

The Abandoned Edge of Avalon

The Slivers of Avalon: Book < I >

by Eden Tyler

The Abandoned Edge of Avalon

The Slivers of Avalon: Book < I >

Smashwords Edition

Published by Blue Daisy Books 2011

Title first published by Night Publishing / March 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2011 by Eden Tyler

www.edentylerbooks.com

Cover Design © 2011 by Laura Robinett

www.GeeksInk.com

Cover Redesign © 2012 by Amy Smith

Cover Background Image: "Young Woman Sitting on a Stump"

© Mykhaylo Palinchak | Dreamstime.com

No part of this book may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any manner without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Second Edition, First Printing

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For C. Belle

You can be whatever you want – just dream and have faith and stay true to yourself.

A second dedication must go out to those of you who knew the 'real' book, no matter how many times I felt the unknown need to change it... You know who you are.

I love you guys! I honestly cannot say 'thank you' enough.

PROLOGUE

Not wanting her newborn daughter anywhere but in her arms, Myrea found herself searching for the safest place to hide the babe. She simply had no choice. The park she had come to was unkempt, and when she passed the fountain she saw no water sat in it. Myrea knew it would be the best option; the lesser of two evils. She placed her tiny, helpless girl in the deep bowl, knowing she was safe yet wanting her against her breast.

Dim lights circling the area cast shadows that would help hide the babe. Especially since she was swaddled in dark grey, and so blended in with the stone. Myrea had chosen the Irish name Kellyn, which has more than one meaning, but 'powerful' would be the most useful at the moment. Kellyn needed to use her strength to stay quiet and brave so that she wouldn't cry.

Myrea looked up to find the danger she sensed. She didn't see anyone strange, but she noticed one thing she had never seen before. Pieces of her soul were leaving her body. Whether due to a loss or a theft, Myrea could not imagine why, or how. But there was no denying it—the wisps of black she saw floating were coming from any and every part of her. She knew what was happening from stories of The Depraved—the dark fae. On top of wondering what was doing this to her, she also was curious as to why her soul would be so dark – she was the bright, spirited, and helpful faery of her village, after all.

Goosebumps appeared all over her body along with a strong tingling on the back of her neck. No one ever argued with Myrea's senses and so she was not about to, either. She believed herself to be in grave danger. Walking away and leaving her daughter, she could have sworn her heart crumbled just as a dry leaf does in late autumn. Taking slow and soft, yet deliberate, steps, she looked in all directions—attempting not to appear obvious.

Adrenaline and fear buzzed through Myrea's body. She had led a rather lengthy life, and yet the cold, crushed loss building in her chest was a new experience. Damning her gift of knowing future events via emotions, tears spilled out for both herself and her baby girl. Why couldn't she have felt this pain earlier so she could have avoided the situation altogether? With a glance to her left, the cold surrounding her heart spread out and shot through her veins, slicing them with its speed. The sight of what could only be Ankou shocked Myrea's system so drastically that she couldn't move or even attempt to think of what to do. She stood frozen for some time.

Once she was able to make a decision, she dashed into the bushes – but not swiftly enough.

As if it matters how fast one moves; if Ankou wants something, he _will_ get it.

Indeed, Ankou had known Myrea's location. He had been watching her since the sun rose. And now the moon was about to change again and he could not spend any more time playing around. Due to circumstances from so long ago he hardly remembered them, Ankou was granted a release from the personal hell where he lived but only once every generation—when Jupiter and Saturn conjoined; when the yin mixed with the yang.

Allowed one waxing and waning cycle of the moon, free in the land of Avalon, he was also allowed one kill. Only one and, as much as he hated waiting, that hate was equaled by his pleasure in delaying that kill. So he stretched the game out over the month, intensifying it toward the end until he could not stand it any longer.

The day had been interesting as he fed off of Myrea and her babe. The pain of the birth was a satisfying meal. But the dread that drifted like smoke toward him now... he licked his lips in anticipation. He did not understand what terrified the faery so, but it was of no consequence. Her fear nourished him.

Myrea had heard the tales of Ankou, as had every other faery. But, like many others, she did not believe in him—especially not the rumors that he was Death—simply because she had never heard of any fae who died. They are supposed to be an immortal race. This regrettable lack of belief froze her yet again, which brought Ankou closer. The ice inside Myrea's body shattered with recognition of the truth. Adrenaline pumping harder to help save her, she became light-headed and clumsy, but still aware enough to know her attempt at a backward, running escape was futile.

She gathered the courage to look directly at Ankou's face. All she could make out was a pair of glowing, orange eyes that seemed to be lit by the hellfire she could only assume lived within him. He cocked his head and the creepy eyes clouded over with confusion. But in a flash any emotion was gone and the greenish creature grabbed Myrea, tossing her past the bushes into the forest, apparently to decrease the risk of humans seeing anything.

The changing of children was a common practice, and had never gone so wrong before. Myrea had foolishly trusted what she had been told to do. She should have run away with her family but now all she could do was face that this was her fate. And make the most of it.

While her physical shell was being destroyed by Ankou, Myrea willed the rest of her spirit and strength to reach Kellyn, and then prayed to the goddesses that her darling would be all right. Her mind went back to their all-too-short amount of time together, wondering if she missed a crucial step to protect her girl. She closed her eyes, spending her last moments of existence trying only to remember the joy she recently experienced.

Earlier that day, Myrea had given birth as the sun rose. The babe's hair had glistened in the light all day, and then had twinkled like the night sky on their walk to this park – a place where both faeries and humans could move from realm to realm, if they knew how and were so inclined.

Kellyn was not a typical faery, though. It had pained Myrea to know this and had forced her partner, Kellyn's father, to leave. He cared nothing of rituals and what 'should' be done; he could not stay to see his daughter disappear. But as the seventh generation born since the last changeling in the family, Kellyn was meant to live among humans.

Myrea had avoided thoughts about the darkness of the situation and, after a fast recovery, she prepared the infant for her journey ahead. She had wrapped, rubbed, and cleansed her first and only with a mixture of herbs that faery mothers have always used. Then she had blessed Kellyn with water from a nearby, sacred river—following the purification ritual exactly as she should have.

A fae friend had said a blessing before placing an enchanted kiss on the babe's forehead, sending mother and daughter on their way to the edge of the forest. Once there, Myrea was supposed to seek out a family housing a newborn girl. She knew she had done everything right up to that point. She was sure of it. This was simply an arbitrary fate. The use of psychic abilities, which were bestowed upon her by the Elders, should have aided her in the quest.

Encountering Ankou proved the powers pointless, as she would not be making her way through the park to the city. She certainly did not foresee herself succumbing to the evilness of this depraved entity.

She happened to be thinking just that—not the joyful thoughts she strove for—as the creature finished the last morsel of her physical being. The only distraction from her pain and confusion was the feeling of Ankou ripping away her entire essence, and his soul angrily devouring what was left of her own as it became an eternal part of his being.

### ONE

I dream of blood, I dream of drowning—to the point of almost dying. That is, until I wake up. And I always wake up. I'm waiting for the time I don't, but for now—for today—I decide just to be grateful. Not think about other possibilities.

I reach around and pat the sheets to feel they're real—and not wet. I've had surprises, seeing as how I'm frequently stuck in a magical sea or ocean, so... It never hurts to be too careful and check. While I attempt to gather my bearings, I smell coffee wafting up the stairs and am convinced my dreams are finished. At least until I sleep again.

Not even a minute ago, I had been deep in the forest with beautiful creatures. I'd smelled fresh air and soaked up the sun's rays filtering down through the trees from what had to be miles away. Some winged beings flew above my head in graceful patterns.

Still others had wings yet couldn't fly, but that didn't take away from their magic. Most were like humans—they looked the same—and they stayed on the forest floor. With me. Acting as if I belonged and was a part of their world. I found them all to be wonderful.

Not a single one was as boring and simple as the pale, yellow walls and dark, matching furniture that decorate the hideous room my mother seems to think a seventeen-year-old would want to live in. I cannot wait to graduate and move out of here, that's for sure.

I've started to form a theory that my dreams—amazing dreams – they're lucid so I can control them—are a bit more than just dreams. They're like visions in a way. Like I'm seeing something that's real, yet can't access. Not yet, at least. I'm too aware and able to do what I want and they're just too... odd to be regular old dreams. Even lucid ones.

I can't really make sense of the scarier ones when I have them, though. I don't have a clue where they come from, nor why they're so different from the beauty of the others. And especially why those ones, I can't control. I'm simply along for the ride in those babies – things I don't want to see, shown to me regardless. Maybe I have something super dark hidden in my subconscious, or a past life or something. Which is why I kind of believe they're visions. But if I am being shown a different life, it can stay in the past or wherever it is. I'm quite fine with that.

Well, sort of. It would be nice to experience something different than my daily dose of boredom. But whatever... I get to thinking like this and it creeps me out. Feels too real or something.

I glance at the clock—6:17. A sigh of relief escapes me. _Plenty of time._ School doesn't start until eight in my little town.

Grabbing my worn, leather-bound dream journal, I pull the pen out of the side loop and relax back against my pillows. The one and only comfortable thing about my room. I focus on breathing deeply and close my eyes to bring the dream back to life. Within seconds, I remember the smell and colors—every sensation, and begin to scribble.

I write of that night's adventures, praising the dream gods—or whoever rules these matters, I've no clue—that I'd encountered glorious creatures before I awoke. I'm definitely relieved my nightly dreams have returned to visions of wonder rather than the recent episodes of terror. A little too recent for my comfort, but at least it's been a few days. Enough time to try to forget.

Not once can I remember getting ready in the morning without first writing down what occurred while I slept. Something has always told me it's all important; to remember as much as I can. As if a strange wind whispered in my ear, I realized long ago it was pointless to try to leave bed without listening.

But I delve so completely into my thoughts, time isn't ever a factor. After what feels like maybe ten short minutes of writing, I look at the clock on my nightstand again and gasp. _7:18. Aw, hell!_ It never fails that I'm behind schedule when my boyfriend pulls into my driveway to pick me up. I can hear it already, 'Alexis, you know...'

Not a chance I'll be able to shower, I have to fix my hair and make it somewhat presentable. Any other girl might put it in a simple ponytail on such an occasion, but I hate my ears. And by hate, think of it in the truest sense of the word. They're more than a bit large for my taste. I hide them at all costs. I've no clue what I did to deserve such elvish ears... maybe my mom did too many drugs when she was prego. Who knows? OK, I'm kidding, but still... I turn on my straightener, even though I know that will only take more time. _Whatever. Late is late is late, right?_

While waiting for the flat iron to heat up, I grab a pair of jeans off a pile on a chair—a great spot to put clothes. I can't stand putting them away. I'm a clean person and all, but it's just such a hassle. I'm going to take everything right back out of the closet and drawers in a couple of days anyway, right? I choose a random t-shirt from the closet. 'I am not a nugget,' along with a picture of a baby chick, is printed across the front. I remember Blake bought that for me at the mall, which reminds me of my birthday necklace from him.

I throw the clothes on, making sure said necklace isn't tucked under my shirt—it's pretty cool and I want to show it off, and then I head back into the bathroom. Picking up the ice-cold straightener, the unplugged cord falls down and hits my leg. For a smart girl—or so I'm told based on stupid test scores - the ones that put me a grade ahead back in fifth—I tend to do brainless things. But at least I know I'm lacking in the common sense department. That's gotta count for something. And besides, like it's my fault. Who the heck shoves a kid so far ahead... I'm going to graduate in like a month and I just got my driver's license?!

My cell phone alarm beeps and I jump back and bump my heel into the wall. Great, now I'll have two new bruises and Blake will be here in only ten minutes. I feel the headache start banging away, starting with a simple drum solo but I know it won't take long to gain momentum.

"Crap, crap, crap," I mutter as I grab the cord to plug it in, only to drop it again. _OK, never mind. There might just be such a thing as too late._

Instead of using the straightener, I dampen my hands and run them through my hair. 'Meh' to the results. Well, at least my waves are a bit tamer...

Not totally satisfied, but also having no choice in the matter, I grab my bags and journal and rush to the stairs. I never feel safe with my journal unguarded, so it goes wherever I do. Everywhere.

In the hallway, down the long stretch to my parents' quarters, I glimpse a misty shadow. The rushing turns to a complete standstill. This shadow is not the type you'd normally see in a corner of a house—or anywhere, for that matter.

Weird. There aren't even any windows to let in light, so how could a shadow appear? I stand in the dark for a second, squinting to see, and can make out an even darker figure standing not ten feet away. It has no defining edges, yet manages to loom like a large man.

I freeze. What else can I do? Barely able to move my mouth, I call out with a scared voice I don't recognize. It sounds tiny compared to my normal raspiness. I have no clue what comes out of my mouth. My echo replies, the words jumbled, and my heart all but stops.

I sure don't know what exactly is there, but a gut feeling and good old-fashioned instincts tell me it's something I don't want to think about. Nor see. Too bad I know it's not my imagination. It's something that belongs only in my nightmares, yet has been slowly edging into my days.

Hating to think about the creepiness going on, I force myself into action. Racing to the steps, I hurry down to the kitchen, heart pounding all the while, having come back full force.

"Blake is already here, sweetie," Bonnie tells me. She once was one of many nannies I'd had, but she'd stayed on way past the time one would normally leave. Now she's basically a glorified housekeeper who tends to me because my parents can't be bothered. What with their ohsoimportant social and work lives.

"I know, I know." I give Bonnie a hug and accept the cheek kisses she loves giving. "Are there any Pop-Tarts?"

"Over there, honey. They are in the paper towel on the counter. Make sure to take a drink." I feel her watching me with admiration. It warms me up—the old woman seems to live for me. Weird, but kind of cool, too.

"Have a great day," she calls as I grab a bottle of Sunny D and my food—I cannot go without eating in the morning. I'll admit, I feel like a little kid being given my breakfast, but it's pretty nice to have an adult around who at least cares whether or not I eat...

When I make it to the front entry and yank open the door, Blake is standing there staring at me blankly. A chilly vibe drifts my way. Like every other morning, he'd been waiting so long he had come up to the house to get me.

He starts in on me right away like I knew he would. "Hey babe, this can't keep happening. You're not the only one I give a ride to, ya know." _Yeah, cause I'm stupid and haven't ever noticed anyone else in the car._

Despite my state of confusion about the scene in the hall and, sure, I'll say it—fear, I can't help but smirk inside a little. Just inside.

One glance at the book in my arm causes Blake to shake his head. The inner smugness I'd felt for a brief second disappears as if some higher being snapped its fingers an inch from my eyes. I close them to gain composure and run one hand through my hair. Calmness definitely isn't coming like I want. Instead, I find myself wishing I could just rip my hair right out.

I so can't handle this crap right now. What was that up there? Hell. Gotta put on the damned happy face... Smooth things over.

I gesture at myself in grand fashion to show I obviously don't look like a beauty queen, and then apologize, as is the norm. "Yeah, I know and I'm sorry—I just couldn't get going this morning," I pause for a second, searching his eyes for any emotion besides anger, without success. "I really am sorry. I'm trying to be quicker lately. Promise."

He simply looks down at me and cocks his head, something he's been doing quite a lot of late, and I instantly feel like a child. I hate that I let him control how good I feel about myself.

"Whatever, let's go. If Jeff brought donuts like he normally does on Fridays, I wanna be able to get one of them." He tosses a brown lock out of his eyes and walks toward his car. He honestly was such a gentleman at first...

So wishing I didn't have to, I follow Blake down the steps to the driveway. I open my own door, of course, and duck into the front seat of his Audi S4, slipping on the leather and choking on its smell. Spoiled brat—not like he pays a dime for his ride. But who am I to talk, little rich girl—or some may say...

At least I light up at the sight of Hollie. My best friend gives a quick wink with her ocean-blue eyes and tilts her head in a way that lets me know it's not just us in the car. I also catch a sharp look from her—the trip so far hasn't been fun, and we still have to travel all the way across our tiny Midwestern hometown of Wales to get to school.

Well, the truth is, I don't gather all that info from the look itself, which only lasts a split second. Somehow I've always known everything Hollie is thinking, ever since she had long, pretty, blonde waves as a toddler to the self-cut, messy shag she sports at the moment. Of course I've never told her about this. Heck, she doesn't even know about my dreams. It's never felt right to share. I feel I'm not allowed to...

So I stay out of her head as much as I can and don't bring it up. I don't want to freak her out or anything. Plus, I like to think it's all coincidence; that I only know these things because I know Hols so well. The alternative would be to accept that I can read minds, or at least one mind, and that would be way too strange. I've got enough weird stuff going on. I ignore it as best I can. That's pretty much the only way to deal with things in my life, I've concluded.

Andrew Hopkins pops his head up front, shoving Hollie out of the way. I had a good feeling he was there, even though he drives himself a lot, so he doesn't scare me. I've had enough of that for the day.

"Rude!" Hollie and I say in unison.

No matter how irritated I am, I can't help but suck in a breath at the sight of the guy—and my gaze never stays away long. I promise I try. Blake's friend always does this crap to me, with his chiseled features and blue-black hair that hits his long lashes in just the right way.

Every girl he meets loves him but, even though he's gorgeous, something about his eyes creeps me out. The green is similar to my own color, but at just the right time, in the right light, when he is in the right (or wrong!) mood, they flash orange and give me chills. Of course other girls think it's cool, that it makes him mischievous and beautiful. And he is, I have to admit.

"How ya doing today, A.Ho? You know, like J.Lo, but with a ho so it's super funny on top of being a great nickname!"

That is, until he opens his mouth. I let out the breath I've been holding and Andrew falls back into his seat, laughing like he's the next Dane Cook or something. My last name is Hodge and he thinks he's come up with something fabulous.

"Ha ha! That's just _so_ funny! But you know, I could easily add a couple letters to that name and direct it at you and it'd actually be the truth. Both our names start with 'h-o,' you idiot."

I ignore his grumbling about me being late again and change the tuner on the radio. Plugging in my phone, I scroll through my music files to one of my all-time favorite bands— _The Beatles_. My parents raised me on classic rock, but especially _The Beatles_. The start of it all. I used to get along with them—my parents, I mean—not _The Beatles_ , but I guess all teens did at some point earlier in their lives. The starting notes are enough to calm me and I forget about Andrew and his asshole-ishness.

After turning the volume way up, I get into my messaging:

ME: srry grl. not in the mood 2 tlk.

HOLLIE: blake?

ME: what else? & andrw isnt helpng.

HOLLIE: k. jst relax & listn 2 ur music.

ME: thts the plan. luv u.

HOLLIE: luv u 2 grl.

I plan on not speaking during the rest of the car ride. I don't want any opportunity to arise where I'll have to engage in more exciting, witty banter. And I sure as heck don't have anything to say to my boyfriend. That may sound immature and stupid, but he's just been so mean lately...

I consider all the things he gets mad at me for and, yeah, I shouldn't be late. But that's an 'in general' thing for everybody. Then there's the door. He opened my car door on our first date (with his mom driving—it was super cute) and has ever since. Until recently. It seems to depend on his mood. And that affects my mood. Not exactly a good dynamic.

But there's the good stuff, too. Like the night of my birthday just last week.

* * *

Sitting with Hollie and eating pizza, she makes fun of me for drinking milk instead of pop. I laugh so hard that I spit the milk out and reach for my napkin. As my hand finds it, I feel a presence behind me. My arm stops moving and someone rests their warm palm on the top of my wrist. I know it's Blake's hand without even looking. Sometimes I think we're connected on an undiscovered level. Even if we are fighting, like we are tonight.

He doesn't say a word until I look up at him. He asks me if we can go talk somewhere and, ignoring Hollie's warning look—stern expression with an arched eyebrow, I allow him to keep hold of my hand as I stand up. I grab the napkin with my other hand and wipe my face, taking longer than I need to. Giving Hollie a 'wish me luck' glance, I follow Blake as he maneuvers us through the crowd and into a semi-empty hallway. He finds an open bedroom door but knocks to make sure. No one answers, so we go in.

I pull my hand away and walk over to the bed and sit down, for fear of my legs buckling under me. I wait for him to speak first. He approached me, after all, and I am not about to give him the satisfaction of talking any more than is needed. Not after the crap he said to me earlier.

I sit perfectly still as Blake walks over to a pile of hoodies and spring jackets, digging until he finds his own. He reaches into the inside pocket and pulls out a box with a bow on it. Not a ring-sized box, but definitely a jewelry box. I wonder what the heck it is.

Giving me a look like he's asking permission to sit down, I nod and he perches on the edge of the bed.

"Baby, I know things have been not so great between us lately," he starts, "but I really want that to change. I don't want to be without you."

Blake isn't exactly a mushy type of guy so hearing him say this is strange. I remember it verbatim and I'm pretty sure I always will. He's never really talked about feelings. And since my policy is to avoid such things, it hasn't ever bothered me much.

"OK." It comes out almost like a question. "Well, I'm not really sure what to say. You've just been acting so distant and, well, like a jerk. And I don't get it. Is there a reason for it or..." I let myself trail off.

He shakes his head. "No. No reason that I know of for sure. All I can figure is just that I feel different when I'm around Andrew lately. I can't explain it but he seems powerful and important in some way, and when we hang out I feel more independent and I don't really care about much of anything. It sounds so stupid, hearing myself say it right now, but it's the truth.

"And he keeps mentioning things that make me irritated with you. At the time it all makes sense and I don't even feel bad about what I'm saying or doing. But then I go home or get away from him, and the reality of my actions hits me. By then I don't know how to apologize or make it right."

Blake absentmindedly wraps a stray ribbon around his finger as he speaks.

"I do really care about you and couldn't stand losing you. But I also don't want to piss off my best friend, and I feel like I will if I don't go along with him. I'm not even sure what's going on, let alone what to do."

After taking a deep breath and absorbing Blake's words, I say the only thing I can think of that sounds rational. "Well... I suppose you should talk to Andrew like you're talking to me. And ask yourself what's more important if they can't both work."

I have no clue what all of this means, like Andrew could be controlling Blake with his magical super powers or something. Sure, that's likely! I try to laugh a little on the inside at the thought of Andrew using super powers on something as petty as making Blake be mean to me. But, the reality is that Blake might actually have to choose between me and Andrew, and that thought scares me shitless.

As much as my heart is aching, there is something about the tone of Blake's voice, and his uncharacteristic fidgeting, that makes me want to fix this in any way possible. Here he is, talking to me and being honest, and I know he's confused as can be. But then again, so am I. What did I do to deserve a crappy situation like this?

* * *

When I'm almost to the part where I get to open my present, I come out of my memory and recognize the song that's playing. Swallowing, my throat hurts due to the giant lump that has magically appeared. Of course... because _this_ is how much music affects me—I don't even have to know I'm listening and it will change how I feel. My thoughts weren't exactly happy a moment ago, but that was pure confusion. I was attempting to see my relationship objectively and logically. No such luck.

But, "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Cry (Over You)" has been playing and I find myself thinking, 'Man, if he ever tries to leave...' The song makes me feel I can't be without him and that I'll fight his jackass friend every step of the way. I went from hating my fights with Blake, and our relationship overall, to feeling I have to have him in my life.

Blake started acting strangely only about a month or so ago. He hasn't reminded me—or anyone for that matter—of the same, decent guy I've dated for the last three years. I sometimes have a feeling he's trying to break up with me but doesn't have the nerve. Or like he's pulling one of those boy things—acting mean and distant to get me to dump him. But then he opened up and it makes even less sense. Except for that he wasn't lying about being a jerk only when Andrew is around. Now when it happens, Blake comes to me after and apologizes, but we still can't understand it. I haven't asked, but I highly doubt he has talked to Andrew.

I wish everything could be like before. Before, when Blake had always thought me being late was an adorable quirk and he'd let it slide – maybe even make fun of me a little. Especially when it was only seven measly minutes.

But seven minutes might as well be seven hours based on Andrew's demeanor. He is definitely pissed—leaning forward, tapping his fingers on the console, and sighing every point three seconds. I'm ignoring him because I don't much care if he's angry. He's an ass and not worth my time worrying about, except when it comes to my guy.

When we get to the parking lot, Blake finds an open spot as if by magic. This happens every day and I've never understood it. Maybe he gets a handful of pixie dust every morning just like Tinkerbell. No matter how it happens, he's always been a lucky bastard that way. And I can't complain that it's not fair because I get to reap the rewards, too.

Blake parks and then turns off the car. Everyone climbs out. But Andrew—he slips out of the car so fast he's almost a blur. He slams his door shut harder than hell and I take a step back. _Did the sound scare me, or does he?_ My stomach feels queasy. I guess I forgot to eat during the ride since I was too busy thinking about Blake.

The look I see on Blake's face screams he feels the same as his friend, which doesn't surprise me, since they're together this morning. Who knows what they were up to before picking up Hols.

Afraid that Blake might be too angry, I swallow my pride. "Babe, I said I was sorry first thing. If that's not enough, I don't know what will be. I didn't do anything on purpose to piss you off or anything and you know it."

Hollie gives me a quick wave before rushing to the building's main doors. Blake starts after Hollie, but I grab his arm gently to pull him back and push the subject further. He shakes me off, but at least he stays to listen.

"OK, what was that? I'd have to be a complete idiot to be late on purpose. What's really wrong? Is it Andrew again?"

"I know you didn't plan to be late, but you never plan _not_ to be late, either. It's a pain in the ass and doesn't just affect you."

He's right. I know he is but being shook off like that and the look—or rather non-look—in his eyes... my pride doesn't want to stay down. "I get why you're upset right now but it's more than that. We both know it is. Your idiot friend is obviously rubbing off on you too much and I'm starting to get really sick of the back and forth of sweet Blake and mean Blake. Something's gotta give here."

Although it's the truth, this is hard to say while staring at his amber eyes. Even when expressionless, those eyes never fail to draw me in and weaken my knees. The light in them spreads out and penetrates me, and I just feel lost—like only he can save me.

Blake looks away, ignoring me, and strides back in the direction the others went. I trail, not worried I'm walking the opposite way of my homeroom class. I feel like a pathetic puppy dog but he's the only boyfriend I've ever had so I'm at a loss. Just watching his cute butt walking is a joy for me. I like all those little things about him.

We arrive at the entrance by his class and I direct my eyes up at his face as he turns around. My heart skips a beat and is fluttering, but not in a good way. As strange as it is, since she's the only one I've ever been able to read, but... just like with Hollie, I can sense what Blake is going to say. And it's nothing I want to hear. I take a breath and brace myself.

"You know, if you're so fed up with me, Alexis, maybe we should spend the weekend apart. I'm damned tired of you getting on my case when you're the one who's always late. I know I'm a good guy."

Letting the breath out, I focus on not screaming at the Universe, asking why this is happening. Instead I ask Blake, "This is _really_ how you're going to be? Then I can honestly say you're wrong. Yeah, you _were_ a good guy—but not anymore. I can't deal with your ups and downs, and I can't ask you not to be friends with Andrew, either. So as much as I hate it, I think your idea not to see each other is a pretty decent one."

I hug my journal to my chest and take another deep breath. Blake shakes his head—his new thing, I suppose—and I feel the disappointment and disgust radiating off of him. Like I was supposed to fight for him or something. (Wait—didn't I just decide I wanted to do that?) But I keep my mouth shut.

After a long look, he turns toward the door and slips inside the building. The glass swings shut as I spin around and exhale, ducking my head to hide the welling of tears.

### TWO

The school day doesn't hold much excitement. I scarf down my breakfast in homeroom, catching a few glares from Mrs. Witch. Her name starts with a 'W' and is only one syllable but I've honestly never remembered what it is. Because she really does look—and act—like a witch. I wonder where her coven meets.

Aside from that, there are the two boys who are in the nurse's office because some girl has been dating both of them at the same time. Not anymore; she already went home crying. Which is what I feel like doing when Mr. Johnson announces a pop quiz as soon as I sit down in History.

I guess I'm going to continue spending my day in a daze, not really paying attention to anything other than my failing relationship. Nothing is helping to snap me out of it. I'm probably going to get my dumb quiz back with a giant 'F' on it. It's half blank and I highly doubt Blake Miller was the third President. But when I look at the paper, I only see our names filling in the blank lines along with different sized hearts drawn all over. Giving up, I pass my quiz forward and, as I watch it move from person to person, my heart races and my cheeks flush with the thought that I might have actually doodled those hearts on my paper.

After more class periods similar to History, only without quizzes to embarrass myself with, the last bell rings. Even though the time has dragged, it also feels like only an hour since I fought with Blake. I keep replaying the scene over and over, searching for any little thing I couldhaveshouldhave done to make it end differently or, if nothing else, at least to get some sort of real response out of him. An honest explanation why he's letting that jerk mess with our thing we've had for so long.

I walk to my locker where I'll get to meet up with Hollie. She's always happy, which I adore—it helps put me in better moods. I haven't seen her all day and when I glimpse her blonde head through the crowd, I'm already feeling better. The funk begins to fade.

At my locker, we pack what we need for the weekend—an easier job for Hollie than for me since I don't seem to have written anything in my planner—and we discuss our plans for getting home. We can't exactly ask Blake to give us a ride since I'd told myself as soon as he'd walked away from me that I won't speak to him until he apologizes for being such an ass.

