stick, knife and sword work. And in a world of dagger-toting goblins and sword-wielding gentry, I wanted to be ready for anything. This weekend, our class was putting on a demonstration at a martial arts tournament, and I was part of the show.

If I could stay out of trouble that long, anyway. With me, it was always harder than it looked.

Starting a new school in the middle of the fall semester sucks.

I should know. I’ve done all this before. The struggle to find your locker, the curious stares in the hallway, the walk of shame to your desk in your new classroom, twenty or so pairs of eyes following you down the aisle.

Maybe third time’s the charm, I thought morosely, slumping into my seat, which, thankfully, was in the far corner. I felt the heat from two dozen stares on the top of my head and ignored them all. Maybe this time I can make it through a semester without getting expelled. One more year—just give me one more year and then I’m free. At least the teacher didn’t stand me up at the front of the room and introduce me to everyone; that would’ve been awkward. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why they thought such humiliation was necessary. It was hard enough to fit in without having a spotlight turned on you the first day.

Not that I’d be doing any “fitting in.”

I continued to feel curious glances directed at my corner, and I concentrated on not looking up, not making eye contact with anyone. I heard people whispering and hunched down even more, studying the cover of my English book.

Something landed on my desk: a half sheet of notebook paper, folded into a square. I didn’t look up, not wanting to know who’d lobbed it at me. Slipping it beneath the desk, I opened it in my lap and looked down.

U the guy who burned down his school? it read in messy handwriting.

Sighing, I crumpled the note in my fist. So they’d already heard the rumors. Perfect. Apparently, I’d been in the local paper: a juvenile thug who was seen fleeing the scene of the crime. But because no one had actually witnessed me setting the library on fire, I was able to avoid being sent to jail. Barely.

I caught giggles and whispers somewhere to my right, and then another folded piece of paper hit my arm. Annoyed, I was going to trash the note without reading it this time, but curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked quickly.

Did u really knife that guy in Juvie?

“Mr. Chase.”

Miss Singer was stalking down the aisle toward me, her severe expression making her face look pinched behind her glasses. Or maybe that was just the dark, tight bun pulling at her skin, causing her eyes to narrow. Her bracelets clinked as she extended her hand and waggled her fingers at me. Her tone was no-nonsense. “Let’s have it, Mr. Chase.”

I held up the note in two fingers, not looking at her. She snatched it from my hand. After a moment, she murmured, “See me after class.”

Damn. Thirty minutes into a new semester and I was already in trouble. This didn’t bode well for the rest of the year. I slumped farther, hunching my shoulders against all prying eyes, as Miss Singer returned to the front and continued the lesson.

I remained in my seat after class was dismissed, listening to the sounds of scraping chairs and shuffling bodies, bags being tossed over shoulders. Voices surged around me, students talking and laughing with each other, gelling into their own little groups. As they began to file out, I finally looked up, letting my gaze wander over the few still lingering. A blond boy with glasses stood at Miss Singer’s desk, rambling on while she listened with calm amusement. From the eager, puppy-dog look in his eyes, it was clear he was either suffering from major infatuation or was gunning for teacher’s pet.

A group of girls stood by the door, clustered like pigeons, cooing and giggling. I saw several of the guys staring at them as they left, hoping to catch their eye, only to be disappointed. I snorted softly. Good luck with that. At least three of the girls were blonde, slender and beautiful, and a couple wore extremely short skirts that gave a fantastic view of their long, tanned legs. This was obviously the school’s pom squad, and guys like me—or anyone who wasn’t a jock or rich—had no chance.

And then, one of the girls turned and looked right at me.

I glanced away, hoping that no one noticed. Cheerleaders, I’d discovered, usually dated large, overly protective football stars whose policy was punch first, ask questions later. I did not want to find myself pressed up against my locker or a bathroom stall on my first day, about to get my face smashed in, because I’d had the gall to look at the quarterback’s girlfriend. I heard more whispers, imagined fingers pointed my way, and then a chorus of shocked squeaks and gasps reached my corner.

“She’s really going to do it,” someone hissed, and then footsteps padded across the room. One of the girls had broken away from the pack and was approaching me. Wonderful.

Go away, I thought, shifting farther toward the wall. I have nothing you want or need. I’m not here so you can prove that you’re not scared of the tough new kid, and I do not want to get in a fight with your meathead boyfriend. Leave me alone.

“Hi.”

Resigned, I turned and stared into the face of a girl.

She was shorter than the others, more perky and cute than graceful and beautiful. Her long, straight hair was inky-black, though she had dyed a few strands around her face a brilliant sapphire. She wore sneakers and dark jeans, tight enough to hug her slender legs, but not looking like she’d painted them on. Warm brown eyes peered down at me as she stood with her hands clasped behind her, shifting from foot to foot, as if it was impossible for her to stay still.

“Sorry about the note,” she continued, as I shifted back to eye her warily. “I told Regan not to do it—Miss Singer has eyes like a hawk. We didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” She smiled, and it lit up the room. My heart sank; I didn’t want it to light up the room. I didn’t want to notice anything about this girl, especially the fact that she was extremely attractive. “I’m Kenzie. Well, Mackenzie is my full name, but everyone calls me Kenzie. Don’t call me Mac or I’ll slug you.”

Behind her, the rest of the girls gaped and whispered to each other, shooting us furtive glances. I suddenly felt like some kind of exhibit at the zoo. Resentment simmered. I was just a curiosity to them; the dangerous new kid to be stared at and gossiped about.

“And … you are …?” Kenzie prompted.

I looked away. “Not interested.”

“Okay. Wow.” She sounded surprised, but not angry, not yet. “That’s … not what I was expecting.”

“Get used to it.” Inwardly, I cringed at the sound of my own voice. I was being a dick; I was fully aware of that. I was also fully aware that I was murdering any hope for acceptance in this place. You didn’t talk this way to a cute, popular cheerleader without becoming a social pariah. She would go back to her friends, and they would gossip, and more rumors would spread, and I’d be shunned for the rest of the year.

Good, I thought, trying to convince myself. That’s what I want. No one gets hurt this way. Everyone can just leave me alone.

Except … the girl wasn’t leaving. From the corner of my eye, I saw her lean back and cross her arms, still with that lopsided grin on her face. “No need to be nasty,” she said, seeming unconcerned with my aggressiveness. “I’m not asking for a date, tough guy, just your name.”

Why was she still talking to me? Wasn’t I making myself clear? I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to answer her questions. The longer I spoke to anyone, the greater the chance that They would notice, and then the nightmare would begin again. “It’s Ethan,” I muttered, still staring at the wall. I forced the next words out. “Now piss off.”

“Huh. Well, aren’t we hostile.” My words were not having the effect I wanted. Instead of driving her off, she seemed almost … excited. What the hell? I resisted the urge to glance at her, though I still felt that smile, directed at me. “I was just trying to be nice, seeing as it’s your first day and all. Are you like this with everyone you meet?”

“Miss St. James.” Our teacher’s voice cut across the room. Kenzie turned, and I snuck a peek at her. “I need to speak with Mr. Chase,” Miss Singer continued, smiling at Kenzie. “Go to your next class, please.”

Kenzie nodded. “Sure, Miss Singer.” Glancing back, she caught me looking at her and grinned before I could look away. “See ya around, tough guy.”

I watched her bounce back to her friends, who surrounded her, giggling and whispering. Sneaking unsubtle glances back at me, they filed through the door into the hall, leaving me alone with the teacher.

“Come here, Mr. Chase, if you would. I don’t want to shout at you over the classroom.”

I pulled myself up and walked down the aisle to slouch into a front-row desk. Miss Singer’s sharp black eyes watched me over her glasses before she launched into a lecture about her no-tolerance policy for horseplay, and how she understood my situation, and how I could make something of myself if I just focused. As if that was all there was to it.

Thanks, but you might as well save your breath. I’ve heard this all before. How difficult it must be, moving to a new school, startingover. How bad my life at home must be. Don’t act like you know what I’m going through. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my life. No one does.

If I had any say in it, no one ever would.

I got through my next two classes the same way—by ignoring everyone around me. When lunchtime rolled around, I watched the students filing down the hall toward the cafeteria, then turned and went in the opposite direction.

My fellow classmates were starting to get to me. I wanted to be outside, away from the crowds and curious looks. I didn’t want to be trapped at a table by myself, dreading that someone would come up and “talk.” No one would do it to be friendly, I was fairly certain. By now, that girl and her friends had probably spread the story of our first meeting through the whole school, maybe embellishing a few things, like how I called her awful names but somehow came on to her at the same time. Regardless, I didn’t want to deal with angry boyfriends and indignant questions. I wanted to be left alone.

I turned a corner into another hall, intent on finding an isolated part of the school where I could eat in peace, and stumbled across the very thing I was trying to avoid.

A boy stood with his back to the lockers, thin shoulders hunched, his expression sullen and trapped. Standing in front of him were two larger boys, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, leering down at the kid they had pinned against the wall. For a second, I thought the kid had whiskers. Then he looked at me, quietly pleading, and through a mop of straw-colored hair, I caught a flash of orange eyes and two furred ears poking up from his head.

I swore. Quietly, using a word Mom would tear my head off for. These two idiots had no idea what they were doing. They couldn’t See what he really was, of course. The “human” they had cornered was one of Them, one of the fey, or at least part fey. The term half-breed shot through my mind, and I clenched my fist around my lunch bag. Why? Why couldn’t I ever be free of them? Why did they dog me every step of my life?

“Don’t lie to me, freak,” one of the jocks was saying, shoving the boy’s shoulder back into the lockers. He had short, ruddy hair and was a little smaller than his bull-necked companion but not by much. “Regan saw you hanging around my car yesterday. You think it’s funny that I nearly ran off the road? Huh?” He shoved him again, making a hollow clang against the lockers. “That snake didn’t crawl in there by itself.”

“I didn’t do it!” the half-breed protested, flinching from the blow. I caught the flash of pointed canines when he opened his mouth, but of course, the two jocks couldn’t see that. “Brian, I swear, that wasn’t me.”

“Yeah? So, you calling Regan a liar, then?” the smaller one asked, then turned to his friend. “I think the freak just called Regan a liar, did you hear that, Tony?” Tony scowled and cracked his knuckles, and Brian turned back to the half-breed. “That wasn’t very smart of you, loser. Why don’t we pay a visit to the bathroom? You can get reacquainted with Mr. Toilet.”

Oh, great. I did not need this. I should turn around and walk away. He’s part faery, my rational mind thought. Get mixed up in this, and you’ll attract Their attention for sure.

The half-breed cringed, looking miserable but resigned. Like he was used to this kind of treatment.

I sighed. And proceeded to do something stupid.

“Well, I’m so glad this place has the same gorilla-faced morons as my old school,” I said, not moving from where I stood. They whirled on me, eyes widening, and I smirked. “What’s the matter, Daddy cut off your allowance this month, so you have to beat it out of the losers and freaks? Does practice not give you enough manhandling time?”

“Who the hell are you?” The smaller jock, Brian, took a menacing step forward, getting in my face. I gazed back at him, still smirking. “This your boyfriend, then?” He raised his voice. “You got a death wish, fag?”

Now, of course, we were beginning to attract attention. Students who had been averting their eyes and pretending not to see the trio against the locker began to hover, as if sensing violence on the air. Murmurs of “Fight” rippled through the crowd, gaining speed, until it felt as if the entire school was watching this little drama play out in the middle of the hall. The boy they’d been picking on, the half-breed, gave me a fearful, apologetic look and scurried off, vanishing into the crowd. You’re welcome, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Well, I had stepped into this pile of crap—I might as well go all out.

“New kid,” grunted Brian’s companion, stepping away from the lockers, looming behind the other. “The one from Southside.”

“Oh, yeah.” Brian glanced at his friend, then back at me. His lip curled in disdain. “You’re that kid who shanked his cellmate in juvie,” he continued, raising his voice for the benefit of the crowd. “After setting fire to the school and pulling a knife on a teacher.”

I raised an eyebrow. Really? That’s a new one.

Scandalized gasps and murmurs went through the student body, gaining speed like wildfire. This would be all over school tomorrow. I wondered how many more crimes I could add to my already lengthy imaginary list.

“You think you’re tough, fag?” Bolstered by the mob, Brian stepped closer, crowding me, an evil smile on his face. “So you’re an arsonist and a criminal, big deal. You think I’m scared of you?”

At least one more.

I straightened, going toe-to-toe with my opponent. “Arsonist, huh?” I said, matching his sneer with my own. “And here I thought you were as stupid as you look. Did you learn that big word in English today?”

His face contorted, and he swung at me. We were extremely close, so it was a nasty right hook, coming straight at my jaw. I ducked beneath it and shoved his arm as the fist went by, pushing him into the wall. Howls and cheers rose around us as Brian spun furiously and swung at me a second time. I twisted away, keeping my fists close to my cheeks, boxer style, to defend myself.

“Enough!”

Teachers descended from nowhere, pulling us apart. Brian swore and fought to get to me, trying to shove past the teacher, but I let myself be pulled off to the side. The one who grabbed me kept a tight hold of my collar, as if I might break free and throw a punch at him.

“Principal’s office, Kingston,” ordered the teacher, steering Brian down the hall. “Get moving.” He glared back at me. “You, too, new kid. And you better pray you don’t have a knife hidden somewhere on you, or you’ll be suspended before you can blink.”

As they dragged me off to the principal’s office, I saw the half-faery watching me from the crowd. His orange eyes, solemn and grim, never left mine, until I was pulled around a corner and lost from view.




CHAPTER TWO

HALF-BREED


I slumped in the chair in the principal’s office, arms crossed, waiting for the man across the desk to notice us. The gold sign on the mahogany surface read Richard S. Hill, Principal, though the sign’s owner hadn’t given us more than a glance when we were brought in. He sat with his eyes glued to the computer screen, a small, balding man with a beaky nose and razor-thin eyebrows, lowered into a frown. His mouth pursed as he scanned the screen, making us wait.

After a minute or two, the jock in the chair next to mine blew out an impatient sigh.

“So, uh, do you need me anymore?” he asked, leaning forward as if preparing to stand. “I can go now, right?”

“Kingston,” the principal said, finally glancing up. He blinked at Brian, then frowned again. “You have a big game this weekend, don’t you? Yes, you can go. Just don’t get into any more trouble. I don’t want to hear about fights in the hallways, understand?”

“Sure, Mr. Hill.” Brian stood, gave me a triumphant sneer, and swaggered out of the office.