Speaking of asses, I really need to kick my own for trying to be nice when he's obviously being a complete jerk. _What was that this morning—me fawning all over him, apologizing and trying to fix everything?_ I shouldn't be acting like that simply because _he_ shouldn't be acting how he is. Yeah, Andrew is affecting him in some way but why do I have to get the brunt of it? And then it's all OK with an apology? Well it's not. _And what the hell is this I'm thinking now?_ My own mind can't even make itself up. I've been wishing I'd done more and now I did too much? It's all making me dizzy and my head begins to pound.

My best friend's voice doesn't help the headache factor. "Hey, Olivia! Perfect timing, girlie!" Hollie calls out to our friend, Olivia Ryan, and rips me out of my reverie. Maybe Olivia will have the time to drop us off at Hollie's before heading to her ballet class.

"Well, hello ladies! What ya doin' this afternoon?"

"Not much," I tell her. "We were wondering if you could give us a ride. Blake and I are fighting and we really don't feel like taking the bus."

"Oh yeah, no problem! I just have to go get Preston at his locker first. Y'all ready?"

"Yep, let's go." Hollie and I look at each other and giggle. We tend to say things at the same time. Sorta creepy cool. We have a vibe, I guess.

We start walking down the hall toward Preston Quinn's locker, which happens to be by both Blake's and Andrew's. My gaze is glued to my trademark flip flops. I just hope I don't run into anyone or fall or something, which is entirely possible, knowing me. But I'm way too scared to look up because if I see Blake, I'm not sure what I'll do.

Fortunately, Preston is the only one around by his locker and Olivia hurries him along because if he dawdles, she will, in fact, be late for dance class—something she takes seriously. Ballet was big for her in Texas and nothing about her has sized down since moving up here to the Midwest. Most definitely not her hair. Not one of those big, blonde, hair-sprayed chicks, she still stands out in a crowd with her enormous, brunette bob perfectly coiffed at any given time. I've no clue how the girl does it. And rarely a lick of makeup—she always looks perfect. Her Congressman father fits in perfectly in Wales, with its society, that's for sure.

The four of us wander out into the parking lot, overwhelmed by the bright sun and warm, humid air. I don't really like the stickiness because it makes it hard to breathe, but I'm still refreshed within seconds. It's amazing how closed up a school building can make you feel. Sometimes I feel buildings like that should be outlawed. It has to be a violation of nature or something. Olivia holds her hand up over her eyes, searching for her little, red Vibe. I reach in my bag and pull out my sunglasses, oddly enough. I'm the only one prepared yet I'm the least practical of anyone I know. Olivia spots her car as I close up my bag and she ushers everyone along, picking up the pace and forcing us to follow suit.

"So are you coming over tonight?" Preston asks Olivia. "It's gonna be so awesome! We have a couple kegs coming and I think Matt's gonna DJ for us!"

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Oh, shit... I forgot you and Blake are having a lover's spat. He asked me not to tell you and Hollie about it."

Oh, really? Is that so?

I shrug to show I don't care one bit. "Whatever. Hollie and I have tons to do anyway. I was just curious." Not exactly the truth, but there are a lot of options we could do...

But really, who the hell does Blake think he is?! I've spent my day doing nothing but think about him and this is how he chooses to be? Just perfect.

"If you don't go to the party, you can hang with us, Olivia," Hollie says.

"Thanks. I just might take you up on that since these boys are being so second grade about this." She gives Preston a look that appears sweet, yet seriousness oozes from it.

"Whatever, man! You all can do what you want. But I'm gonna get wasted and it's gonna be funnnn!" Preston stretches out the last word like this party is all that matters in his world. Which is probably the truth, sadly. The boy isn't about much more than sports and partying. No one understands what sweet-as-pie Olivia sees in him.

But to each their own. It won't last past this last bit of school, I'm sure. I've even seen websites devoted to when they'll break up. A lot of money is on the table, too. These things tend to happen in small towns with kids who have monthly allowances that could buy nice cars, along with no _real_ imaginations or decent outlets for fun.

We arrive at the car after what feels like about how long I was in school and we pile in, only to sit and wait in the super fun stop-and-go after-school traffic. Conversation isn't so great with the tension, so Olivia blares the radio—apparently she has the same idea I did this morning. But Preston doesn't seem to care, or maybe doesn't understand because he just babbles away about the dumb party tonight and a bunch of other crap I don't have much interest in simply because I have other worries. His voice is at around one-thousand decibels and acting as fertilizer for my growing headache.

I stare out the window, trying not to think about Blake. It's rather hard with Preston's voice reminding me of him but it's easier than not thinking about my nightmares and that creepy shadow this morning. So that's a bonus.

I glance back at Hollie a bunch—I actually got shotgun over Preston since he is being such a douche—thinking that if some of what _she_ is thinking heads my way, I can pick up a bit of her good ju-ju. But she's too busy dancing and singing to herself—just being Hollie. Which is enough to put a smile on my face for a minute. What would make me smile even more is if I could rub my _bad_ ju-ju off on all the dumb boys we're surrounded with. But then I wonder what's wrong with me, having thoughts like that. I really do love Blake and want to be with him. But I also can't keep dealing with things the way they are.

The street is finally ours and Olivia speeds to Hollie's first. I'm beyond glad to be getting away from Preston's ridiculous chatter and I know Hols is, too – even though I shouldn't invade her like that. I just feel so desperate for something other than what's inside my own head. My thoughts are kind of scaring me today and I feel alone, even though I've been surrounded by people. Not that I'm not used to it—never quite feeling a part of everything... never fitting in. At least I know peace is coming in a minute. We'll be at Hols' and comfort will be mine.

As we get out of the car, Hollie reminds Olivia of the invitation to hang out. I find myself hoping we will end up doing something so I can avoid life even more.

I follow Hollie around to her backyard. I know it's only high school, but it is almost the end and finals and graduation are coming up and, with everything else going on, well, we both are worn out from a long week. We definitely need to relax for a while.

Taking the liberty of getting the spare key from under a rock, I wonder, as I usually do, how Hols could possibly have come from this family.

Mr. Baxter left, God only knows where. And Mrs. Baxter (never remarried) is never home, and it shows. Everything inside is beige and boring, and the furniture is layered in something that looks dirty and sticky. Even the garden we're standing in is shabby.

In all our years of friendship, I've never gotten up the nerve to touch much of anything. This might sound snobbish, but it's not like that. I'm not like my family, or others in town – I'm honestly not. And besides, Hollie never spends time outside of her room either, unless she has to. She knows it's not a nice place, but she makes the most of it.

Hollie's domain—her bedroom—is remarkably different. Walking into it, we swish through a curtain of beads—and these aren't the cheap, plastic beads one can find at any mall head shop. Hollie made them herself from gorgeous fabrics and chunky gemstones.

Her artwork is displayed on every wall, and throw pillows of all colors and sizes are tossed about the room. Her vibrant personality is displayed prominently, down to the deep violet bedspread with a bad ass cherry blossom pattern on it. I never cease to be amazed when I come over, which is pretty much every day. 'Cause this room trumps my boring yellow and brown anytime.

I drop my bag on the floor and wander over to the stereo to pick out some good 'forget about your boyfriend' music. Not one for trends, I listen to what I like and tend to stick with it. To heck with if it's cool. I find my favorite Nickelback song to start with and put the player on shuffle.

I turn around as Hollie plops down on her bed and lets out a huge sigh that vibrates through her lips just before it releases completely. "I wish we could go to the party tonight. Guys are so freaking ridiculous!"

"Well, we actually could go. It's not like it's Blake's house or anything. And besides, I can easily avoid him. There'll be plenty of people to hang with if you really wanna go there." I don't dare admit that I sort of want to see the guy.

Hollie hesitates for a second. "Are you sure it won't be super uncomfortable?"

"I'm sorry, but he doesn't get to decide where I can and can't hang out. Especially if we're 'on a break' or whatever is going on. Plus, it's Friday night—it would be lame of us to stay in. We've been drones all week long! We're young... we're supposed to party and get into trouble and all that, right?"

I sort of laugh but Hols doesn't. Guess she doesn't get my joke. Although it wasn't that funny...

Man, what is my deal lately? I'm so off; I'm not even me, it seems.

She answers me seriously. "All right then, we _should_ go. But first, let's mix up some drinks and do your fave—pedicures!"

"Hell yeah to the pedis, but are you sure you wanna drink? Well, you can but I shouldn't—I don't wanna do something stupid in front of Blake." I'm arguing for no reason. No matter what I drink or how much, it never seems to affect me. Not a clue why, but I can't seem to get drunk. Ever. Not for lack of trying, though... it would be nice to be able to escape that way.

"We'll be fine. And what are you talking about, girl?" Hollie scrunches up her eyebrows and gives me a weird smile. "You _know_ you'll be fine. We just need to relax a bit."

"Yeah. I suppose I could stand to do that. I have been stressing way too much." I pause, considering. Maybe with how off this day is, I might end up with a buzz...

I go into the bathroom to get the nail polish while Hollie heads toward the kitchen for snacks and drinks.

Once we are settled on the floor, we pick out our colors. I adore painted toes and being barefoot and am thrilled it's finally spring. May, to be exact. I don't have to cover up in socks and clunky shoes much anymore, not for a while at least. Picking out a deep red that will look great with my dark, half-Italian, half-Spanish skin, I get to work.

Hollie decides on a light, sparkly shade of blue, which isn't at all surprising. She likes to stand out as much as I like to blend in. We have kind of an 'opposites attract' type of friendship, but it works.

It's comforting acting girlie, not thinking about the stuff that's usually on my mind. Instead, we find ourselves discussing our plans to move in together soon.

"I mean, my mom's hardly ever home, and your parents probably don't even remember what you look like," Hollie says, red creeping up her face like it always does when she gets angry.

"Right?! I could probably set myself on fire and they wouldn't notice." I giggle, only half-kidding.

I wish I had a different family life, but all I can do is move on. Grow up. Something it's time to do anyway, with graduation coming, and then college in just a few months.

"We need to stop riding to school with the guys, too. I don't care if it saves on gas. I feel like we're stuck to them and have nothing of our own. And heck, Andrew's not even my boyfriend. With my luck, people probably think he is—might explain why I'm still single." In typical Hollie fashion, she sticks her tongue out to the side and rolls her eyes, knowing full well she's too dang independent to have a boyfriend. She dates, of course, but never the same guy for long.

"I know. I guess I've just been trying to hang on to some semblance of the relationship Blake and I used to have. But that's probably gone, huh?"

Hollie half nods, head moving to the side, not needing to say anything. My stomach sinks a little. I take a drink to bring it back up but it doesn't work so well. So I focus on what I'm doing instead.

We continue to chat and work on our nails—all the while making fun of our town and our lives. Wales tends to keep its residents, holding on with a death grip. I, for one, want to get out but don't know if it will happen. All I know is I need something different. Not just want—need.

We finish fantasizing about our plans, and I remember we're supposed to call Olivia to see what she decided. Plus, I kind of need to tell her we've decided to go to the party... make sure it's all right. After all is taken care of with her, I hang up the phone and waddle on my heels over to the closet while Hollie goes to the kitchen again.

I want to pick something fabulous to wear tonight. And Hollie has the best clothes to borrow. I can only wear her tops since I'm so dang short, but she has more than enough to choose from. Opting for the dark, distressed jeans I'm already wearing, since they fit great and I don't really have a choice, I pair them with a tone on tone burgundy, beaded tank.

The color will set off my emerald eyes perfectly. I grab a matching, long, silk scarf to wrap around my neck and shoulders. It has silver threads running through it that look great with the necklace Blake just gave me for my birthday.

Standing in front of the mirror, I find myself holding the necklace and staring at it while my mind drifts back to that night again.

* * *

I keep glancing from the box back up to Blake. I have no clue what to think of either. But the box is holding my interest more than this discussion is. Until Blake tells me has spoken to Andrew.

I lean back on one elbow, trying to keep calm by controlling my breathing and 'nonchalantly' playing with one of the ties on the quilt I'm lying on. I attempt a vibe that says, 'I'm sort of bored but I'll listen.'

"I told him that whatever he's doing is making my life hell. That it's not only causing problems between you and me." He moves his hand back and forth between us a couple of times as he paces. My eyes follow the box. "I said that I don't know what the problem is other than you two not liking each other, but that I want to be with you and I don't care anymore whether he likes it or not."

Blake turns to me and squints a bit. "It was different talking to him on the phone. He didn't have that... power over me he seems to have." He looks away and begins to thin the carpet some more, not picking up his feet as he wanders about the room.

I sit quietly, taking it all in—wanting to believe Blake yet confused as to how Andrew could control him in any way other than generic peer pressure.

"So what did Andrew have to say to that?" I ask.

"It took him a minute to respond and, when he did, it was nothing like I expected. He told me to come pick him up and we'd go shopping for you."

"Really?" I sit up again and look into Blake's eyes. "Is that what the box is? That's, uh... weirder than weird."

"You don't have to tell me that." Blake holds his hands up in what appears to be defeat and then smiles that smile of his. He finally stops moving around and sits next to me again, yet keeps an awkward distance. "But it's true. I have the box to prove it." He smiles, looking up through his lashes with a shy smile. Not 'that' smile again, but heart-melting all the same.

I feel he has answered my question about who is more important to him and I lean back again and relax. My breathing changes; I hadn't even noticed how shallow it was this whole time. But even feeling calmer, I still know that neither I nor Blake have a clue as to why or how Andrew is responsible for any of this. No gift can make up for what's been going on.

So I flat out ask, again. I'm not really a fan of drama. Soap operas bore me to tears. "Well, what are we gonna do about it? There's nothing I can change that I know of. And if this is just – quote unquote – happening to you, how can you stop it?"

"I don't think we need to try to stop it. Whatever his deal was, I think he's over it. He told me he was sorry and that he didn't mean to pressure me about you. If I wanna be with you, it's cool with him now."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, skepticism dripping down my face.

"You got me, babe—the guy's a mystery. Kinda always has been. But anyway..." Blake moves his butt over closer to me and I scoot toward him, just waiting for my box because that's the mystery I'm interested in. What is it and why?

"He helped me pick out a so-called apology-slash-birthday gift and, well, here it is. I hope you like it. I can't take all the credit for it, but I think it's pretty cool."

"Well," I say with a straight face, "you don't even know if I forgive you."

Blake's expression freezes and a few seconds of silence go by before I burst into laughter. He lets out a long breath and nudges me with his elbow. I adore seeing him grin from ear to ear.

"Here you go." He holds out the box but keeps it too close to himself. I know he's messing with me. I sit up and reach for it and he pulls it back so that my fingers graze his stomach. His rock-hard, perfect stomach. My own stomach flips a little and I hope I'm not blushing. Too bad it feels like I am.

"You're just so sweet," I say politely, joking around with my guy since I'm no longer angry. I pull off the perfectly tied bow and take the lid off the plain white box to find a necklace sitting inside – a chunky silver necklace with a padlock on it. Just my style and I love that he knows that.

"Wow, it's incredible. But what's the padlock for... like, what does it mean?" I think I know but need reassurance.

Blake rolls up his sleeve to expose the matching bracelet he's wearing. His is a flat, thick chain wrapped around a black leather band. A key-like clasp holds it together.

"It's supposed to represent your heart, I guess." His awkwardness comes back into play and I find it adorable and endearing. "I hope I didn't overstep by putting on the key. I don't want to assume I'm the one who has your heart but, well, that's kinda what the gift is all about."

"It's absolutely perfect, babe. I really do love it. And of course you have my heart." I smile quickly and then add, "As long as you don't start acting like a jerk again."

"Ha ha!" Blake sticks his tongue out and I bump my shoulder against him. My head is at his shoulder-level so I rest it there.

"So, does this mean things are back to normal?"

"I guess so... they should be, according to Andrew."

I take the necklace out of the box, noticing how heavy it feels in my hand. I'm surprised when I feel a bit of a tingle. Maybe it's because Blake was rubbing his feet on the carpet so long—some electricity made its way into the box. Whatever – what isn't weird in my life? I unclasp the necklace so Blake can put it on for me. After he fastens it and I let my hair back down, I turn around and find myself looking in his amber eyes again. I didn't seem to really notice them during our conversation, but now they are all I can see and my body weakens as I swim in his eyes.

Blake senses this and wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, breaking the spell and forcing me to look away. He holds me as tightly as he can without hurting me. I feel like we were never even fighting in the first place. When Blake finally releases me, he bends down for a sweet, soft kiss and we grin at each other like idiots for a bit before leaving the room to return to the party.

* * *

Coming out of my reverie, I see the same foolish grin on my face and think about how much the necklace really means to me. _But is it too meaningful?_ If we're taking a break this weekend, maybe I shouldn't wear it. I reach up to take it off but can't seem to make myself follow through. It doesn't feel right not to wear it if there's still a chance. And if he sees me not wearing it, that will cause even more problems. So on it stays.

For the final accessories, I snatch a stack of sparkly, golden, Lucite bangles and a matching pair of large hoop earrings. They'll look great against my olive skin while all the other girls Blake might be checking out will still be washed out from the winter, only having just started to hit the tanning beds.

Hollie can help me with hair and makeup later. For now, I'm set. This certainly isn't my normal approach to my appearance, made more than obvious by my morning routine, but I freaking want Blake to know what he's missing. And if he doesn't appreciate it, then maybe I don't want him anymore.

I walk over to the giant papasan in the corner to relax and drink some more when the TV turns on—seemingly by itself. Whipping my head to the side, I glimpse a shadow similar to the one in the hall this morning.

My eyes focus, and I know I'm alone. Whatever I just saw didn't linger like the one had earlier—this one only stayed a split second. Still, my stomach drops, feeling like it's full of rocks, and my heart rate quickens.

_Heck, the cat probably stepped on the remote, genius._ But... the cat isn't in the room.

Besides, something inside me knows better. I know something's happening lately, I just can't figure it out. But something could mean anything. And I don't think I really want to know all about it. Rather than letting my thoughts follow those creepy lines, I attempt to find normalcy in the situation.

I call out into the hallway. "Hols, where are you? Something's going on with your TV." I stand up to search—for the cat, the remote—anything to ease the anxiety.

Hollie waltzes back in the room with a few bottles of water. I'm glad to see she is going to stay in control tonight, as usual. No way could we keep pace, especially since the night hasn't even started.

"What happened, did it turn on by itself again?"

"Again? Is there something wrong with the TV? I've never had that happen before." I laugh with relief. To calm myself further, I attempt to joke. "Do you guys have ghosts living with the creepy furniture now or something?"

"Ha ha, funny girl." Hollie squints her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me. "Nah, it's just my 'F with me fairy!'"

I brush the comment off and grab a water from my friend. Inside, though, the calm disappears as quickly as it arrived.

_Faeries! What does Hols know about faeries?_ Somehow, I actually feel offended, but with no clue as to why. Must be the drinks kicking in. Not likely, but something is giving me major anxiety. To lessen it, I take controlled breaths and walk back over to the papasan.

Leaning back, I twist open the lid of my water bottle and take a long drink. I focus on trying to forget anything strange has happened. Especially since Hollie knows nothing about all the weirdness and I certainly don't feel like explaining it.

Over the next hour or so, as we hang out and get ready, I do forget the strangeness—the magical effects of my best friend wearing off on me. The 'incident' is gone from my mind completely when I grab my cell once more to let Olivia know we'll be ready in twenty.

### THREE

Hollie and I venture outside and I'm having some mixed feelings. OK, more than some. I want to go to Preston's because I deserve to have fun but also, I don't know what I'll do if I see Blake. I'm too weak around him. Thankfully, I stop thinking after about twenty seconds when Olivia pulls up, laughing as I race Hollie to the car. She nudges me to the side, starting a fight for shotgun. I crack up and shove her right back, so happy to be having fun.

Hols is the more outspoken of the two of us, and taller, but I'm aggressive in my own little way and I easily duck under her to get to the door first. I hold it open for her and she glares at me as she climbs in, her smirk giving her away.

After we settle in, I pull the seat belt across my chest and look over at Olivia. "Hey, I just thought of this. You're probably staying at Preston's tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, I was plannin' on it. There's plenty of room for y'all to crash, though—you know that. I promise you won't have to be anywhere near 'he who shall not be mentioned.'" I adore that Olivia has managed to stay true to herself even after living here in Indiana for quite a while now.

Resigning myself to the fact that I won't be able to leave if things get bad, I slump down in my seat and move the visor to look in the mirror. Now, I'm not really all about my appearance, but I think I look pretty good. I was right about the earrings. They peek through my hair as I move, complementing my coloring.

This party is going to be fine. So what if I see Blake there—I'll just ignore him. I decide that's how I'm going to be about tonight and that's that. No more wishy-washy bullshit.

Preston doesn't live far from Hollie—near the college housing. We get to his house after only a few minutes—not much conversation occurring during the drive due to the volume of the music. I wonder if this is a new trend for car rides.

A lot of people are partying tonight. Cars line the street, making it next to impossible to find a parking spot. Olivia is going to have to park wherever she can find a place and the three of us will have to deal with hoofing it.

"Damn that Preston for not leavin' me a spot!" Olivia complains as she fixes her dark, voluminous bob and applies lip gloss before getting out and locking up the car.

"Well, did you tell him we were coming?" Hollie asks, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I did. My gosh, he's such a child! Well, I might just need to prepare myself for a little tiff, but whatever. It's worth it. Come on, girls." She tilts her head toward the people walking in front of us and we all head that direction.

It takes a while to get to the house, given where we parked, along with our slow walking pace. I don't mind at all, though. It's allowing us to enjoy the evening air. The humidity has let up a bit. I hold my arms out to my sides, letting the air overtake me; happy the breeze is cool and not sticky.

The party starts before we officially arrive. We run into a group of people Hols and I have known since we were in diapers. I stay behind my two friends and let them jabber away. Even if I could get drunk, I still would never be outgoing like they are. So I just shrug to myself and listen to the back-and-forth chatter, content with my simple thoughts. This won't last, but I'll take it.

Once I can see Preston's house, I step forward, grab Hollie's arm, and wrap mine through hers. I'm sure as hell not about to walk in alone. We saunter up to the door, just behind Olivia, as if we haven't a care in the world and belong at this house. With these people. And in all actuality, Olivia and Hollie pretty much do belong. I'm the one who has to pretend...

The bass deafens me the moment the door opens. We shove our way down the front hall, heading straight for the drinks. Once we each have a cup in hand, we make a lap to see if anyone we might want to sit with for a while has shown up yet. We don't find anyone so we claim the hard brick in front of the fireplace. It isn't the coziest spot, but definitely the best vantage point. Gossiping for a bit, we waste our time people watching.

I see someone and stop mid-laugh, nudging Olivia so hard she almost sloshes her drink all over herself.

"Blake." Not an exact sentence, but a definite statement. I have absolutely no clue what to do.

Hollie stands up without hesitation, and then moves in front of me so I can't see what Blake is doing or to whom he is speaking. I widen my eyes in a scared form of curiosity and force a grim smile.

I don't care that I'm not friends with everyone, as long as I have one good friend who watches my back. Which Hollie certainly does.

"So, Alexis, who do you think you'll end up dancing with tonight?" Hollie asks loudly enough so Blake or one of his buddies might hear.

I play along and rattle off some names of guys who are cute, but I would never truly attempt anything with any of them.

Olivia joins in the game, mentioning a few of Preston's hot, single friends. She recently told me not to stay with Blake, and was also blatant about her feelings for Andrew. Just like Hols and me, Olivia is not all that happy about Blake's behavioral change.

Hollie babbles on about guys and how much fun the entire weekend is going to be without Blake just as he steps up to our little circle. He looks at me, his gaze boring through my eyes, somehow taking a direct path to my heart. Hollie's mouth is open like she's planning to say more, but she closes it when she notices Blake standing off to her side.

He leans forward, puts his hands on his knees, and takes a deep breath. Moving uncomfortably close to me, his breath is hot on my ear. "I know I said we should spend some time apart, but there's something I kinda wanna talk to you about. Can we go somewhere private for a minute?" He backs away a little and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I look to Hollie for something, anything. Through the haze of the tiny buzz I know she has, all I get is a blank stare. So I'm on my own with this one.

Daring to glance at Blake's face, ohsoclose to mine, all I really want to do is jump into his arms and go somewhere alone with him. His eyes are taking over me again, making it hard to resist. But, I told myself I'd be strong and would do whatever it takes to get our relationship back on track, if that's what is in the cards. And if not, I suppose we don't even need to talk. Plus, he hasn't apologized and I am not about to break the promise I made myself.

With strength pushing its way through my soft, lowered voice, I answer him. "I'm sorry, but you're the one who wanted this. I'm here with my friends. We can talk Sunday night—if you still want to then." I look away so I won't see his expression and cave. While staring down at my worn-out flip-flops, I feel him stand up and back away some.

"All right. Sorry to have bugged you guys. I just thought..." Blake's voice matches mine, but I can hear pain in it. I wonder if he sensed the ache in my heart, as well. I raise my head to watch him turn around and walk away.

Hollie purses her lips. "Well, that was certainly uncomfortable. Let's go back to the kitchen and see what's going on in there."

Olivia nods in agreement. "Sounds good. We need a change of scene anyway. Nothing's happening in this room."

We have to hold our cups over our heads as we weave in between all the people. It appears that our entire school felt the need to show up here tonight, not leaving a spare inch of space. We reach the kitchen and I walk over to the counter to mix up a drink. I don't really like beer... the vodka and cranberry I had at Hols' sounds good, though. But as I start mixing the drink, I feel an urge to stop and put down the bottle I'm holding. Almost like someone else is in my body, I reach in the cabinet and grab a new glass. I decide I need milk. Like, I have to have it right now.

I turn around to the refrigerator and things get weirder. Andrew, Blake's jerk of a friend, is standing with the door open and holding a gallon of milk.

I clear my throat, but it's of no use. When I speak it still sounds like there is a frog in there – even more so than usual. This thought makes me smile to myself a bit, making the situation even weirder.

"Hey. What ya doin' with that?"

"I was gonna make a Dreamsicle. With the orange juice and all. You want one?"

"Actually, it just popped into my head that I wanted something like that. Kinda strange..." This is creepy—my brain should not be working on _any_ level the same as his. "I don't know how to make those, though, I just want the milk."

"Yeah, same here. I figure if I'm gonna drink, I might as well be doing something good for my body at the same time, right?"

"Right. I mean, sure?" It comes out like a question because I definitely don't agree. Yet I feel the need to appease him so I keep talking. "Makes sense, I s'pose..." An even weirder vibe than normal is coming from Andrew and it's definitely affecting me.

Some guy whose name I can never remember busts into the kitchen, loud as can be. "Woo hoo! Keg stands out on the patio. Come on, guys!"

The packed room clears in about seven seconds. Even Hollie leaves with a little wave.

"Wait—where are you going?"

"Don't worry, sweets. I'll be right back!"

_OK... What the heck is going on?_ I've been so completely focused on Andrew and the strangeness I'm feeling that I seem to have forgotten about everything else. Feeling like I just woke up from one of my dreams, I drift back toward reality a bit and am able to comprehend that the refrigerator door is still open.

How long have I been standing here with Andrew? Has it been a while? Is that why Hols left?

"Hey, you gonna close the fridge and bring that over here?"

"Oh yeah. Sure." Andrew appears just as dazed as I am. He shuts the door in a swift motion and, through my suddenly foggy vision, floats toward me. Or at least I think he does.

_Something's going on with him._ _And me._ _Just wish I knew what..._

We make our drinks in silence, me following what he pours and stirs, and then walk out of the room together.

I watch where Andrew goes and then I head the opposite way. Glad he went down the hall instead of outside, I wander out to the backyard to try to find either Olivia or Hollie. Or hopefully both.

And I do. Hollie is over by the keg and I can only pray she doesn't join in on the frat-like activities. Sure, we're young and sure, people our age drink a lot these days, but I've always felt lucky not to have to count my friends among the carefree partiers. Going out tonight is way more an exception than the rule for the two of us. And even Olivia. I sigh and look over toward the people on my right.

Olivia is standing in a corner away from any alcohol, making me look bad with a drink in my hand. She is chatting with a yet another person I don't know. As the safer choice, I decide to join the latter of my two friends. I'll get to Hollie in a few... I don't feel like dealing with even more that's not reality.

"Hey guys. Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all. You remember Liz, right?"

"Yeah, I think, maybe... Hi." I smile at Liz while realizing that I have no clue who she is. _Crap. Now I feel like a jerk. I should have just said 'yes.'_

"So where's your boy?" I ask Olivia before taking a sip of my freshly mixed drink, making myself focus on my friend instead Liz. I feel so awkward, which I'm used to, but it's intensified tonight.

"Ah, who knows? He's probably gettin' stupid along with everyone else here. I'm about to go in and watch a movie to get away from all this. Do y'all wanna join me?"

I grin. "Actually, I think I do. I'm sick of everyone acting like a bunch of idiots, too. I could use a break." Being sober around drunk people is not my idea of fun.

"All right. Let's meet in Preston's room in about fifteen. I've gotta go find him first."

"No problem. See ya in a few." I smile again at Liz, raising my drink a little, and then walk off on my own.

* * * *

I find a tiny, stone path off in a back corner of the yard. Kicking off my flippies, I bend down to grab them with my free hand. I want something real underneath me. Cautiously, I walk onto the path. Compared to the summery grass previously tickling my bare toes, the stones feel rough and jagged.

I step on each rock individually, making a sort of child's game out of the walk, and follow the path which now seems quite long. _That's curious._ But now that I'm alone, I am not in the mood to worry, and I'm also still a bit dazed from the encounter with Andrew. I try to ignore anything weird and am simply enjoying the freshness of the outdoors when I happen upon an area I've never seen before. A beautiful koi pond, off on its own, catches my attention.

Where the hell did this come from? Am I going crazy or something?

I have been over to Preston's a zillion times and this was _never_ here. I should know because, loving nature the way I do, I end up out here alone a decent amount of the time.

A dark brick wall standing to the side of the pond doesn't seem to serve any purpose other than to house the insane amounts of jasmine growing near it. Even though I am inexplicably drawn to the area, the intensity of the aroma causes me to wobble some. It's overpowering and making me woozy.

I sit down at the edge of the pond and try to compose myself, surprised to find the lawn is soft and cool, but not damp, as it had felt while walking. Wiggling my toes in the long blades of grass, I sigh and run both hands through my hair a couple of times. A useless attempt to clear my head; just like my recent haircut—from waist-length to my shoulders—didn't help transform me in any way.

I lounge back on my hands and gaze into the pond, glad to have found these fish—something truly calming about the day. And now that I am sitting, the jasmine is relaxing me rather than making me dizzy. So that's a nice change.

Trying not to think about anything in particular, I let the fish—swimming in what looked to be patterns—mesmerize me. After a few minutes, I turn around to the party to see what's going on. Apparently, nothing. I see absolutely no sign of anyone nor do I hear any voices or music.

_All right, where'd everyone go? Back inside?_ _I guess I had better head there soon, too._

But I really don't get why is there _no_ noise. Even if they are inside, I should be able to hear the music...

I face the water again and something in the surrounding bushes catches my eye. After a quick sip of my drink, I stand up, wanting to see what kind of animal might be hiding. Maybe I can see a bunny or something if I'm stealthy enough.

I slip my flip-flops back on and walk over to the brick wall. Setting my cup down, I brush off the butt of my jeans. The air has turned a bit chilly, so I rearrange my scarf to warm up a little. Then, as always, I have to bend down and tuck the troublesome, extra length of my jeans in between my heels and flippies.

Ah, much better.

Taking careful steps to avoid any plant annihilation, I walk around the pond and head toward the bushes. At first glance I see nothing, so I step right up to the shrubs.

Lights filter up from underneath and they are extremely bright. Even if I backed away from the shrubs, I'm pretty sure they would still hurt my eyes. All I can figure is that they're something Preston's parents installed to illuminate the pond area. But I'm still confused as to when the pond was put in...

The lights start flashing in rhythmic patterns and liquid-like sounds whoosh through my head, which is now spinning again—a contrast to the movements of my body. I'm swaying just the slightest. It's like patting your head and rubbing your stomach, only not funny.

_This day is beyond out of control._ _What the frack?_

The metal from my necklace starts stinging a little—it's more than what I felt on my birthday, especially since the sensation is now on more delicate skin. But I haven't had a problem with it again until now. I never take it off and, except for the short consideration of not wearing it earlier, I've never thought of taking it off. A shiver runs down my back, causing me to shudder. I'm not cold, but definitely out of sorts and perplexed.

I walk back toward the direction of the house with my eyes open awkwardly, entranced by the strange lights. Following the length of the bushes, I stop at the sound of Olivia's voice. She is fighting with Preston in the neighbor's yard—I hear my own name come up a couple of times. _Not good._

Turning away to give the couple some privacy, I glimpse someone else in my periphery. Only this someone isn't anything like my two friends.

What the heck?

I know I'm not drunk, so I'm not sure what could possibly be going on. Maybe I fell asleep by the pond and didn't realize it...

I turn to observe the strange person more clearly and my mind flashes with thoughts of the two shadows I saw earlier. But this thing isn't just a shadow. This thing is real—substantial. Scales cover its greenish skin and it is heading toward Olivia and Preston. I freeze briefly.

_All right_ , I'm definitely asleep!

Dreams, I can handle. Or at least try to handle. I'll just pretend it's a happy dream and use my control. I know I can do it.

I'm not entirely sure my pep talk will help, but I have to try. At least the starkness of the change in scene has straightened my head and body a bit. My insides, which were like Jell-O, solidify.

This type of setting is only different from my nightmares in that I can sense this man is about to attack my friends. And humans have _never_ appeared in my 'visions' before. Only creatures. I can't imagine why Olivia and Preston are involved.

Forcing myself to move toward the threat, somehow—without fear, but a sudden surge of confidence—I leap over the bushes where the green creature has made his way, determined to stop the obvious impending fight.

Olivia and Preston can neither get hurt nor see what is happening. Not if I can help it. Thankfully the couple is now screaming back and forth so they can't hear anything else, and they certainly aren't looking around at their surroundings.

I lunge forward and bash into the unknown entity—which stands like a man yet clearly isn't—with as much force as I can muster. Unfortunately, I might as well have bashed into a brick wall as my strength is nothing compared to the creature I collided with.

He grabs my hair with his blood-red claws—hooks that glow even in the dim moonlight. I can't help but yelp as he whips me through the air, causing me to land on the other side of the bushes, where I'd just come from—away from my friends and back in Preston's yard. Looking up, I see the green man coming toward me.

_No!_ _I'm_ not _going to let him get me – and especially not Olivia and Preston!_

I jump up, somehow landing on my feet like a ninja. Straightening my shoulders, I start running... I sprint down the length of the shrubs back toward the lights and the pond, the creature close behind me. I feel as fast as Andrew had looked in the parking lot this morning when he left the car.

My necklace is practically on fire now, scorching a hole into the hollow of my neck. I rip off the thick chain in one motion and throw it aside into a patch of tall grass.

My view changes. The world becomes clear as day. A strange power and a sense of strength wash over me and my insides relax.

As I take a step forward, I feel as if I'm trudging through high water, yet my actions are swift. I have no clue how any of this is possible. But then again, I am dreaming. Nothing is out of bounds in my dreams.

All I have to do is kick this guy's ass and I'll be outta here. At least that's my plan. I've tried enough times to control these situations—maybe this will be the time it all falls into place. I feel it will.

Because something is different this time. I intuit a new confidence. Olivia and Preston can't get hurt. Even in a dream, I feel they are in real danger, yet I know I can stop it.

Bring it on, ugly man!

I stop and turn around right as he is about to reach me. It seems like eons before he gets here, even at his fast rate. I must be faster.

Lunging in his direction the second time, I have no fear of consequences. I feel it through and through; he cannot destroy me. Some higher being is watching out for me.

I shove the creature to the ground, leaving him dazed. He was like a concrete barrier before and this time he falls like a domino. I dash to the wall where my drink is sitting and I grab one of the top bricks. It crumbles easily in my hand and I rip off a chunk. A good-sized piece with jagged edges remains in my palm—exactly what I need.

My adversary is standing back up when I turn to him again, but I am prepared. He stumbles, appearing woozy from knocking his head, and I take full advantage of his weakness.

Slamming an uneven corner of the makeshift weapon deep into his neck, I pull straight down and leave a horrid gash. Blood pours out of the wound, soaking my hand. A strange desire to lick my fingers consumes me, as if it will give me more strength. But, in spite of this being a dream, the idea suggests a place I'm not ready to go. I have to consciously stop myself from doing so, though, and instead wipe the blood on my thigh.

Forgetting that blood, I look up to see the creature clutching one hand to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He lumbers one step forward and swings at me with his free hand. He hits me dead on the nose. The blow blinds me with pain, yet I make no sound this time. I won't give him that satisfaction, but I also can't completely hide the fact that he hurt me.

His eyes widen wickedly as I falter, his power shining through—a brief flash of light glints in his orange eyes and he bellows a loud, guttural sound.

He tries to shove me out of his way, but I have recovered and I stand my ground. Seeing an opportunity, I bend down some and attempt another shot with my blood-covered weapon—this time trying for his stomach, but he kicks out his leg and sweeps me down to the grass in one swift motion.

With my eyes slit open, I see him watch as I lie still for a few seconds, and then he starts to leave me, moving toward the quarreling couple again... only to be stopped with an upward strike to the groin. He is apparently too dumb to have known I was only faking that I couldn't move.

My kick has no impact beyond keeping him near, but that's all I care about. He does, however, react with what can only be called a grimace when I crawl to my knees and slam the pointed brick into the top of his shoeless foot.

I pull my weapon out and shove it back in the same foot again, in an attempt to make the wound worse. Now I just need to incapacitate him so he can't get to Olivia and Preston. I have no clue what he wants them for, but I'm not about to find out.

Still kneeling, I shove at the monster's midsection and knock him off balance. This is almost laughably easy since he is on one leg, tending to his hurt foot.

My push puts him flat on his back and I jump on top on him. Even punching as hard and as fast as possible, I somehow possess the accuracy to carefully avoid scratching up my fists with his talon-like teeth.

After a long couple of minutes—or at least what feels like it; I am beyond exhausted—the creature falls limp.

"Wake up, girl! Get out of here before he gets up again." I scream at myself over and over as I feel tears and mascara running down my face. I start to stand up so I don't have to be near the nasty, green guy any longer.

Just as the dream world is shimmering out of focus and I wobble upright, backing away from the thing, my jaw drops involuntarily. I no longer see the same, strange creature.

Instead, I find myself looking at a human I know quite well. In fact, he is at the party tonight. And there isn't a single mark on him from the fight. I look down at my own hands to find they are blood-free, as well. Not a scratch on me.

What the—? I don't finish my thought because a split second later I am back on the ground in front of the pond, wide-awake and staring at my black reflection in the still water. The exact same spot I had been in before, only now the fish made no movements.

Mine is not the only image I see, though. I can make out the shape of a person behind me, and can feel its closeness. It is difficult to distinguish who is there in the darkness so I slowly—cautiously—turn first my body, and then my head, in order to see better.

The reflection and my senses are not lying. Someone is standing, or rather, looming behind me.

And it is the same someone I saw seconds earlier, unconscious on the ground.

Andrew.

My necklace, clasped and secure around my neck again, sizzled and tingled—causing another shiver to run down my back.

### FOUR

I pretend nothing is wrong; like I had glanced behind me simply to see who was around. Turning back toward the pond, I take a deep, invigorating breath and pull my knees to my chest. Maybe if I look down and _really_ focus on my feet and nothing else, he won't sense my fear. But I can't not say something, unfortunately.

"Hey Andrew. How ya doin'?"

"Eh. I'm all right, I suppose. It's pretty nice out here tonight."

Examining the smudge my flip-flops made on my toenail—I never can wait until the polish is dry—I move my gaze and run my index finger over the simple star tattoo near the little toe on my right foot. I love this tattoo. But it's not enough to completely distract me.

Silently, I am willing Andrew to go away, but instead I speak again.

"So where is everyone? Are we alone out here?"

"Yep. We're alone. They all went in to watch home movies from some of the football games. Stuff's pretty funny, actually."

"Huh, well I was just about to get up and go watch a movie with Olivia and some others. Are you gonna join us, or..." I really don't feel like inviting him, so I trail off. He should get the hint.

"Nah, I'm just gonna stay out here for a bit and enjoy the view. Just like you've been doing." His tone implies he knows darned well that isn't all I've been doing. But I don't much care. It's my cue to get away and figure it all out.

Or not. My day started out rather simply. Simple in my world, at least—even with the fighting. But now, I haven't a clue what my world even consists of.

I make up my mind—I'm going to attempt to rid myself of these strange problems, at least for the night. And, with that, I get up and walk back into the house to join the drunken idiots, hoping they'll distract me until I pass out.

* * * *

Pure hell. That's what I feel like Saturday morning the second I wake up. My temples are throbbing from not enough sleep—no one quieted down until maybe four am. and it's only seven right now. I can't shake this foreboding sense that is filling me. I have a long day ahead of me and not a clue how to start finding the answers I need.

Using the coffee table for support, I pull my lazy, weak body off the sofa where I crashed. I wander to find an empty bathroom—not that hard of a task, considering everyone else is still passed out. I woke up early, which I'm used to. What I'm not used to is waking up with an empty mind. It's strange—I don't think I've ever not had a dream before. Not once in my entire life... until last night. I'm really wondering now what the hell is going on...

Walking down the hall, I am aware that my mind isn't even remotely free of the things in my dreams. I have a lot to figure out about last night. Heck, from the whole entire day yesterday. But mostly, the impossible, yet real dream that occurred by the pond. It's all I can think of.

Now, in the light of day, I am even more confused as to what's real and what isn't.

I open the door of the first bathroom I find, making sure no one is snuggling with the toilet, and then I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, leaning back against the wall. I stretch my legs out and enjoy the quiet and the chance to... breathe.

All I can do is stare at the ugly, brown plaid border someone had put up halfway down the wall, and think about how utterly odd things are.

It's pretty hard to believe that Andrew is an evil creature who is a part of my personal faery world. A world that supposedly exists only in my dreams. And also that he would want to hurt his friends—and mine. I'm not sure I can buy that.

But I _have_ seen that type of creature before and I know what they are capable of, which doesn't mean good things for Andrew if all I experienced was real. Until last night, I've never had to interact with anything like that—especially not one who is my boyfriend's best friend. Or ex-boyfriend. Or whatever. I don't have a clue what's what.

Maybe my parents are right. Maybe I should see a shrink. My head is all sorts of screwed up. Eh. No way, that would make them too happy.

Unable to think about this crap anymore, I stand up and open the medicine cabinet. After freshening up as best I'm able—I borrow some toothpaste and use my finger as a brush, having forgotten my bag in the car—I wander into the kitchen for a glass of water.

And... I find Andrew there. Just b _rilliant_ _._

"Oh, hey. Thought I was the only one up," he says when he notices me.

"Nah, I'm an early riser. Have you seen Olivia? I have to get home."

OK. This is really weird. And scary. _So was all that real or not? Why is he being normal?_ _But he was normal last night after the fight, too. Maybe I was just seeing things._ _Shit,_ Alexis—stop talking to yourself and pay attention so things aren't any weirder.

I snap to and focus on Andrew. My heart is pounding against my chest so hard I swear it has to be audible.

"Olivia's still passed out, I'm sure. Everyone seems to be," he tells me. "I'm about to head out, though. You want a ride?"

No. I don't like you, remember? You're an ass. And who knows what else? Some crazy, psycho faery monster who wants to kill me, maybe...

But of course I can't exactly say that _._

I force a smile and accept his offer. What other choice is there? "Yeah, that'd actually be good. I have a lot to do around the house today. Can't waste time here."

"All right then, let's go. You got everything you need?"

"Oh crap. My bag is in Olivia's car. I hope she left it unlocked. I don't wanna have to wake her up."

"How about we leave a note telling her we grabbed her keys and then hide them in the car? I kinda need to get out of here soon."

I shrug, considering, and then nod. I don't see any harm in doing that. So Andrew creeps into Preston's room and takes care of the note part while I get a drink of water and wait for him to come back.

His footsteps arrive before he does, so when Andrew tosses the keys across the kitchen to me, I don't scream and jump, or worse, get pelted. The two of us walk outside to his truck and I try to be as normal as possible. And even though my stomach is wrapped in knots that are squeezing it down to the size of a penny, I force myself into the cab. Too bad the feeling only grows—being stuck inside this small thing with godsonlyknowwhat Andrew really is...

Some kind of smell—nothing like old food or gym clothes or anything—just a weird odor permeates the cab. At least it's nice this morning so I can roll the window down. Which I do the second my hand can reach the handle. My stomach grows queasier by the second once he starts driving down the road.

I point to my right. "Olivia parked down that street."

"Ah, I see her car I think. Red Vibe, right?"

"Yep."

He pulls up next to it and I jump out, taking a few deep breaths while I have the chance. Olivia's car smells like heaven compared to the nastiness that is Andrew's truck. But I know I shouldn't dawdle, so I grab my stuff and put the keys in the console, making sure the driver side door is unlocked before I get out and close it.

Climbing back in the cab makes me want to retch, but I handle it like a big girl. Andrew and I attempt random small talk on the way, but mostly sit in uncomfortable silence.

I know I really shouldn't be mean to him—just like I shouldn't be mean to Blake. Andrew's being decent driving me home. But why is he doing it? What does he want—and who is he? A part of me thinks I just might be going crazy with all the nonsense in my head. And I wonder why I care how nice I'm being because he has been the problem between me and Blake and I can't just ignore or forgive that. Not a chance.

I'm becoming disoriented with my emotions changing from minute to minute. I feel all crazy hormonal, but I shouldn't be. And even so, I'm never like this. Ever.

To make things even worse, my extra sense, which normally only works on Hollie, kicks into gear. I know the same types of thoughts are running through Andrew's mind. That he is sitting there picking me apart piece by piece. I just don't understand why he cares about me in the least, though.

We hate each other, right? So who am I to him?

"Hell, I'm almost out of gas. Do you mind if we stop? I'm not sure if I'll make it to your house and then back to a station."

Are you freaking kidding me? More time with him?

"OK, no problem. I definitely don't wanna do any hiking around today." I attempt a laugh. It is true that I have absolutely no desire to run out of gas while with him.

He picks the gas station just down the road and pulls up to the first pump, seeing as they are all free. He climbs out of the car and slides his credit card for authorization. As he is putting the pump in the truck, a guy walks up to him and the two start chatting quietly. Even though my window is all the way down and I'm trying really hard, I can't make out what they are saying.

I do notice the guy is damned good-looking, though. Sort of a pretty boy, which I normally don't go for, but he is rugged enough to add some edge to his looks. Andrew is gorgeous and I can't help but stare, but this guy has an even stronger effect on me. I didn't know that was possible...

_Shit!_ I can only turn so many times and I don't want to make it obvious that I'm looking in the mirror, so I'm glad when Andrew replaces the gas pump and the cap because he then steps forward toward my window to introduce the mystery man.

"Hey Alexis, this is Sloane. He's one of my buddies from the other side of town. Never went to school here or anything."

Sloane smiles at me with perfect white teeth and I allow myself a quiet sigh. I grin widely back at him (feeling a bit like a fool but unable to control my face) and I hold my hand out the window. When Sloane grabs it, I swear on the gods' green earth I feel a shock. But it's a good shock. Like a jolt of electricity and excitement. He holds my hand a bit longer than necessary, which I certainly don't mind, but then he lets go and says, "I have to head back, but it was great meeting you, Alexis. I hope to see you around again." With a heart-stopping wink, he starts to turn back to Andrew.

"Yeah. You too," I manage to muster out, not even sure if he can hear me. I can't stop smiling as the two guys say their goodbyes and Andrew walks back around to his side of the cab. When he gets in, I'm somehow able to force my face into a fairly normal expression. I am beyond grateful for this control.

"So, how do you know Sloane?" I ask him, trying for complete nonchalance.

"Just a family friend. We do some work together sometimes." Andrew is putting off a vibe that more than announces he isn't going to tell me anything else about the guy.

"Huh, interesting." Not knowing what else to say and not liking the feel floating around in the truck, I choose to stay quiet.

And that's how we stay for the rest of the ride, which is fine by me because with my crazy ups and downs about Blake, I'm having a nice time daydreaming about Sloane and his sexy smirk.

Not soon enough, Andrew's truck pulls up in front of my house. But at first I don't notice since, in my mind, I am on the beach at night, walking hand in hand with his hottie friend. I shake my head to get rid of the image and grab my bags.

Reluctantly, I turn to Andrew. "Well, the ride was... great." I grimace inside as I say this. "Way better than walking. When you talk to Blake today, can you ask him to call me, please? I kinda need to talk to him." I know I probably shouldn't, but after last night I feel I need him. Maybe. Hell, I don't know.

"Sure thing. And no problem—being stuck without a car is no fun. See ya later."

"K. Bye."

I bounce out of the truck and slam the door behind me. Practically tripping in the process, I attempt to jump all five of my front porch steps at once, desperate to get as far away from Andrew as possible.

Quietly, I unlock the door and creep inside. My parents were probably out late at some fundraiser or other function of the sort last night. There will be hell to pay if I wake them.

Jeffrey&Diana (one word) or The Hodges, as people around here call my parents, are the type of parents who are more interested in their careers and social lives than the goings on in their daughter's life. Don't get me wrong – I don't dislike my mom and dad; I actually kind of like them as people, but as parents they aren't exactly the best.

We're not close and I wish we were, like when I was a kid. They had tried so hard to have a baby and I was their miracle, but now... I'm not sure what happened—I rarely see either of them, especially my mom. I feel like I'm simply a house-guest at times. An ignored house-guest.

When I think about it, it really upsets me, obviously... I think of the times I went mini-golfing with my dad and we would ride the go-carts or when we'd go on picnics with a big groups of my parents' friends who had kids my age. That type of thinking really gets me. So, I pretty much just try not to think about it. They live their lives and I live mine. That's how I am with most things that bother me. Out of sight, out of mind. Mature, I know, but what can I do?

But there _is_ one thing I can't help but think about. Blake.

Oh, and Andrew. Can't forget him... or his friend whom I _must_ learn more about. _Maybe if it doesn't work with Blake—_ No, I can't think like that. We've been together too long just to give up. But still, Sloane is one hell of a good option who won't seem to leave my mind even when I try to force him out. And I only met him less than a half an hour ago! What is that?

I trudge upstairs, careful not to drag my bag or my feet, which is not all that easy. Heading straight to my bathroom, I drop my bag just inside the door and I strip off the clothes that carry last night's memory. I jump in the shower, hoping I can wash away my pain and confusion. No such luck. Instead, I find myself mulling over recent events and wondering how my life got to where it is right now—at this exact moment.

Closing my eyes, I wishwishwish with all of my heart that I could just tell Blake why I am always running late. It's one of the main things we fight about. But I can't tell him. I've never told _anyone_. Just like something tells me to write down my dreams, I also know not to speak of them. I'm not sure why I can't, but the warning is strong enough for me to heed.

Loneliness sets in even more and my tears run down the drain with the water. And I'm not one to cry. Normally I take pride in thinking of myself as a tough chick.

I am upset, for sure... furious, in fact... that my dreams, visions—whatever the hell they are, dictate my morning routine. And my relationship. It's such an odd problem. But not one I can change. Well, unless this new not dreaming thing sticks around...

With that as a glimmer of hope, I—or rather, my stomach—can't stand thinking about these problems any longer—I need to do something about them instead. I step out of the shower and wrap one towel around my body and another, turban-style, on my head.

Re-armed with the confidence I possessed during last night's fight, I focus on getting ready, and fast. Grabbing my most comfortable (and most favorite-ist) pair of worn-in jeans and a soft, faded, grey t-shirt, I throw them on and go back to the bathroom. Stress is pouring out from the inside and I am positive it shows.

Along with the out-of-place tension on my face, I also notice I am still wearing the necklace that had bothered me so last night. Strange—it isn't doing anything now and didn't again last night once I had it back on. It feels like any other necklace.

For safe measure, though, I take it off and place it on the counter. I want it nowhere near me. Not until I have some idea as to what is happening.

Looking in the mirror, something I tend to avoid, I pull the top part of my hair back, being careful to leave enough down for the soft waves to cover my Arwen-like ears. (Although any resemblance to Liv Tyler can't be _that_ bad, but still...)

I actually really like my eyes—they match my dad's—so I concentrate on bringing them out—making the intense color pop, and the whites look refreshed. My normal, super basic makeup does the trick, along with lots of eye drops to help me look more awake.

"There," I say aloud. _I'm on the path to feeling human today._

I grab one of my thirty-some-odd pairs of flip-flops, slip them on, and head down to the kitchen. I hope Bonnie is already awake. Some gut feeling, or maybe some newly honed senses, are telling me that Bonnie is the one and only person who can help right now. Just thinking about her makes my brain buzz a little and I feel we are connected more closely than I have ever realized.

### FIVE

Luck is on my side. I arrive at our kitchen island to find a fresh fruit plate and a smoothie waiting for me. Perfect. I'm not sure I can handle a heavy breakfast, what with my stomach churning and fluttering.

"Hi there, honey! How was your night with the girls?" Bonnie asks from the doorway behind me.

"Oh, hi," I manage to mumble while coughing. I almost choked from the surprise, my mouth full of strawberries.

Bonnie walks around the island and when she looks at me I watch all the color drain from her face and her eyes widen. My heart starts hammering and my buzzing brain has turned into a beehive, basically incapable of thought. I am running on pure emotion right now.

"Oh, my! What happened last night, sweetheart?"

The strawberry slides down my throat and thuds in my stomach. My eyes catch the movement of my hand as it brings my glass toward my mouth. Instinct guides me while I take a sip of juice and swallow.

"What do you mean? Do I look like something's wrong?" I know I spoke because I recognize the voice, but I don't quite know how the words left my mouth.

"Not to the normal eye, no, my dear. You look as lovely as ever. But, you see, I can tell what you _really_ look like."

Bonnie looks like she always does. She's not the type to do drugs; she doesn't even drink. So I have no idea what she means. "What—you mean, like... you can see things others can't? And how do I really look? You make it sound bad..."

Taking a seat across the island from me, Bonnie settles in and sighs. "Yes and no. You guessed correctly; I can see things others cannot."

I begin to widen my eyes in disbelief and she stops me. "That look is not necessary, dear. You will understand soon enough. But to answer your second question – no, it is not bad. Not in the least. You are more beautiful than you know." She smiles sweetly, helping the words to sink in.

A piece of honeydew catches my eyes and makes it way into my mouth. Again, I watch my hand do what it learned to do years ago, and I feel a complete lack of control. But not just of my body. Of my life, this situation, last night—everything.

"So, did something happen while you were out last night?" She rests her arms on the island and clasps her hands together, fingers threaded.

Bonnie is not going to let up and I'm definitely curious, so I indulge her. "Yeah, I had a strange... encounter, I guess is the best word for it. And I don't know what to make of it." That's all she gets, though. Last night was ridiculous and messed up but today isn't looking much better, this conversation included.

"All right. I will start with the most basic part of all of this. There are things about your background and yourself that you should have learned years ago but I put it off. Apparently I waited a little too long and, for that, I sincerely apologize."

My fingers grab another piece of honeydew and I just stare at this woman I've known my entire life who has apparently been keeping secrets from me. I have no idea what to think or how to act.

"You are not going to make this easy on me, I can tell." Bonnie chastises me with her eyes, but her smile tells me she's joking. I shake my head and give a half-smile back.

A jovial laugh escapes her and I giggle along, but my laugh is mostly one of nervousness.

"When you look in the mirror now, you see what most people see when they look at you. But I see something else entirely. And soon, you will see what I do. You will even see me and some other people, as well as your surroundings, much, much differently. This will occur after you lose the human part of yourself you have been living with for all these years, and the glamour your mother put on you will become invisible to you if you want it to be."

My head is spinning—thoughts are flying around too fast to choose one to focus on. Not a good thing for my buzzing beehive brain to have to deal with, it seems. Because on top of loudness and the inability to think straight... or at all, there is a bit of a insane effect going on. I try to tell myself that Bonnie sounds nuts—she's speaking gibberish—yet I'm practically salivating to hear more. I figure it must be that Bonnie is so sweet, her words drip honey and, therefore, attract the bees.

I run through things in my head. It's a struggle, but I focus.

OK, what are the 'facts' here? Human—so I'm not one? Yeah, sure, _that's_ believable... Mother—is any of this the reason she's... the way she is? Bonnie—is she not human either? Have I woken up yet? I must still be asleep on Preston's couch. I'll wake up soon and tell my journal all about this crazy dream.

Yet even as my rationality kicks in, I know that's not the real part of all of this. Because something _did_ happen last night. And, as much as I am burning to know what the heck Bonnie is going on about, I don't want to ask. Or don't know how to ask, nor have the nerve, is more like it.

The honeydew is all gone—the plate had been half full of it—so I move on to the cantaloupe. I nod to Bonnie, indicating I'm ready for her to continue.

"It is a long story to tell, darling. I will give you a few bits and pieces and then I will just have to, in essence, let it be shown because it is all too much. But first, you must explain why you look the way you do this morning. You need information from me, but I also need the same from you so we can figure out together how best to deal with everything."

I'm not ready to talk but if I want to learn more, I guess I have to. I start small. "I—I'm not sure _how_ I look, so I can't really say. I mean, well, what do _you_ mean?" Again, my mouth moves on its own... my brain must have made its way down there.

"It is nothing horrible, do not worry. Your normal sparkle simply appears to be gone. Please tell me, honey." ( _See—honey – bees! OK... maybe I am going nuts._ ) "Nothing you can say will shock me, I promise. I know more than you can imagine."

"So, well then, do you, um, know about my dreams and stuff?" My mouthbrain asks this before it takes a long drink of my smoothie. At least the latter action might keep me quiet for a minute. The banana that's mixed in it sits like a lump in my stomach, not at all helping the queasiness I've felt since Bonnie first started talking.

The nausea brings me back to reality a tiny bit and I realize what I just said.

No matter how much I trust Bonnie, I'm not sure that I want to talk. I want to learn—not share. But the words simply tumbled out—I didn't give them permission. Private things I thought I wanted to stay that way. Wasn't I _just_ crying about this not ten minutes ago upstairs? What's the deal here?

At least the buzzing is quieting down. Maybe the bees tired themselves out and are settling down for a nap. Whatever they're doing, my head is becoming clearer – by the second, it seems.

"Yes. I know all about you," Bonnie replies. "I have been here your whole life, making sure no harm came to you. But I can see I might not have been so successful at fulfilling my duties." A frown appears on her face but she quickly wipes it off, leaving herself almost expressionless.