Oh, that’s fair. Jock-boy was the one who threw the first punch, but we don’t want to jeopardize the team’s chance of winning the game, do we? I waited for the principal to notice me, but he had gone back to reading whatever was on the computer. Leaning back, I crossed my legs and gazed longingly out the door. The ticking of the clock filled the small room, and students stopped to stare at me through the window on the door before moving on.

“You’ve quite the file, Mr. Chase,” Hill finally said without looking up.

I suppressed a wince.

“Fighting, truancy, hidden weapons, arson.” He pushed back his chair, and those hard black eyes finally settled on me. “Is there anything you’d like to add? Like assaulting the school’s star quarterback on your very first day? Mr. Kingston’s father is part of the school board, in case you did not realize.”

“I didn’t start that fight,” I muttered. “He was the one who swung at me.”

“Oh? You were just minding your own business, then?” The principal’s sallow lips curled in a faint smile. “He swung at you out of nowhere?”

I met his gaze. “He and his football buddy were about to stick some kid’s head down a toilet. I stepped in before they could. Jock-boy didn’t appreciate me ruining his fun, so he tried smashing my face in.” I shrugged. “Sorry if I like my face as it is.”

“Your attitude does you no credit, Mr. Chase,” Hill said, frowning at me. “And you should have gotten a teacher to take care of it. You’re on very thin ice as it is.” He folded pale, spiderlike hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Since it is your first day here, I’ll let you go with a warning this time. But I will be watching you, Mr. Chase. Step out of line again, and I won’t be so lenient. Do you understand?”

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

His eyes glinted. “Do you think you’re special, Mr. Chase?” A note of contempt had entered his voice now. “Do you think you’re the only ‘troubled youth’ to sit in this office? I’ve seen your kind before, and they all go the same way—straight to prison, or the streets, or dead in the gutter somewhere. If that’s the path you want, then, by all means, keep going down this road. Drop out. Get a dead-end job somewhere. But don’t waste this school’s time trying to educate you. And don’t drag those who are going somewhere down with you.” He jerked his head at the door. “Now get out of my office. And don’t let me see you here again.”

Fuming, I pulled myself upright and slid out the door.

The hallways were empty; everyone was back in their classrooms, well into postlunch stupor, counting down the minutes to the final bell. For a moment, I considered going home, leaving this sorry excuse of a new school and a clean start, and just accepting the fact that I would never fit in and be normal. No one would ever give me the chance.

But I couldn’t go home, because Mom would be there. She wouldn’t say anything, but she would look at me with that sad, guilty, disappointed expression, because she wanted so badly for me to succeed, to be normal. She was hoping that this time, things would work out. If I went home early, no matter the reason, Mom would tell me I could try again tomorrow, and then she would probably lock herself in her room and cry a little.

I couldn’t face that. It would be worse than the lecture Dad would give me if he found out I skipped class. Plus, he’d been very fond of groundings lately, and I didn’t want to risk another one.

It’s just a couple more hours, I told myself and reluctantly started back to class, which would be the middle of trig by now, joy of joys. Why did every curriculum decide to teach math right after lunch when everyone was half-asleep? You can survive a couple more hours. What else can happen, anyway?

I should’ve known better.

As I turned a corner, I got that cold, prickly sensation on the back of my neck, the one that always told me I was being watched. Normally, I would’ve ignored it, but right then, I was angry and less focused than usual. I turned, glancing behind me.

The half-breed stood at the end of the hall next to the bathroom entrance, watching me in the frame. His eyes glowed orange, and the tips of his furry ears twitched in my direction.

Something hovered beside him, something small and humanoid, with buzzing dragonfly wings and dark green skin. It blinked huge black eyes at me, bared its teeth in a razor grin, then zipped into the air, flying up toward the ceiling tiles.

Before I could stop myself, my gaze followed it. The piskie blinked, startled, and I realized my slip-up.

Furious, I wrenched my stare down, but it was too late. Dammit. Stupid, stupid mistake, Ethan. The half-breed’s eyes widened as he stared from me to the piskie, mouth gaping open. He knew. He knew I could see Them.

And now, They were aware, as well.

I managed to avoid the half-breed by going to class. When the last bell rang, I snatched up my backpack and hurried out the door, keeping my head down and hoping for a quick escape.

Unfortunately, he trailed me to the parking lot.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside me as we crossed the lot. I ignored him and continued on, keeping my gaze straight ahead. He trotted doggedly to keep up. “Listen, I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there. Thanks for stepping in, I owe you.” He paused, as if expecting me to say something. When I didn’t, he added, “I’m Todd, by the way.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, not looking directly at him. He frowned as if taken aback by the reaction, and I kept my expression blank and unfriendly. Just because I rescued you from the jock and his goon doesn’t mean we’re buds now. I saw your little friend. You’re playing with fire, and I want nothing to do with it. Go away. Todd hesitated, then followed me in silence for a few steps, but he didn’t leave.

“Uh, so,” he continued, lowering his voice as we approached the end of the lot. I had parked my truck as far as I could from the Mustangs and Camaros of my fellow students, wanting it to avoid notice, as well. “When did you become able to see Them?”

My gut twisted. At least he didn’t say faeries or the fey, because voicing their name out loud was a surefire way to attract their attention. Whether that was deliberate or ignorant on his part, I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said coolly.

“Yes, you do!” He stepped in front of me, brow furrowed, and I had to stop. “You know what I am,” he insisted, all subtlety gone. There was a hint of desperation in his eyes as he leaned forward, pleading. “I saw you, and Thistle caught you looking, too. You can see Them, and you can see what I really look like. So don’t play dumb, okay? I know. We both do.”

All right, this kid was pissing me off. Worse, the more I talked to him, the more attention I would draw from Them. His little “friends” were probably watching us right now, and that scared me. Whatever this half-breed wanted from me, it needed to end.

I sneered at him, my voice ugly. “Wow, you are a freak. No wonder Kingston picks on you. Did you not take your happy pills this morning?” Anger and betrayal flashed in Todd’s orange eyes, making me feel like an ass, but I kept my voice mocking. “Yeah, I’d love to stay and chat with you and your imaginary friends, but I have real-world things to do. Why don’t you go see if you can find a unicorn or something?”

His face darkened even more. I shoved past him and continued on, hoping he wouldn’t follow. This time, he did not. But I hadn’t gone three steps when his next words stopped me in my tracks.

“Thistle knows about your sister.”

I froze, every muscle in my body coiling tight as my stomach turned inside out.

“Yeah, I thought you might be interested in that.” Todd’s voice held a note of quiet triumph. “She’s seen her, in the Nevernever. Meghan Chase, the Iron Queen—”

I spun and grabbed the front of his shirt, jerking him forward off his feet. “Who else knows?” I hissed as Todd cringed, flattening his ears. “Who else has heard of me? Who knows I’m here?”

“I don’t know!” Todd held up his hands, and short claws flashed in the sunlight. “Thistle is hard to understand sometimes, ya know? All she said was that she knew who you were—the brother of the Iron Queen.”

“If you tell anyone …” I balled my fist, resisting the urge to shake him. “If you tell any of Them, I swear—”

“I won’t!” Todd cried, and I realized then how I must have looked, teeth bared, eyes wild and crazy. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. Todd relaxed, shaking his head. “Jeez, take it easy, man. So They know who you are—it’s not the end of the world.”

I sneered and shoved him backward. “You must be very sheltered, then.”

“I was adopted,” Todd shot back, catching himself. “How easy do you think it’s been, pretending to be human when my own parents don’t know what I am? No one here gets me, no one has any idea what I can do. They keep stepping on me, and I keep pushing back.”

“So you did put a snake in Kingston’s car.” I shook my head in disgust. “I should’ve let him stick your head down a toilet this afternoon.”

Todd sniffed and straightened the front of his shirt. “Kingston’s a dick,” he said, as if that justified everything. “He thinks he owns the school and has the teachers and the principal in his pocket. He believes he’s untouchable.” He smirked, orange eyes glittering. “Sometimes I like to remind him that he’s not.”

I sighed. Well, it serves you right, Ethan. This is what happens when you get involved with Them. Even the half-fey can’t keep themselves from pranking humans every chance they get.

“The Invisible Folk are the only ones who understand me,” Todd went on, as if trying to convince me. “They know what I’m going through. They’re only too happy to help.” His smirk grew wider, more threatening. “In fact, Thistle and her friends are making that jock’s life very unpleasant right now.”

A chill slid up my back. “What did you promise them?”

He blinked. “What?”

“They never do anything for free.” I took a step forward, and he shrank back. “What did you promise them? What did they take?”

“What does it matter?” The half-breed shrugged. “The jerk had it coming. Besides, how much harm can two piskies and a boggart do?”

I closed my eyes. Oh, man, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. “Listen,” I said, opening my eyes, “whatever bargains you’ve made, whatever contracts you’ve agreed to, stop. You can’t trust them. They’ll use you, because it’s their nature. It’s what they do.” Todd raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and I scrubbed my scalp at his ignorance. How had he survived this long and not learned anything? “Never make a contract with Them. That’s the first and most important rule. It doesn’t ever go how you imagine, and once you’ve agreed to something, you’re stuck. You can’t ever get out of it, no matter what they ask for in return.”

Todd still looked unconvinced. “Who made you the expert on all things faery?” he challenged, and I winced as he finally said the word. “You’re human—you don’t understand what it’s like. So I made a few deals, promised a few things. What’s that to you?”

“Nothing.” I stepped back. “Just don’t drag me into whatever mess you’re creating. I want nothing to do with Them, or you, got it? I’d be happy if I never saw them again.” And without waiting for an answer, I turned, opened my car door, and slammed it shut behind me. Gunning the engine, I squealed out of the parking lot, ignoring the half-breed’s desolate figure as he grew smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror.

“How was school?” Mom asked as I banged through the screen door and tossed my backpack on the table.

“Fine,” I mumbled, making a beeline for the fridge. She stepped out of the way with a sigh, knowing it was useless to talk to me when I was starving. I found the leftover pizza from last night and shoved two slices in the microwave while chewing on a cold third. Thirty seconds later, I was about to take my plate up to my room when Mom stepped in front of me.

“I got a call from the principal’s office this afternoon.”

My shoulders sank. “Yeah?”

Mom gestured firmly to the table, and I slumped into one of the chairs, my appetite gone. She sat down across from me, her eyes hooded and troubled. “Anything you want to tell me?”

I rubbed my eyes. No use trying to hide it, she probably already knew—or at least she knew what Hill told her. “I got into a fight.”

“Oh, Ethan.” The disappointment in her voice stabbed me like tiny needles. “On your first day?”

It wasn’t my fault, I wanted to say. But I’d used that excuse so many times before, it seemed empty. Any excuse seemed empty now. I just shrugged and slouched farther in my seat, not meeting her eyes.

“Was it … was it Them?”

That shocked me. Mom almost never spoke of the fey, for probably the same reasons as me; she thought it might attract their attention. She would rather close her eyes and pretend they didn’t exist, that they weren’t still out there, watching us. It was one of the reasons I never talked openly to her about my problems. It just made her too frightened.

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her about the half-breed and his invisible friends, lurking in the halls. But if Mom found out about them, she might pull me out of school. And as much as I hated going to class, I did not want to go through the whole “starting over” thing one more time.

“No,” I said, fiddling with the edge of my plate. “Just these two dicks that needed a lesson in manners.”

Mom gave one of her frustrated, disapproving groans. “Ethan,” she said in a sharper voice. “It’s not your place. We’ve gone over this.”

“I know.”

“If you keep this up, you’ll be kicked out again. And I don’t know where we can send you after that. I don’t know …” Mom took a shaky breath, and covered her eyes with her hand.

Now I felt like a complete ass. “I’m sorry,” I offered in a quiet voice. “I’ll … try harder.”

She nodded without looking up. “I won’t tell your father, not this time,” she murmured in a weary voice. “Don’t eat too much pizza or you’ll spoil your appetite for dinner.”

Standing, I hooked my backpack over one shoulder and took it and the plate into my room, kicking the door shut behind me.

Slumping to my desk, I ate my pizza while halfheartedly jiggling my laptop to life. The episode with Kingston, not to mention the talk with the half-breed, had made me edgy. I went to YouTube and watched videos of students practicing kali, trying to pick out the weaknesses in their attacks, poking holes in their defenses. Then, to keep myself occupied, I grabbed my rattan sticks from the wall and practiced a few patterns in the middle of my room, smacking imaginary targets with Brian Kingston’s face, being careful not to hit the walls or ceiling. I’d put a couple of holes in the drywall already, by accident of course, before Dad made the rule that all practice must be done outside or in the dojo. But I was much better now, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

As I was finishing a pattern, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye and turned. Something black and spindly, like a giant spider with huge ears, crouched on the windowsill outside, watching me. Its eyes glowed electric green in the coming darkness.

I growled a curse and started forward, but when the creature realized I’d spotted it, it let out an alarmed buzz and blinked out of sight. Yanking up the window, I peered into the darkness, searching for the slippery little nuisance, but it was gone.

“Damn gremlins,” I muttered. Stepping back, I glared around my room, making sure everything was in place. I checked my lights, my clock, my computer; they all still worked, much to my relief. The last time a gremlin had been in my room, it had shorted out my laptop, and I’d had to spend my own money to get it fixed.

Gremlins were a special type of faery. They were Iron fey, which meant all my precautions and protections from the faery world didn’t work on them. Iron didn’t faze them, salt barriers didn’t keep them out, and horseshoes over doors and windows did nothing. They were so used to the human world, so integrated with metal and science and technology, that the old charms and protection rituals were too outdated to affect them at all. I rarely had problems with Iron fey, but they were everywhere. I guessed even the Iron Queen couldn’t keep track of them all.

The Iron Queen. A knot formed in my stomach. Shutting the window, I put my sticks away and dropped into the computer chair. For several minutes, I stared at the very top drawer of my desk, knowing what was inside. Wondering if I should torment myself further by taking it out.

Meghan. Do you even think of us anymore? I’d seen my half sister only a few times since she’d disappeared from our world nearly twelve years ago. She never stayed long; just a few hours to make sure everyone was okay, and then she was gone again. Before we moved, I could at least count on her to show up for my birthday and holidays. As I got older, those visits grew fewer and fewer. Eventually, she’d disappeared altogether.

Leaning forward, I yanked open the drawer. My long-lost older sister was another taboo subject in this household. If I so much as spoke her name, Mom would become depressed for a week. Officially, my sister was dead. Meghan wasn’t part of this world anymore; she was one of Them, and we had to pretend she didn’t exist.