"No. I'm fine. I think. Maybe..." _Other than the fact that I'm about to retch._ "I just had a really strange nightmare at Preston's house last night, but it felt more real than ever before." I pause a moment before I continue speaking.

"So, really, you know all about this? How? And if so, do you think you can help me figure out what's going on?"

"Yes, I do know; and yes, I can help," Bonnie answers. "So, about this nightmare—are you sure you were asleep? What were you doing before it occurred?"

She doesn't answer how she knows anything or why I should trust her with my secrets, yet I find myself explaining the nightmare-slash-vision to her, getting goose bumps all over again as I delve into the dark details. The distance from it makes it feel more like a dream but also more real at the same time. Which makes no sense. And that's perfect—fits right in with everything else.

I don't know which way is left, or if up is down. So I'm rather surprised when a calmness sweeps over me, making me oddly at ease while talking to my pseudo-parent. And I have to face it, that's what Bonnie is to me. My parents aren't around enough to be parents.

I only feel at home when Bonnie is in the house, and I also know now that Bonnie somehow understands. Not a clue how I know, but I do. Just like I know two plus two equals four, which I gather is an easier concept than up versus down. This knowledge makes me no longer feel worried about spilling too many of my secrets.

I realize it's a little scary and strange to have my feelings change this quickly.

But, no matter the reason I am doing so, it is a giant relief to get even the smallest amount of years and years of pent up memories off my chest.

Once I finish re-telling my crazy story, with a little help from my bee friends that are still awake, Bonnie simply sits. I feel her frustration as to how she should go about the next part of the conversation, my new senses apparently honing in again.

"Sweetheart," Bonnie starts, "I have a feeling you already know this, but it was not a dream you experienced last night. You were awake the whole time. You said you were looking into a pond?"

I nod a confirmation.

"Well, it seems you unintentionally scryed."

"Scryed? What the frack is that?" I ask. "That's a strange word..." And it is. And better yet, _I'm_ thinking it. Me. The last few bees fell asleep and now I can focus on this conversation.

"It is a way to shift your consciousness—more commonly, your entire being—to another plane or dimension. Last night, you meditated your way into the faery realm. Even the fish you thought were koi were really faeries. They wear the shell of a koi as glamour, hence their name of Shellycoats, to fool the humans, much like you do, but not in the exact same way."

I don't move a muscle. I just sit and listen, unsure how to react... unsure what to ask... unsure what the heck glamour is, but I assume it's a cover if the 'faery' fish wear it to look the way they do. Bonnie did say 'shell.'

Bonnie stops talking for a minute, most likely because of the ice sculpture that is me. I guess I am doing well taking this in, but with my brain somewhat back to normal I am even scaring myself a little that I'm not freaking out, which Bonnie appears to be waiting for.

For some reason or another—most likely the eerie calmness that has settled deep into my core, I don't think I will have a freak-out. I melt a little. Enough to move, to speak again.

"Faeries, huh?" I state, more than ask.

The two of us sit in complete silence for about three or four minutes, save the dripping of the coffee maker. Something clicks; it all falls into place, and I take a deep breath.

The click is just the beginning of the doorknob turning. I think over my dreams and things that have happened with strangers in the past and even the way I can read Hollie. These things and more flood my mind and I hear click after click until the door creaks and I push it wide open. The world makes sense to me, even though it is about as sensible as _Alice in Wonderland_. Yet I know it is all true.

"I knew it. I _knew_ it!" I exclaim, feeling so sure and enlightened that I jump back to life and off my stool. "I've never fit in with anyone but Hols, not really. I've never felt I belonged. And not in the normal teenage, growing up way of not belonging—I mean, I've _really_ felt something was off. Ever since before high school, but even more so now. For years! Maybe even when I was super little, now that I think about it."

I continue rambling with my epiphany like I'm as knowledgeable as Buddha—I understand _all_ , I sense _all_ —I don't need the details and the labels; I just know. I pace around the island and continue to go on and on, letting Bonnie in on it all, only half realizing the irony that she's the one who let me in.

"Everything here has always seemed so superficial and lifeless to me. Not that it isn't great and gorgeous and people aren't happy, but none of it ever overflows into me. Like I need to be somewhere else to feel what everyone else seems to feel naturally. I knew there was more. Plus, I've always seen things, ya know... And really, I'm not even surprised when it comes down to it. Were the dreams or visions or whatever I've been having for forever preparing me to find all this out one day or something?" I don't really expect an answer. I already know it's true.

I sense I am going off and probably seem a bit nutty, even to someone who understands all of this, but it's like a lightning bolt hit me. This is more than an epiphany—it is an explanation of my entire life. And I am _reeling_ from it. In the best way. And besides, like I really care if I look nuts in front of Bonnie... again, she's the one who brought up the nonsense that turned out to be true.

Bonnie confirms what she was probably starting to say before I freaked. But she also confirms my thoughts and questions. "Actually, yes. That is exactly why you had visions of your home realm. Someone such as yourself cannot deny her true identity and calling."

"Calling? Hold up. I get I'm not a part of this world," I stop pacing and wave my arm around the kitchen, "but you can't possibly think I have some special job to do, or place—wait, do you?" I don't let Bonnie answer because I'm not done talking, questioning.

"And honestly, what world _am_ I a part of? What other realm is there? One of faeries? That's what I always dream of—and it's what you said. And what's glamour? I mean, I get it, but yet I totally don't." I find my spot and sit back down, as deflated now as I was high seconds before. My emotions are overwhelming me, that's for sure...

"Well, yes, you are fae. And you were born in that realm." Bonnie says. "And I do believe you have an important job ahead of you. In fact, I know you do. But we will leave that until later. Until you understand some more. If you think you can handle it, I am going to tell you a few things about what has happened so far, and then I will teach you to scry on your own. That way, you can gather the rest of the information yourself. I will also give you a sensory-intensifying potion."

She continues and I drink it all in, my excitement increasing once more. Her features soften and she looks like an excited, loving grandmother. "It really should not be hard at all for you. Your mother made sure you would be one of the strongest of fae—what with her powers combined with your own, many of which have not even begun to surface. Once you get a handle on the basics, everything will come easily—easier than you could expect. This world, like you said, is not your world. You belong elsewhere, as do I.

"Now, as for Hollie, that is an entirely different story. As well as Blake and Andrew."

"My friends are a part of this?" I feel a lump in my stomach again, but my growing curiosity is pretty much canceling it out. I realize that all of this can help explain Andrew... That guy has something seriously wrong going on. But I'm not so sure about the others.

Still, I prompt Bonnie to go on, "Do tell. Please. Because I feel like a fish out of water—but I obviously don't need water to make it all better. I need answers, and knowledge. I can't imagine how Blake and Hollie have _anything_ to do with this... And can you explain what you're saying about my mother? 'Cause the mother _I_ know couldn't possibly be the one you spoke of. Unless she's just a really good—and mean—actress." I try to laugh but it comes out all wrong. I force myself to relax and concentrate on my breathing, and I hope that I can start speaking a little more coherently.

And so, Bonnie begins to detail my true heritage, starting with the tragedy of my real mother's death. Yes, my _real_ mother. Apparently I'm adopted, which affects me less than one would think. If I'm a faery—wow, that sounds so strange—then my parents would have to be, too. And my parents... they don't exactly fit the bill.

So I have new parents to learn about. I have a different mother; one who gave birth to me. That's more than a little insane. It has to be that I am learning so much, and I know I will learn more, so that I can't focus on one detail too deeply or too long. Even a huge 'detail' like this. Before Bonnie starts to explain more about my mystery mother, I take deep, controlled breaths and brace myself.

"Unfortunately, there is only one way to go about this, and we all have to experience it. No one knows the why, but it is necessary. I do know it is something we must all be aware of in preparation of something similar—or to be able to stop it from happening again, I believe. Or possibly to show us we can be hurt, so we must watch out and be careful.

"No matter the reason for it, you are going to have to tap into my mind. I will allow you to so you will not have difficulties. What you will experience is a movie of sorts. From it, you will learn what we all must, but it might be harder for you because it is your mother, and for that I sincerely apologize. I hate to be the one to show you this, but I have no choice."

I can feel the lack of expression on my face; I am looking at Bonnie blankly, not knowing what to expect. "So, I just try to read your mind and you'll show me something I'm supposed to know about my mother? Why do you make it sound so bad?" I don't want to know the answer... I can already sense the pain I am going to endure. For someone I have never met and whom, apparently, I never will meet since she is gone. I have a _real_ mother and I was robbed of the chance to know her. But I don't dwell on that. I put on my strong, brave face like I've practiced for so many years and I listen to what Bonnie has to say.

"Breathe and let it happen. You shall understand soon enough. And just so you know, once it does begin, you will not be able to pull away until the story is finished, no matter how hard it might be to watch."

Bonnie's eyes dart around, gauging my emotions and strength. I realize it's odd that I know what she is doing, yet somehow I do. What I _don_ ' _t_ know is what she is about to do. But enough craziness has already occurred, and my natural senses are more than honed—what else can faze me at this point? At least I'll get to see my mother, from the sound of it. That has to be a good thing. I hold on to this thought, ignoring the nagging from deep down that is telling how wrong I am to think it.

We stay sitting across from each other at the island, and Bonnie reaches her hands across for me to grab hold. Once our hands connect, I can feel her pulling my thoughts into her mind and I easily follow. I hadn't expected it to be so simple, but I credit Bonnie's power—definitely not my own.

At first, I simply see a park with some benches and a fountain and trees from an overhead view, but then I notice two people—or faeries, I assume—on the ground.

No, make that three. There is a baby there, as well.

Once the setting is in my head, the story starts playing out and I am more inside some creature's brain rather than in the gorgeous blonde's, whose beauty leaves me awestruck. The creature is hiding by the trees; I only know he is there because his ugly thoughts are mine for the moment.

I sense all of what is occurring, or make that occurred. Somehow I know the baby is me. And the story is definitely from the creature's point of view, with no chance of me escaping. Once everything starts playing out, I realize Bonnie is right – I want it to stop. But it won't. No matter how hard I try. All I can do is grip her hands as tightly as possible as I watch what happened to my mother when I was just an infant.

* * *

The creature gasped when he saw the faery step away from the fountain, leaving her babe vulnerable. The mother looked around as if sensing she wasn't alone. Quite impossible. She couldn't know he was there. Other fae weren't supposed to know he existed.

He did not understand her fear, but was also not about to take his chances that another being might be after her. While it was true nothing else could kill an immortal, their kind did attack each other—just look at what he was doing.

Deciding to make his move earlier than he desired, he would attempt to figure out if, and how, she knew about him after it was over. If he had the time...

Arriving beside the faery in a split second, the creature caught her green-eyed gaze with his. Along with the harsh glow of his own orange eyes reflected in hers, he saw knowledge and fear. Somehow she _had_ felt his presence.

Yes, she'd lain her baby down in the fountain for safekeeping. But not from the elements or humans or other fae, like he'd thought. The child was being protected from him.

Dread emanated like smoke from the faery, standing still and within arm's reach. He licked his lips and sucked the blackness in, slow and sweet. The surge of power it gave added to his hunger. He had waited all day for this moment.

His body trembled from the thrill of it as he pulled her near.

Snapping to, she hit and spat at him, yanking away—trying to escape his grip. Her gaze cut toward the bushes. He felt her try to throw herself into them, but he wouldn't allow her to move.

The faery looked back at him and froze in the depth of his eyes, obviously realizing the futility. He hurled her straight into the shrubs she'd seemed to hope would give her sanctuary.

He picked her back up as quickly as he'd flung her down. Thorns shredded her skin, and her violet blood illuminated the twilight flowers at the edge of the park. After he finished her, he would go back for the delicious carnage.

She closed her eyes, appearing to resign herself to him. As he drank in her dying emotions, he knew this loving mother had passed all of her strength to her daughter and kept none for herself.

It enraged him that she would not fight. He was furious he would not be getting all of her. But, her strange, mixed feelings only made him want to devour her sooner.

He held the faery. Limp in his arms, he could resist no longer. She let out one simple, lonely scream as he ripped off the first finger. She remained quiet when he went to her next one. Even in her new state of weakness, she could withhold his satisfaction by not releasing her pain.

No matter, he still savored the blood between each bite, and then moved to her limbs. He saved the heart and head for last—the true emotions being stored there.

All too quickly, he came to the end. Bits of her soul floated away, but he didn't chase them as they held bland, boring nourishment and would disappear without life to sustain them. The creature ate the remainders, making the faery's thoughts and feelings an eternal part of himself.

He walked over to the flowers for the remaining dessert of cold blood. He relished it, licking his fingers, yet hurrying to enjoy the brilliant taste.

Now, he needed to plan his next release—his chance to enjoy her daughter. Walking over to the fountain, he looked down at her with both awe and hatred. He knew she must live until the planets aligned again. Until the universe allowed him another reprieve—another feast. An even better one.

Gazing up at the moon, Ankou could see it was almost new again. He wanted to spend his last moments studying everything about the babe so he would recognize her when he returned. He scrutinized her features and visualized what she would look like fully grown.

As he felt himself become wrapped in chains and bonds he could not see, he seared her image in his mind. The burning of going back to a version of hell for the next twenty years helped the branding process.

He focused on her rather than the pain of capture and torture.

She was worth it. He could handle it. He could wait.

He would be back and the child would be his.

### SIX

I cry for the second time today. This time I am bawling, though. _Why would they make all of us go through seeing something that appalling? What are we supposed to learn from such a gruesome scene?_

It takes a few minutes for my sobs to let up enough for me to speak—probably due to a backup of tears needing to get out. "Wow—I can't believe how horrible that was... Why would anything want to kill her? I could kill _him_ for doing it." I look at Bonnie with pleading eyes. "You really don't know who it was?" She doesn't need to answer, though. I already know she has no more of an idea than I do.

My body shakes from both the anger and pain, and my stomach is even worse off than before. I feel as though emotions are going to explode out of me—through every pore. My insides contain so many mixed feelings and I don't know how to handle or contain them.

Bonnie hands me a tissue and shakes her head. Not at me but at the vision we both just saw. I'm reading so much pain in her eyes—I can only imagine what I look like. But like it matters... My poor mother went through that torture for me. It seems unreal. I'm a little, (OK, maybe a lot) detached from this conversation again – from this room, this life. I keep wishing this is only the worst and longest dream I have ever had.

"I am sorry, sweetheart, but all I know is the story, not the specifics. That is all any of us fae know—and unfortunately, it is something we are all _supposed_ to know.

"There is one other thing, though—when I was called upon to take care of you, I learned your mother named you Kellyn when you were born. It is the name you were meant to have. And you were meant to have this life—with the privileges you possess. At least until now, the point where you learned the truth. You were found in the fountain and taken to the hospital and it did not take long for your parents to choose you." They had help; they were guided to you.

I pause and take a deep breath. "Wow... New life, new name. This is a lot. A whole hell of a lot."

All I can do is play with the tissue while thinking of what to say next. My mind won't settle on one thing for me to voice. So with another breath, I pluck the foremost thought—the one I am seeing more than any others in the tornado they're all clustered in—and I ignore the rest. It takes all my focus, but I manage to ask Bonnie another question.

"OK, well I suppose I need this answered more than anything else right now. How in the world are my friends involved with any of this?"

"Well, that is difficult. There is a simple, yet complicated, reason you get along so well with dear Hollie—and why you can tap into her mind so easily."

"What? Wait a minute... you know about that, too?"

"Yes, darling. I told you I know everything, and I was not exaggerating. Being around you your entire life has given me great insight into who and what you are. I am well acquainted with your spirit."

It's as if a light is shining outward from Bonnie when she smiles, talking about me. I get the feeling she's rather proud. I have to admit the admiration feels damned good.

"Well, that's... interesting. Is it, like, a gift or something I have—reading minds? Well, at least one mind?" I arch an eyebrow at the thought, wondering what I can do with _that_ talent if I practice enough.

"Yes, in fact, it is. You have not come across many fae in your life, and the ones you have encountered were able to hide their thoughts from you. Once I explain, you will understand why that is."

I interrupt, still sniffling and wiping the random tears that keep falling. "Wait—I was actually kind of able to sense what Andrew was thinking last night and today a little. And you, even. I was starting to think I was honing my senses a bit because it wasn't just Hols, but I didn't _really_ believe it—well, I don't think I did. Maybe I just didn't want to..."

Bonnie nods, confirming my suspicions about my senses with just a look. She then proceeds to tell me about my friends.

"Hollie's father is a faery. But he left her mother when Hollie was born because he knew, just as your birth mother did, the child would be better off in the human world. There are many halflings who live here and succeed greatly."

"Wait, my mother wasn't going to keep me? Did she just put me in that fountain, planning on leaving me?"

It's getting really old feeling a dump truck pour a bed-full of rocks into my stomach. I don't know what else I can handle at this point. My view of all this has drastically changed after watching that scene.

"Oh no, honey. I mean, well..." Bonnie breathes as if to brace herself for what she's about to say. "No, your mother was not planning on keeping you for herself. But that is because she knew you were meant for better, and it is simply how things work based on families and generations.

"But the fountain—that was simply a temporary fix. She had no clue what was going to happen, sweetheart. You must know—and believe—that. You are a changeling. Your mother wanted you in the human world because she knew how special you were, and are. But if given the choice, she most certainly would have kept you as her own."

I take yet another deep breath and I blow this one out loudly. My head is spinning, orbiting, free-falling... I don't even know if I am understanding anymore. But I sit still and listen intently—unable to do anything else at this point.

Bonnie explains all about the magic of faeries and how they make the human world a better place. Fae bring enchantment to those who have lost their faith in wonder. The greatest artists, musicians, and authors are actually fae.

And, if not, they were, or are, inspired by someone or something of the fae realm but living in disguise with humans. Which is essentially what I gather I'm doing.

"Your mother placed a glamour—an illusion that makes people see what she wanted them to see—on you to hide any and all of your fae qualities. You are a beautiful human, that is for sure, but more brilliantly beautiful under your disguise."

Bonnie continues with the phenomena of changelings, and why the process still takes place.

"The child who was supposed to replace you, and be with your mother, would have helped to strengthen the slowly weakening fae race. As great as faeries are, without a real, physical world where people believe in us, all our magic can slowly begin to fade. We also physically need humans—their genetic material—to keep from losing our powers. Even something as basic as skin cells help boost us.

"Most changelings are sick their entire lives, mainly because their temperaments change when switched and they inadvertently receive less attention, and sometimes less love, from the parents. That takes a toll on the body in one way or another—most do not make it past childhood. You are quite the exception, my dear. But your mother knew you would be or else I am sure she would not have risked following through."

"Why am I any different than other changelings? Ultimately, I'm insecure and weak. I've spent seventeen years waiting for an answer to what's wrong with me rather than seek it out. I'm afraid – I always have been."

All right, that is the most honest I have been about anything in my entire life. I wonder what possessed me to say it...

"No, that is not true, no matter what you think. Your mother must have known your true nature, just as I do. She could not have missed your strength and tenacity. Those are just two of the many qualities you possess that helped you survive."

"I'm not trying to argue with you here, but I just don't see what you're saying. I can't see myself that way. Like, not at all."

"No matter, sweetheart. You will see you come out soon enough. The snarkiness and sarcasm that is both infuriating and endearing—it will be magnified. As will everything else, including emotions. Your desire to fight authority simply because you do not like being told what to do, now that might be a problem but it will also make you strong. I am sure you will stand up for yourself and your confidence will grow."

I know even before she's done speaking that she is right. I do have the desire to fight, to be able to do what I want and to do it how I want.

Again, Bonnie's pride shows for me—she looks after me like she I am her own child. She beams from ear to ear, while I sit knowing my own expression is _still_ unreadable. Not good, and not bad. I am just here. Absorbing. Even knowing the last things she said are true does not make any of the rest of this easier.

She breaks away from talking about me to tell me more about the fae world. "Not so long ago, humans and faeries worked together to keep both worlds running smoothly, and at their strongest. But no longer. People have become corrupted by so much technology and greed; their minds cannot fathom our kind any longer."

"So, is that why Hollie is such a great artist? And her mom is so boring?"

"Well, yes and no," Bonnie answers. "Not all humans are boring, my dear—not at all, in fact. But I believe Hollie most likely did get her skills from the fae side. I am sure her father is out there somewhere, maybe an artist himself. He loved her dearly, but felt it best he should leave. Let her mom raise her the 'human' way.

"Now," Bonnie stands at this point, clearly relieved to move, even if only to the refrigerator. "I do not know if you are going to share all of this with Hollie or not, but if you do, perhaps she would like to find him. That is, if she is not too mad at him for leaving her." Her head cocks to the side as she comes back in record time with two glasses.

"I can assure you he did it with the best of intentions. And if she does want to find him, now or anytime in the future, I would gladly help guide her."

"That's awesome, Bon. And I probably will tell her all this." I shake my head, making sure all is real. "She is my best friend, after all. But I've gotta know what the deal is with Blake and Andrew. 'Cause I feel like you probably already know this, even though I didn't say it, but Andrew was the one I saw at the end of my—what was it... scrying thingy last night. He was behind me when I was back by the pond afterward."

"I had assumed as much, based on what I know and what you said. And this is the part that is going to be hardest for me to tell you, well, aside from..." Bonnie trails off and I know she doesn't want to say anything more about my mother. And I don't want to hear it or think about it, so I let Bonnie continue on with my friends.

"Please bear with me. You have done so well thus far, and I do not want to overwhelm you. You can stop me if all of this is becoming too much."

Bonnie pauses, but I keep quiet. "Obviously, Andrew is not what, or who, he seems. He has another name—Donovan—and he is the leader of The Depraved. They are the unholy court of the faery realm. He came here to try to stop you from growing any stronger. And, the worst part of all, the part I have wanted to tell you for so long now, is... Blake is only Donovan's pawn, and not much more."

"Right..." I roll my eyes and even laugh a little. "What the heck are you talking about? Andrew—or Donovan, whatever—I get. Never could stand the guy. And it's definitely weird, but I've seen enough in my dreams and it makes sense that faeries—I mean, _we_ —would have certain sources of power just like humans. Courts sound a little odd, but there's government and all, so whatever. I don't even care about that right now because I'm a little confused here...

"What do you mean by saying I have a 'destiny?'" I use finger quotes and continue with my next concern. "And how is Blake his pawn? I've been with him for a really long time! No way he's a bad guy. Yeah, he _can_ be a jerk, but what guy can't?"

I extend my arms from the edge of the counter, bracing myself with my palms. Leaning back into my bar stool, I take some badly needed deep breaths. I try to ignore the conversations playing in my head—the ones Blake and I have had about Andrew almost seeming to control Blake lately.

"Sweetie, please do not take this the wrong way. I am not saying he is a bad guy—not at all. But he is not a good guy, either. He is whatever Donovan wants him to be. He is just a puppet. A Golem. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"He is a faery who appears to be human, but cannot think for himself. It is as if he is a zombie-like computer, and Donovan—I am sorry, Andrew—programmed him to do and say whatever he wanted."

I can sense that my reaction is not helping Bonnie tell me all this stuff, but I can't make myself look normal—whatever that means—no matter how I try. Even if all of this is true, Bonnie is being a bit harsh about it. I love Blake and she is passing him off as nothing. What is that about? Kind of pissed, I sit forward again and begin bombarding Bonnie with questions. The part about Blake just can't be true. I don't want it to be.

"But why would he do that? How could he really have that much against me? I just can't believe that part. I know it may seem weird I believe everything else, but not Blake. No. Just no."

I close my eyes and rest my head on my hands. Tears want to come, but apparently I am back to how I have always been. Holding things in; ignoring my emotions. Crying doesn't ever help me deal, anyway. Finding Blake and proving Bonnie wrong will, though. I blow out a long breath, run my hands down my face, and look up at Bonnie again, desperately searching for her to tell me something different.

Bonnie shakes her head slightly. "I am truly sorry, darling. Maybe the legends about Golems are wrong. Maybe after all this time he _did_ become Blake. He could very well be the guy you fell in love with. It has been a long time—maybe he gained his own sense of self. He does seem to truly care for you and not simply act like it."

"Yeah, that's gotta be possible, right? He can't, I mean, seriously—he can't have just been some _robot_ acting like Donovan wanted him to." I feel that Donovan is a better name for Andrew; it suits him. So I decide to start calling him that. Separate him from humanity. Maybe it will help me forget all of this and move on to whatever is coming that much quicker—and easier.

Hey, a girl can hope.

I am about to say more about Blake when I hear my parents came downstairs. I turn to them and when I look back, I find an empty seat across from me. No Bonnie.

Where could she have gone? This is just perfect. When I absolutely need her the most...

"Hi sweetie," my mom says purely out of habit as she walks over to the coffee pot.

"Good morning, Mom, Dad," I reply coldly. Even I'm shocked by how mean I sound. It's not exactly fair since they don't know what's coming. But they should know. They can't have thought they would get away with _never_ telling me.

I am so overwhelmed and Bonnie is gone and I have nowhere else to vent. I don't know how to handle this situation but I do know my parents are definitely going to hear an earful about their little secret. They are the ones who created this situation, after all.

"Hey kiddo," my dad says with a sweet smile that practically breaks my heart. I notice the grey in his hair that wasn't there the last time I really looked. I've missed out on so much with him and I hate that. It makes me despise this moment even more.

He stops at the island, seemingly to chat. Odd.

"Is Hollie here? I see you have an extra plate and a few glasses out."

"Um, no." I crease my brow, confused about the question.

"Blake better not be hiding around here, Alexis. You aren't eighteen yet and you still live—"

I get up and start to walk out of the room; my movement cutting my dad off mid-sentence. I don't think I can have this conversation right now. I know this is a shitty move but it has to be better than a confrontation.

"Excuse me, miss. You do _not_ get to walk away when I'm speaking to you!"

My dad seems to think otherwise. He knows just what buttons to push with me. I'm not one to back down from anyone talking to me that way. And he, especially, doesn't normally talk to me like that. Which makes me think of how little he talks to me at all...

My emotions are pulling a one-eighty. Whichever way they decide to go at any given time today, they are strong. Yet I feel detached and unfeeling at the same time... as if all of this is happening to someone else and I'm just an actress chosen to play out the role.

I turn around, surprised to see his coffee mug is still intact after the slam that echoed in the sparse, contemporary kitchen when he yelled. The kitchen is a perfect metaphor for this family's relationship—it looks perfect from the outside but is cold and unfeeling. There is no warmth here. At least not with Bonnie gone.

I take yet another deep breath—I feel it's the only way I am able to get oxygen today. Like I'm trying my ass off just to survive on an intrinsic level, and then there's all this _other_ shit on top of it.

So, my father thinks I can't walk away from him. He's about to see that he should have let me do exactly that.

"Actually Dad, I do get to walk away from you. I _should_ walk away. Today, of all days... just the once. For one, I may still be in high school but I am old enough to make my own decisions and, two..." I pause, not wanting to continue but knowing I have to since I started it.

The tears that wanted to come a few minutes ago are about to burst forth.

My dad is staring with an odd expression. I know he isn't used to seeing me this way and I'm probably confusing the heck out of him. My chest aches seeing him in pain but my anger overrides it.

My mom, on the other hand, is standing there blankly, either not knowing what to expect or not caring. I can pretty much assume it's the latter.

"I don't even want to talk about this, but since you insist... I just found out I'm adopted," I force the words out in a tone I have never heard before and couldn't describe if asked. I do know my voice is a mix of every emotion possible and I just want this moment to be over. But I know it's only beginning.

"So, how's that for a morning for ya? Were you _ever_ planning on telling me, or were you just going to pretend my whole life?" The tears come, flooding my eyes.

"Alexis, it's complicated," my dad starts. "We didn't tell you when you were younger—we wanted to wait until you could understand better, among other reasons. And we kept putting it off and then, it became ... too late." His voice cracks on the last words and his face shows so many real emotions, unlike my mother's face. She looks stunned—like she never thought this day would come and has absolutely no clue how to react.

I blatantly ignore her and continue to speak only to my dad. "Well, I kinda agree with you that it's too late. Your reasons, whatever they may have been, aren't good enough. I don't even care what they are. This is huge and you two know it. This is my life."

I'm practically screaming as I poke at my chest, realizing the pain from my finger is a welcome relief from the pain inside. "I'm almost done with high school and I have this to deal with now on top of everything else. Thanks a hell of a lot."

I spare a glance at my mom and she actually speaks.

"How? How did you find this out?"

"Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me you're kidding." I shake my head in disbelief and she looks at the floor. At least she's smart enough to be embarrassed. "If that's what you're concerned about, then I have no problem leaving. You only care about yourself, Mom. You never used to and I don't know what changed or even when, but right now this is about _me_.

"I have tons to figure out so I'm gonna stay with Hols for a while. It's not like you'll miss me anyway since you're never around."

Looking back to my dad, who appears defeated sitting on a bar stool, my heart leaps toward him. I'm beyond pissed but feel the need to reassure him. These people did raise me, after all, but that doesn't excuse this enormous lie.

"I _will_ be back to talk about it when I can deal a little better. But, just a random bit of information—you're wrong about something. My given name is _not_ Alexis. I think I would like to go by Kellyn from now on. It's the name my mother wanted me to have—a mother who saved my life by giving up her own... And here you are, Mom, not even questioning how this is affecting me. And neither are you, Dad, for that matter. I do love you guys, I really do. And that's why this hurts so much." I swallow, ignoring the painful lump in my throat. "You screwed up. Big time."

My dad stands up as if to come to me but I turn around before I can know for sure. The pain of rejection shoots across the room like a bullet and causes a giant sob to release itself. I turn around the corner and dart upstairs to pack a bag.

It definitely isn't like me to speak to my parents the way I just did, but I know it was the right thing to do. Cut the ties. At least for now. Once I figure myself out, I can come back and deal with them. They're plenty busy enough themselves so I'm sure they will be fine.

My brain automatically chastises me with the start of a headache because I know that's not true. They won't be fine. At least my dad won't. But I have too much to deal with. I simply can't worry about him right now.

Besides, I am from another place and I belong there. There's no sense in dragging out the inevitable. Plus, it's not like I'm never coming back. I promised them I would and I hold myself to my promises. I would love to come back and talk to them and have my dad's arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe like he did when I was little.

My heart hurts from having seen his face, but the lack of emotion on my mom's pains me even more. I allow the tears to tumble freely once I am safely in my room with the door shut. Falling onto my bed, I wallow in self-pity for a few minutes, but then decide I need to leave and figure things out. And I need to find Bonnie... I still can't figure out why she disappeared.

If there was one thing I hate, it's not knowing things. The first task on my mind is finding Blake and discovering the truth for myself. I love that guy and I'm not sure what I will do if he isn't real. I've already lost my parents in a way. Hell, I also gained a mother and lost her at the same time...

I can't keep losing people. I just can't.

And then there's Hols to talk to; that's a whole other deal.

I throw on a blue, zip-up hoodie and, using my sleeve, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and the mascara from under my eyes. I no longer care what I look like. Not that I even know—if I really do have on the 'glamour' Bonnie talked about.

My bag practically packs itself since the things I use most often are laying all about the room, just waiting for me to pick them up. Things seem to accumulate in piles around my room. And why not? The floor is just as great for storage as my chair is. Poor Bonnie, having to take care of me...

Every time I grab something new, I look into the bag and can't seem to remember how the last shirt, or necklace, or whatever, had gotten in there. I laugh out loud like a crazy person, thinking that I'm walking around like a zombie, and so maybe Blake and I can be together after all.

The realization of this thought hits me. Hard.

I stop mid-action, holding a shirt, and make myself breathe normally. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I'll be fine. I can handle this. I _have_ to handle this.

I begin folding the shirt, now wrinkled and creased due to me unknowingly wringing it during my relaxation attempt, when another thought enters my mind. A thought that should have gone along with the last one I had. I suppose I am trying to avoid the reality at all costs. But I can't anymore.

If Blake _is_ what Bonnie says, then I can't be with him at all. And what if Donovan makes Blake not even exist anymore... since I know the reality now, Donovan can't use Blake to trick me for whatever fucked up reason he was doing so in the first place.

This simple, and horrible, fact makes me more determined than ever to get away from here and forget this place—this world—ever existed. I'm not even sure I can deal with Blake at this point. All I know is I have to find Bonnie and Hollie and get the hell out.

### SEVEN

I slam the back door of my so-called parents' house and make a beeline for my car. Maybe Roxie will help make me feel somewhat normal. My '67 VW Beetle is in pristine condition—nothing gets thrown down on her floor, that's for sure. I can't imagine any other car suiting me so well.

I grab the door handle but draw my hand right back to myself, holding it gently with my other hand.

"Damn it!" _That freaking hurt! What the heck?_

Once again, since I have no choice _but_ to leave, I attempt to open the car door. My hand is met with the same response—searing pain.

Can something please be normal in my life for one single second today? I'm only asking for one simple thing...

Dropping down to my knees and holding my useless right hand at my waist, I shuffle around in my purse for my phone. My left hand is fairly incapable of doing anything helpful, being a true righty, but I am able to scroll to Hollie's number and hit send.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hols. Can you come help me?" I start to sniffle— _crap!_ —and tears once again well up. I don't have the strength to fight anymore so I let them fall. And fall.

"What's going on, sweets? Why are you crying? Where are you?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I just need to leave and I can't. My parents aren't my parents and my car just burned me..." I'm sobbing so hard at this point that my words are all jumbled and make no sense, not even to me.

"Alexis—calm down. I don't know what's going on, but I'll get over to you. You at home?"

"Yeah," I manage to blubber out.

Hollie reassures me she'll be right over and I just let the phone drop back into my purse. I curl up into a ball, forehead on my knees, tears spilling freely.

When it seems I no longer have anything left to cry, I feel a reassuring hand on my back. I sit up, wiping my nose with my palm like a little kid, and look to see who is there.

Bonnie is back, attempting to calm me.

"What the heck! Where did you disappear to? I just had to deal with my parents and I was so mean to them. And now I can't even leave! What is happening to me?"

"Honey, I cannot be around when your parents are there. They do not know about me."

"What? How is that possible? You've been around my whole stinking life! What do you mean they don't know about you?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember my dad's question. He asked if someone was over. My parents really _don't_ know that Bonnie has lived with us all this time. It's not like we ever talk long enough or often enough for me to bring Bonnie up in conversation, and she was only one of many babysitters from when I was little. Like they really would have noticed if Bonnie had left or not.

"I am a faery, darling. I am here to protect you, but I choose not to make myself known to many humans. It would be too dangerous."

"But Hollie's been around you tons. And Blake, too. I don't get it. And like I've really never slipped up and mentioned you to Mom and Dad?"

"Hollie and Blake have fae blood, remember? And, sadly, we both know the answer to the second question." The pain shows in Bonnie's eyes—the pain a mother would feel for a child. "Oh, I think this might have been too much for you to handle all at once. I wish you could have started learning piece by piece years ago. But I guess it was not meant to be that way..."

I attempt to stand up, but have to hold on to Bonnie's arm for stability. Once I am on my own two feet again, I start to pull myself together. Digging around in my purse, I find a tissue to clean up my nose and makeup a little better than I did inside.

Hanging my purse and bag on my shoulder, I turn to look at Bonnie. Nothing further can be done without answers, and this woman is the only one I know who can give them to me, or get them for me. I felt it earlier when I first got home and now I _know_ it.

I whip my gaze from Bonnie to Hollie as my friend pulls into the driveway at a crazy speed, looking like she is going to crash into Roxie.

"No! Hols, slow down—Roxie's all I have left!"

What the— Why am I saying such stupid stuff? I'm seriously being a complete idiot today. It's enough to make me laugh, and most likely appear certifiable... but whatever. I no longer care in the least.

As I am thinking this, I realize I'm running out in front of my precious car. Another genius move of the day. Thankfully Hollie slams on the brakes in time. I watch her pop open her mom's car door and jump out, not even bothering to shut the door, and race toward me.

Everything feels like a movie—I am still the actress I was in the kitchen. This can't be reality. Can it? My mind churns at the events occurring around me.

As Hollie approaches, I look down at my hand, shocked to see the red is fading away already. Much faster than it should be. It doesn't even really hurt anymore.

"Wow! What the hell is going on? You look horrible. I mean, not to sound mean, but—well, you do. What happened?"

"She has had a rough day, my dear. Perhaps we should take her somewhere to calm her down, and maybe get a warm drink," Bonnie tells Hollie, as if I am not here.

"All right, well I can take her wherever. We can go grab a Starbucks and relax at the park, if that'll help."

"Well, I was thinking of a more specific type of drink. Is your mother home, Hollie?"

"No. She always goes to Rasta's for drinks on Fridays after work. And then I think she has a date with yet another random loser later, so she should be gone all night."

"Is it rude of me to ask this of you? Could we take Alexis there and get her cleaned up?"

"No, of course we can. Not a problem. Let's get her in the car. She looks like crap."

I scowl at Hollie, yet manage to stick out my tongue just from the sight of her.

"Seriously, Hols? You don't have to keep talking about how shitty I look." I feel exactly as she said I look—like crap, but I smile as I am saying this. "Just take me to your house. Please."

When I think about it, it is probably best if I leave my car here, seeing as I didn't pay for it.

Yet another thing to make me feel better about being me.

I shove past Hollie and Bonnie and go to the passenger side of Hollie's car. My luck isn't any better with this door handle.

"Shit! Bonnie, you've gotta tell me what this is all about. It's insane!"

"Here, honey." Bonnie produces a towel from her apron and comes over to me and wraps it around her hand. "Now try it."

_Duh—why didn't I think of this solution?_ Not that I know why it's happening, but come on. It's fairly basic.

The door opens easily, with no pain. Relieved, I climb into the back seat, toss my bags down, and plop my butt next to them. I lean my head back and wait to be taken away from all of the strangeness.

I close my eyes while Hollie drives. The car stops twice and someone gets out each time, but I don't pay much attention to where we are—I simply want to get to Hollie's. I feel we have to be close by now when the car makes yet another stop. I open my eyes and sit up only to find we are at a gas station. _Seriously? What could we need here when I'm so obviously in the middle of a breakdown?_

I hear the gas door on the other side of the car and lean my head back again. I guess I have my answer. Someone walking out of the store in the middle of the station catches my eye. Squinting, I try to see him more clearly, but there is a haze around his entire body. Like he's not all the way here or something. He is walking toward Hollie's car and I recognize who he is. I sit up quickly, causing a horrible head rush.

With my hand on my forehead, I follow Sloane's figure as it walks up to, and then around, the back of the car. By the time he passes by the back window, the hazy fog is gone and I see him clearly. In all of his gorgeousness. The guy was hot as hell earlier when Andrew—I mean Donovan—introduced us, but now he looks like a god carved out of marble.

I glance over at Hols to see if she's looking at him, too, but she is busy with the gas. When I glance back to where he was, he's already gone. Of course he is... like he would stop and wait to walk off just so I can watch him. Realizing I look like a puppy panting for its owner who's outside of the car, I turn around and sit back down. Hand still on my forehead, I relax and close my eyes, picturing him as best I can.

The thought that I should get out and talk to him crosses my mind, but I don't want to chance the door handle attacking me again. And besides, do I _really_ want him to see me looking like this? I know I have bigger things to worry about but after seeing him twice today, he is most definitely in my head. I can only hope I run into him again. Except for... I wonder what his deal is. If he's friends with Donovan, that can't be a good sign.

Even knowing it's probably best to stay away from Sloane, my thoughts are stuck on him as Hollie gets back in the car and we drive off. I can only hope this is our last stop and that we are now going to her house.

I'm not sure what gas station we could have possibly been at because it takes so long to get to Hollie's, but at least we arrive while the sun is still out. It feels like midnight by now, but it must have been less time than I thought. Still not wanting to believe my day has been real, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and rub furiously at them—as if to make it all go away. Cautiously, I let one eye slit open. Nope. Nothing has changed. Sighing, I clutch my bags and crawl out of the car.

Bonnie and Hollie keep walking straight, toward the kitchen, I'm assuming. But there is only one place I want to go, so I head straight there instead.

Hollie's room is my sanctuary. It's the perfect place to relax. Taking off my hoodie, I let it fall to the floor along with my bags, per usual. I take a few steps and collapse on the bed full of soft, fluffy pillows. Burying my face in one, I pile a few others over my head. Maybe I can hide here forever.

No such luck. Bonnie gently shakes me, trying to get me to drink something.

Reluctantly, I flip onto my back and slowly sit up.

"You sure this stuff is good for me? It smells like ass."

"Yes dear." Bonnie smiles, shaking her head at my language. "It is an old remedy. The drink will help to calm you, and it also works on your senses of reasoning. You should be able to cope and digest new information easier with this in your system. Now drink up, darling."

"All right, but if I turn green or break out in a crazy rash, I'm blaming you."

I hesitantly take a sip and find it isn't half bad. Rather sweet, in fact. I figure I can drink it... it's better than water and, hell, at this point, what do I have to lose?

Bonnie sits on the bed and speaks in a hushed tone. "I was wondering if you wanted to tell Hollie everything that we spoke about this morning."

I shrug and whisper back. "I guess so. I mean, she's here—well, we're at her house. It'd be kinda rude to talk without her. Plus, she's sorta involved, seeing as she's half-fae."

Just the few small sips I've taken of the mysterious drink have relaxed me. I'm still a mess, but my emotions aren't completely all over the place, unable to be reined in. My insides are almost serene. The way this stuff is helping me, I can more or less see why so many people are on drugs.

I am a complete wuss and I know it. "Can _you_ tell her?" I ask Bonnie. "I don't know if I can handle it. Besides, how am I supposed to explain what's going on when I don't exactly understand myself? I mean, I know what you told me and that it's all true—I can feel it big time, but... Well, I'm just not ready, I guess is what I'm saying."

"Quite fine, sweetheart. I can tell her the basics of her family and yours. But then you two are going to learn more on your own through scrying, with the help of another drink that will speed the process."

"Sure, fine, whatever. I'll do that if I have to, but right now I'm gonna finish this and just lie here for a minute. Let me know when you're done." I have decided I like this drink now, how it's making me feel. I wonder if Bonnie will give me the recipe. Gulping the last of it down, I put the empty mug on the floor and hide under my pillow fortress again.

The next thing I see is not what I expect. I am standing in a meadow and all of nature's colors are more vivid than they ever have been before. Sunlight is shining down through the trees just like it does in my dreams and the air is tranquil. I spin in a circle, taking gradual steps, absorbing my surroundings. Nothing seems familiar, yet I have the same comforting sensation I do when I enter Hollie's room, or when I used to sit on my dad's lap in his truck and he would let me steer. Love and safety are nearby.

There is no one else in sight, save a few butterflies flitting around the flowers. The only way to find out where I am is to explore—see if I come across anyone. I head toward one of the three paths that leads out of the circular field I am in and, as I walk, my footsteps fall silently. It's a creepy kind of calm. I can't even hear myself breathing. I put my hand on my chest and realize I'm not breathing.

_All right, now. This is getting beyond ridiculous... what exactly is going on?_ I wish someone would appear and just tell me all I need to know. But I'm thinking I might be on my own with most of this.

I stop by a spot where neighboring stone walls meet. Just like something out of _The Secret Garden_ , one of my favorite movies _._ The same lights I saw in Preston's yard are flashing here. Faint sounds whisper on the gentle breeze that is starting up. But how can there be any wind if there is no air? I thought I asked for answers, not more confusion. I laugh at myself and the ridiculousness of all I have experienced in the past two days. At least I'm not crying.

Someone has to be making the noise I am hearing. And a someone, any someone, is who I need. So I pause and cock my head in order to hear better.

The sounds are definitely music, just a different kind than I usually hear. There are both unfamiliar instruments and soft, yet strong, voices. They are singing in perfect harmony. Intrigued, I kneel down hoping I can see what it is I'm hearing, and I trip over something I don't, or can't, see.

Tiny voices scream and I scurry back up from the bush I landed in. The wee creatures that were putting on the music and light show are now visible to me. Miniatures of the gorgeous things I see in my dreams.

"Who are you?" a small voice calls out. I turn to look behind me, even though I think it's only me and them. Yet I still glance to my sides to make sure I am the only one around.

"Me?" I ask. "I'm Alexis—I mean, Kellyn—and, um, well, I'm not quite sure why I'm even here. Wherever here is... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. Is anyone hurt?"

"No, no. We're all fine. We're fairly quick and managed to move out of the way in time. No worries." This reply comes to me from a teeny creature with iridescent wings and the face of an angel.

_Hmmm. So maybe those_ weren't _butterflies I just saw._

"Well, I'll leave you guys alone. I'm sorry for bothering you. I think your music's really pretty, though. It sounds sort of familiar to me."

This is normal conversation for me, at least in the beginning of my beautiful dreams. Although I'm almost positive this isn't a dream. Except I do remember laying down... Heck, at this point, it will probably be best just to go with whatever happens.

These creatures, no bigger than my hand, could pass for Tinkerbell and her friends. All gorgeous, and all precious. The little butterfly being smiles, but the sweet expression turns to rapt awe as its gaze moves slightly to my left.

I turn to catch the appearance of a shimmering, elongated orb. It gradually comes into focus and a woman is visible. A woman with long, blonde hair, and a stunning face. I instantly know who she is. There is no doubt. I would know even if I hadn't seen her just a while ago with Bonnie.

"Mother?" I call out cautiously, quietly.

"Yes, my dear. I am here. But I cannot stay for long." With each word she speaks, her image fades in and out of being. Her voice echoes loudly and envelops my thoughts.

I feel I can't speak and all I can hear is what is in my mother's head. My amazing mother who gave up her own life for me. In my mind, I hear nothing but love, caring, hope, strength, and purpose. No remorse or pain.

I do feel a brief emotion of my own. Happiness. She doesn't blame me for what happened. If I could breathe, a huge sigh of relief would make its way out.

Before my mother begins thinking too intently again, I have one more snapshot into my own head. I realize how odd it is that I'm hearing emotions, rather than feeling them. In fact, my body feels numb. My heart is empty.

Then I can think no longer. My mother's thoughts are all encompassing. It is as if I am becoming her. It's beautiful. For once today, I am complete. So what if the completeness isn't really mine—it is wonderful nonetheless.

Emotions as thoughts rush into my brain at unimaginable speeds. I don't think I can keep up, but somehow I manage. My mother is telling me everything I need to know. How I came into existence and how I was found in the fountain by a sweet couple, late at night, and taken to the hospital.

Everything I didn't know about my life two minutes prior, I know now. I have been filled in on what Bonnie has not yet been able to tell me.

When it seems as though no more can fit in my head without it exploding, my mother detaches from my mind and I am able to think on my again. Her memories remain in me, which I find to be beyond awesome.

"I know you are having a difficult time trying to speak. Please do not worry about it. No thanks are necessary, as you well know. You are my daughter and I will do anything I can to help you fulfill your destiny."

At that word—destiny—I find my voice.

"What do you mean, Mother? Someone else told me the same thing earlier, and I don't have a clue what it means—well, at least as far as I'm concerned." Of course I know the meaning of the word. Duh... "Is there _really_ something I'm supposed to do that will make any sort of difference? And what could I possibly need to change?"

"Of course, my dear Kellyn. Oh, I am sorry—you probably prefer Alexis. Kellyn is the name I gave you, but Alexis is the name you are used to, so I can understand. And it is a great name. Your human parents chose wisely. It means 'defender of men,' and that is what you are. Defender of both fae and humans alike.

"I do not mind you calling yourself Alexis still. After all, your human parents did raise you and shaped you into the beautiful faery who stands before me now."

I am floored that, on top of being aesthetically gorgeous, my mother's heart, her words, and her voice are just as much so, if not more.

"Kellyn has many meanings, but one extremely special one," she continues. "And even if you choose not to use it, please keep it in your heart as your given name. That is all I ask."

I reply with a question. "Would you mind telling me the meaning? I would love to know. And I honestly would like to begin using it as my name." Being in the presence of my true mother makes me feel more mature, for some reason. More myself. More eloquent. More alive. I know using the name she gave me will help keep these feelings intact.

"Of course, my dear. Kellyn simply means 'descendant of The Brightheaded One.' My descendent. But for more than just the simple reason that I have light hair. In my life, I was a rather strong faery and was the one in our village who was able to help—in any situation. Well, except my own, of course. That was left to fate.

"'Brightheaded' is more about my spirit, or aura, than anything else. I want you always to remember where you first came from, and the fact that all the qualities I once possessed are now at work in you."

Two days ago, I would never have believed any of this. But today is a different story. I accept everything I am being told as if it is gospel. And from the look of the woman who stands before me, she may as well be God, or at least a goddess of some sort.

The most wonderful part of this experience is that I know now this strength and beauty really is inside me. My mother was able to put all emotions into my head so they became fact, instead of fleeting feelings.

_These_ feelings can never leave me. I know they won't; it's as if they told me this fact. When they do escape my mind, they will simply flow through the rest of my body, becoming stronger and embracing me completely.

I freeze in awe as this amazing faery walks over to me—her daughter—and softly touches my left arm. Gently lifting it up, she leans down and kisses the inside of my wrist. She then lets go and takes a step back. I watch, wide-eyed, as an intricate, circular pattern appears in place of the warm, tender mark of her kiss.

She lifts her own left arm and, when her flimsy, sheer sleeve falls away, I see a matching mark.

"Oh wow! I can feel the warmth of it all the way to my heart. It's incredible."

"It is our mark—yours and mine. Like a snowflake, it cannot be duplicated. I am sorry to say that it will not stay permanently, though. I am only a spirit and I gave my powers to you long ago. It will fade by sunset. You must find a way to make it stay so you may always call on me if you are in need."

"Well how—how do I do that?" I don't want anything of my mother's to fade from me. It is all too wonderful to let disappear. I want it all—and more.

"You will find a way, my dear. I have faith, and you have the strength. And I will see you soon." With this last statement, she blows me a kiss, and then gives in to the power she has been fighting. She begins to fade as a gust of wind in the otherwise still air sweeps her away gracefully, her physicality turning into spirit on the breeze.

Now I feel the need to breathe. I close my eyes and suck in the sweet, flower-scented air that was nonexistent seconds before. When I open my eyes and look around again, I see only blackness.

### EIGHT

I hear soft voices speaking close by. I blink a couple of times in the dark, trying to gather my bearings, and realize I am back in Hollie's bed, buried underneath the mound of pillows.

Turning on my side, I push the fluffy barrier out of the way and squeeze my eyes shut again.

"Hey guys. Would you mind turning the lights down a bit? I can't see a dang thing in here."

"Yes, of course, sweetie," Bonnie replies.

"Good," I grumble, wondering why I'm acting grumpy when I don't feel that way. I wait for the redness that I see through my eyelids to become darker. I open my eyes to the sight of Bonnie and Hollie sitting on the floor. They are facing each other, both looking comfy on their own cushions.

"So, what's going on? How long have I been asleep?"

"You were out for about thirty to forty minutes, I would say," Bonnie replies quietly.

I follow suit with my own voice. "Huh. Well, I think I just met my mother. No, I _did_ meet my mother. No way that was only a dream."

For good measure, I lift up my left arm and look at my wrist. Yep. The tattoo is still there. I run my finger over it and trace the pattern, which I now recognize as a Celtic cross, with great admiration.

"So, you said you met your mother... It must have been a nice visit, as I can see you are not upset."

"Oh, it was indescribable. I can't believe how wonderful she is. She gave me this tattoo thingy that'll disappear by sundown if I don't find a way to make it permanent. How the hell am I supposed to do that? Do you know anything about this?"

I break my deep gaze at my wrist to look up at Bonnie for her response, but instead the expression on my best friend's face catches my attention. She looks dazed, yet blissful.

I am _positive_ I didn't look that way earlier when I first learned of my past—and my upcoming future. Which, come to think of it, I still don't know what that holds.

"Hols, sweetie—you OK? Where's your head, girlie?"

Hollie turns her head slightly and smiles in my general direction. She seems to be stuck inside her mind for the moment and just going through motions as if on autopilot. I mention this to Bonnie and am told my assumption is correct.

Hollie is meditating and isn't really in the room right now.

"She drank both the drink you had, and the next one I have prepared for you. She was certainly eager to find out the truth to all of this."

"Good. I'm glad she's dealing better than I did. It all ended up getting to me. I kinda freaked out for a bit there, huh?"

Bonnie doesn't respond. She just stands up and walks out of the room. I take this as a 'yes.'

I sit and watch Hollie with fascination. I have never seen her look so pure and peaceful. It's almost as if I am seeing Hollie as a child again, but from an older perspective. It's a phenomenal sight.

I attempt to memorize Hollie's face this way so I can pull it up later if I need a smile.

Remembering things is something I am pretty darn good at. I have never had to study for school, as I have a photographic memory. It works mostly for the printed word, but sometimes images are able to stay in my head for a long time, as well.

If I concentrate on Hollie's every feature, I know I will remember this moment—and how Hollie looks—forever.

Bonnie walks back into the room, carrying a cup of something I assume is meant for me since Hols is pretty much out of it. Bonnie hands me the cup and I eagerly take it, hoping I might experience whatever Hols is right now. I know that in this case, it's pretty obvious the drink was intended for me, but my knowing that is still a sign that things are different.

Normally, I only know stuff about Hollie, but today I am picking up on a lot of other things I tend to miss. I find it interesting, to say the least, realizing what I am becoming capable of. I look forward to finding out more.

"So what's this drink for?"

"The drink you are holding now will put you in a bit of a trance, much like Hollie is in, and it will help you meditate. It is meant to help you find your way to the faery realm. We already know you have been there many times, but it is important for you to have control over it. Traveling there in your dreams is no longer good enough, I am afraid."

Continuing, Bonnie says, "I have placed a bowl down on the floor. It is rain water I purchased at a shop on the way here. It will put you closer to the border of the etheric world and the human one. If you would like to grab another cushion, you may come join us. Drinking the tea will help speed along the process."

I set my drink down so I won't spill it, and grab a cushion I find propped against the bed. Visiting my mother must have made me weak—my move to the floor isn't exactly graceful. I am clumsier than usual. My strength needs to be built up if I am going to be doing this all the time.

I get comfortable and grab my mug, wrapping my hands around it. The warmth feels good, as does the soft cushion. I look over at Hollie again, a smile spreading across my face, and then I pry my eyes away to talk with Bonnie.

"So, I just drink this and what—stare into the bowl?"

"Yes. That is basically how it works. But rather than staring, try to look without focusing on anything. Let your mind open up completely and see where it takes you. Gaze into the water like you did last night at Preston's."

"K. Here goes nothing."

I sip my drink and think of my mother as I look into the blue glass bowl full of water. It doesn't take me long to finish the drink and not long after I put it down I find myself rubbing my thumb over the mark my mother left on me.

My left hand starts to tingle, so I shake it out. Instead of bringing it back toward myself, I feel the urge to reach for the water. I place my hand above the bowl and make a few slow passes over it. Doing so gives me a sensation of power from deep within—I am now prepared to delve into whatever lies ahead of me.

Starting to feel drowsy, I notice the room going in and out of focus in my periphery. It only takes a second to realize my attempt to scry is working. The room grows smaller, then larger, and then smaller again. Over and over, until I can no longer see the room. My only view is a wall of clouds which sleepily dissipates, bringing vibrant colors and brilliant—almost psychedelic—patterns into focus. I am somewhere else, and this new place is definitely not human.

When the fogginess clears completely, I look around and notice there is life in everything—even the air. The grass is an electric green and is glowing brightly. It, like the air, seems to move—no, breathe—on its own. Tree branches sway as if waving a hello to me. Every flower, a different color. Their mix of fragrance, intoxicating. The sun radiates on my face with a warmth I have never experienced.

Looking down, I jump back in surprise. My clothes glisten with miniscule dew drops. Upon closer contemplation, I realize the drops are not wet. _Curious_. I felt a cool sort of glow coming from my face and, as I reach to touch it, I notice my hands are covered with the same kind of sparkling shimmer. _My clothes_ and _my skin? Amazing._

I hold my arm out and turn my wrist back and forth to watch the sunlight replicate, strangely enough, the twinkling of stars. It is fascinating, and quite lovely. Nothing like this has ever happened in any of my dreams. I suppose that's because they were only dreams. And when I visited the faery realm yesterday, it had been an almost moonless night that didn't allow me to see much detail. Not that I was really paying attention, given the circumstances.

I feel alone, and so decide to wander. When I move my right leg, I gasp. The softness of the grass tickles my sole. I place my foot down and feel the pleasantness of the thatch.

My senses begin to overwhelm me, but in a wonderful way. Walking along, I brush the tips of my fingers along the wildflowers, feeling their emotions with each touch. They are truly alive. It is splendid and calming here and it is also... home. Nothing has ever felt so right before.

Ahead in the distance, I see someone, or something, approaching. It appears to be in a hurry and I am craving interaction with this new world, so I pick up my pace. A sparkling light, not unlike the first sight of my mother, meets me.

This orb also becomes a person. Another gorgeous woman, with skin similar to my own. The dress she is wearing is even more scintillating, if that is possible...

The beauty speaks. "Hello, Kellyn. We have been waiting for you here."

"Hi," I reply, my cheeks growing hot. "You know who I am?"

"Of course, my dear. Most of us know all the others here. I have been eager for you to realize your place. We have wanted to meet you for a while now. _Cead mile failte_."

"Wow. Um, I _really_ don't want to sound dumb here but, what does that mean?"

"'A hundred thousand welcomes.' It is a traditional Celtic greeting, but in your case, we truly mean it—it is not simply something to say. Your presence here is one that has been foretold, and greatly anticipated."

"Foretold? You mean, like a prophecy?" I feel my features scrunch up unattractively, but I can't help it. This whole 'destiny' thing feels like too much. It is all believable up until a point... I suppose this discussion is that point. Or maybe it's that deep down I know it is true and I simply don't believe I am capable of saving anyone or anything.

"Exactly like a prophecy. It is hidden in the tale passed down that you will be the one to stop the evil which is occurring."

"Oh. Yeah, well Bonnie did _not_ tell me any of this, and that potion I drank hasn't seemed to help me understand anything any better..."

New facts and ideas are being thrown at me every few minutes it seems, and I don't quite know what to make of it all. This leaves butterflies in my stomach that won't settle down, intent on flying all around.

"I know of the drink you are speaking, and it will take some time to become truly effective. Your time spent here will help speed it along. It will all make sense soon enough. There is no rush, sweet Kellyn."

The woman continues, "Which reminds me—I know your name, but my manners are horrible. I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Covetina." She then floats up into the sky, her feet at my eye level. Trails of light fall down from her dress, disappearing before they reach the ground.