But that half-breed knew about her. That could be trouble. As if I needed any more, as if being the delinquent, broody, don’t-let-your-daughter-date-this-hooligan wasn’t enough, now someone knew about my connection to the world of Faery.

Setting my jaw, I slammed the drawer shut and left the room, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic, sullen mess. I was human, and Meghan was gone. No matter what some half-breed faery said, I didn’t belong to that world. I was going to stay on this side of the Veil and not worry about what was happening in Faery.

No matter how much it tried to drag me in.




CHAPTER THREE

FAERIES IN THE GYM BAG


Day two.

Of purgatory.

My “fight” with the school quarterback and my discussion in the principal’s office hadn’t gone unnoticed, of course. Fellow students stared at me in the halls, whispering to their friends, muttering in low undertones. They shied away from me as if I had the plague. Teachers gave me the evil eye, as if worried that I might punch someone in the head or pull a knife, maybe. I didn’t care. Maybe Principal Hill had told them what had gone on in his office; maybe he’d told them I was a lost cause, because as long as I kept my head down, they ignored me.

Except for Miss Singer, who actually called on me several times during class, making sure I was still paying attention. I answered her questions about Don Quixote in monotones, hoping that would be enough to keep her off my back. She seemed pleasantly surprised that I’d read the homework assignment the night before, despite being somewhat distracted by the thoughts of gremlins lurking around my computer. Apparently satisfied that I could listen and stare out the window at the same time, Miss Singer finally left me alone, and I went back to brooding in peace.

At least Kingston and his flunky were absent today, though I did notice Todd in one of my classes, looking smug. He kept glancing at the quarterback’s empty desk, smirking to himself and nodding. It made me nervous, but I swore not to get involved. If the half-breed wanted to screw around with the notoriously fickle Fair Ones, I wasn’t going to be there when he got burned.

When the last bell rang, I gathered my backpack and rushed out, hoping to evade a repeat of the day before. I saw Todd as I went out the door, watching me as if he wanted to talk, but I quickly lost myself in the crowded hallway.

At my locker, I stuffed my books and homework into my pack, slammed the door—and came face-to-face with Kenzie St. James.

“Hey, tough guy.”

Oh, no. What did she want? Probably to tear me a new one about the fight; if she was on the pom squad, Kingston was likely her boyfriend. Depending on which rumor you’d heard, I had either sucker-punched the quarterback or I’d threatened him in the hallway and had gotten my ass kicked before the teachers pulled us apart. Neither story was flattering, and I’d been wondering when someone would give me crap about it. I just hadn’t expected it to be her.

I turned to leave, but she smoothly moved around to block my path. “Just a second!” she insisted, planting herself in front of me. “I want to talk to you.”

I glared at her, a cold, hostile stare that had given redcaps pause and made a pair of spriggans back down once. Kenzie didn’t move, her determined stance never wavering. I slumped in defeat. “What?” I growled. “Come to warn me to leave your boyfriend alone if I know what’s good for me?”

She frowned. “Boyfriend?”

“The quarterback.”

“Oh.” She snorted, wrinkling her nose. It was kind of cute. “Brian’s not my boyfriend.”

“No?” That was surprising. I’d been so sure she was going to rip into me about the fight, maybe threaten to make me sorry if I hurt her precious football star. Why else would this girl want to talk to me?

Kenzie took advantage of my surprise and stepped closer. I swallowed and resisted the urge to step back. Kenzie was shorter than me by several inches, but that fact seemed completely lost on her. “Don’t worry, tough guy. I don’t have a boyfriend waiting to slug you in the bathrooms.” Her eyes sparkled. “If it comes to that, I’ll slug you myself.”

I didn’t doubt she’d try. “What do you want?” I asked again, more and more perplexed by this strange, cheerful girl.

“I’m the editor for the school paper,” she announced, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “And I was hoping you would do me a favor. Every semester, I interview the new students who started late, you know, so people can get to know them better. I’d love to do an interview with you, if you’re up for it.”

For the second time in thirty seconds, I was thrown. “You’re an editor?”

“Well, more of a reporter, really. But since everyone else hates the technical stuff, I do the editing, too.”

“For the paper?”

“That is generally what reporters report for, yes.”

“But … I thought …” I gave myself a mental shake, collecting my scattered thoughts. “I saw you with the pom squad,” I said, and it was almost an accusation. Kenzie’s slender eyebrows rose.

“And, what? You thought I was a cheerleader?” She shrugged. “Not my thing, but thank you for thinking so. Heights and I don’t really get along very well, and I can barely walk across the gym floor without falling down and bruising myself. Plus, I’d have to dye my hair blond, and that would just fry the ends.”

I didn’t know if she was serious or joking, but I couldn’t stay. “Look, I have to be somewhere soon,” I told her, which wasn’t a lie; I had class tonight with my kali instructor, Guro Javier, and if I was late I’d have to do fifty pushups and a hundred suicide dashes—if he was feeling generous. Guro was serious about punctuality. “Can we talk later?”

“Will you give me that interview?”

“Okay, yes, fine!” I raised a hand in frustration. “If it will get you off my back, fine.”

She beamed. “When?”

“I don’t care.”

That didn’t faze her. Nothing did, it seemed. I’d never met someone who could be so relentlessly cheerful in the face of such blatant jack-assery. “Well, do you have a phone number?” she continued, sounding suspiciously amused. “Or, I could give you mine, if you want. Of course, that means you’d actually have to call me….” She gave me a dubious look, then shook her head. “Hmm, never mind, just give me yours. Something tells me I could tattoo my number on your forehead and you wouldn’t remember to call.”

“Whatever.”

As I scribbled the digits on a scrap of paper, I couldn’t help but think how weird it was, giving my phone number to a cute girl. I’d never done this before and likely never would again. If Kingston knew, if he even saw me talking to her, girlfriend or not, he’d probably try to give me a concussion.

Kenzie stepped beside me and stood on tiptoe to peer over my shoulder. Soft, feathery strands of her hair brushed my arm, making my skin prickle and my heart pound. I caught a hint of apple or mint or some kind of sweet fragrance, and for a second forgot what I was writing.

“Um.” She leaned even closer, one slender finger pointing to the messy black scrawl on the paper. “Is this a six or a zero?”

“It’s a six,” I rasped, and stepped away, putting some distance between us. Damn, my heart was still pounding. What the hell was that about?

I handed over the paper. “Can I go now?”

She tucked it into the pocket of her jeans with another grin, though for just a moment she looked disappointed. “Don’t let me stop you, tough guy. I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

Without answering, I stepped around her, and this time, she let me.

Kali was brutal. With the tournament less than a week off, Guro Javier was fanatical about making sure we would give nothing less than our best.

“Keep those sticks moving, Ethan,” Guro called, watching me and my sparring partner circle each other, a rattan in each hand. I nodded and twirled my sticks, keeping the pattern going while looking for holes in my opponent’s guard. We wore light padded armor and a helmet so that the sticks wouldn’t leave ugly, throbbing welts over bare skin and we could really smack our opponent without seriously injuring him. That’s not to say I didn’t come home with nice purple bruises every so often—”badges of courage,” as Guro called them.

My sparring partner lunged. I angled to the side, blocking his strike with one stick while landing three quick blows on his helmet with the other.

“Good!” Guro called, bringing the round to a close. “Ethan, watch your sticks. Don’t let them just sit there, keep them moving, keep them flowing, always. Chris, angle out next time—don’t just back up and let him hit you.”

“Yes, Guro,” we both said, and bowed to each other, ending the match. Backing to the corner, I wrenched off my helmet and let the cool air hit my face. Call me violent and aggressive, but I loved this. The flashing sticks, the racing adrenaline, the solid crack of your weapon hitting a vital spot on someone’s armor … there was no bigger rush in the world. While I was here, I was just another student, learning under Guro Javier. Kali was the only place where I could forget my life and school and the constant, judging stares, and just be myself.

Not to mention, beating on someone with sticks was an awesome way to relieve pent-up aggression.

“Good class, everyone,” Guro called, motioning us to the front of the room. We bowed to our instructor, touching one stick to our heart and the other to our forehead, as he continued. “Remember, the tournament is this Saturday. Those of you participating in the demonstrations, I would like you there early so you can practice and go over the forms and patterns. Also, Ethan—” he looked at me “—I need to talk to you before you leave. Class dismissed, everyone.” He clapped his hands, and the rest of the group began to disperse, talking excitedly about the tournament and other kali-related things. I stripped off my armor, set it carefully on the mats and waited.

Guro gestured, and I followed him to the corner, gathering up punch mitts and the extra rattan sticks scattered near the wall. After stacking them neatly on the corner shelves, I turned to find Guro watching me with a solemn expression.

Guro Javier wasn’t a big guy; in fact, I had an inch or two on him in my bare feet, and I wasn’t very tall. I was pretty fit, not huge like a linebacker, but I did work out; Guro was all sinew and lean muscle, and the most graceful person I’d ever seen in my life. Even practicing or warming up, he looked like a dancer, twirling his weapons with a speed I had yet to master and feared I never would. And he could strike like a cobra; one minute he’d be standing in front of you demonstrating a technique, the next, you’d be on the ground, blinking and wondering how you got there. Guro’s age was hard to tell; he had strands of silver through his short black hair, and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He pushed me hard, harder than the others, drilling me with patterns, insisting I get a technique close to perfect before I moved on. It wasn’t that he played favorites, but I think he realized that I wanted this more, needed this more, than the other students. This wasn’t just a hobby for me. These were skills that might someday save my life.

“How is your new school?” Guro asked in a matter-of-fact way. I started to shrug but caught myself. I tried very hard not to fall back into old, sullen habits with my instructor. I owed him more than a shrug and a one-syllable answer.

“It’s fine, Guro.”

“Getting along with your teachers?”

“Trying to.”

“Hmm.” Guro idly picked up a rattan and spun it through the air, though his eyes remained distant. He often did that stick twirling when thinking, demonstrating a technique, or even talking to us. It was habit, I guessed; I didn’t think he even realized he was doing it.

“I’ve spoken to your mother,” Guro continued calmly, and my stomach twisted. “I’ve asked her to keep me updated on your progress at school. She’s worried about you, and I can’t say I like what I’ve heard.” The whirling stick paused for a moment, and he looked directly at me. “I do not teach kali for violence, Ethan. If I hear you’ve been in any more fights, or that your grades are slipping, I’ll know you need to concentrate more on school than kali practice. You’ll be out of the demonstration, is that clear?”

I sucked in a breath. Great. Thanks a lot, Mom. “Yes, Guro.”

He nodded. “You’re a good student, Ethan. I want you to succeed in other places, too, yes? Kali isn’t everything.”

“I know, Guro.”

The stick started its twirling pattern again, and Guro nodded in dismissal. “Then I’ll see you on Saturday. Remember, thirty minutes early, at least!”

I bowed and retreated to the locker room.

My phone blinked when I pulled it out, indicating a new message, though I didn’t recognize the number. Puzzled, I checked voice mail and was greeted by a familiar, overly cheerful voice.

“Hey, tough-guy, don’t forget you owe me an interview. Call me tonight, you know, when you’re done robbing banks and stealing cars. Talk to you later!”

I groaned. I’d forgotten about her. Stuffing the phone into my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and was about to leave when the lights flickered and went out.

Oh, nice. Probably Redding, trying to scare me again. Rolling my eyes, I waited, listening for footsteps and snickering laughter. Chris Redding, my sparring partner, fancied himself a practical joker and liked to target people who kicked his ass in practice. Usually, that meant me.

I held my breath, remaining motionless and alert. As the silence stretched on, annoyance turned to unease. The light switch was next to the door—I could see it through a gap in the aisles, and there was no one standing there. I was in the locker room alone.

Carefully, I eased my bag off my shoulder, unzipped it and drew out a rattan stick, just in case. Edging forward, stick held out in front of me, I peered around the locker row. I was not in the mood for this. If Redding was going jump out and yell “rah,” he was going to get a stick upside the head, and I’d apologize later.

There was a soft buzz, somewhere overhead. I looked up just as something tiny half fell, half fluttered from the ceiling, right at my face. I leaped back, and it flopped to the floor, twitching like a dazed bird.

I edged close, ready to smack it if it lunged up at me again. The thing stirred weakly where it lay on the cement, looking like a giant wasp or a winged spider. From what I could tell, it was green and long-limbed with two transparent wings crumpled over its back. I stepped forward and nudged it with the end of the stick. It batted feebly at the rattan with a long, thin arm.

A piskie? What’s it doing here? As fey went, piskies were usually pretty harmless, though they could play nasty tricks if insulted or bored. And, tiny or no, they were still fey. I was tempted to flick this one under the bench like a dead spider and continue on to my truck, when it raised its face from the floor and stared up at me with huge, terrified eyes.

It was Thistle, Todd’s friend. At least, I thought it was the same faery; all piskies looked pretty much the same to me. But I thought I recognized the sharp pointed face, the puff of yellow dandelion hair. Its mouth moved, gaping wide, and its wings buzzed faintly, but it seemed too weak to get up.

Frowning, I crouched down to see it better, still keeping my rattan out in case it was just faking. “How did you get in here?” I muttered, prodding it gently with the stick. It swatted at the end but didn’t move from the floor. “Were you following me?”

It gave a garbled buzz and collapsed, apparently exhausted, and I hesitated, not knowing what to do. Clearly, it was in trouble, but helping the fey went against all the rules I’d taught myself over the years. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t interact with the Fair Folk. Never make a contract, and never accept their help. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and not look back.

Still, if I helped this once, the piskie would be in my debt, and I could think of several things I could demand in exchange. I could demand that she leave me alone. Or leave Todd alone. Or abandon whatever scheme the half-breed was having her do.

Or, better yet, I could demand that she tell no one about my sister and my connection to her.

This is stupid, I told myself, still watching the piskie crawl weakly around my rattan, trying to pull herself up the length of the stick. You know faeries will twist any bargain to their favor, even if they owe you something. This is going to end badly.

Oh, well. When had I ever been known for doing the smart thing?

With a sigh, I bent down and grabbed the piskie by the wings, lifting her up in front of me. She dangled limply, half-delirious, though from what I had no idea. Was it me, or did the faery seem almost … transparent? Not just her wings; she flickered in and out of focus like a blurry camera shot.

And then, I saw something beyond the piskie’s limp form, lurking in the darkness at the end of the locker room. Something pale and ghostlike, long hair drifting around its head like mist.

“Ethan?”

Guro’s voice echoed through the locker room, and the thing vanished. Quickly, I unzipped my bag and stuffed the piskie inside as my instructor appeared in the doorway. His eyes narrowed when he saw me.

“Everything all right?” he asked as I shouldered the bag and stepped forward. And, was it my imagination, or did he glance at the corner where the creepy ghost-thing was? “I thought I heard something. Chris isn’t hiding in a corner ready to jump out, is he?”

“No, Guro. It’s fine.”

I waited for him to move out of the doorway so I wouldn’t have to shoulder past him with my bag. My heart pounded, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was still in the room with me; I could feel it watching us, its cold eyes on my back.

Guro’s eyes flicked to the corner again, narrowing. “Ethan,” he said in a low voice, “my grandfather was a Mang-Huhula—you know what that means, yes?”

I nodded, trying not to seem impatient. The Mang-Huhula was the spiritual leader of the tribe, a faith-healer or fortune teller of sorts. Guro himself was a tuhon, someone who passed down his culture and practices, who kept the traditions alive. He’d told us this before; I wasn’t sure why he was reminding me now.

“My grandfather was a wise man,” Guro went on, holding my gaze. “He told me not to put your trust in only your eyes. That to truly see, sometimes you had to put your faith in the invisible things. You had to believe what no one else was willing to. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I heard a soft slither behind me, like wet cloth over cement, and my skin crawled. It took all my willpower not to draw my rattan and swing around. “I think so, Guro.”

Guro paused a moment, then stepped back, looking faintly disappointed. Obviously, I’d just missed something, or he could tell I was really distracted. But all he said was, “If you need help, Ethan, all you have to do is ask. If you’re in trouble, you can come to me. For anything, no matter how small or crazy it might seem. Remember that.”

The thing, whatever it was, slithered closer. I nodded, trying not to fidget. “I will, Guro.”

“Go on, then.” Guro stepped aside, nodding. “Go home. I’ll see you at the tournament.”

I fled the room, forcing myself not to look back. And I didn’t stop until I reached my truck.

My phone rang as soon as I was home.

After closing my bedroom door, I dropped my gym bag on the bed, listening to the buzz of wings from somewhere inside. It seemed the piskie was still alive, though it probably wasn’t thrilled at being zipped into a bag with used gym shorts and sweaty T-shirts. Smirking at the thought, I checked the trilling phone. Same unfamiliar number. I sighed and held it to my ear.

“God, you’re persistent,” I told the girl and heard a chuckle on the other end.

“It’s a reporter skill,” she replied. “If every newscaster got scared off by the threat of violence or kidnapping or death, there wouldn’t be any news at all. They have to brave a lot to get their stories. Consider yourself practice for the real world.”

“I’m so honored,” I deadpanned. She laughed.

“So, anyway, are you free tomorrow? Say, after school? We can meet in the library and you can give me that interview.”

“Why?” I scowled at the phone, ignoring the angry buzzing coming from my gym bag. “Just ask me your questions now and be done with it.”

“Oh, no, I never do interviews over the phone if I can help it.” The buzzing grew louder, and my bag started to shake. I gave it a thump, and it squeaked in outrage.

“Phone interviews are too impersonal,” Kenzie went on, oblivious to my ridiculous fight with the gym bag. “I want to look at the person I’m interviewing, really see their reactions, get a glimpse into their thoughts and feelings. I can’t do that over the phone. So, tomorrow in the library, okay? After the last class. Will you be there?”

A session alone with Kenzie. My heart beat faster at the thought, and I coldly stomped it down. Yes, Kenzie was cute, smart, popular and extremely attractive. You’d have to be blind not to see it. She was also obscenely rich, or her family was, anyway. The few rumors I’d heard said her father owned three mansions and a private jet, and Kenzie only went to public school because she wanted to. Even if I was anywhere near normal, Mackenzie St. James was way out of my league.

And it was better that way. I couldn’t allow myself to get comfortable with this girl, to let my guard down for an instant. The second I let people get close to me, the fey would make them targets. I would not let that happen ever again.

My bag actually jumped about two inches off the bed, landing with a thump on the mattress. I winced and dragged it back before it could leap to the floor. “Sure,” I said distractedly, not really thinking about it. “Whatever. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” I could sense Kenzie’s smile. “Thanks, tough guy. See you tomorrow.”

I hung up.

Outside, lightning flickered through the window, showing a storm was on its way. Grabbing my rattan stick, I braced myself and unzipped the gym bag in one quick motion, releasing a wave of stink and a furious, buzzing piskie into my room.

Not surprisingly, the faery made a beeline for the window but veered away when it noticed the line of salt poured along the sill. It darted toward the door, but an iron horseshoe hung over the frame and a coil of metal wire had been wound over the doorknob. It hummed around the ceiling like a frantic wasp, then finally drifted down to the headboard, alighting on a bedpost. Crossing its arms, it gave me an annoyed, expectant look.

I smiled nastily. “Feeling better, are we? You’re not getting out of here until I say so, so sit down and relax.” The piskie’s wings vibrated, and I kept my rattan out, ready to swat if it decided to dive-bomb me. “I saved your life back there,” I reminded the faery. “So I think you owe me something. That’s generally how these things work. You owe me a life debt, and I’m calling it in right now.”

It bristled but crossed its legs and sat down on the post, looking sulky. I relaxed my guard, but only a little. “Sucks being on that end of a bargain, doesn’t it?” I smirked, enjoying my position, and leaned back against the desk.

The piskie glared, then lifted one arm in an impatient gesture that clearly said, Well? Get on with it, then. Still keeping it in my sights, I crossed my room and locked the door, more to keep curious parents out than annoyed faeries in. Life debt or no, I could only imagine the trouble the piskie would cause if she managed to escape to the rest of the house.

“Thistle, right?” I asked, returning to the desk. The piskie’s head bobbed once in affirmation. I wondered if I should ask about Meghan but decided against it. Piskies, I’d discovered, were notoriously difficult to understand and had the attention span of a gnat. Long, drawn-out conversations with them were virtually impossible, as they tended to forget the question as soon as it was answered.

“You know Todd, then?”

The piskie buzzed and nodded.

“What did you do for him recently?”

The result was a garbled, high-pitched mess of words and sentences, spoken so quickly it made my head spin. It was like listening to a chipmunk on speed. “All right, enough!” I said, holding up my hands. “I wasn’t thinking.” Yes or no answers,Ethan, remember? The piskie gave me a confused frown, but I ignored it and continued. “So, were you following me today?”

Another nod.

“Why—”

The piskie gave a terrified squeal and buzzed frantically about the room, nearly smacking into me as it careened around the walls. I ducked, covering my head, as it zipped across the room, babbling in its shrill, squeaking voice. “Okay, okay! Calm down! Sorry I asked.” It finally hovered in a corner, shaking its head, eyes bulging out of its skull. I eyed it warily.

Huh. That was … interesting. “What was that about?” I demanded. The piskie buzzed and hugged itself, wings trembling. “Something was after you tonight, wasn’t it? That thing in the locker room—it was chasing you. Piss off an Iron faery, then?” The fey of the Iron Queen’s court were the only creatures I could think of that could provoke such a reaction. I didn’t know what it was like in the Nevernever, but here, the old-world faeries and the Iron fey still didn’t get along very well. Generally, the two groups avoided each other, pretending the other didn’t exist. But faeries were fickle and destructive and violent, and fights still broke out between them, usually ending fatally.

But the piskie shook its head, squeaking and waving its thin arms. I frowned. “It wasn’t an Iron fey,” I guessed, and it shook its head again, vigorously. “What was it?”

“Ethan?” There was a knock, and Dad’s voice came through the door. “Are you in there? Who are you talking to?”

I winced. Unlike Mom, Dad had no problem invading my personal space. If it were up to him, I wouldn’t even have a door. “On the phone, Dad!” I called back.

“Oh. Well, dinner is ready. Tell your friend you’ll call back, okay?”

I grunted and heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. The piskie still hovered in the corner, watching me with big black eyes. It was terrified, and even though it was fey and had probably played a million nasty pranks on unsuspecting humans, I suddenly felt like a bully.

I sighed. “You know what?” I told it, moving to the window. “Forget it. This was stupid of me. I’m not getting involved with any of you, life debt or no.” Sweeping away the salt, I unlocked the window and pushed it open, letting in a blast of cool, rain-scented air. “Get out of here,” I told the piskie, who blinked in astonishment. “You want to repay me? Whatever you’re doing for that half-breed, stop it. I don’t want you hanging around him, or me, ever again. Now beat it.”

I jerked my head toward the window, and the piskie didn’t hesitate. It zipped past my head, seeming to go right through the screen, and vanished into the night.




CHAPTER FOUR

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR


Storms always made me moody. More so than usual, anyway.

Don’t know why; maybe they reminded me of my childhood, back in the swamps. We’d gotten a lot of rain on our small farm, and somehow the drumming of water on the tin roof always put me to sleep. Or maybe because, when I was very small, I would creep out of bed and into my sister’s room, and she would hold me as the thunder boomed and tell me stories until I fell asleep.

I didn’t want to remember those days. They just reminded me that she wasn’t here now, and she never would be again.

I loaded the last plate into the dishwasher and kicked it shut, wincing as a crash of thunder outside made the lights flicker. Hopefully, the power would stay on this time. Call me paranoid, but stumbling around in the dark with nothing but a candle made me positive that the fey were lurking in shadowy corners and darkened bathrooms, waiting to pounce.

I finished clearing the table, walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch. Dad had already gone to work, and Mom was upstairs, so the house was fairly still as I flipped on the television, turning up the volume to drown out the storm.

The doorbell rang.

I ignored it. It wasn’t for me, that was for certain. I didn’t have friends; no one ever came to my house to hang out with the weird, unfriendly freak. Most likely it was our neighbor, Mrs. Tully, who was friends with Mom and liked to glare at me through the slits in her venetian blinds. As if she was afraid I would throw eggs at her house or kick her yappy little dog. She liked to give Mom advice about what to do with me, claiming she knew a couple of good military schools that would straighten me right out. Most likely, she was huddled on our doorstep with an umbrella and a bag of extra candles, using the storm as an excuse to come in and gossip, probably about me. I snorted under my breath. Mom was too nice to tell her to take a hike, but I had no such convictions. She could just stay out there as far as I was concerned.

The doorbell rang again, and it sounded louder this time, more insistent.

“Ethan!” Mom called from somewhere upstairs, her voice sharp. “Will you get that, please? Don’t leave whoever it is standing there in the rain!”

Sighing, I dragged myself upright and went to the door, expecting to see a plump old woman glaring disapprovingly as I yanked it open. It wasn’t Mrs. Tully, however.

It was Todd.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. He had on a huge camouflage jacket that was two sizes too big, and the hood had fallen over his eyes. When he raised a hand and shoved it back, the porch light caught his pupils and made them glitter orange. His hair and furry ears were drenched, and he looked even smaller than normal, huddled in that enormous coat. A bike lay on its side in the grass behind him, wheels spinning in the rain.

“Oh, good, this is the right house.” Todd grinned at me, canines flashing in the dim light. A violet-skinned piskie peeked out of his hood, blinking huge black eyes, and I recoiled. “Hey, Ethan!” the half-breed said cheerfully, peering past me into the house. “Nasty weather, isn’t it? Uh, can I come in?”

I instantly shut the door in his face, leaving no more than a few inches open to glare at him through the crack. “What are you doing here?” I hissed. He flattened his ears at my tone, looking scared now.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered, glancing back over his shoulder. “It’s important, and you’re the only one who might be able to help. Please, you gotta let me in.”

“No way.” I kept a firm foot on the edge of the door, refusing to budge an inch as he pushed forward. “If you’re in trouble with Them, that’s your problem for getting involved. I told you before—I want nothing to do with it.” I glared at the piskie who crouched beneath Todd’s hood, watching it carefully. “Get lost. Go home.”

“I can’t!” Todd leaned in frantically, eyes wide. “I can’t go home because They’re waiting for me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! These weird, creepy, ghostly things. They’ve been hanging around my house since yesterday, watching me, and they keep getting closer.”

A chill spread through my stomach. I gazed past him into the rainy streets, searching for glimmers of movement, shadows of things not there. “What did you do?” I growled, glaring at the half-phouka, who cringed.

“I don’t know!” Todd made a desperate, helpless gesture, and his piskie friend squeaked. “I’ve never seen these type of fey before. But they keep following me, watching me. I think they’re after us,” he continued, gesturing to the fey on his shoulder. “Violet and Beetle are both terrified, and I can’t find Thistle anywhere.”

“So, you came here, to pull my family into this? Are you crazy?”

“Ethan?” Mom appeared behind me, peering over my shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one!” But it was too late; she’d already seen him.

Glancing past me, Todd gave a sheepish smile and a wave. “Um, hey, Ethan’s Mom,” he greeted, suddenly charming and polite. “I’m Todd. Ethan and I were supposed to trade notes this evening, but I sorta got caught in the rain on the way here. It’s nothing—I’m used to biking across town. In the rain. And the cold.” He sniffled and glanced mournfully at his bike, lying in the mud behind him. “Sorry for disturbing you,” he said, glancing up with the most pathetic puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. “It’s late. I guess I’ll head on home now….”

“What? In this weather? No, Todd, you’ll catch your death.” Mom shooed me out of the doorway and gestured to the half-phouka on the steps. “Come inside and dry off, at least. Do your parents know where you are?”

“Thank you.” Todd grinned as he scurried over the threshold. I clenched my fists to stop myself from shoving him back into the rain. “And yeah, it’s okay. I told my Mom I was visiting a friend’s house.”

“Well, if the rain doesn’t let up, you’re more than welcome to stay the night,” Mom said, sealing my fate. “Ethan has a spare sleeping bag you can borrow, and he can take you both to school tomorrow in his truck.” She fixed me with a steely glare that promised horrible repercussions if I wasn’t nice. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I sighed. “Whatever.” Glancing at Todd, who looked way too pleased, I turned away and gestured for him to follow. “Come on, then. I’ll get that sleeping bag set up.”

He trailed me to my room, gazing around eagerly as he stepped through the frame. That changed when I slammed the door, making him jump, and turned to glare at him.

“All right,” I growled, stalking forward, backing him up to the wall. “Start talking. What’s so damned important that you had to come here and drag my family into whatever mess you created?”

“Ethan, wait.” Todd held up clawed hands. “You were right, okay? I shouldn’t have been screwing around with the fey, but it’s too late to go back and undo … whatever I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I told you, I don’t know!” The half-breed bared his canines in frustration. “Little things, nothing I haven’t done before. Teensy contracts with Thistle and Violet and Beetle to help with some of my tricks, but that’s all. But I think something bigger took notice of us, and now I think I’m in real trouble.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I just …” Todd stopped, frowning. “Wait a minute,” he muttered, and pushed his hood back. It flopped emptily. “Violet? Where’d she go?” he said, stripping out of the coat and shaking it. “She was here a few minutes ago.”