"How are you doing that without wings?" I would be standing in disbelief except for I am watching it happen with my own eyes. Maybe I can get used to all of this easier than I thought.

"I am the goddess who rules over wishes, time, life cycles, inspiration of self, and much, much more. Like you, I have a job, and today that job is to help you _truly_ come back home. Floating is just one example of the things of which I am capable."

"So how will you bring me home? I thought I was already here... And what's the deal with this prophecy? What exactly am I supposed to do? Or am I not supposed to know yet?" I have many, many questions and cannot wait to learn the answers.

"I could tell you exactly why you are needed so desperately right now, but you will feel more strongly about the cause if you see and feel it for yourself. You already know, but only to an extent. You received a taste last night when you fought off Donovan."

I stand still for a moment, not responding, and then I begin pacing back and forth. I stop briefly and look at Covetina.

"Is there something I'm supposed to be doing to speed this whole deal along? I'm learning everything so quickly, but I know there's more. Can we start this homecoming thingy you're going to do?"

"I am glad you asked that. Your mother baptized you when you were just a babe, but all your time spent in the human realm has taken over your spirit too much. I have prepared a ceremony to birth you again into this world."

"All right... Is this a normal thing? Just like a human baptism?" I know I'm not a human, but it sounds strange to speak of 'them' as being different from myself. I still feel mostly the same.

"Yes, it is an important ritual for us. There is no faery in this land who has not been baptized. It is something we all believe in. It is not a religious ceremony, like a human christening—it more or less ties us closely together and helps to unify the land. We do have a bit of a problem with The Depraved, but even they go through the process."

"That's the evil court, right?"

Covetina nods.

"Well, do we have to go somewhere else? I don't see any water around here..." I glance around only to see tall grasses and colorful trees.

"Yes, my dear. We shall walk to the water. Please follow me."

I trail behind Covetina, watching her as she appears to glide over the grass and flowers. She is the epitome of what one would think of when imagining a faery goddess, or at least this is how I would picture one.

The woman captures my attention so strongly, I almost forget my surroundings, but not quite. I still am able to appreciate the beauty all around me—not just in front of me.

It helps immensely that I now have such great vision. I can see in great detail at many different angles, even without turning my head. There is nothing about this world, and being a faery, that I am not in love with.

We come upon a glorious body of water. It is bubbling, and happy fish are swimming around and playing, just as in the koi pond.

The grass gives way to a sandy white beach on one side of the lake. It is much bigger than the pond in Preston's yard. This is a sparkling, life-filled wonder among the expanse of the field Covetina and I are in.

I amend my earlier thought about wanting a koi pond. Now that I know there are things even more magical, I can't possibly settle for something that simple.

Dusk is settling, and a tiny sliver of a moon manages to light the entire sky. Just minutes before, I had been mesmerized by the reaction of the sun on objects and now I find myself marveling at the moon. It should have all be too much, but, as Bonnie said, my dreams _have_ been preparing me for this my entire life.

I am now ready to be born again into this new world. My new home.

### NINE

As we make our way to the edge of the lake, I follow the goddess away from the beach to a spot across the water where a blanket has been laid out as part of the preparations for the ceremony.

Everything is meticulously placed. There are some herbs, a few bottles of different colored liquids, and food and drink of some sort. Nothing looks familiar to me.

No one else is around that I can tell. I suppose this is going to be something just between Covetina and myself. Not that I mind. Having the goddess devote time solely to me, well, that isn't something to complain about.

Covetina motions for me to walk up to the water, in front of the blanket. Of course I obey. I kneel down, not exactly knowing why. It just feels like the right thing to do. Obviously it is, as Covetina appears beside me and places her elegant hand on top of my head.

She begins speaking in a soothing tongue I don't recognize. A soft, sweet language. No harsh tones in any of the words. I think it must be Celtic, based on the saying I was greeted with.

The goddess' liquid voice begins to put me into a type of trance. It is odd because I feel a bit detached since it is all so surreal, yet at the same time I am growing even more aware of everything around me.

I see the lights of tiny creatures in the bushes coming out to watch. Or at least that's what I imagine they're doing.

A few frogs (which I understand are not frogs as I have always known them) hop around silently. Nothing around us makes the slightest sound. A hush has fallen over this land to allow Covetina no interruptions.

This makes me feel even more special. And I know now that I am. The feeling is growing inside of me. I believe I am meant for something great. The importance of my existence is now a vague truth to me.

For someone to be treated in such a manner, well, I know he or she must certainly deserve it. And, as luck would have it, I am that special being right now.

Covetina starts speaking English, and directs her words at me along with a piercing gaze. "My dear, would you mind putting on something all white? Maybe a gauze shift, or something of the sort."

I stammer out, "Well, I—I would love to be able to, but I don't have any other clothes with me." I feel like a young child being scolded for not having done her homework.

"It does not matter, sweetheart. You are in charge here. This is your home, and you can make parts of it how you like. You have the power to change things at your will."

"I do? How?" I feel Covetina's fingers brush ever so softly through my hair, all the way from my forehead to the ends. The goddess pulls my hair away from my head and lets it fall back down into place. I know I have experienced this before, but can't quite place it.

"All you have to do is imagine. Decide what you want, and it will be done. Of course, this only applies to your physical appearance. You cannot easily change the world around you. That is Mother Nature's place. She designs the world how she sees fit."

"So, I just think about a white dress, and I'll be wearing one? Sounds a little too simple, but I suppose I'll try it," I say with a shrug. "What have I got to lose, right?"

I close my eyes and imagine my jeans and t-shirt slowly fading into nothing. I think I feel they are disappearing but I can't be sure. I open one eye to check and see I am still wearing my regular clothes. But it is only my first try. I am not about to give up.

My next attempt results in the same thing (or nothing) as the first. I glance at Covetina but she is smiling and sitting patiently. Knowing there is no rush lifts the pressure off of me as I try a third time. This time I don't peek to see if anything has changed. I suppress a smile when a soft breeze comes by and I can feel it against my bare back. The fact that my clothes are off enters my mind but it doesn't bother me one bit, which is odd for me. I simply move on with what I was asked to do.

I picture a soft, light dress—one I think should be just right for this occasion. It is one shouldered with an empire waist. Down from that point, the material has many thin pieces which fall in layers, covering my legs just past my knees.

Cautiously, I open my eyes again and look down. I am wearing a dress—which I already know since I can feel the soft material—and it is exactly as perfect as I pictured.

"Wow, that's awesome... Nice trick to have handy!"

Now I am impatient. I want to learn even more.

Covetina begins to explain the baptism in great detail. It is an important spiritual ceremony that holds great powers. I learn that water is the symbol of the womb and creation, and it also represents time and change.

This ritual will allow the etheric web to be loosened around my physical body so I will be open and available to true spiritual sight.

Even when I cross back over to the human realm, I will be able to see the true light of the world. I will learn how to straddle both dimensions, and will see both as they really are. Fae hiding in the human world will be visible to me from now on.

I am about to be 'twice-born' by a regenerating force. Re-initiated into the world I am originally from. I cannot begin to comprehend how excited I am.

Covetina guides me back to my feet and gracefully picks me up, cradling me in her arms. Slowly, the goddess walks into the water, holding me at her waist.

After a few steps, I feel the warm, silky water graze my back and feet. It is marvelous. I feel safe, as though I am a child again, or even inside my mother's womb still.

Covetina tips my head back, wetting my hair, and a sweet, gentle jolt of electricity shoots through my skull. It isn't the scary kind of jolt one gets when accidentally touching a frayed, live wire, but more along the lines of a startling awareness. At the strangest of times, Donovan's friend, Sloane, enters my mind. The shock I felt with him was similar and I wonder what that means about him. But as fast as he appeared in my thoughts, he is gone in the same amount of time, leaving me fully with the goddess.

The buzzing, electric feeling runs through my body. Upon leaving my head, it trails to my neck and spreads across my shoulders, and then down through my limbs. It is the strongest as it caresses my heart; as mighty as a loving bear hug. From there, it follows my length down to my toes, which are just barely out of the water.

Covetina speaks a few more words in the language I didn't recognize earlier and it feels like as soon as it all began, it is over.

The goddess lifts me up to a standing position and leans forward to place a kiss on my forehead. It almost burns and I wonder if there will be a mark like when my mother kissed my wrist.

Which reminds me... I lift up my arm and see that the beautiful, circular cross is slowly fading. I _have_ to find a way to make it permanent.

Covetina guides me out of the water and we sit back down on the blanket. I'm chilly in the breeze, and, surprised by the ease of it, I make a wrap appear.

Hell yeah, I could definitely get used to this!

"Goddess, if I can change my clothes and appearance, is there any way I can make my mother's mark stay on my skin?"

"Of course. You have always had the power, but now that you have been baptized, you are even stronger yet. I am sure you can figure out what to do."

I do know what to do. I already had an idea; I just needed confirmation. Closing my eyes, I shut out everything around me visually. I need to focus. Thankfully this isn't difficult, seeing as everything is still fairly quiet, even though the ceremony is over.

My mother comes into my thoughts and I focus on her image and the emotions it stirs inside of me. I concentrate on the bond I felt when we met earlier, and prayed, not to anyone or anything in particular. Just to the Universe, I suppose.

I ask for the strength to keep a permanent, physical reminder of my mother. As I focus intently on the pattern, imagining it in my mind, the delicate skin of my wrist starts to burn slightly. Not wanting to look, I concentrate as the sensation heightens... until it is almost unbearable. But when it reaches that point, the pain begins to fade.

I look into the far distance of my mind, where my mother stays, and I see her smile and wave with a lift of her hand. Glancing once more at the imagined image on my wrist, I open my eyes and look at the real one. I rub my thumb over it, like I did in Hollie's room before I arrived here, and am surprised to feel the skin is smooth.

I expected it to be wounded or have some sort of scab, or raised, tender skin at the least. But the mark is perfect. This reminds me of how I healed so quickly after touching my car earlier this morning. I wonder if this is another faery attribute.

When I glance up to ask Covetina about it, the goddess startles me with an earnest eye and a look of adoration on her face. A spirited feeling spreads through my body.

The feeling is followed by shyness. "So, um, I just felt like I was being branded, or at least how I imagine that would feel, but now I can see and feel my skin and there's nothing wrong with it... Do we heal faster than humans or something? 'Cause also, I burned myself on my door handle this morning, and it only took a minute for the redness to go away."

"A door handle? What kind?"

"My car door. Well actually, my friend's car did it, too."

"Steel. Iron. These are things that are harmful to us. We cannot die, not from being harmed at least. Well, not usually, with only the few exceptions..." The goddess trails off with a wistful look in her eyes.

She shakes her head and simply returns back to the original topic. "The great thing is that we heal easily. But, we do have weaknesses. Iron is one of them."

"But really it's any kind of metal?"

"Any type of tough, hard metal such as those I mentioned. Aluminum does not harm us that badly, or copper. Metals of that kind. But iron—if we are around it for too long, we can get sick and, if we touch it, well... You know what happens then. It hurts us more when we are in the human realm. In fact, it does not even exist here, unless you bring it with from the human realm or would want to conjure it, but I have no clue why any faery would want to do such a thing."

I think back to the night Blake gave me the necklace that I've since left in my bathroom. It felt so heavy and strange in my hands. And how it tingled—it was so odd.

And sad. Blake solidified our relationship even more that night, but now I know it was all bullshit. But that wasn't his fault. No matter what anyone tells me, I know Blake was real. At least to a point, he was. Definitely a sad situation.

It is actually heartbreaking, truth be told, not just sad. But I have much more on my mind at the moment. Unfortunately, I don't have time to worry about Blake—or even my parents, other family, or friends. But it's not like they are begging to have me back around... My cell hasn't made a sound.

It's true I have found my new home, a new life, and a new beginning. But I need to finish my business here and head back. Hols may not want to be a part of my world, but I have to see how she is doing. And I want to share my new knowledge, as well as the beauty of Avalon.

As great as everything that just happened is, though, I feel in the pit of my stomach that the evil in this realm is just as intense as the good, if not more so. Especially if that fight with Donovan was only the start. Who knows what else he has up his sleeve.

My eyes sense movement and I see that fae of all kinds are starting to come out of the bushes and trees that border the lake. Their presence feels different than anything else. They feel good, and right.

I can now see the humor in the notion that humans believe they are the only civilized species in existence. They have no clue what is really out there. Sure, some speculate and try to find more, but overall, humans tend to live superficial and selfish lives. If only they could be shown that there is more. If we could live and work together again, in harmony, like Bonnie told me about.

It always surprises people that I am neither superficial nor selfish—considering my privileged upbringing—but I now know it is because I was beyond all of that. Not above it, or better than it. Not at all. I was just beyond it. Something inside of me has always known the truth and has kept me grounded throughout my years.

I realize a lot of time must have passed while I was thinking, but it becomes obvious how quickly my thoughts were moving once Covetina speaks.

"So, your mother gave you that mark? It is the same one she had on her wrist. I remember it well. Many of us have a similar mark somewhere on our bodies. Did she happen to tell you what it means?"

"No. She just told me that it was our special mark, and if I ever needed her, it would help me to call her spirit."

_So it's not just something she and I have? Everyone here has one?_ This is a somewhat sad thought.

"Darling, do not fret. It is extremely special. Almost one of a kind."

"I, uh, didn't say that out loud... Wait—can you tell what I'm thinking... like I can with Hollie?"

"Yes, it is a gift of mine. Not every faery can do so, but some of us have the ability. You and I are two such ones. The best part of it is the reverse—we can block people _out_ of our minds. It is as simple as visualizing a barrier, and it will practically become a physical one.

"Only the people and fae you want to enter your mind may do so. It is something you should practice. And then, after time, blocking others out will become habit. Soon, you will have to focus to let them in."

"Huh, that's pretty cool." I think about the usefulness of this ability for a second. But then I'm right back to my mother. "Does everyone's mark mean the same thing? Is it a faery world symbol or something?"

"Yes, sort of. You have noticed it is a Celtic cross. The humans we used to work with before we were essentially banished were Celts. The cross has a very basic concept, and we felt it fit our world rather well, so we adopted it.

"To put it simply, the arms are of equal length, which signifies many things. The most important being the four directions. These are very dear to us, as they are where the elements come from. Four is also an important number because we have Samhain, Bealtaine, Lammas, and Imbolg, along with the regular 'human' changes of seasons—the solstices and equinoxes. We celebrate the four main occasions with grand parties. You are just in time to be able to experience the summer solstice party once this horrible mess is out of the way."

"Wow, the whole concept sounds pretty cool. I never knew something so simple could hold so much meaning." I look down at it again and I feel like every organ and cell in my body is smiling. "And a party? Those are always fun... And will be extremely needed soon."

I glance again at my wrist, amazed at everything about it. It appeared with a kiss. I made it permanent just by wanting it to be so. And I can supposedly get in touch with my mother with it—haven't figured that one out yet, though.

"So this mark ties me to my new home as well as to my mother? I can't believe that in just a couple of days I've found my place. Especially after feeling so awkward and _out of place_ my entire life so far."

"Well, I am extremely happy to hear that, dear Kellyn. I can feel, and see, your happiness glowing and bursting right out of you from within." Her smile says this on its own; no words are needed, but I am glad—and proud—to hear them. Now as to whether or not I believe them...

I look down and, sure enough, on top of the shimmering stars, which are now illuminated by the moon rather than the sun, I can see a slight glowing light from within myself. My skin looks radically different than it even did earlier, and of course it is way different than how I always saw it before. As amazing as it is, I am also a little afraid. It's such a drastic change.

"So, if what I can see of myself is so bizarre, will I be surprised when I look in the mirror? It'd be nice to have a heads up if I'm gonna look totally different..."

"Well, you will still look like you, but it will just be a different version. It should not be scary. You will see what you look like in truth. Your face glows, as I already mentioned, and the rest of you does as well, which you have seen. And you have a beautiful aura surrounding much of your hair and face."

"Phew. That's good to know. I think I'm dealing pretty darn well, minus the tiny freak-out earlier when I left my house. I don't know if I can handle anything else super crazy."

"Not to worry. I will not overwhelm you with any more troubling knowledge. And I know you have to get back to Hollie. But if you could stay a minute longer, it will help you understand what you are up against. The sooner you know about it, the more prepared you will be—and you _need_ to be prepared."

I don't like the sound of where Covetina is going, but I'm not about to _not_ listen. I want to know everything I can.

"All right. What exactly is in store for me? I assume we're talking about Donovan here."

"Yes, that is correct. There is much you need to know. I wish there was more time but—"

"If you wish in one hand and—" I stop speaking, completely freaked that I interrupted Covetina, especially with what I was about to say. _What the hell was I just thinking?! Apparently I wasn't..._

She must sense how I feel though, or even be reading my mind, because she smiles and begins to laugh lightly. "Exactly. Of course, I would never speak a saying like that but I do know much about humans and have heard that one before. And it suits this situation perfectly. Wishing for something does not always get you what you want. They build up to a pile of nothing, unfortunately."

I smile at her and nod, grateful she is so cool even though she's super refined.

The goddess then begins to speak to me about the true evil that is behind Donovan and all his cruel actions. I learn about The Depraved and the darkness it holds, but also that it is necessary to keep the balance of this world. Nothing can have light without darkness.

It seems science and physics and all that aren't such a waste. Interesting.

After this enlightening day, I feel ready to take on the world. Both of them. But first, I need to get back to the human one and see how things are going.

I hug Covetina goodbye, yet do not offer her thanks. I now understand why I have been so uncomfortable with the term my whole life. And why I have always hated compliments. In fact, my parents have always been on my case for not being more polite.

Apparently, faeries in general hate to be thanked. It is an insult. Our very nature is giving—wanting to be one with each other and the world. It is what we do and who we are. No thanks necessary.

And no help is required as I head back to Hollie's house. Everything I need to know is now innate after being reborn.

### TEN

Hollie's room shimmers back into focus and I find I am still in the same spot on the floor. Wearing the same clothes I left in.

Damn. I guess I can't bring spiritual stuff back with me to the human world.

At least my body is light and refreshed. The complete opposite of how I felt this morning.

I'm alone, so I get up and wander into the kitchen, sensing that is where I will find Hols and Bonnie. The walls of the hallway are darker than normal, with an ugly, dark mist rolling up them. When I look down, the carpet appears old and moldy. I swear I see a few mushrooms growing in a dark corner, but I look away before I can find out for sure.

Since I'm barefoot, I dash back into Hollie's room to get my flippies. I pass through the beads and my surroundings change drastically. I hadn't noticed when I first came to, but the room is brighter and even more colorful than usual. There is a glisten to everything that belongs to Hollie.

When I leave the room again, I race down the dreary, creepy hall, eyes open only enough so that I don't trip or run into a wall. My friends are in the kitchen like I thought. It is luminous in here, but that is in comparison to the hallway—it is still dingier than Hollie's room. Although I'm pretty sure her room is about the closest I will ever get to Avalon while in this realm.

Anyway, the house is what it is. It's actually much better than I would have thought, if I would have thought about it... Hollie's mom's qualities show through in the house she keeps.

Hrm. Wonder what my house looks like. Or my parents' house, I guess. Whatever...

Wait—I just said 'parents' without anger or hesitation. Maybe I am not as angry as I thought. There has to be a good explanation for why they kept my adoption a secret. Maybe they know _my_ secret! Now that would be nuts.

Pushing these thoughts out of my head even with as good of a place as they might be headed, I prepare to deal with what is in front of me at this very moment. I walk toward the two faeries sitting at the table in the corner breakfast nook. I attempt to be as quiet as possible but it's no use—I'm hopeless. Bonnie is facing more my way and nudges Hols. Huge grins spread across their faces once they turn to look at me.

I pause mid-stride. Covetina told the truth; I now witness things as they truly are. And not only as far as my surroundings... I can see the true nature of people. Bonnie is a little darling, lit from within. And she is much younger than she appears on the outside—at least to humans, and how I have seen her until now. I would guess she is only in her early thirties. That is quite a shock, but Hollie's image is what stops me in my tracks.

Deliberately, I take a small step over to the table, never taking my eyes off Hollie. Another step. There are no words. Her skin shimmers like all other fae I have seen, but her color is unlike anything else. It is almost as if her body is made up of many tiny prisms. Nothing could suit my friend better; the artist that she is. A beautiful creature to behold.

No one seems to want to speak first, so I sit down next to Hols and shove her down the bench seat with my butt. Hollie bumps me right back and we giggle like all is the same and our world is normal and right.

I take a deep breath. While exhaling, a rush of words comes out of my mouth. "So, how did your visit go? Are you freaked out by all of this? What are you thinking? You all right?"

"Calm down, sweets." Hollie smiles. "I'm fine. Sure, I was kinda like 'what the heck?' for a minute, but it all makes sense now. So I'm good. You?"

"Yeah I'm good, too. I have to leave here and figure out what I'm supposed to do. Apparently I have some crazy stuff ahead of me. And no clue how to do it. You wanna help? I could use all I can get."

"I'd love to," Hollie says sincerely. "But I met somebody. Someone amazing. And she convinced me my place is here."

"Oh, well that's good, right?" I look down at my hands and start twirling my plastic, flower gumball-machine ring around and around my finger. I try to hide my disappointment, but to no avail. "All right, well tell me all you can. I wanna know what and why and how—all of it."

I look up into Hollie's blue eyes and if I didn't know better I'd believe I was staring through two portholes out to the ocean. I feel a smile growing. A real, radiant smile. My disappointment leaves me the second I see the beauty and truth inside my friend.

Hollie tells me everything Bonnie already explained, but I listen intently, taking in Hollie's every emotion. It all means so much more now. And we really are connected on a deeper level than we ever knew.

She wraps up her story. "Yeah, so I guess since that's what both my parents wanted—for me to stay here—it's what I should do. For now, at least."

"Well, that's cool. If that's what's right for you. Hell, at least your life gets to stay the same. Mine's all upside-down and ass-backwards right now. But I kind of figured this might happen with you." I smile so she knows I'm not upset. "So who did you meet? I mean, it must be someone pretty important for you to be so sure you should stay, right?"

I'm not quite able to read Hols' mind at the moment. Maybe I'm just tired from all this mental exertion...

"I met my Bėfind—my faery godmother." My expression must be showing shock because she says, "Yeah, I know. I didn't think they existed either, but..." She waves around the table and we all laugh.

"They give gifts to babies and, apparently, my gift was that I will be strong in the human world and bring my artistic abilities to others. Even though I'm half-fae, my weaknesses won't stop me from being successful here." She half-smiles and looks down at the table. She is an open book right now and I can read that she feels pretty special knowing that her art is important enough to influence others. I beam with pride for her.

Still looking at the table, Hollie continues. "So, I guess I'll just stay with my mom and see how things go. I think I might meet my dad at some point, but I'm not quite sure I'm ready for it quite yet."

After a beat, or a few—to give her time and to absorb all she said, I respond. "I completely understand, sweets. Shit, I'm with ya on the whole parent thing. I'm going back and forth with how I feel about mine."

"Maybe they thought it was for the best. I don't know. But Bon did tell me you need to take care of things with Blake and then get to helping the fae. I hate to see you go, but it's something you shouldn't put off."

I rest my head on Hollie's shoulder and just sit for a moment, trying to get the strength to go break up with my love. No matter how right it is—considering our problems of late, not to mention the new info I've been given—I am not the least bit prepared to do it.

* * * *

I hang up the phone with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

How am I going to go about doing this? I totally blew him off last night—he 's not acting like he hates me but I feel like he does. Or will.

Sucking up my pride, I resign myself to the fact that I have no choice. Bigger things are going on in the world. Like possibly people dying if Donovan is left to his own devices. Who knows what he would have done to Olivia and Preston if I hadn't been there. Besides, Blake is not real. I have to remember that. He's not real. He is practically a part of Donovan...

I hate lying to myself because I do believe Blake ended up becoming his own person—at least until the end, but this is the only way I can get through what I am about to do. And even thinking the way I'm trying to, I am not sure how well I am going to deal.

I dig around in the mess that is Hols' closet for a pair of gloves. It's almost eighty degrees outside but there isn't a chance in hell I am going to touch metal again if I can help it.

Happening upon an old crocheted pair with the finger flaps, I slip them on and shut the closet doors. I let my head fall forward against the hollow wood, the echo resounding through my head. Every few minutes since fully waking up after meeting my mother, I have been finding that I need to take deep breaths just to stay alert and not pass out. I'm not quite sure what good I am going to be like this, but I have to press on no matter what enters my head.

My breathing comes back to normal a little quicker this time, and before I can second guess myself—or third, fourth, heck, twelfth guess—I straighten my shoulders and walk toward the door.

Bending down to pick up my purse, I stand up purposefully and stride into the hallway and to the front door, grabbing Hollie's keys with my gloved hand as I open the door and leave.

The old Dodge Hollie drives starts right up. Not able to stand the stagnant heat, I crank down the windows and free my hands. I can't wait for the fresh air to blow on me once I start driving.

"I desperately need music right now..." Reaching over to the radio, I find that since mostly plastic covers the new CD player, I am able to touch it.

The visor holds lots of CDs—at least three shoved in every slot—and I pull them out just enough to see what they are before ramming them back in place.

After a quick search, I find the one I want. Kate Voegele's newest disc is full of the exact type of mellow music that helps me at times like this. Well, not _exactly_ like this of course, but still.

Music always sets the mood for me, or helps me cope with whatever mood I might be in at the time, and this is no different than any other time. It is even more important now that I am in the right state of mind to handle the situation properly.

_Properly—what does that even mean? How am I supposed to break up with someone I love but who only loves me because my supposed enemy told him to?_ It almost feels like I'm about to break up with myself.

Realizing these thoughts will do me no good, I force myself to quit thinking them. I drive on toward Blake's, settling back into the seat as comfortably as possible. I turn up the music and try not to think during the rest of the drive.

There are a tad too many cars parked around Blake's house and I don't know if any of the owners of them will have to leave before I do, so I park across the street. When I arrive at the front door, I breathe and ring the bell. The bright chime sounds, making the house seem a wholesome family home.

I stand and wonder how Blake even has parents. Are they the same as him? I've never seen pictures of their life in Oklahoma before they moved here—right before we started dating... And why am I just now thinking of all this?

After a couple minutes of waiting and thinking thoughts such as these, I decide I can't stand here any longer. Besides the fact that I am driving myself nuts, it's normal for me to walk in the Miller's house without knocking. I just felt today called for more formality. As I open the door, it hits me how ridiculous that is. If someone had answered it would have been even more obvious that something's going on.

I hear people chatting and laughing near the back of the house as I walk up the front stairs to Blake's bedroom. That must be why no one answered‏‪‫‎‍‌‪‫‏; they are too far away and it's much too loud for anyone to have heard the doorbell. When I get to Blake's door, I softly tap on it. It isn't shut all the way and creaks open some.

Inside, Blake is pacing around his room and staring at the masses of band posters plastered on every wall. I cautiously step in and clear my throat.

"Hey, you. No one was around to let me in so I just came on up. Is that all right?" A slight smile spreads across my face... as much as I can force it to.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever. Come sit down and shut the door." Blake looks both angry and elated.

_Why is he always mad at me if he can still look at me with that kind of love? Wait a minute. Damn it, I hate Donovan!_ Blake's not real—I have to remember that.

And at this point, I think I can. It didn't hit me right away, but now I notice that Blake looks one-hundred-percent normal. I feel no emotion coming from him and he looks like he always has.

Sure, I have only seen fae since my baptism—I didn't exactly pay attention to other drivers or anyone else on the way over here—but it only makes sense that a human's character would show through. If I can see a house's personality, I'm thinking I should also be able to see a person's.

But Blake, and his room, look like they always have. Like they were made to look this way and aren't real. Which I suppose they're not...

Saddened and dejected, I wander over to the bed, but then think better of it and choose the director's chair by the stereo instead. I plop down in the seat and sigh deeply. After looking at my feet for a minute, I lift my head and meet Blake's eyes. He has stopped pacing and is standing in front of me. He is so quiet I wonder if he is even breathing.

The look on his face is unbearable. I have to get this done and get out of here. Move on and kick some ass. Do something to release my rage at this situation. After that is out of my system, then I'll deal as I should.

Blake's voice makes me jump slightly. "Please. Don't do this, babe. We can make this work."

I keep my mouth shut, looking intently at my beau. Every emotion possible fills my body and I explode—or at least I feel like that's what is happening. Tears burst from my eyes and my body begins to shake. I am not used to crying, least of all like this, and that makes it all the worse.

"You know we can't stay together, Blake." We never speak each other's names unless something is wrong. "This just isn't working. You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure, if you don't already know."

"What do you mean? Find out what? What's going on? Baby, just talk to me."

"I—I just can't. This is... I thought I could do this but I can't." I feel the room start to spin and all the posters Blake was pretending to look at are becoming a wash of color before my eyes.

I briefly shut my eyes and when I open them, my vision is no better. In fact, it's worse. The posters _and Blake_ are not only watery, but their colors are dripping down into a small puddle that is gathering on the hardwood floor.

The water falls faster by the second and I watch a rainbow swirling around by my feet. My tears became one with the mess I am a part of.

The scene is becoming reminiscent of my drowning dreams, only I'm not already under water. I am experiencing the beginning part I normally miss. I beg for this not to turn into a nightmare. I need to get out of here.