I smirked at him. “Your piskie friend? Yeah, sorry, she couldn’t get past the ward on the front door. No faery can get over the threshold without my permission, and I wasn’t about to set that thing free in my house. It doesn’t work on half-breeds, sadly.”

He looked up, eyes wide. “She’s still outside?”

A tap came on the window, where a new line of salt had been poured across the sill. The dripping wet piskie stared through the glass at us, her small features pinched into a scowl. I grinned at her smugly.

“I knew it,” Todd whispered, and dropped his wet jacket onto a chair. “I knew you were the right person to come to.”

I eyed him. “What are you talking about?”

“Just …” He glanced at the piskie again. She pressed her face to the glass, and he swallowed. “Dude, can I … uh…. let her in? I’m scared those things are still out there.”

“If I refuse, are you going to keep bothering me until I say yes?”

“More or less, yeah.”

Annoyed, I brushed away the salt and cracked open the window, letting the piskie through with a buzz of wings and damp air. Two faeries in my room in the same night; this was turning into a nightmare. “Don’t touch anything.” I glowered at her as she settled on Todd’s shoulder with a huff. “I have an antique iron birdcage you can sit in if anything goes missing.”

The piskie made irritated buzzing sounds, pointing at me and waving her arms, and Todd shook his head. “I know, I know! But he’s the Iron Queen’s brother. He’s the only one I could think of.”

My heart gave a violent lurch at the mention of the Iron Queen, and I narrowed my eyes. “What was that?”

“You have to help us,” Todd exclaimed, oblivious to my sudden anger. “These things are after me, and they don’t look friendly. You’re the brother of the Iron Queen, and you know how to keep the fey out. Give me something to keep them away from me. The common wards are helping, but I don’t think they’re strong enough. I need something more powerful.” He leaned forward, ears pricked, eyes eager. “You know how to keep Them away, right? You must, you’ve been doing it all your life. Show me how.”

“Forget it.” I glared at him, and his ears wilted. “What happens if I give you all my secrets? You would just use it to further your stupid tricks. I’m not revealing everything just to have it bite me in the ass later.” His ears drooped even more, and I crossed my arms. “Besides, what about your little friends? The wards I know are for all fey, not just a select few. What happens to them?”

“We can get around that,” Todd said quickly. “We’ll make it work, somehow. Ethan, please. I’m desperate, here. What do you want from me?” He leaned forward. “Give me a hint. A tip. A note scribbled on a fortune cookie, I’ll try anything. Talk to me this one time, and I swear I’ll leave you alone after this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And your friends?”

“I’ll make sure they leave you alone, as well.”

I sighed. This was probably monumentally stupid, but I knew what it was like to feel trapped, not having anyone I could turn to. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll help. But I want your word that you’ll stop all bargains and contracts after today. If I do this, no more ‘help’ from the Good Neighbors, got it?”

The piskie buzzed sadly, but Todd nodded without hesitation. “Deal! I mean … yeah. I swear.”

“No more contracts or bargains?”

“No more contracts or bargains.” He sighed and made an impatient gesture with a claw. “Now, can we please get on with it?”

I had major doubts that he could keep that promise—half fey weren’t bound by their promises the way full fey were—but what else could I do? He needed my help, and if something was after him, I couldn’t stand back and do nothing. Rubbing my eyes, I went to my desk, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out an old leather journal from under a stack of papers. After hesitating a moment, I walked forward and tossed it onto my bed.

Todd blinked. “What is that?”

“All my research on the Good Neighbors,” I said, pulling a half-empty notepad off my bookshelf. “And if you mention it to anyone, I will kick your ass. Here.” I tossed him the pad, and he caught it awkwardly. “Take notes. I’ll tell you what you need to know—it’ll be up to you to go through with it.”

We stayed there for the rest of the evening, him sitting on my bed scribbling furiously, me leaning against my desk reading wards, charms and recipes from the journal. I went over the common wards, like salt, iron and wearing your clothes inside out. We went over things that could attract the fey into a house: babies, shiny things, large amounts of sugar or honey. We briefly discussed the most powerful ward in the book, a circle of toadstools that would grow around the house and render everything inside invisible to the fey. But that spell was extremely complicated, required rare and impossible ingredients, and could be safely performed only by a druid or a witch on the night of the waning moon. Since I didn’t know any local witches, nor did I have any powdered unicorn horn lying around, we weren’t going to be performing that spell anytime in the near future. Besides, I told a disappointed Todd, you could put a wrought-iron fence around your house with less effort than the toadstool ring, and it would do nearly the same job in keeping out the fey.

“So,” Todd ventured after a couple of hours of this. I sensed he was getting bored, and marveled that the half-phouka had lasted this long. “Enough talk about the fey already. Word around school is that you were a total douche to Mackenzie St. James.”

I looked up from the journal, where I was making small corrections to a charm using ragwort and mistletoe. “Yeah? So what?”

“Dude, you’d better be careful with that girl.” Todd put down his pen and gazed at me with serious orange eyes. The piskie buzzed from the top of my bookshelf to land on his shoulder. “Last year, some guy kept following her around, trying to ask her out. Wouldn’t leave her alone even when she turned him down.” He shook his shaggy head. “The whole football team took him out behind the bleachers to have ‘a talk’ about Kenzie. Poor bastard wouldn’t even look at her after that.”

“I have no interest in Kenzie St. James,” I said flatly.

“Good to hear,” Todd replied. “‘Cause Kenzie is off-limits. And not just to people like you and me. Everyone at school knows it. You don’t bother her, you don’t start rumors about her, you don’t hang around, you don’t make yourself unwanted, or the Goon Squad will come and leave an impression of your face in the wall.”

“Seems a little drastic,” I muttered, intrigued despite myself. “What, did she have a nasty breakup with one of the jocks, and now he doesn’t want anyone to have her?”

“No.” Todd shook his head. “Kenzie doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s never had a boyfriend. Not once. Why is that, you wonder? She’s gorgeous, smart, and everyone says her dad is loaded. But she’s never gone out with anyone. Why?”

“Because people don’t want their heads bashed in by testosterone-ridden gorillas?” I guessed, rolling my eyes.

But Todd shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” he said, frowning at my snort of disbelief. “I mean, think about it, dude—if Kenzie wanted a boyfriend, do you think anyone, even Chief Tool Kingston himself, would be able to stop her?”

No, I thought, he wouldn’t. No one would. I had the distinct feeling that if Kenzie wanted something, she would get it, no matter how difficult or impossible it was. She had wheedled an interview out of me—that was saying something. The girl just didn’t take no for an answer.

“Kinda makes you wonder,” Todd mused. “Pretty girl like that, with no boyfriend and no interest in any guy? Do you think she could be—”

“I don’t care,” I interrupted, pushing thoughts of Mackenzie St. James to the back of my mind. I couldn’t think about her. Because even if Kenzie was pretty and kind and had treated me like a decent human being, even though I was a total ass to her, I could not afford to bring someone else into my dangerous, screwed-up world. I was spending the evening teaching anti-faery charms to a piskie and a half-phouka; that was a pretty good indication of how messed up my life was.

A crash of thunder outside rattled the ceiling and made the lights flicker just as there was a knock on the door and Mom poked her head in. I quickly flipped the journal shut, and Todd snatched the notebook from where it lay on the bed, hiding the contents as she gazed down at us.

“How are you boys doing?” Mom asked, smiling at Todd, who beamed back at her. I kept a close eye on his piskie, making sure it didn’t dart through the crack into the rest of the house. “Everything all right?”

“We’re fine, Mom,” I said quickly, wishing she would close the door. She frowned at me, then turned to my unwanted guest.

“Todd, it looks like it’s going to storm all night. My husband is at work, so he can’t drive you home, and I am not sending you out in this weather. It looks like you’ll have to stay here tonight.” He looked relieved, and I suppressed a groan. “Make sure you call your parents to let them know where you are, okay?”

“I will, Mrs. Chase.”

“Did Ethan set you up with a sleeping bag yet?”

“Not yet.” Todd grinned at me. “But he was just about to, right, Ethan?”

I glared daggers at him. “Sure.”

“Good. I’ll see you boys tomorrow morning, then. And Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

She gave me a brief look that said be nice or your father willhear about this. “It’s still a school night. Lights out before too long, okay?”

“Fine.”

The door clicked shut, and Todd turned to me, wide-eyed. “Wow, and I thought my parents were strict. I haven’t heard ‘lights out’ since I was ten. Do you have a curfew, as well?” I gave him a hooded stare, daring him to go on, and he squirmed. “Um, so where’s the bathroom, again?”

I rose, dug a sleeping bag from my closet, and tossed it and an extra pillow on the floor. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the right,” I muttered, returning to my desk. “Just be quiet—my dad gets home late and might freak out if he doesn’t know about you. And the piskie stays here. It doesn’t leave this room, got it?”

“Sure, man.” Todd closed the notebook, rolled it up, and stuffed it in a back pocket. “I’ll try some of these when I get home, see if any of them work. Hey, Ethan, thanks for doing this. I owe you.”

“Whatever.” I turned my back on him and opened my laptop. “You don’t owe me anything,” I muttered as he started to leave the room. “In fact, you can thank me by never mentioning this to anyone, ever.”

Todd paused in the hallway. He seemed about to say something, but when I didn’t look up, turned and left silently, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sighed and plugged my headphones into my computer, pulling them over my head. Despite Mom’s insistence that I go to bed soon, sleep wasn’t likely. Not with a piskie and a half-phouka sharing my room tonight; I’d wake up with my head glued to the baseboard, or find my computer taped to the ceiling, or something like that. I shot a glare at the piskie sitting on my bookshelf, legs dangling over the side, and she glared back, baring sharp little teeth in my direction.

Definitely no sleep for Ethan tonight. At least I had coffee and live-streaming to keep me company.

“Oh, cool, you like Firefly?” Todd came back into the room, peering over my shoulder at the computer screen. Grabbing a stool, he plunked himself down next to me, oblivious to my wary look. “Man, doesn’t it suck that it was canceled? I seriously thought about sending Thistle with a few of her friends to jinx FOX until they put it on again.” He tapped the side of his head, indicating my headphones. “Dude, turn it up. This is my favorite episode. They should’ve just stuck with the television series and not bothered with that awful movie.”

I pulled the headphones down. “What are you talking about? Serenity was awesome. They needed it to tie up all the loose ends, like what happened with River and Simon.”

“Yeah, after killing everyone that was important,” Todd sneered, rolling his eyes. “Bad enough that they offed the preacher dude. Once Wash died I was done.”

“That was brilliant,” I argued. “Made you sit up and think, hey, if Wash died, no one was safe.”

“Whatever, man. You probably cheered when Anya died on Buffy, too.”

I smirked but caught myself. What was happening here? I didn’t need this. I didn’t need someone to laugh and joke and argue the finer points of Whedon films with me. Friends did that sort of thing. Todd was not my friend. More important, I wasn’t anyone’s friend. I was someone who should be avoided at all costs. Even someone like Todd was at risk if I didn’t keep my distance. Not to mention the pain he could bring down on me.

“Fine.” Pulling off the headphones, I set them on the desk in front of the half-breed, not taking my hand away. “Knock yourself out. Just remember …” Todd reached for the headphones, and I pulled them back. “After tonight, we’re done. You don’t talk to me, you don’t look for me, and you definitely don’t show up at my front door. When we get to school, you’ll go your way and I’ll go mine. Don’t ever come here again, got it?”

“Yeah.” Todd’s voice, though sullen, was resigned. “I got it.”

I pushed myself to my feet, and he frowned, pulling the headphones over his furry ears. “Where are you going?”

“To make some coffee.” I shot a glance at the piskie, now on my windowsill, staring out at the rain, and resigned myself to the inevitable. “Want some?”

“Ugh, usually that would be a ‘no,’” Todd muttered, pulling a face. Following my gaze to the window, his ears flattened. “But, yeah, go ahead and make me a cup. Extra strong … black … whatever.” He shivered as he watched the storm raging beyond the glass. “I don’t think either of us will be getting much sleep tonight.”




CHAPTER FIVE

THE GHOST FEY


“Uh-oh,” Todd muttered from the passenger seat of my truck. “Looks like Kingston is back.”

I gave the red Camaro a weary look as we cruised past it in the parking lot, not bothering to think about what Todd might be implying. Hell, I was tired. Staying up all night as Todd watched reruns of Angel and Firefly, listening to the half-breed’s running commentary and drinking endless cups of coffee to keep myself awake, wasn’t high on my list of favorite things to do. At least one of us had gotten a few hours’ sleep. Todd had finally curled up on the sleeping bag and started to snore, but the piskie and I had given each other evil glares until dawn.

Today was going to suck, big-time.

Todd opened the door and hopped out of the truck almost before I turned off the engine. “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you around,” he said, edging away from me. “Thanks again for last night. I’ll start setting these up as soon as I get home.”

Whatever, I wanted to say, but just yawned at him instead. Todd hesitated, as if he was debating whether or not to tell me something. He grimaced.

“Also, you might want to avoid Kingston today, man. I mean, like the plague. Just a friendly warning.”

I gave him a wary look. Not that I had any intention of talking to Kingston, ever, but … “Why?”

He shuffled his feet. “Oh, just … because. See ya, Ethan.” And he took off, bounding over the parking lot, his huge coat flapping behind him. I stared after him, then shook my head.

Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been had?

Yep, the half-breed had definitely been hiding something, because Kingston was out for blood. I wouldn’t have noticed, except he made a point of glaring at me all through class, following me down the hallway, cracking his knuckles and mouthing “you’re dead, freak,” at me over the aisles. I didn’t know what his problem was. He couldn’t still be pissed about that fight in the hallway, if you could even call it a fight. Maybe he was mad because he hadn’t gotten to knock my teeth out. I ignored his unsubtle threats and made a point of not looking at him, vowing that the next time I ran into Todd, we were going to have a talk.

Other than glaring at me, Kingston left me alone in the halls to and from class. But I expected him to try something during lunch, so I found a hidden corner in the library where I could eat in peace. Not that I was afraid of the football star and his gorillas, but I wanted to go to that damn demonstration, and they weren’t going to ruin it by getting me expelled.

The library was dim and smelled of dust and old pages. A No Food or Drink sign was plastered to the front desk, but I stuffed my sandwich under my jacket, slipped my soda can into my pocket, and retreated to the back. The head librarian stared as I walked past her desk, her hawk eyes glinting behind her glasses, but she didn’t stop me.

Opening my soda, making sure it didn’t hiss, I sank down on the floor between aisles M–N and O–P with a relieved sigh. Leaning against the wall, I gazed through the cracks in the books, watching students moving down the mazelike corridors. A girl came down my aisle once, book in hand, and came to an abrupt halt, blinking. I glared stonily, and she retreated without a word.

Well, my life had certainly reached a new low. Hiding out in the library so the star quarterback wouldn’t try to stick my head through a wall or put his fist between my teeth. Return the favor, and I’d be expelled. Morosely, I finished the last of my sandwich and checked my watch. Still thirty-five minutes to class. Restless, I plucked a book off the shelf next to me and skimmed through it: The History of Cheeses and Cheesemaking. How fascinating.

As I put it back, my thoughts drifted to Kenzie. I was supposed to meet her here after school for that stupid interview. I wondered what she would ask, what she wanted to know. Why had she even singled me out, after I’d made it perfectly clear that I wanted nothing to do with her?

I snorted. Maybe that was the reason. She liked a challenge. Or maybe she was intrigued by someone who wasn’t tripping over himself to talk to her. If you believed what Todd said, Mackenzie St. James probably had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

Stop thinking about her, Ethan. It doesn’t matter why; after today you’ll go back to ignoring her, same as everyone else.

There was a buzz somewhere overhead, the soft flutter of wings, and all my senses went rigidly alert.

Casually, I picked up the book again and pretended to flip through it while listening for the faery atop the shelves. If the piskie tried anything, it would be squashed like a big spider under The History of Cheeses and Cheesemaking.

The piskie squeaked in its excited, high-pitched voice, wings buzzing. I was tempted to glance up to see whether it was the piskie I’d saved in the locker room or Todd’s little purple friend. If either were back to torture me after I just saved their miserable lives and stuck my neck out for the half-breed, I was going to be really annoyed.

“There you are!”

A body appeared at the end of the aisle, orange eyes glowing in the dim light. I suppressed a groan as the half-breed ducked into the corridor, panting. His ears were pressed flat to his skull, and his canines were bared as he flung himself down next to me.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he whispered, peering through the books, eyes wild. “Look, you’ve got to help me. They’re still after us!”

“Help you?” I glared at him, and he shrank back. “I’ve already helped you far more than I should have. You swore you would leave me alone after this. What happened to that?” Todd started to reply, and I held up my hand. “No, forget that question. Let me ask another one. Why does Kingston want to bash my head in today?”

He fiddled with the end of his sleeve. “Dude … you have to understand … this was before I knew you. Before I realized something was after me. If I’d known I’d be asking for your help … you can’t get mad at me, okay?”

I waited, letting the silence stretch. Todd grimaced.

“Okay, so I … uh … might’ve asked Thistle to pay him back for what he did, but to make sure he didn’t connect it to me. She put something in his shorts that … er … made him swell up and itch like crazy. That’s why he wasn’t here yesterday. But, the catch is, he knows someone did it to him.”

“And he thinks it was me.” Groaning, I leaned my head back and thumped it against the wall. So that’s why the quarterback was on the warpath. I raised my head and glared at him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kick your ass right now.”

“Dude, They are here!” Todd leaned forward again, apparently too panicked to take my threat seriously. “I’ve seen them, peering in through the windows, staring right at me! I can’t go home while they’re out there! They’re just waiting for me to step outside.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked.

“Make them go away! Tell them to leave me alone.” He grabbed my sleeve. “You’re the brother of the Iron Queen! You have to do something.”

“No, I don’t. And keep your voice down!” I stood and glared down at them both. “This is your mess. I told you before, I want nothing to do with Them, and your friends have caused me nothing but trouble since the day I got here. I stepped in front of Kingston for you, I let a piskie and a half-phouka into my room last night, and look where it got me. That’s what I get for sticking my neck out.”

Todd wilted, looking stunned and betrayed, but I was too angry to care. “I told you before,” I growled, backing out of the aisle, “we’re done. Stay away from me, you hear? I don’t want you or your friends around me, my house, my family, my car, anything. I’ve helped you as much as I can. Now leave. Me. Alone.”

Without waiting for an answer, I whirled and stalked away, scanning the room for invisible things that might be lurking in the corners, ready to pounce. If the fey were hanging around the school like Todd said, I would have to up the ante on some of my protection wards, both for my truck and my person. Also, if Kingston was ready to put my head through a bathroom stall, I should probably head back to class and lay low until he and the gorilla squad cooled off a bit.

As I neared the librarian’s desk, however, a faint, muffled sob came from one of the aisles behind me, and I stopped.

Dammit. Closing my eyes, I hesitated, torn between anger and guilt. I knew what it was like, being hunted by the fey. I knew the fear, the desperation, when dealing with the Fair Folk who meant you harm. When you realized that it was just you against Them and no one could help you. When you realized They knew it, too.

Spinning on a heel, I walked back to the far aisle, cursing myself for getting involved one more time. I found Todd sitting where I had left him, huddled in the aisle looking miserable, the piskie crouched on his shoulder. They both glanced up when I approached, and Todd blinked, furry ears pricking hopefully.

“I’ll drive you home,” I said, watching his face light up with relief. “Last favor, all right? You have what you need to keep Them away from you—just follow the instructions I gave you and you’ll be fine. Don’t thank me,” I said as he opened his mouth. “Just meet me here after class. I have this interview with the school reporter I have to do first, but it shouldn’t take long. We’ll leave when I’m done.”

“School reporter?” Todd’s smile shifted to an obnoxious leer in the space of a blink. “You mean St. James. So, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger, too, huh? That didn’t take long.”

“You wanna walk home?”

“Sorry.” The smirk vanished as quickly as it had come. “I’ll be here. In fact, I think Violet and I are just going to stay right here until classes are over. You go do your interview thing. We’ll be close, probably hiding under a table or something.”

I made a mental note to check under the table before I did any interviews that afternoon, and left without another word. This time I did not look back.

Damn the fey. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? Or Todd, for that matter? Why did they make life miserable for anyone caught up in their twisted sights? Human, half-breed, young, old, it didn’t matter. I was no safer today than I had been thirteen years ago, just more paranoid and hostile. Was it always going to be like this, constantly looking over my shoulder, being alone so no one else got hurt? Was I ever going to be free of Them?

As I stepped through the library doors, my thoughts still on the conversation with the half-breed, something grabbed my shoulder and slammed me into the wall. My head struck the cement with a painful crack, expelling the air from my lungs. Stars danced across my vision for a second, and I blinked them away.

Kingston glared down at me, one fist in the collar of my shirt, pinning me to the wall. Two of his goons stood at his shoulders, flanking him like growling attack dogs.

“Hey there, asshole,” Kingston’s hot breath whipped at my face as he leaned close, reeking of smoke and spearmint. “I think we need to have a little talk.”

The demonstration, Ethan. Keep it together. “What do you want?” I snarled, forcing myself not to move, not to shoot my arm up his neck, wrench his head down and drive my knee into his ugly mouth. Or grab the hand on my collar, spin around, and slam his thick face into the wall. So many options, but I kept myself still, not meeting his eyes. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Shut up!” His grip tightened, pressing me harder against the cement. “I know it was you. Don’t ask me how, but I know. But we’ll get to that in a minute.” He brought his face close to mine, lips curling into a grim smile. “I hear you’ve been talking to Mackenzie.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. All this time I’ve been saying “go away,” and this still happens? “So what?” I challenged stupidly, making Kingston narrow his eyes. “What are you going to do, pee on her locker to let everyone know she’s off-limits?”

Kingston didn’t smile. His free fist clenched, and I kept a close eye on it in case it came streaking at my face. “She’s off-limits to you,” he said, dead serious now. “And unless you want me to make it so that all your food comes through a straw, you’ll remember that. You don’t talk to her, you don’t hang around her, you don’t even look at her. Just forget you ever heard her name, you got that?”

I would love to, I thought sourly. If the girl would leave me alone. But at the same time, something in me bristled at the thought of never talking to Kenzie again. Maybe I didn’t respond well to threats, maybe Todd’s unknown faeries had me itching for a fight, but I straightened, looked Brian Kingston right in the eye and said, “Piss. Off.”

He tensed, and his two friends swelled up behind him like angry bulls. “Okay, freak,” Kingston said, and that evil smirk came creeping back. “If that’s how you want it. Fine. I still owe you for making me miss practice yesterday. And now, I’m gonna make you beg.” The pressure on my shoulder tightened, pushing me toward the floor. “On your knees, freak. That’s how you like it, right?”

“Hey!”

A clear, high voice rang through the hall, a second before I would’ve exploded, demonstration or no. Mackenzie St. James came stalking toward us, a stack of books under one arm, her small form tight with fury.

“Let him go, Brian,” she demanded, marching up to the startled quarterback, a bristling kitten facing down a Rottweiler. “What the hell is your problem? Leave him alone!”

“Oh, hey, Mackenzie.” Brian grinned at her, looking almost sheepish. Taking your eyes off your opponent, I thought. Stupid move. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you to our mutual friend, here.” He shoved me against the wall again, and I fought down a knee-jerk reaction to snap his elbow. “He’s promised to be a lot nicer to you in the future, isn’t that right, freak?”

“Brian!”

“Okay, okay.” Kingston raised his hands and stepped away, and his cronies did the same. “Take it easy, Mac, we were just fooling around.” He turned a sneer on me, and I glared back, daring him to step forward, to grab me again. “You got lucky, freak,” he said, backing away. “Remember what I told you. You won’t always have a little girl around to protect you.” His friends snickered, and he winked at Kenzie, who rolled her eyes. “We’ll see you around, real soon.”

“Jerk,” Kenzie muttered as they sauntered off down the hall, laughing and high-fiving each other. “I don’t know what Regan sees in him.” She shook her head and turned to me. “You okay?”

Embarrassed, fuming, I scowled at her. “I could’ve handled it,” I snapped, wishing I could put my fist through a wall or someone’s face. “You didn’t have to interfere.”

“I know, tough guy.” She gave me a half smile, and I wasn’t sure if she was being serious. “But Regan is fond of the big meathead, and I didn’t want you to beat him up too badly.”

I glared in the direction the jocks had gone, clenching my fists as I struggled to control my raging emotions, the urge to stalk down the hall and plant Kingston’s face into the floor. Why me? I wanted to snap at her. Why won’t you leave me alone? And why do you have the entire football team ready to tear someone in half for looking at you funny?

“Anyway,” Kenzie continued, “we’re still on for that interview, right? You’re planning on showing up, I hope. I’m dying to know what goes on in that broody head of yours.”

“I don’t brood.”

She snorted. “Tough guy, if brooding was a sport, you’d have gold medals with scowling faces lining the walls of your room.”

“Whatever.”

Kenzie laughed. Sweeping past me, she pushed open the library door, pausing in the frame. “See you in a couple hours, Ethan.”

I shrugged.

“I’m holding you to it, tough guy. Promise me you won’t run off or conveniently forget.”

“Yes.” I blew out a breath as she grinned, and the door swung shut. “I’ll be there.”

I didn’t go.

Not that I didn’t try. Despite the incident in the hall—or maybe because of it—I wasn’t about to let anyone tell me who I could or could not hang out with. Like I said, I don’t respond well to threats, and if I was being honest with myself, I was more than a little curious about Mackenzie St. James. So after the last bell, I gathered my stuff, made sure the hall was clear of Kingston and his thugs, and headed toward the library.

About halfway there, I realized I was being followed.

The halls were nearly empty as I went by the cafeteria. The few bodies I passed were going the other way, to the parking lot and the vehicles that would take them home. But as I made my way through the quiet hallways, I got that strange prickle on the back of my neck that told me I wasn’t alone.

Casually, I stopped at a water fountain, bending down to get a quick drink. But I slid my gaze off to the side, scanning the hall.

There was a shimmer of white at the edge of my vision, as something glided around a corner and stopped in the shadows, watching.

My gut tightened, but I forced myself to straighten and walk down the hall as if nothing was wrong. I could feel the presence at my back following me, and my heart began to thud in my chest. It was the same creature, the one that I’d seen in the locker room that night, when the piskie found me. What was it? One of the fey, I was certain, but I’d never seen this kind before, all pale and transparent, almost ghostlike. A bean sidhe, perhaps? But bean sidhes usually announced their presence with hair-raising shrieks and wails; they didn’t silently trail someone down a dark corridor, being careful to stay just out of sight. And I certainly wasn’t about to die.

I hoped.

What does it want with me? I paused at the library door, grasping the handle but not pulling it open. Through the small rectangular window, I saw the front desk, the librarian’s gray head bent over the computer. Kenzie would be in there, somewhere, waiting for me. And Todd. I’d promised I would meet them both, and I hated breaking my word.

A memory flashed: one of myself, fleeing the redcaps, taking refuge in the library. Pulling a knife as I hunkered between the aisles, waiting for them. The sadistic faeries setting fire to the wall of books to flush me into the open. I escaped, but my rush to get out was taken as me fleeing the scene of the crime, leading to my expulsion from school.

I drew in a quiet breath, pausing in the door frame, anger and fear spreading through my stomach. No, I couldn’t do this. If I went in, if They saw me talking to Kenzie, they could use her to get to me. I didn’t know what They wanted, but I wasn’t going to draw another person into my dangerous, messed-up life. Not again.

Releasing the handle, I stepped away and continued down the hall. I felt the thing follow me, and as I turned the corner, I thought I heard the library door creak open. I didn’t look back.

I walked out to the parking lot, but I didn’t stop there. Getting in my truck and driving home might lose my tail, but it wouldn’t give me any answers as to why it was following me. Instead, I passed the rows of cars, stepped over the curb, and continued on to the football field. Thankfully, it was empty today. No practice, no screaming coaches, no armored jocks slamming into each other. If Kingston and his friends saw me sauntering casually across their turf in a very blatant show of Screw you, Kingston, what are you gonna do about it? they would try to bury me here. I wondered if anyone else could see me, and if they did, would they tell the quarterback I was figuratively pissing on his territory? I smirked at the thought, vaguely tempted to stop and make it literal, as well. But I had more important things to deal with, and a pissing contest with Kingston wasn’t one of them.

Behind the bleachers, I stopped. A fence separated the field from a line of trees on the other side, so it was cool and shady here. I wished I had my knife. Something sharp, metal and lethal between me and whatever was coming my way. But I’d been caught with a knife before, and it had gotten me in a lot of trouble, so I’d left it at home.

Putting my back to the fence, I waited.