I am slightly comforted simply because there are no evil creatures chasing me or anyone else _._ But then I realize Blake and I _a_ _re_ those creatures, in a sense. Which sure as hell shouldn't comfort me...

I have no clue of what Blake is capable. Donovan might have programmed something really horrible inside of the guy I have known for so long only as my human boyfriend.

Standing up on shaky legs, I pull my right leg forward in an attempt to leave the room. Or if I am dreaming, to force myself to wake up.

The latter is wishful thinking. This is not a dream—just the randomness of my two worlds colliding.

A flip-flop almost disappears in the fast-growing pool on the floor. I hook it with my toe and bring it back up, shaking it onto my foot again, almost losing my balance and falling into the water in the process.

What the hell is going on here? Where is all this coming from? Why? And how?

I can't seem to focus on one thought so I attempt to center on Blake instead. At least as much as I can without my heart shattering.

I reach out to him. He is now on his knees making his way toward me. He is crying too, looking at me with despair and confusion.

Not able to stand the look in his eyes, I change my focus again on what is physically happening around me. The walls are beginning to shrink down, turning into pure water—posters and plaster almost entirely gone.

Each way I turn, I am surrounded by colored waterfalls. A feeling that this time no one is going to save me like they do in my dreams sinks through my chest and sits like a rock in my stomach.

One giant rock weighing more than any of the others I have felt in there all day combined.

My breath catches and I have to count each one. Slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I have to leave this realm—there is some sort of job to do and that's that. I need to accept this fact before I end up in the psychiatric ward. I feel like a horrible person for leaving Blake, but what can I do?

On my way out, I spare a glance his way. What I see almost stops me cold. There are simply no words for his expression other than it conveys a pleading desperation. An odd thought enters my mind – _A little boy lost. My love, yet no one I've ever met._

I have to go. I have to get out of here. And now.

Still standing, the water is now to my knees. I reach down, as if in slow motion, to retrieve the sandal that has slipped off my foot again. It is floating and I grab it firmly in my hand—the only solid thing left.

Blake is having trouble moving toward me as his body becomes not just wet, but is turning into water itself. His legs are no longer visible, even through the colorful yet clear water. The blue shirt he has on is spreading out like watercolor paint all around him. His gaze will not leave me—a deep imploring emanates from his eyes.

This is so much more than I can handle. I blow Blake a kiss, tears streaming, knowing deep down this is his demise. His existence isn't important anymore, obviously. I am nauseous just thinking about it.

Donovan has gotten my attention—that much is certain.

Apparently Blake really is a pawn, no longer needed. Such a beautiful life wasted. Even with all I've seen and been told, it's difficult to believe that Donovan is a such heartless bastard. But he is and I am beyond pissed.

Reaching for the door knob after giving my final kiss to Blake, I am faintly aware of the wet flip-flop I am holding with a death grip in my other hand. I open the door and am glad that my hands are both on something solid.

The hallway is no different than the room I just left. Pictures from the family's supposed past stream down the walls to the stairs I am wading toward.

The entire house is disappearing before my eyes. I stumble down the steps, holding out my free hand to stop myself from falling. That is, until I realize there's nothing to catch myself on if I fall.

Basically sliding down the stairs as though on a water ride, I land down by the door I had used to walk in.

The house is practically a distant memory at this point—I don't even have to bother with the handle of the front door. I walk straight through a white waterfall, soaking myself to the bone in the process.

### ELEVEN

Just like waking from a dream, I open my eyes to find myself in Hollie's truck. Sitting in the driver's seat, pants a little damp around my waist and butt.

That wasn't a dream. Not a chance. _But why was I asleep?_

I fix my gaze through the windshield straight ahead to Blake's house. It stands just as it did when I first pulled up. So, _was_ it a dream? It felt way too real... but waking up with mermaids does, as well.

I reach in my purse and grab my phone. My hands shake as I find Blake's number and touch send.

The phone rings three times before the polite recorded-voice lady informs me the number is disconnected and that I should hang up and try my call again.

Dropping my phone on my lap, I start up the truck, breathing in precious, hard-to-get air, hoping it will clear my head.

My gloves are on and I wonder if I ever took them off or if maybe I put them back on when I got to the car. Something tells me the dreamlike events I remember are true. Something other than the dampness of my clothes and the horrible frizz I notice when I take a cursory glance in the rear view mirror.

So I did leave the car. I went inside. That means Blake is gone...

A deep sigh is not enough. I begin to hyperventilate, but force myself to focus on the facts. Not my feelings. I think of my mother and Donovan and whatever it is I am supposed to do, or stop, or save—or whatever.

Gripping the steering wheel, gloved fingers hiding knuckles that most certainly are white, I consider my next move. And tell myself to get it together. I _have_ to have my shit together better than this if I'm going to accomplish anything.

Kate Voegele isn't going to work for this next drive. I plug in my phone and crank up _Fall Out Boy's_ "27." I know exactly what the singer is talking about. I desperately hope my heart can find another home.

Color me surprised when Sloane's face pops into my head. Again.

Sure, the dude is hot but I'm not so heartless as to forget Blake already. Especially not while I'm still sitting here across from his house! But then again, that so-called love wasn't as real as I thought. So I deserve a true love at some point, don't I? But not with a friend of Donovan's... unless, like I wondered before, he's just a distant friend who isn't involved in all of Donovan's evilness.

I really, honestly, do not need to be thinking about Sloane right now, though. I force him out of my head, drinking in his deliciousness all the while.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I drive aimlessly, figuring out what's in my mind as best I can. I find myself west out toward the country rather than having gone east back to town—where I figured I would be.

I guess I will go back to Hollie's to let her and Bonnie know what happened. It has to be better than wasting gas and time on the nonsense in my head. I drive toward the nearest house, planning to turn around in the driveway. But the truck slows and sputters and I have to guide it to the side of the road before I can make it to the house.

Isn't this just perfect? This is exactly what I need... 'Cause my day's not weirdefreakingnough already?!

I roll my eyes at myself. Sure, no one can argue that I'm dealing with some shit but I don't need to freak out at each and every turn. I sense it is only going to get worse, so I take some deep breaths. OK. I concentrate on what is going on right now and I tell myself I can deal with it.

The music is playing too loudly when I grab my phone so I turn it down and then wonder why the music is on if the car isn't. I try to start the car, to no avail. Going back to the phone, I realize with an exasperated sigh—which I can't control, _damn it_ —that I have no signal. _How brilliant._

So I sit, head back against the seat, trying to come up with some sort of plan. Sometimes a good temple massage does the trick, but it doesn't seem to be working for this situation.

Maybe I can figure out how to leave this world. I bet I can scry again if I find some water. I'm probably supposed to be in Avalon anyway. What good can I do here at this point? It isn't like Donovan will make it easy for me to find him now that I know what's going on...

Opening the door, gloves still on, I step out of the truck to take in what's around me. A whole lot of nothing. Blake's family lives, or lived, near the country, but I am way farther out than I even realized. Farther than I have ever been before. All that's around is farm land. Dry farm land.

I hear a car coming so I walk off of the road and stand in the grass, not wanting to get hit and also thinking that I can possibly hitch a ride.

A calming control washes over me, lightening my worries. It hits me that driving inside what is basically a metal box was weakening me. I feel stronger by the second.

But then I recognize the truck driving my way. The same truck that brought me home from the party this morning.

Shit. Not good. Not good at all.

Donovan slows down and pulls up next to me. His windows are down and he asks me, "Did you break down? You need a ride?"

I can hardly make out his handsome human features through the black misty smoke twisting around his body. He literally emanates evil. My 'true' sight obviously doesn't make everything beautiful. And this isn't just ugly like Hollie's house. This is a vision of pure depravity. He is as evil as they come, I am sure of it.

_Well h_ ell—what am I supposed to say? "Uh, yeah. It died and I don't have any signal to use my phone. But I'm sure someone else will come along. Don't worry about me." I wave as though to dismiss my being stuck as well as waving him on, trying to get him to leave.

"Are you serious? You could be standing out here for hours. You'll end up roasting and could even get sick. Wait—are you wearing gloves? You OK?" He somehow manages to make his expression, or what I can see of it, look concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. And, well, I suppose I could use a ride... If just to the closest gas station or something. I need to get the truck started somehow."

"Well hop on in."

I make sure to grab my bags and then I head over to the door of Donovan's truck. The same, stinky truck I'm oh-so-fond of. I pause for a few seconds to gather myself; I need to act as normal as possible for this. Taking one last fresh breath, I get in and sit down. And hell if it doesn't smell worse than it did earlier.

As I put on my seat belt, Donovan puts the car in gear and slowly pulls away from Hols' truck. I put my hand to the glass and look back, as if reassuring both the truck and my friend I'll be back.

"So how did you end up way out here?" Donovan starts.

Donovan—so strange that he was just 'Andrew' to me yesterday. I wonder if I'm even safe in this truck with him.

_Wait... what am I doing in this truck with him?_ _I was right by a house that had to have a phone!_

There is no way I would have consciously chosen to get in here. He must have some kind of compelling power over me.

Crap!

"I'm sorry, what? My mind is a little scattered today. Must be from getting next to no sleep last night."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was just asking you what you're doing way out here."

"Uh, well. I was just leaving Blake's house."

"Really? So he did get a hold of you? I thought you two were fighting—said he wasn't gonna call. Huh. That's where I'm coming from, too."

Oh really? That's not exactly possible.

"But I was just there and I didn't see you."

"It's weird, right? I guess we just missed each other. He wasn't doing so well when I saw him. How was he when you were there?"

I know damned well that Donovan is trying to get me to slip. I also know there is no way he's telling the truth. Blake is gone now and Donovan wasn't there when it happened.

I don't want to tell him anything, though, since I'm not quite sure of what he is capable.

Except for trying to hurt my friends. I do know that. _Shit... I shouldn't have taken a ride. I'd be better off walking._ Again, I wonder why I'm not. I have to ask Bonnie about this. Donovan has to have used some sort of power of suggestion on me.

I grab my stuff and scoot as close to the door as possible, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. When I look out the window and actually pay attention to where we are, I realize I don't recognize anything at all. And there is no part of my small town I don't know. All I can see is forest in every direction. Not exactly normal for Indiana...

"So you don't think you should have gotten in the car? It probably _would_ have been smarter to stand there and wait."

Chills run down my entire body. "Wh—What did you say? What are you talking about. I'm _glad..._ " For some reason, I can't get the rest of the sentence out.

"Tsk, tsk. Trying to lie doesn't become you, Kellyn. Not one bit. You need to work on blocking people out of your head. I can hear every pathetic thought that runs through it." Donovan's words come out of his mouth like black cobras, ugly in every way possible.

My heart is racing as I wipe my palms down my sleeves. There is no doubt I am entering panic mode. I take a couple of breaths and reach for my bags, tightly holding them with my left hand. My right one goes to the door handle. I open the door and jump out of the truck, landing hard on my right shoulder. It's not exactly a jump as much as a fall. A bad one.

I pull myself into a sitting position and bring my bags to me. Bringing my knees up carefully, I sit up for a minute with my head between my legs. I know I can't stay here like this so I force myself to stand and brush myself off, feeling my arm to see if anything is hurt, or worse—broken. Thankfully my baptism made me much stronger than I realized.

When I get the chance to look up, the truck is moving back toward me. Shit! I've no clue what to do now. Am I really ready to fight him? This is still all too new to me and I feel lost.

I turn around and run to where the truck should be. But it's nowhere in sight. We didn't drive that far, yet only a dirt road and corn fields lay ahead.

The sound of the engine grows louder and I realize I can't run anymore. I have no choice but to fight him—again. The best thing I can think to do is focus on getting my head together. I have to keep him out; not let him know what I'm thinking.

Turning back to Donovan's truck, I toss my stuff to the side of the road and stand. Just waiting. Neither one of us move even an inch for a good few minutes.

I spend this time working on the only plan of action I have—building a mental brick wall. Mortar and all. Sturdy. I can picture it surrounding my mind. Without a wrecking ball, Donovan is not going to be privy to my thoughts. With my luck though, he'll come up with one.

When I start to think that _maybe_ he's going to leave me alone, he proves my instincts wrong by opening his door and stepping onto the running board. He turns and faces me with his arm resting on the roof. I can't be sure if he is smiling or not, but the smoke about him forms a smirking face of sorts.

He jumps down and saunters over to me. I stand my ground; I don't move a muscle. I am acutely aware of my shoulders straightening and my fists clenching. My heart is under control and my hands feel dry. I don't feel good but I feel as good as I can, considering.

His steps come in slow-motion. I would be happy if his walk ends up taking forever. Unfortunately, it doesn't. Donovan steps right up to my face and stares down at me. He's a tall guy and I'm pretty dang petite. But I don't let him intimidate me.

I give myself a quick mental pep talk: OK—keep him out of your head. Do not let him know what you're gonna do next. Brick wall, brick wa _ll. It's you against him and you_ will _win. Everyone keeps saying how powerful you are, so feel that. Be it._

Wow, I sound like a cheesy-ass motivational speaker. But there is no response from Donovan. Either he is letting me squirm or I actually figured out how to block him from my thoughts. Either way, I can't just stand here forever, smelling his disgusting breath.

And I really can't let his evil overtake me. Soft, scalding strokes brush my body. The smoke is so strong, it must be some sort of faery fire.

"What do you want, Donovan? Honestly. What do you want with me?"

"Ooh, you didn't call me Andrew. Progress." He starts to walk around me in a circle and I have to keep turning in order to face him. "A fight is never fun when the prey is weak and stupid. I'm gonna like killing you." The words hiss out of his mouth.

He stops and I stare him down, directly in the eye—or at least where I think his eyes are.

"Right, like I'm gonna let you kill me. Besides the fact that I can't die seeing as I'm a faery... And I kicked your ass last night, if you can recall with your tiny brain."

"Oh, you mean when I looked like this?" Donovan shape-shifts into the green monstrosity I had hoped never to see again. All I do is blink and he is changed.

Not about to let myself falter with him around, I don't skip a beat. "Yeah, and _I_ looked like I do now. You feel like a big bad ass picking on a little girl?"

"Little girl," Donovan snarls. "You're anything but. You're what I've been waiting for."

He pauses, tilts his head up, and takes a deep breath, seeming to revel in the moment.

"A generation of solitude, living every minute in anticipation of this one. And now it's here... You know you're not _just_ some girl."

I square my shoulders and move toward him—no matter how gross he is and how weird his voice sounds with his snake-like tongue. I can't stand to be afraid. And I can't afford to be.

"You're right—I do know I'm not just some girl. I'm the one who's gonna destroy your sorry ass. You tried to hurt my friends and there's not a chance in hell I'm gonna let you try anything like that again."

"Oh, but don't you know? You may have stopped me from hurting pathetic Preston and Olivia, who were only interesting to me that night because their anger was enticing – but have you heard the story of your poor, poor, pretty mother? We're not all immortal, as you well know. And you'll be the next to end up like her."

"Why? Why me? There's no possible reason for you to want me dead. I've done nothing to you!" My thoughts attempt to bring clarity to this bs conversation, but it isn't working. And I really don't understand what my mother has to do with anything.

"I don't need a reason, dear Kellyn." My name sounds vile leaving Donovan's mouth. I wish he wasn't able to say it, to taint it.

"If you really do want to know why I despise you with every cell in my body, how about this for a reason? I want your power destroyed—or maybe transferred to me so I can use it for something worthwhile. All you'll do is boring, _good_ things with it," He practically spits at me while speaking the last sentence.

I don't need to fight the urge to move—to beat his ass to a bloody pulp—because his words leave me frozen. My mother's memories crash over and under and through me. Pushing so hard in each direction that no single momentum has strength over another to budge the statue that is me. Such pain, destruction, and heartache—and it's going to happen again? _To me?_

This makes absolutely no sense. How? Who is he besides what Bonnie said? Is there yet another creature like the one before and, if so, is it him? No, it couldn't be. He's just a kid; I go to school with him.

I hear a soft voice whisper, reminding me of my strength and my age. I'm one of the strongest fae alive yet I am even younger than Donovan. My mother's voice has broken whatever spell my mind trapped me with, holding my body hostage, and I look down at the ground. While I consider my next move, I kick at the blacktop. Donovan stands still.

Confusion aside, I am now beyond fuming—absolutely livid. Thinking of my mother was one thing, but hearing her voice put everything into perspective so much more. Like I told Donovan, there is no way I am about to let him hurt anyone else—especially me!

In my anger, I feel ten feet tall. I am positive that he is going to be destroyed, one way or another.

I look up from my feet and smile sweetly as I shake the pebbles out of my flippies. "You should have attacked me when you had the chance, Donovan. Some simple thinking just now... it wasn't too hard to decide your fate. You have _no_ clue what you've just brought upon yourself."

I cock my head, curious to hear his reply. Most likely some more arrogant bullshit.

"No, sweetie, I don't think you know what _you're_ up against."

"Seriously? You say you know who I am yet you doubt me? You must be an idiot on top of being a psychopath. You won't get away with whatever little plan it is you're scheming."

"Think what you will. I know the secret. Your mommy's dead and you will be soon, too."

_Condescending little prick. Can he be any more cliché? Seriously, what's this all about?_ His stupid comments are pissing me off even more.

"Shut the _fuck_ up about my mother. Damn!"

My emotions become entirely too much at this point.

Kicking Donovan in the groin, I slam my forehead down into his. Yes, down. I felt so tall because I actually _am_. Without trying, or even considering this type of advantage, I have changed my body simply by wanting it and needing it.

He stumbles back a bit and begins laughing.

"Really? You find this funny? Just wait and see how long you think of this as a joke—or any sort of fun, for that matter." The opposite of my screaming seconds before, I say this quietly, yet fiercely, through gritted teeth.

"Ha ha! Feisty—I like that! I suppose maybe this isn't the right time. I can wait longer. This will be a fun game to draw out. It's _always_ better that way, anyway."

And with this, he turns and walks toward his truck. I breathe a sigh of relief, but also panic at seeing him go. I wonder why he's leaving and what he's going to do? Whatever it is, I have to figure it out and stop him.

### TWELVE

Donovan's saunter becomes a fast dash. He makes it to his truck in no time. I glimpse a flash of green and then he is _Andrew_ again, sitting in the driver's seat. I can see his mop of black hair above the headrest, sans the smoky snakes.

Watching him drive off, I continue to think about what I can possibly do to stop him. And where I am going to go... and do. I don't even know where I am. What I do know is that I need water—something liquid. That scare drove my body completely out of whack; my mouth is dry along with fifty other things that feel different.

I so wish Covetina had been wrong about just one thing—that I can't change my surroundings. There has to be a way, it just hasn't been figured out yet. Mother Nature might be up for a good compromise. A little give and take, if you will.

Walking to the side of the road and into the giant maze of maples and oaks, I rack my brain for ideas. I am supposed to have such special powers – maybe I can do more than anyone knows.

"Wait, trees need water, right?" I blurt this out loud, and then cover my mouth and look around me.

I see no one and shrug. "Hell, if no one's here, then what's the harm in talking to myself? I can figure out something, I'm sure.

"OK, I know if I just follow this path, I'll find water somewhere. Oh, wait—water bottle. Purse. Yes!"

I race back to the road where I dropped my stuff. Somehow I am right back where I started; by Hollie's truck. I produce a full bottle of Fuji after digging around inside my big bag for a minute. "Look—I found some water!" I say to no one in particular.

Lifting both bags onto my shoulder, I venture back into the forest. "Now I just need something to put this in. Crap, I wonder if it matters that it's not rain water."

I shake my head and close my eyes to focus. "No. I can do this no matter what. No negative thinking."

I trudge ahead until I find a fairly clear area. The sun is acting up, though. Everything looks shimmery and sparkly and it's all so bright; I only see blurred pictures in front of me. I have to touch each tree I pass in order to stay stable.

The farther I go into the woods, the worse my vision gets. I remember Bonnie telling me that forests and such are where it's easier to enter the fae realm, so I shrug it off as a weird mesh of the two realms and figure that once I adjust it will clear up.

But nothing clears up. Everything starts glistening more, just like in Hollie's room. I am slammed with the feeling that I'm not in the human realm anymore.

"No way! I did that without scrying? Well look at that, Donovan. You just did me a favor." I smile and stick my tongue out at an imagined Donovan.

The sound of crunching leaves grabs my attention. It was silent three seconds prior. And why are the leaves dry? It's only May...

Turning around, I see a couple walking toward me. I stop talking to myself... at least out loud. And I don't just think—I know—that they are not human.

Two faeries, a guy and a girl, who match each other with their blue-ish skin and platinum hair, make their way toward me, not veering off their path on my account. They appear to be walking with a purpose.

I feel almost twitchy-like and falter back a step. A tree catches first my elbow, and then my back.

"Damn it." _That_ felt wonderful.

"Don't worry. We're not going to hurt you. But where did you come from, out of nowhere like that?" The girl speaks softly, cautiously.

These faeries seem nice enough but I have no clue whom I can trust anymore. I give a vague response while weighing my day in my head.

"Am I—" I need to clear my throat. "Am I in the faery realm? I mean, have I left where Donovan is?"

These are potential friends, sure, but it is more than possible they are part of The Depraved.

"You were with Donovan?!" The male faery's eyes widen. "And you're still all right? Where did he go? Praise to the gods that you are not hurt." He pauses a second, hand over his mouth, and then apologizes for bombarding me with questions, all the while looking around the area.

OK, nix that. Donovan is a threat to them, too—so they're probably not Depraved. But I still don't know them. Hell, I don't know anyone... Hollie is forgoing this adventure, which I get. But Bonnie is gone after having lied to me my entire life, kind of like, oh yeah – my parents. I'm starting to believe almost everyone is a liar and a coward. I don't even have Blake. Olivia is clueless. So this is what I have—these two right here.

"I honestly don't know where he is. He just left me and I ran into the woods and now, here I am. I was planning to scry but I must have just walked through a door or portal of some sort—if there is such a thing..."

I shrug my shoulders, wince, and grab my right elbow in an attempt to work out the pain. It is fading quickly, but it happens to be the same arm I fell on when I jumped out of that asshole's truck.

"Well we're glad you're here, however it happened. And yes, there are doorways between the realms but they are usually hard to access, especially if you're not trying..." The girl looks at me with eyes as wide as her guys' just were, both confusion and awe radiating from them.

"Anyway, it's nice to meet you. I'm Zoë, and this is Landon." Zoë shakes her head a bit as if to clear it and then extends her arm to shake my hand.

I accept the outstretched arm, held out with slight reservation, and introduce myself, as well.

"Well I _was_ Alexis, but I just learned my true name is Kellyn. So that's what I've decided to go by. It's a long story, but yeah, I'm Kellyn. It's nice to meet the two of you."

And with that, my mother enters my head. I lost her before I even had her and now I am fairly sure I must avenge her death. I'm unsure how I know this, but I know I am right. So there's that.

But there's more (isn't there always?), and everything negative floods my mind at this most inopportune moment.

I take note and count on my fingers:

Nanny I have known since birth is not human.

Best friend is only half-human.

Best friend and I are separated right now for the first time ever.

Boyfriend of three years is not human.

Boyfriend's best friend is not human.

Boyfriend's best friend is evil-slash-psychotic and apparently wants me dead.

Boyfriend himself is now dead. I got to watch.

Birth mother died the day I was born. To save my life.

Evil creature who killed my birth mother also wants me dead.

Adoptive parents (at least they are human) have been lying to me for seventeen years.

Aforementioned nanny has also been lying. Yet I must admit I still trust her.

Friend I'd like to talk to but can't is also human so she would flip. Because...

... I am not human!

One identity lost; another gained. Still not sure about it all.

One shiny new job-prophecy-calling is waiting just for me and my new identity. Not a clue about that, either.

I have more than run out of fingers, but not things to count. I have no answers. I have no one to go to for answers. I've gained this life that could, and should, be amazing – only to be left alone and afraid.

My mind is too muddled to think of any more and my knees are about to buckle. These two blue people, I mean faeries, are staring at me like I've lost my mind and I suppose that is altogether possible.

I slide down against a tree until I feel my butt hit the ground, legs muscles relaxing. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and wonder why I didn't do this before all the recapping.

I feel their quiet, yet probing, eyes on me. They allow me my silence—I sense caring and confusion mixed with a tinge of fear. I suppose I should speak. Who knows how long my thought process has lasted. I open my eyes and look over at them.

"So you guys know about Donovan, too? What do you know about him? He's kind of after me and I have no—" I make myself stop speaking.

I am so pathetically desperate for _anyone_ to talk to, now that I have no one, that I don't seem to care whom I ask for help. But damn it if Sloane doesn't enter my head yet again when I think about having no one. He is really persistent, I must say. I semi-smirk to myself about my obvious infatuation. But, just like these two in front of me, I have no idea if he is, for lack of another way of thinking, good or bad.

Maybe I _should_ talk to them. I need to find out how to stop Donovan from hurting my friends or me—or both. He could be off doing anything right now while I sit here whining about my new existence. I have to find him and these guys might know how to help.

I feel I have no choice but to risk it. They are pretty much my only option at moving any of this forward. Any other faery I find here will be the same—I won't know him or her; I won't know who is trustworthy.

Zoë breaks into my thoughts. "He's after you specifically? Do you know why? What did you do to make him angry?" She shoots a scared look at Landon.

I shrug and hold up my hands, letting my face tell all. The truth. That I flat out haven't the slightest.

My heart rate speeds and my body tingles as I realize how messed up and different my life has recently become. Deep breaths are needed again while the word prophecy swirls in my mind over and over, nagging me.

But no air comes, nor do the annoying body reactions leave. It's just like when I met my mother. No air. I try to breathe simply to see what will happen. My chest doesn't expand. My chest doesn't contract. Nothing happens at all.

_Is everything_ different here? I wonder if that's why I couldn't breathe earlier—if I am weaker in the human realm somehow...

Having no choice, I put the strangeness of the thought in the back of my mind to ponder later. I assess the situation at hand once more. I know I can use these two faeries to my advantage and that they are probably good and helpful. On top of it being my only choice, I am pleased when a gut feeling arrives to tell me so.

But I clearly remember my mother's words, 'Nothing is as is seems, dear Kellyn. Please remember that above all else—that knowledge shall keep you safe.' It is the last thing she told me before leaving my mind.

I focus on the pastel faces of my new companions and smile in an attempt to reassure them I'm all right. Their gaping looks melt toward normalcy as they try to smile back. I know they are confused, and feel as awkward as I do.

"I'm so sorry. All this silence and no answers. You don't know who I am. Hell, I don't completely know who I am. Nor who you guys are. And I have no clue what my next move should be. But seriously, who exactly is Donovan and why did you react that way when I mentioned him?"

"Well, it is strange you truly don't seem to know, but I can indulge you briefly." Landon begins with caution. "Donovan is pretty much the epitome of all that we hate. He's like the bully of the fae realm, picking on the weak and feeding on them. We even think—" He stops speaking with a wave of his hand.

"What? You even think what?" I stand up, legs semi-stable again with a feeling of forward movement coming into play. I step toward Landon, physically reaching for the information I need so badly.

Practically begging, I tell him, "Trust me, nothing you tell me can shock me today. It has been _nonstop_ since last night and I'm up for anything new. Anything to help me with all of this. Yeah, I'm freaked, but I'm also OK. You don't have to worry about scaring me or anything."

"It's not that," Zoë answers for Landon, who has backed away a little and is now digging his foot in the dirt. "It's just, well, we've seen some stuff lately that's pretty creepy and it's extremely bothersome. These things can happen from time to time, but usually only in stories and definitely not on this level or of this magnitude. Basically, we are rather afraid to talk about it."

Zoë starts playing with her dark blue fingernail polish, mulling over her words.

"Why? Are you guys worried someone will hear or something? I promise I won't tell anybody. I just need to know things, ya know?"

I drop my bags to show I am not leaving anytime soon. I want answers and these two can give them to me. I know this now.

"Zoë, seriously. I can see in your eyes you're scared, but you don't have to be. Maybe we can even help each other. If I know what's going on, I can try to protect you."

"Yeah, right. No one is safe," Landon mumbles as he plops down on the forest floor.

Zoë shakes her head and walks over to Landon, kneeling when she reaches his side. "You know what? That might not be true. She was just _with_ Donovan and she's still here. That has to say something about her, right?"

Landon looks up into Zoë's eyes and I notice a spark of light as what she said hits him. I just wish I knew what thoughts the spark ignited.

"All right," Landon agrees. "We can talk to her, but we should go somewhere safe. We have no clue how changelings are treated—not a single one has ever come back before, at least not during my existence. And I don't trust this open area at all. It's going to be dusk soon..."

"Dusk? Wow. It _is_ still light," I say. "So much has happened today I feel like it should be night again. Like 'time to go to sleep' night." I stop, something sinking in.

"Wait—did you say... changeling? How do you know that?"

"Well it's pretty obvious you have no idea what is going on, and you're fae, no doubt about it. But everything else about you screams _human_."

"I'm really that transparent?"

Zoë and Landon both nod, trying not to laugh, and Zoë continues answering my questions. _"_ As far as time, well, it works differently in each realm. Our days are a lot longer here than they are in your world. Or at least the world you're used to."

I know that shock and confusion spread across my face, but I don't care to hide it. I am a lost puppy at the moment.

"But wait, it was still light when I was with Donovan. And it shouldn't have been 'cause it was darkish when I left Hollie's..."