Something stepped around the bleachers, or rather, shimmered around the bleachers, barely visible in the sun. And even though it was a bright fall afternoon, with enough sunlight to melt away the chill, I suddenly felt cold. Sluggish. Like my thoughts and emotions were slowly being drained, leaving behind an empty shell.

Shivering, I gazed stonily at the thing hovering a few feet away. It was unlike any faery I’d seen before. Not a nymph, a sidhe, a boggart, a dryad, anything I recognized. Not to say I was an expert on the different types of faeries, but I’d seen more than most people, and this one was just … weird.

It was shorter than me by nearly a foot and so thin it didn’t seem possible that its legs could hold it up. In fact, its legs ended in needle-sharp tips, so it looked as if it was walking on toothpicks instead of feet. Its face was hatchet thin, and its fingers were those same thin points, as if it could poke its nail right through your skull. The skeletons of what used to be wings protruded from its bony shoulders, broken and shattered, and it hovered a few inches off the ground, as if the earth itself didn’t want to touch it.

For a few seconds, we just stared at each other.

“All right,” I said in an even voice, as the creepy fey floated there, still watching me. “You followed me out here—you obviously wanted to see me. What the hell do you want?”

Its eyes, huge and multifaceted like an insect’s, blinked slowly. I saw myself reflected a hundred times in its gaze. Its razor slit of a mouth opened, and it breathed:

“I bring a warning, Ethan Chase.”

I resisted the urge to cringe. There was something very … wrong … about this creature. It didn’t belong here, in the real world. The faeries I had seen, even the Iron fey, were still a part of reality, sliding back and forth between this realm and the Nevernever. This thing … it was as if its body was out of sync with the rest of world, the way it flickered and blurred, as if it wasn’t quite there. Wasn’t quite solid.

The faery raised one long, bony finger and pointed at me.

“Do not interfere,” it whispered. “Do not become involved in what will soon happen around you. This is not your fight. We seek no trouble with the Iron Court. But if you meddle in our affairs, human, you put those you care about at risk.”

“Your affairs? What are you?” My voice came out raspier than I wanted it to. “I’m guessing you’re not from the Seelie or Unseelie Courts.”

The faery’s slitted mouth might’ve twitched into a smile.

“We are nothing. We are forgotten. No one remembers our names, that we ever existed. You should do the same, human.”

“Uh-huh. So, you make a point of making certain I know you’re there, of tracking me down and threatening my family, to tell me I should forget about you.”

The faery drew back a step, gliding over the ground. “A warning,” it said again and tossed something at my feet, something small and gray. “This is what will happen to those who interfere,” it whispered. “Our return has just begun.”

I crouched, still keeping a wary eye on the faery, and spared a glance at what lay on the ground.

A piskie. The same one I’d seen earlier that day with Todd, I was sure of it. But its skin was a dull, faded gray, as if all the color had been sucked out of it. Gently, I reached down and picked it up, cradling it in my palm. It rolled over and blinked, huge eyes empty and staring. It was still alive, but even as I watched, the faery’s tiny body rippled and then … blew away. Like mist in the breeze. Leaving behind nothing at all.

My insides felt cold. I’d seen faeries die—they turned into leaves, branches, flowers, insects, dirt, and sometimes they did just vanish. But never like this. “What did you do to it?” I demanded, surging back to my feet.

The thing didn’t answer. It shimmered again, going transparent, as if it, too, were in danger of blowing away on the wind. Raising its hands, it gazed at its fingers, watching as they flickered like a bad television channel.

“Not enough,” it whispered, shaking its head. “Never enough. Still, it is something. That you can see me, talk to me. It is a start. Perhaps the half-blood will be stronger.”

It drifted back. “We will be watching you, Ethan Chase,” it warned, and suddenly turned, as if glimpsing something off to the side. “You do not want even more people hurt because of you.”

More people? Oh, no, I thought, as it dawned on me what the faery was implying. The dead Thistle, the “half-blood” it mentioned. Todd. “Hey!” I snapped, striding forward. “Hold it right there. What are you?”

The faery smiled, rippled in the sunlight and drifted away, over the fence and out of sight. I would’ve given chase, but the sound of movement behind the bleachers caught my attention, and I turned.

Kenzie stood beside the benches, a notepad in one hand, staring at me. From the look on her face, she’d heard every word.




CHAPTER SIX

VANISHED


I ignored Kenzie and strode quickly across the football field, not looking back.

“Hey!” Kenzie cried, scrambling after me.

My mind was spinning. Todd was right, it whispered. Something was after him. Damn, what was that thing? I’ve never seen anything like it before.

My chest felt tight. It was happening again. It didn’t matter what that thing was, the damned faeries were out to ruin my life and hurt everyone around me. I had to find Todd, warn him. I just hoped that he was okay; the half-breed might be annoying and ignorant, but he shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.

“Ethan! Just a second! Will you please hold up?” Kenzie put on a burst of speed as we reached the edge of the field, blocking my path. “Will you tell me what’s going on? I heard voices, but I didn’t see anyone else. Was someone threatening you?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not into anything illegal, are you?”

“Kenzie, get out of here,” I snapped. The creepy faery could still be watching us. Or creeping closer to Todd. I had to get away from her, now. “Just leave me alone, okay? I’m not doing the damn interview. I don’t give a crap about what you or this school or anyone else thinks of me. Put that in your article.”

Her eyes flashed. “The parking lot is the other way, tough guy. Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“Then you won’t mind if I come along.”

“You’re not coming.”

“Why not?”

I swore. She didn’t move, and my sense of urgency flared. “I don’t have time for this,” I growled, and brushed past her, sprinting down the hall toward the library. The girl followed, of course, but I wasn’t thinking about her anymore. If that faery freak got close to Todd, if it did something to him like it had the piskie, it would be my fault. Again.

The librarian gave me the evil eye as I burst through the library doors, followed closely by the girl. “Slow down, you two,” she barked as we passed the desk. Kenzie murmured an apology, but I ignored her, striding toward the back, searching for the half-breed in the aisles. Empty, empty, a couple making out in the history section, empty. My unease grew. Where was he?

“What are we looking for?” Kenzie whispered at my back.

I turned, ready to tell her to get lost, futile as it might be, when something under the window caught my eye.

Todd’s jacket. Lying in a crumpled heap beneath the sill. I stared at it, trying to find an explanation as to why he would leave it behind. Maybe he just forgot it. Maybe someone stole it as a prank and ditched it here. A cold breeze whispered through the window, ruffling my clothes and hair. It was the only open window in the room.

Kenzie followed my gaze, frowned, then walked forward and picked up the jacket. As she did, something white fell out of the pocket and fluttered to the floor. A note, written on a torn half sheet of paper. I lunged forward to grab it, but Kenzie had already snatched it up.

“Hey,” I said sharply, holding out a hand. “Give me that.”

She dodged, holding the paper out of reach. Defiance danced in her eyes. “I don’t see your name on it.”

“It was for me,” I insisted, stalking forward. She leaped away, putting a long table between us, and my temper flared. “Dammit, I’m not playing this game,” I growled, keeping my voice down so the librarian wouldn’t come stalking toward us. “Hand it over, now.”

Kenzie narrowed her eyes. “Why so secretive, tough guy?” she asked, deftly maneuvering around the table, keeping the same distance between us. “Are these the coordinates for a drug deal or something?”

“What?” I grabbed for her, but she slid out of reach. “Of course not. I’m not into that crap.”

“A letter from a secret admirer, then?”

“No,” I snapped, and stopped edging around the table. This was ridiculous. Were we back in the third grade? I eyed her across the table, judging the distance between us. “It’s not a love letter,” I said, silently fuming. “It’s not even from a girl.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then you won’t mind if I read it,” she said and flipped open the note.

As soon as her attention left me, I leaped over the table and slid across the surface, grabbing her arm as I landed on the other side. She yelped in surprise and tried to jerk back, unsuccessfully. Her wrist was slender and delicate, and fit easily into my grasp.

For a second, we glared at each other. I could see my scowling, angry reflection in her eyes. Kenzie stared back, a slight smirk on her lips, as if this newest predicament amused her.

“What now, tough guy?” She raised a slender eyebrow. And, for some reason, my heart beat faster under that look.

Deliberately, I reached up and snatched the paper from her fingers. Releasing her, I turned my back on the girl, scanning the note. It was short, messy and confirmed my worst suspicions.

They’re here! Gotta run. If you find this, tell my folks not to worry. Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to drag you into this. —Todd.

I crumpled the note and shoved it into my jeans pocket. What did he expect me to do now? Go to his parents, tell them a bunch of creepy invisible faeries were out to get their son? I’d get thrown into the loony bin for sure.

I felt Kenzie’s eyes on my back and wondered how much of the note she’d seen. Had she read anything in that split second it had taken me to get across the table?

“It sounds like your friend is in trouble,” Kenzie murmured. Well, that answered that question. All of it, apparently.

“He’s not my friend,” I replied, not turning around. “And you shouldn’t get involved. This is none of your business.”

“The hell it’s not,” she shot back. “If someone is in trouble, we have to do something. Who’s after him? Why doesn’t he just go to the police?”

“The police can’t help.” I finally turned to face her. “Not with this. Besides, what would you tell them? We don’t even know what’s going on. All we have is a note.”

“Well, shouldn’t we at least see if he made it home okay?”

I sighed, rubbing my scalp. “I don’t know where he lives,” I said, feeling slightly guilty that I knew so little. “I don’t have his phone number. I don’t even know his last name.”

But Kenzie sighed. “Boys,” she muttered, and pulled out her phone. “His last name is Wyndham, I think. Todd Wyndham. He has a couple of classes with me.” She fiddled with her phone without looking up. “Just a second. I’ll Google it.”

I tried to stay calm while she looked it up, though I couldn’t stop scanning the room for hidden enemies. What were these transparent, ghostlike fey, and why had I not seen them before? What did they want with Todd? I remembered the piskie’s limp body, an empty, lifeless husk before it disappeared, and shivered. Whatever they were, they were dangerous, and I needed to find the half-breed before they did the same to him. I owed him that, for not being there like I promised.

“Got it,” Kenzie announced. “Or, at least, I have his house number.” Glancing up from her phone, she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “So, do you want to call them or should I?”

I dug out my phone. “I’ll do it,” I said, dreading the task but knowing I had to finish what I started.

She recited a string of numbers, and I punched them into my phone. Putting it to my ear, I listened to it ring once, twice, and on the third, someone picked up.

“Wyndham residence,” said a woman’s voice. I swallowed.

“Um, yeah. I’m a … friend of Todd’s,” I said haltingly. “Is he home?”

“No, he isn’t back from school yet,” continued the voice on the other end. “Do you want me to give him a message?”

“Uh, no. I was … um … hoping to catch him later today so we could … hang.” I winced at how lame I sounded, and Kenzie giggled. I frowned at her. “Do you know his cell phone number?” I added as an afterthought.

“Yes, I have his number.” Now the woman sounded suspicious. “Why do you want to know? Who is this?” she continued sharply, and I winced. “Are you one of those boys he keeps talking about? You think I don’t notice when he comes home with bruises and black eyes? Do you think it’s funny, picking on someone smaller then you? What’s your name?”

I was tempted to hang up, but that would make me look even more suspicious, and it would get me no closer to Todd. I wondered if he’d even told her that he spent the night at my house. “My name is Ethan Chase,” I said in what I hoped was a calm, reasonable voice. “I’m just … a friend. Todd stayed at my place last night, during the storm.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t tell if Todd’s mother was appeased or not, but after a moment, she sighed. “Then, I’m sorry. Todd doesn’t have many friends, none that have called the house, anyway. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Ethan.”

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, embarrassed. I’m used to it.

“One moment,” she continued, and her voice grew fainter as she put the phone down. “I have his number on the fridge. Just a second.”

A minute later, I thanked Todd’s mom and hung up, relieved to have that over with. “Well?” asked Kenzie, watching expectantly. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah.”

She waited a moment longer, then bounced impatiently. “Are you going to call him, then?”

“I’m getting to it.” Truthfully, I didn’t want to. What if he was perfectly fine, and that note was just a prank, revenge for some imagined slight? What if he was halfway home, laughing at how he pulled a fast one on the stupid human? Todd was half-phouka, a faery notorious for their mischievous nature and love of chaos. This could be a great, elaborate joke, and if I called him, he would have the last laugh.

Deep down, though, I knew those were just excuses. I hadn’t imagined that creepy faery, or the dead piskie. Todd wasn’t pretending to be terrified. Something was happening, something bad, and he was right in the middle of it.

And I didn’t want to be drawn in.

Too late now, I suppose. Pressing in Todd’s number, I put the phone to my ear and held my breath.

One ring.

Two rings.

Thr—

The phone abruptly cut off, going dead without sending me to voice mail. A second later, the dial tone droned in my ear.

“What happened?” Kenzie asked as I lowered my hand. “Is Todd all right?”

“No,” I muttered, looking down at the phone, and the end call button at the bottom of the screen. “He’s not.”

I went home after that, having convinced Kenzie that there was nothing we could do for Todd right then. She was stubborn, refusing to believe me, wanting to call the police. I told her not to jump to conclusions as we didn’t exactly know what was going on. Todd could’ve turned off his phone. He could be on his way home and was just running late. We didn’t have enough evidence to start calling the authorities. Eventually, she caved, but I had the feeling she wouldn’t let it go for long. I just hoped she wouldn’t do anything that would attract Their attention. Hanging around me was bad enough.

Back home, I went straight to my room, locking the door behind me. Sitting at my desk, I opened the first drawer, reached all the way to the back, and pulled out the long, thin envelope inside.

Leaning back in the chair, I stared at it for a long while. The paper was wrinkled and brittle now, yellow with age, and smelled of old newspapers. It had one word written across the front: Ethan. My name, in my sister’s handwriting.

Flipping it over, I opened the top and pulled out the letter within. I’d read it a dozen times before and knew it word for word, but I scanned the note one more time, a bitter lump settling in my throat.

Ethan,

I’ve started this letter a hundred times, wishing I knew the right words to say, but I guess I’ll just come out and say it. You probably won’t see me again. I wish I could be there for you and Mom, even Luke, but I have other responsibilities now, a whole kingdom that needs me. You’re growing up so fast—each time I see you, you’re taller, stronger. I forget, sometimes, that time moves differently in Faery. And it breaks my heart every time I come home and see that I’ve missed so much of your life. Please know that you’re always in my thoughts, but it’s best that we live our own lives now. I have enemies here, and the last thing I want is for you and Mom to get hurt because of me.

So, this is goodbye. I’ll be watching you from time to time, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and Mom and Luke can live comfortably. But please, Ethan, for the love of all that’s holy, do not try to find me. My world is far too dangerous; you of all people should know that. Stay away from Them, and try to have a normal life.

If there is an emergency, and you absolutely must see me, I’ve included a token that will take you into the Nevernever, to someone who can help. To use it, squeeze one drop of your blood onto the surface and toss it into a pool of still water. But it can only be used once, and after that, the favor is done. So use it wisely.

I love you, little brother. Take care of Mom for me.—Meghan

I closed the letter, put it on the desk, and turned the envelope upside down. A small silver coin rolled into my open palm, and I closed my fingers around it, thinking.

Did I want to bring my sister into this? Meghan Chase, the freaking Queen of the Iron Fey? How many years had it been since I’d seen her last? Did she even remember us anymore? Did she care?

My throat felt tight. Pushing myself up, I tossed the coin on the desk and swept the letter back in the drawer, slamming it shut. No, I wasn’t going to go crying to Meghan, not for this or anything. Meghan had left us; she was no longer part of this family. As far as I was concerned, she was Faery through and through. And I’d been through enough faery torment to last several lifetimes. I could handle this myself.

Even if it meant I had to do something stupid, something I’d sworn I would never do.

I was going to have to contact the fey.




CHAPTER SEVEN

THE EMPTY PARK


At 11:35 p.m., my alarm went off. I slapped it silent and rolled out of bed, already dressed, snatching my backpack from the floor. Creeping silently down the hall, I checked to see if Mom’s light was off; sometimes she stayed up late, waiting for Dad to get home. But tonight, the crack under her door was dark, and I continued my quiet trek out the front door to the driveway.

I couldn’t take my truck. Dad would be home later, and he’d know I was gone if he saw my truck was missing. Sneaking out in the middle of the night was highly frowned upon and tended to result in groundings, lectures and technology banishment. So I dug my old bike out of the garage, checked to see that the tires were still inflated and walked it down to the sidewalk.

Overhead, a thin crescent moon grinned down at me behind ragged wisps of cloud, and a cold autumn breeze sliced right through my jacket, making me shiver. That nagging, cynical part of me hesitated, reluctant to take part in this insanity. Why are you getting involved? it whispered. What’s the half-breed to you, anyway? Are you willing to deal directly with the fey because of him?

But it wasn’t just Todd now. Something strange was happening in Faery, and I had a feeling it was going to get worse. I needed to know what was going on and how I could defend myself from transparent ghost-fey that sucked the life right out of their victims. I didn’t want to be left in the dark, not with those things out there.

Besides, Mr. Creepy Faery had threatened not only me but my family. And that pissed me off. I was sick of running and hiding. Closing my eyes, hoping They would leave me alone wasn’t working. I doubted it ever had.

Hopping on my bike, I started pedaling toward the one place I’d always avoided until now. A place where, I hoped, I would get some answers.

If the damn fey wanted me as an enemy, bring it on. I’d be their worst nightmare.

Even in gigantic, crowded cities, where steel buildings, cars and concrete dominate everything, you can always find the fey in a park.

It doesn’t have to be a big park. Just a patch of natural earth, with a few trees and bushes scattered about, maybe a little pond, and that’s all they need. I’m told Central Park in New York City has hundreds, maybe thousands of faeries living there, and several trods to the Nevernever, all within its well-groomed perimeter. The tiny park three and a half miles from my house had about a dozen fey of the common variety—piskies, goblins, tree sprites—and no trods that I knew of.

I parked my bike against an old tree near the entrance and gazed around. It wasn’t much of a park, really. There was a picnic bench with a set of peeling monkey bars and an old slide, and a dusty fire pit that hadn’t been used in years. At least, not by humans. But the trees here were old, ancient things—huge oaks and weeping willows—and if you stared very hard between the branches, you sometimes caught flickers of movement not belonging to birds or squirrels.

Leaving the bike, I walked to the edge of the fire pit and looked down. The ashes were cold and gray, days or weeks old, but I had seen two goblins at this pit several weeks ago, roasting some sort of meat over the fire. And there were several piskies and wood sprites living in the oaks, as well. The local fey might not know anything about their creepy, transparent cousins, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Crouching, I picked up a flat rock, dusted it off, and set it in the center of the fire pit. Digging through my pack, I pulled out a bottle of honey, stood and drizzled the golden syrup onto the stones. Honey was like ambrosia to the fey; they couldn’t resist the stuff.

Capping the bottle, I tossed it into my pack and waited.

Several minutes passed, which was a surprise to me. I knew the fey frequented this area. I was expecting at least a couple of goblins or piskies to appear. But the night was still, the shadows empty—until there was a soft rustle behind me, the hiss of something moving over the grass.

“You will not find them that way, Ethan Chase.”

I turned, calmly. Rule number two: show no fear when dealing with the Fair Folk. I could have drawn my rattan sticks, and in all honesty I really wanted to, but that might have been taken as a sign of nervousness or unease.

A tall, slight figure stood beneath the weeping willow, watching me through the lacy curtain. As I waited, a slender hand parted the drooping branches and the faery stepped into the open.

It was a dryad, and the weeping willow was probably her tree, for she had the same long green hair and rough, bark-like skin. She was impossibly tall and slender, and swayed slightly on her feet, like a branch in the wind. She observed me with large black eyes, her long hair draped over her body, and slowly shook her head.

“They will not come,” she whispered sadly, glancing at the swirl of honey at my feet. “They have not been here for many nights. At first, it was only one or two that went missing. But now—” she gestured to the empty park “—now there is no one left. Everyone is gone. I am the last.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, you’re the last? Where are all the others?” I gazed around the park, scanning the darkness and shadows, seeing nothing. “What the hell is going on?”

She drifted closer, swaying gently. I was tempted to step back but held my ground.

The dryad tilted her head to one side, lacy hair catching the moonlight as it fell. A large white moth flew out of the curtain and fluttered away into the shadows. “You have questions,” the dryad said, blinking slowly. “I can tell you what you wish to know, but you must do something for me in return.”

“Oh, no.” I did step away then, crossing my arms and glaring at her. “No way. No bargains, no contracts. Find someone else to do your dirty work.”

“Please, Ethan Chase.” The dryad held out an impossibly slender hand, mottled and rough like the trunk of the tree. “As a favor, then. You must go to the Iron Queen for us. Inform her of our fate. Be our voice. She will listen to you.”

“Go find Meghan?” I thought of the coin lying abandoned on my desk and shook my head. “You expect me to go into the Nevernever,” I said, and my stomach turned just thinking about it. Memories crowded forward, dark and terrifying, and I shoved them back. “Go into Faery. With Mab and Titania and the rest of the crazies.” I curled my mouth into a sneer. “Forget it. That’s the last place I’ll ever set foot in.”

“You must.” The dryad wrung her hands, pleading. “The courts do not know what is happening, nor would they care. The welfare of a few half-breeds and exiles does not concern them. But you … you are the half brother of the Iron Queen—she will listen to you. If you do not …” The dryad trembled, like a leaf in a storm. “Then I’m afraid we will all be lost.”

“Look.” I stabbed a hand through my hair. “I’m just trying to find out what happened to a friend. Todd Wyndham. He’s a half-breed, and I think he’s in trouble.” The dryad’s pleading expression didn’t change, and I sighed. “I can’t promise to help you,” I muttered. “I have problems of my own to worry about. But …” I hesitated, hardly believing I was saying this. “But if you can give me any information about my friend, then I’ll … try to get a message to my sister. I’m still not promising anything!” I added quickly as the dryad jerked up. “But if I see the Iron Queen anytime in the near future, I’ll tell her. That’s the best I can offer.”

The dryad nodded. “It will have to do,” she whispered, shrinking in on herself. She closed her eyes as a breeze hissed through the park, rippling her hair and making the leaves around us sigh. “More of us have disappeared,” she sighed. “More vanish with every breath. And they are coming closer.”

“Who are they?”

“I do not know.” The faery opened her eyes, looking terrified. “I do not know, nor do any of my fellows. Not even the wind knows their names. Or if it does, it refuses to tell me.”

“Where can I find Todd?”

“Your friend? The half-breed?” The dryad took a step away, looking distracted. “I do not know,” she admitted, and I narrowed my gaze. “I cannot tell you now, but I will put his name into the wind and see what it can turn up.” She looked at me, her hair falling into her eyes, hiding half her face. “Return tomorrow night, Ethan Chase. I will have answers for you, then.”

Tomorrow night. Tomorrow was the demonstration, the event I’d been training for all month. I couldn’t miss that, even for Todd. Guro would kill me.

I sighed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. “All right,” I said, stepping toward my bike. “I’ll be here, probably some time after midnight. And then you can tell me what the hell is going on.”

The dryad didn’t say anything, watching me leave with unblinking black eyes. As I yanked my bike off the ground and started down the road, hoping I would beat Dad home, I couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion that I wouldn’t see her again.




CHAPTER EIGHT

THE DEMONSTRATION


The next day was Saturday, but instead of sleeping in like a normal person, I was up early and in the backyard, swinging my rattan through the air, smacking them against the tire dummy I’d set up in the corner. I didn’t need the practice, but beating on something was a good way to focus, to forget the strangeness of the night before, though I still couldn’t shake the eerie feeling whenever I remembered the dryad’s last warning.

More of us have disappeared. More vanish with every breath. And they are coming closer.

“Ethan!”

Dad’s voice cut through the rhythmic smacking of wood against rubber, and I turned to find him staring blearily at me from the patio. He wore a rumpled gray bathrobe, his face was grizzled and unshaven, and he did not look pleased.

“Sorry, Dad.” I lowered the sticks, panting. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, then stepped aside as two police officers came into the yard. My heart and stomach gave a violent lurch, and I tried to think of any crimes I might’ve committed without realizing it, or anything the fey might’ve pinned on me.

“Ethan?” one of them asked, as Dad watched grimly and Mom appeared in the door frame, her hands over her mouth. “Are you Ethan Chase?”

“Yeah.” I kept my arms at my sides, my sticks perfectly still, though my heart was going a mile a minute. The sudden thought of being arrested, being handcuffed in my own backyard in front of my horrified parents, nearly made me sick. I swallowed hard to keep my voice steady. “What do you want?”

“Do you know a boy named Todd Wyndham?”

I relaxed, suddenly aware of where this was going. My heart still pounded, but I kept my tone light, flippant, and I shrugged. “Yeah, he’s in a few of my classes at school.”

“You called his home yesterday afternoon, correct?” the policeman continued, and when I nodded, he added, “And he spent the night at your house the day before?”

“Yeah.” I feigned confusion, looking back and forth between them. “Why? What’s going on?”

The policemen exchanged a glance. “He’s missing,” one of them said, and I raised my eyebrows in fake surprise. “His mother reported that he didn’t come home last night, and that she had received a call from Ethan Chase, a boy from his school, on the afternoon before his disappearance.” His gaze flickered to the sticks in my hand, then back up to me, eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t know anything about his whereabouts, would you, Ethan?”

I forced myself to be calm, shaking my head. “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Sorry.”

It was pretty clear he didn’t believe me, for his mouth thinned, and he spoke slowly, deliberately. “You have no clue as to what he was doing yesterday, no idea of where he could have gone?” When I hesitated, his voice became friendlier, encouraging. “Any information would be useful to us, Ethan.”

“I told you,” I said, firmer this time. “I don’t know anything.”

He gave an annoyed little huff, as if I was being deliberately evasive—which I was, but not for the reasons he thought. “Ethan, you realize we’re only trying to help, don’t you? You aren’t protecting anyone if you hide information from us.”

“I think that’s enough.” Dad suddenly came into the yard, bathrobe and all, glaring at the policemen. “Officers, your concern is appreciated, but I believe my son has told you all he knows.” I blinked at Dad in shock as he came to stand beside me, smiling but firm. “If we find anything out, we’ll be sure to call you.”

“Sir, you don’t seem to realize—”

“I realize just fine, officers,” Dad said, his polite smile never wavering. “But Ethan has already given you his answer. Thank you for stopping by.”

They looked irritated, but Dad wasn’t a small man and had this stance that could be compared to a friendly but stubborn bull; you weren’t going to get him to move once he’d made up his mind. After a lengthy pause—as if hoping I would fess up at the last second, perhaps—the officers gave curt nods and turned away. Muttering polite “ma’ams” to Mom, they swept by her, and she followed them, I assumed to the front door.

Dad waited a few seconds after the back door clicked shut before turning to me. “Todd Wyndham is the boy who came over the other night. Anything you’d like to tell me, son?”

I shook my head, not looking at him. “No,” I muttered, feeling bad for lying, especially after he’d just gotten rid of the policemen for me. “I swear I don’t know anything.”

“Hmm.” Dad gave me an unreadable look, then shuffled back into the house. But Mom appeared in the doorway again, watching me. I saw the fear on her face, the disappointment. She knew I was lying.

She hesitated a moment longer, as if waiting for me to confess, to tell her something different. But what could I say? That the kid who’d spent the night with us was part faery, and this creepy new breed of fey were after him for some reason? I couldn’t drag her into this; she would flip out for sure, thinking I was next. There was nothing either of them could do to help. So, I averted my gaze, and after a long, achingly uncomfortable pause, she slipped inside, slamming the door behind her.

I winced. Great, now they were both pissed at me. Sighing, I switched my rattan sticks to one hand and went in myself. I wished I could smack the tire dummy a while longer, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea now. The last thing I wanted was a grilling session where they would both ask questions I couldn’t answer.

Mom and Dad were talking in the kitchen—probably about me—so I slipped into my room and gently closed the door.

My phone sat on the corner of my desk. For a second, I thought about calling Kenzie. I wondered what she was doing now, if the police had shown up on her doorstep, asking about a missing classmate. I wondered if she was worried about him … or me.

What? Why would she worry about you, you psychopath? You’ve been nothing but a jackass to her, and besides, you don’t care, remember?

Angry now, I stalked to my bed and flopped down on it, flinging an arm over my face. I had to stop thinking of her, but my brain wasn’t being cooperative this morning. Instead of focusing on the demonstration and the missing half-breed and the creepy Fey out to get us both, my thoughts kept going back to Kenzie St. James. The idea of calling her, just to see if she was all right, grew more and more tempting, until I jumped up and stalked to the living room, flipping on the television to drown out my traitorous thoughts.

The day passed in a blur of old action movies and commercials. I didn’t move from the couch, afraid that if I went into my room, I’d see my unblinking phone and know Kenzie hadn’t called me. Or worse, that she had





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