"It must be some confusion with you straddling both worlds." She half shrugs as though thinking it through as she tries to explain. "It could have been dark but you saw it as light because it's light in your home realm. You belong here even though it is new to you; you just visit there, even though you know it as home. That would make sense for any faery, but you're one of a kind. Well almost—like Landon said, most changelings don't come back. I've never met nor heard of one, so who knows what rules apply to you."

"Huh. Guess that makes sense. Hell, I'm up for believing almost anything at this point." I giggle awkwardly, hiding my half-truth (I'm not sure what I can and can't believe so it's definitely not a lie) while trying to decide what to make of everything.

"All right, let's get away from here to a safer spot. We _should_ be safe with you around if Donovan didn't hurt you, but it's still—"

I interrupt right here. "Well, that's not exactly true. I mean, yeah, he didn't hurt me. But he said he was going to. He actually said a lot more than that..." I have no plans to continue until I have heard more for myself, though.

"Well then, Landon's right. We need to leave now. Especially if this is where you came through. He might follow you and, well, that's not something we're prepared to deal with."

Zoë gives me a look as she says all of this. A look that still shows awe of some sort, but also that she senses danger. She nods firmly and the look disappears, just like that. Then she stands and reaches a hand out to help Landon. "Come on babe, let's go."

The two matching faeries keep their hands in each other's once both are standing, and then move their heads toward the east in unison, directing me. They walk away without another word.

I pick up my bags for the thirty-seventh time today and follow.

We walk farther into the forest and come upon a village of sorts. It's like a scene out of a movie or storybook, yet completely real. Not cartoonish at all, even though people literally have made houses out of trees, and chairs out of (giant!) mushrooms, and the like.

It seems a simple little community. It's warm and inviting. Admittedly, everything is a tad surreal—sort of like what I might expect at a renaissance faire. Something made up to feel like a land of faeries.

But again, it's real and feels like somewhere I have been before. A piece of myself I've never known. _Or maybe I have forgotten..._

I follow Zoë and Landon into a dwelling I can only assume is theirs since they don't knock before entering.

Inside, it looks like any other house in Wales. The walls are different, of course, being part of the inside of an oak tree and not made of drywall, but the fae have made themselves a pleasant home.

Out of habit, I set down my bags by the door. Then I walk on in and wander around, touching pretty much everything in sight. I can't seem to get over the fact this is all happening and how great the good parts are.

And I say so. Zoë nods and asks me if I want anything to drink.

"Sure. What do you have, though? I mean, do you have normal food and all?"

"Well what do you consider normal?"

"I don't know. Chips. Pop. Pizza. Stuff like that. I guess raw veggies sound good, too."

Zoë enters the kitchen, which I can see every part of with their open floor plan, and then rifles through the cabinets, grabbing things from here and there. She also pulls a few items from the fridge.

She laughs, not quite _at_ me but not _not_ at me. I don't mind though. I know things must be entirely different here. It will take some getting used to is all.

"Yes," she answers me, "we can get stuff like that if you want, but it's not exactly what we're used to eating. It is much simpler to make our own food. Are you up for trying something new?"

With a shrug and an odd glance at the combination of food sitting on the counter, I nod. "Yeah, sure. Why not? If I'm fae I probably like fae food, right? And it's not like I'll get stuck here like all the faery tales I heard as a kid," I add with a laugh.

Landon was missing for a minute but comes back just as I say this.

"What faery tales are you talking about?"

Over the tinkering and clanging of pots and such in the kitchen, I find myself a spot on a rather comfortable tree root. It is covered with a cushion and fashioned like a bench.

I tell Landon about how, supposedly, if humans eat or drink anything while in the land of Faery, they will be stuck here forever, never to return back home.

"Wow, that story is something humans actually tell each other? Kind of makes you wonder..."

"Wonder what? They're just tales, like... _Rumpelstiltskin_ and _Little Red Riding Hood."_

"Or are they?" Zoë enters from the kitchen with a platter full of miniature sandwiches and cakes, along with different fruits and vegetables cut up with dips. She sets it all down on a low table, much like a coffee table, and goes back to the kitchen for a second, only to return with another tray—this one full of drinks. Different types of juices, it appears.

I simply smile and reach for a tiny piece of cake. Seeing food makes me realize how hungry I really am—it's been a while since I have had anything to eat. The delectable cake tastes of pure honey.

"Wow, these are fantastic. You just made them now?"

"I did. It doesn't take too long when you're used to eating pretty much the same thing day in and day out. Like fruits, berries, or anything else we can find in the forest. We, of course, don't kill anything and eat it like you are probably used to."

"Oh, no," I say through a mouthful. "I do _not_ eat meat. Haven't since I watched some show on Animal Planet when I was practically still a baby. Can't touch the nasty fracking stuff." I shiver just at the thought of eating a slaughtered animal.

Zoë gives me an odd glance but then changes topics back without a segue, obviously having something she needs to say. "So anyway, you were talking about faery tales. You don't think any parts of them are real? I mean, look at this." She waves her arm around her house.

"What do you make of everything you have been learning? Did you ever think there were faeries—let alone, _you are one_?"

"Well, no," I reply after swirling a delicious juice all around my mouth, letting the taste absorb as much and as long as possible.

"No, I guess I didn't. Like I told my housekeeper—well, the woman who's always watched over me and told me what I am—I've always known I was different, but I didn't know how different. And, no, I never would have expected any of this. But it makes sense now that I do know..."

"I guess my point is, if this can all be real, then why can't Little Red Riding Hood—is that what you called it—be real as well?" Zoë asks.

Wiping my hands on a napkin, I take a breath. Well at least I try, having forgotten that I don't need to breathe in Avalon.

I glance back and forth from Zoë to Landon, admiring the way they look so alike. I make a mental note to ask them about it when I get a chance.

"OK. So suppose you're right. These stories stemmed from reality. What does it really matter, honestly? It'd be pretty cool to know it's all real, but it doesn't have much effect on our world. Well, that is, unless people really can't come here and eat and drink."

My two hosts stare at me stoically.

"What? You're telling me it _is_ true?"

Landon nods as Zoë says 'yes.'

"Wow. Well, that's something to think about, right? But I'm fae so it doesn't pertain to me. Just like any of the tales my parents told me or ones I read when I was younger don't, either."

"That may be true," Landon covers his mouth as he chews. "But what you don't know about are the stories _we_ heard as kids."

My mouth slows. I want to devour this delicious whateveritis as quickly as I can, but I am entirely too curious now.

After a huge gulp of pear juice, which is odd but good, I lick my lips and prepare to learn even more about my past and my world. I figure some of this info can be useful and not just entertaining.

And I need to know all I can because a) I have this unknown job to do and, b) I should probably know how to do the job if it really is as important as I've been told. And I have the feeling it is, after having spoken with Covetina.

"Ah, how true." I say. "Well how about you guys tell me one of them?"

"But of course," Landon replies.

Zoë looks at him with her head tilted down and one eyebrow arched slightly.

Landon pleads with puppy dog eyes. "Oh, come on. It's safe here. Our house keeps its secrets and besides, it's just one story. Nothing different than what our parents told us, right? Plus I'm kind of working on a theory here. Why did we come here if not to talk?"

"Eh, I suppose so," Zoë resigns easily, starting to pick up some of the dishes. "We did promise to tell of everything that has been happening of late."

"Do you want help with those?" I ask before the storytelling can begin.

"Oh. No worries. Just relax and listen to Landon's story. You'll enjoy it... he likes to play things up." Zoë walks toward the kitchen with a light, tinkling laugh trailing her.

### THIRTEEN

"All right, so before I get to all the strange events that have been going on," Landon starts, "I'm going to tell a rhyme that I promise you every faery in the land knows. And with this rhyme comes a story and a warning.

"I always thought it was a fun tale. Just like the others we were told, albeit darker, but still... I've heard more often than not that it is part of a prophecy. It reads as one and, well—like I said, there is a theory running around in my head and I think it is coming true... possibly."

Again with that word—prophecy. I reallyreally do not like hearing it. I'm crossing my fingers and my toes that this rhyme has nothing to do with me.

Landon begins reciting:

_T_ _he evil stirs, a generation kept at bay_

_H_ _ell's angel will not rest till he kills, his last day._

_E_ _ach moment he is free while he is released,_

_D_ _awned for a moon's cycle, no fae will know peace._

_A_ _las, he will come and stalk; he will hunt and crave,_

_R_ _uin your emotions, haunt your dreams – please try to be brave._

_K_ _ind child, he desires fear, but he will be unable_

_O_ _n her own, she will keep you safe in your cradle;_

_N_ _othing can stop him except this changeling unknown_

_E_ _nding him with her return, he'll live in the dark, alone._

"Wow," I say, wondering how many times that word has been uttered today as well. I mull over the rhyme in my head. "That _is_ pretty heavy, I can't deny that. But like I said... we had the same stuff when we were younger. Songs and chants like _Bloody Mary_ that are supposed to raise the dead or some other crazy crap. It sounds like a creepy rhyme made up for fun."

_But if it is true, and about me—if I_ 'm the 'changeling'—what _the hell does it mean? Am I trying to convince myself not to believe the truth? Or is it a plain rhyme and nothing more?_

"I mean, seriously, how do you guys know if it really means anything?"

"Because it does," Zoë replies, coming back into the main room, having finished washing the dishes. "It is the only thing that makes sense. You see, we have found faeries hurt, all over. That's not supposed to happen. But it is and I am beginning to agree with Landon that something big is happening.

"I have heard that royalty do horrific physical things to each other and unsuspecting innocents, but if it does happen it isn't like _we_ would ever see even a small portion of that reality. What we are seeing though, loud and clear—it all has to do with that creepy rhyme."

The scene when Donovan attempted to kill Olivia and Preston flashes through my mind. And the shadows in the hallway and at Hollie's. I still haven't figured out if they were there to hurt me specifically, or just anything that crosses their paths.

Landon takes Zoë's hand as he nods in agreement with her. "It's true, Kellyn. We can't get hurt easily and we most definitely don't die." He looks down; I already know him well enough to understand this is something he does when he's uncomfortable, but he looks up again and starts, "Well, except for..." And then his head lowers back down.

He's been so open with everything so far, so I can't imagine what could be so hard for him to talk about. He loves talking about anything; he could probably make grass growing a stimulating conversation.

"Except for what? What happened?" My tone demands the answer more than asks for it.

"There was one faery who died right after giving birth; the babe never to be found. But that was only the one time. Or so we thought. We know no specifics of any others, nor have we heard of such a thing happening again. The rhyme does makes it seem like it has happened before the one we do know about, though—based on the word 'generation.' It was more than likely the most recent occurrence."

Damn it if a lot of what Landon says doesn't make my mind wander. At least only as far as to things which are somewhat related, but still... 'Generation?' That was one of many things I didn't understand while Donovan was spouting off in the road. I rub my arms to calm the goosebumps as I sit in a room that's a perfect temperature.

"It is happening again, Kellyn. Or at least it looks like it's leading that way. If that's the case, then you might not be the only changeling coming out of the woodwork. This faery's child, a girl, must be the one in the prophecy."

Sadness spreads across his face, looking at the floor as he speaks the final part. I am rather surprised I'm capable of processing this much... It must be the strength I have that I am still unaware of because I'm quite sure I should have passed out at this point.

When Landon lifts his head and sees me, his eyes scream that he can tell what I am feeling. I don't need a mirror or any psychic powers to know my face is devoid of all color.

"What's wrong?" The sadness becomes concern and he leans forward, as if he might need to jump up and help me at any given second.

I swallow down a huge lump in my throat. "That—that faery was... my mother. That's why I'm back, I think. I mean, I'm not sure, but yeah. The child—me— _was_ found. By humans. And now here I am." _Did I really just say all of that? Did it make sense?_

"I have always believed the story. I never doubted it once; but to know for real it is true..." I feel like I'm being probed, the way Landon's eyes are taking me in. I'm glad I am sitting down. One, for the support. Two, it's common knowledge what happens to those that are different and taken to other worlds to study. Of course I know that isn't the case here but it almost feels that way...

Landon's eyes widen as he shakes his head. "And then to have you here, well this is a lot to digest."

"Tell me about it. This day has been pure insanity for me. And now I know there's more going on and _I'm_ supposedly the one who should stop it. I was told I have a so-called calling or a job to do but I could never have imagined it would be of this caliber."

Landon is practically sweating sympathy for me. He is hot and distressed and keeps tugging at his t-shirt collar. "Well, someone has to, and I guess it makes sense because you are tied to it. Revenge or something—somehow."

An avenging angel.

I honestly wish all these words and pictures would stop already. I have plenty to deal with as is. And besides, I'm a faerie, not an angel.

Pausing for a second, Landon is lost in deep, and what appears to be disturbing, thought. "The blood and skin and all the horror. And the shadows that are always creeping around..."

Zoë continues Landon's thoughts, both of their expressions haunted by what they have seen of late. "If we hadn't witnessed the poor fae with our own ‏‪eyes..." She trails off before even really starting.

"Don't worry guys, I won't make you talk about it... I can imagine. The news in the human world is pretty bad with murders and beatings and so much more. It's probably a lot alike. Except for that's the nature of humans. But it's not normal for Avalon, right?"

Both Zoë and Landon shake their bowed heads, neither of them looking at me. I look down, too, in an attempt to process the impossible. The impossible that I know deep down is not only possible but is also true. I lift my head back up when they do—I sense the movement even while in the dark recesses of my mind.

Zoë breaks the silence. "The problem is that fae want to be like humans so badly that our nature has started to become the same as theirs over time. We have turned darker and we like to cause problems, mostly testing our boundaries and pushing each other to find limits, but all in good fun. But look at The Depraved. They have taken it past being a mental game. We don't go to the point of hurting our own kind. Or any kind, for that matter. But they do. And we hear about it but they keep it hidden. They don't allow those who are uninvolved to witness anything."

The lightness that was all around the house before the story-telling began can no longer be felt. A lonely, sad silence fills the room instead.

I lean back against the bark behind the stool I'm on, stretching my legs in front of me and wondering why the dark side of humanity is what faeries are envious of. Is it possible that the dark just want to be darker? I have no idea if darkness equates power, but this idea makes some sense as I think about it.

Taking a deep breath that doesn't come, I say, "Let me just think about this a minute, because I feel like I should know something here but it's just not clicking. What was the thing you said about shadows being around?"

I cross my legs and play with my flippies as I wonder if the shadows they see are the same kind I feel are stalking me. One flippie falls off my foot when Zoë speaks, scaring me out of my silent vision.

"Sometimes—quite a lot lately, out of the corner of your eye you'll see something dark slithering around. You know how you think you see something but when you turn your head nothing is there?"

"Yeah. Happens to me all the time. Well, except—never mind." I want their full answer first. Or at least most of it. I haven't had to share much of importance other than who my mother is and I'm sure after this I'll know I can truly trust them—after all they've offered me so far. But there is still a part of me that is hungry for one last kibble of reassurance, after all I have been through.

"Never mind what?" Zoë asks me. "Is the same thing happening to you? That lately there _is_ something there? Like a shade of something just staring you down, not leaving, sitting there―"

"Until you can't stand it and you have to leave 'cause you have no clue what it is or what it's doing—or about to do..." I interrupt without thinking, but I'm all right with that now. It's a part of the new me. Or maybe it's just the old me, amplified and secure.

Zoë bites her lower lip in thought and nods. "Exactly."

"They must be part of the dark court, out to play, huh? Allowing others to watch?"

We both look at each other, rather frightened, and nod.

Landon seems to be half-listening to us talk, but is also in his own little world. He jumps in, ignoring the current topic.

"I know what it is you're not getting, Kellyn."

"What's that?" I kick off my other slipper, glad to be free of them. And as much as I don't want to hear a plan or an explanation, I know I need it. I will get exactly nowhere without it.

I sit back up and wrap my now bare feet over my legs, lotus style. If only I had a cool but dorky-slash-smart best friend who could help me just like all the TV shows seem to have. Like Veronica Mars had Wallace. Or wait—he had her. But V did have Mac, her computer whiz friend. Ooh, Stefan has Damon. I could certainly handle having my own personal Damon to do the things I'm just not able to do. And maybe he could do some other things, too... Point is, I need someone.

But I don't and I am already tired of waiting around trying to understand everything. The idea is to get out and _do_ something about all this hellish crap (again, just like 'wow,' I wonder how many times I have said or thought this today). So my full attention needs to be on Landon, my pseudo-Watson, while I am waiting for him to give me the answers I simply can't figure out on my own.

Who knows what Donovan is up to while I'm sitting here chatting. I have to find him. And maybe Sloane will be with him. _No. Shit._ Not _Sloane. What about Blake?_ Maybe he only died for effect. He could still be around. Donovan might have simply wanted to screw with my head; make me more vulnerable.

_Hey, I can dream..._ Sadly it seems that's all I'm doing, though.

"Donovan." Landon says, which forces my head up to where it should be. "Donovan is the creature from the rhyme."

He pauses, waiting for our reactions.

"No way!" Zoë pushes at Landon in a joking way. A split second later, though, realization washes over her face.

I feel my color drain again as I know, flat out _know_ , that Landon isn't just onto something. He is right. It's the only thing that makes any sort of sense.

"So he's after me because he killed my mother? From the vision Bonnie showed me, the creature was only able to kill her before being bound, or trapped again, or whatever... He had to leave me alone. And now he's back and wants me."

Sitting and staring at the table in front of me, I attempt to process. It feels like both ten hours and ten seconds.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna be sick."

I leap up and sprint to the kitchen, not knowing where the bathroom is, and I throw up almost everything I just ate all over the freshly cleaned sink. A cold sweat runs from my forehead, down my temple, and around to the back of my neck.

Wiping my mouth with an open palm, I turn on the water to rinse off my dirty hand and clean out the sink. I find the soap and wash my hands. Precariously, I lean forward and splash my face, not quite sure I have my balance. I make it quick and stand up fully to find a towel.

Zoë is by my side, one in hand already, her other hand rubbing my back. I take the towel and blot my face dry.

"Ha ha, I guess I was wrong." I smile weakly at my new friend. Because that must be what she is. To know who I am and the danger I might be causing her and her love this very instant. She is standing by my side; not kicking me out into the village to take care of myself and stay far, far away from them.

Only Hols has ever been there for me in this way before. A little more strength pushes its way into my jaw and forces a more genuine grin. "I thought I could handle more—pretty much anything—but I'm obviously having a rough time of it."

"It's all right. You're handling your situation better than I would be—I can promise you that."

"Ya think?" I like that she sees me as strong. "Well, I feel like a mess."

I pause, a wave of nausea rolling over me again. But it passes before it can get too bad. "So... Donovan is the _worst_ Depraved ever. The prophecy—the one telling of me, the changeling—says _he_ is the evil I must stop. _He_ is who I am supposed to fight. And somehow defeat. Brilliant."

I don't understand why I was even born if this is what's to come of it all. But then I swear I feel a hand smack my brain from inside my head, and I know I can't think like that. No self-pity emo crap allowed. I need to get my shit together. And now.

Zoë nods with a smile. "Yes. I suppose Landon has discovered what you must do. But we will help you in any way you need. The tale tells that you will win. I have faith that you will."

"I sure hope so. Because I don't know what'll happen if I don't."

I look away from her, feeling ashamed that this is happening—that these beautiful fae are having to experience such horrifying things because of me.

Then a contradictory thought enters my mind. "Wait a minute... How can it possibly be Donovan? The tale says the creature-monster thing only leaves for one month every generation. I've known Donovan for years. So there's no way it's him!"

Every muscle in my body relaxes with relief and I slump down to the ground, allowing the cabinets to support my back and shoulders.

"But, if it's not him then what does that mean? Are there two horrible creatures out there? Is this thing just made up for story's sake?" I thunk my head against the cabinet a couple of times in exasperation.

Landon walks over to us in the kitchen and sits at the table. He rests his arms on his knees to better talk to me.

"I had to think about this part for a while. The thing is, Donovan is the leader of The Depraved. We all know that. He has his sidekicks and runs it like any other royal court. The other courts don't make themselves as well known, but they're there. Donovan likes to have the power, so he displays it.

"I have heard of some really strong fae who can take over others. Almost like a possession. I have also heard stories of fae cooperating together to make one single, stronger faery. So my theory isn't as basic as 'Donovan is the evil creature from the rhyme.' I think Donovan may have learned more about the story's background and found a way to free the creature. To make him a part of himself. That way they both can have the best of both worlds. He most certainly has the power to do so, more than any other fae out there... except maybe you once you realize your power."

I inspect Landon's face, trying to read if he really is right or just reaching for an answer from anywhere. Just to have it figured out. He believes he's right, of that I'm sure. I shift my gaze to my feet to think about what I believe—what makes sense to me. After way too much silence, in the room and my head, I give up.

"OK, I'm overwhelmed now, I've gotta admit. I'm up and then down with thinking things are all right and then not. What the frack is the truth here?" I look back and forth from Landon to Zoë—tears about to spill, my eyes pleading.

"I don't know—I wish I had an answer for you." Zoë is the epitome of concerned and helpless and I want to kick myself for ever doubting her. "But I do know Donovan is an evil guy and what Landon is saying makes sense. If you had lived in Avalon this whole time, it wouldn't seem so far-fetched. Almost anything is possible here. Especially with The Depraved."

Landon's excitement, tension, and also his frustration are so strong I feel both stupid and angry that he isn't getting his point across. Our emotions mix together and blur inside of me, making this conversation all the more difficult. I attempt to clear my head—focus and really understand. I nod for him to keep talking.

"The rhyme stays the same, of course, which is why it is a rhyme—so fae can remember it. But the story changes from family to family and village to village, just as any other tale does over the years based on who is telling it. And this one is so old that no one can really know what _exactly_ is supposed to happen. And therein lies the problem. Different beliefs and ideals change the meaning."

"But do you really think two people can live as one? That Donovan has that much power to overturn the rule—or whatever—that this creature thing is only freed at certain times? It just doesn't make sense."

"It actually does." I vaguely feel the pressure of Zoë putting her hand on my knee. She holds out a glass of milk with her other hand. Even with everything that is going on, I notice how graceful Zoë is. If I had made the same motions, milk would have been all over the place.

And then I decide I must be going crazy... thinking about such stupid stuff with the gravity of this situation I am in.

I take the milk and practically down the entire glass in about two seconds. Feeling better and somehow stronger, my mind goes back to my encounter with Donovan in Preston's kitchen. How we both wanted milk. It must be another fae thing but not at all important enough for me to mention right now.

"Put yourself in Donovan's shoes," Zoë prompts, "if at all possible. You have amazing evil powers at your disposal. But you don't have _everything._ There is something out there greater than you—no matter that it's a creature only released around every twenty years, give or take. It is still an entity that can kill an immortal being. Someone as evil and power-hungry as the leader of The Depraved is going to want that power."

Landon finishes up Zoë's thought. "So what makes the most sense is that somehow, over the past few weeks, Donovan found a way to take over the creature from the rhyme. It had probably been released already, or at least was close to freedom. I am simply basing this on your age—or how old I believe you to be... Anyway, Donovan pulled the creature into his own being and is using its power. That would certainly explain why he is so desperate to get to you."

"Huh." I can't believe I'm thinking about such nonsense rationally, but here I am, doing so. "I guess from what little I _do_ know, that's honestly believable. I didn't tell you guys about my ex-boyfriend, Blake. He was a Golem that Donovan controlled. I dated him for years, obviously not knowing he wasn't 'real.' He met his demise earlier today—not something I want to get into..."

I set my empty glass of milk beside me and push it away as though it holds the memory of Blake. The thought is almost enough to make me lunge for the glass and hold it against my heart. Forever. He enters my mind but I haven't had the time to embrace how much I miss him. Which is good because I don't believe I have the emotional or physical energy for that. So instead, I wrap both arms around my legs, pull my knees close, and rest my chin on them.

Tilting my head to the side, with my left knee digging into my cheekbone, allows me to see both Zoë and Landon. "Suffice it to say, I do know for sure Donovan has the power to control another being. And if he could do it for years, he definitely could do it for only a month, right? And he's _always_ hated me. We've hated each other, actually. He got on my nerves, constantly being a jackass."

"The thing is," I continue, "for the past couple of months, Blake and I have been fighting. And I knew all along it was Donovan making it happen—well then I knew him as Andrew, confusing and strange as that is—but the point is that it was all Donovan's fault. The fighting was... I could just sense it and even my friends could see he was manipulating Blake somehow."

Zoë laughs a little and I raise my eyebrows, ready to be pissed off, wondering what could possibly be funny right now. "I bet none of you would have ever thought of how he was truly manipulating him."

She gets a smile out of me. The girl deserves props.

I shake my head, possibly giving myself rug burn, or jean burn... whatever. But it doesn't affect me any more than that fleeting thought. "No, that's true. Definitely wouldn't have figured that one out on our own." I pause for a second before going on with my thoughts. "I don't know, though—maybe he was planning this the whole time and using Blake. To build his own strength and to prepare me. To piss me off even more. 'Cause it seems that's what makes Donovan happy, right? Any sort of torture—big or small..."

"Yes, he enjoys any kind of drama and hard, mean, raw emotion. He feeds off it, and those shady shadow things seem to, also," Zoë answers.

I shudder involuntarily as I remember watching the creature suck in the black smoke when it was after my mother. Who would have imagined such pure evil existed? At least I've seen some good, though, too. I unwrap my arms from my body cocoon and stretch my legs straight out and my arms straight up. A yawn escapes me and I realize just how exhausted I am. The lack of sleep and the stress of all this is taking its toll.

Bringing my arms back down, I clasp them together in my lap, awkwardly unsure of what to do next. "Well then, I guess you guys are right about all this stuff with Donovan." It's too bad I know they are. The slight blip in my reasoning was only that—a slight blip. Me trying to make things less dark. But what was it Donovan said in the road—about a generation of solitude, waiting for me? Didn't understand it then... Hell, this is all true.

I laugh, the weirdest sound coming out—half-deluded.

"Well, at least I got the throwing up out of the way. It's not hitting me quite so heavily anymore. Or that could also be because this is all just so freaking surreal. Who the frack knows? All _I_ know is I need to freshen up and try to process this a little more."

I lift one hand out in front of my and watch it shake with weakness.

"Anyone want to help me up?"

Zoë stands up and extends her arm. I reach to grab it and she pulls it away.

I question her with my eyes, almost trying to force her to answer me.

"I will. On one condition."

My arm is tired so I allow it to drop down by my side. "OK. What's that?"

"Please explain to me what this 'frack' word is all about. I understand you speak a little differently than us, honestly not much, which is surprising, but that is a strange word I have certainly never heard before." Zoë laughs and crosses her arms, waiting for an answer.

"Wow. Ha ha. Yeah, most people don't even make fun of me anymore or bring it up. It's kind of funny you mention it, though, because I was just thinking about the show I got it from. Like, a few minutes ago. Short version is, it's from this science fiction show a bunch of people were, are, into. I watched a show, _Veronica Mars_ , where in one episode, the main girl needed help from a fan of the sci-fi show. He used the word; she asked about it. The guy told her it was from said show and is the curse word of the future. So she used the word later in the show and I thought it was funny. I suppose I find weird things funny..."

Even as I explain this to Zoë, I realize how silly it is but hey, most things in our lives are from pop culture—why should I be immune?

She reaches her arm out again and I tentatively sit up more and touch her hand, making sure she won't change her mind. But she pulls me up, laughing all the while.

"I think we are going to learn a lot from each other and I think it's going to be fun. I can already tell you will remain a close friend, Kellyn."

Zoë looks like she wants to hug me but I feel a bit of confusion, as if she doesn't know whether or not she should. So I take the pressure off of her and grab her for a quick hug, if for no other reason than to feel something—someone—solid so I don't feel quite so alone.

"I agree with you, Zo. Your home almost feels like my own."

Pulling back, I realize how this sounds. I laugh and tell her, "I'm totally not saying I'm gonna beg you to move in. I just mean that you and Landon have been my introduction into this world and nothing, and no one, can ever replace that. You two pretty much rock."

Zoë nods and smiles, and then looks at the hallway, speaking with her eyes.

### FOURTEEN

I dawdle in the bathroom, which Zoë showed me. I need a minute of alone time. Or a week, but I'm pretty positive no one will give me that. On the way in here, it was almost difficult not to laugh, thinking that I wished I had known where this room was before I got sick. Urping in front of strangers the day I meet them—in their house, no less. Typical me... But nothing about this should be funny. Humor must be my main form of self-preservation. Either that or I'm demented and I don't feel comfortable with that description. Faery, yes. Demented, no.

I freshen up, glad I brought my bag and can brush away the day's worth of gunk, truth, and... oh yeah, puke. The little eye makeup I wear also needs a touch-up and is actually fun to play with while I admire my glow from within.

The aura around me isn't of any color in particular – not like the blue that moves from aura to skin on Zoë and Landon's bodies. Yet I am not only white like I've always thought. A glittery sort of halo surrounds my entire being, with hints of color beaming off of it in time with my movements. It suits my skin quite well. I wonder if color will make its way into my skin the longer I'm here.

It doesn't take long to gather my bearings and to feel like myself again—whatever that is. But I think I might finally be starting to get it. Although I can't shake an aggressive, nagging sensation that has been creeping into and through me over the course of the day.

Yeah, I like what I am and I finally feel whole, in a sense, but I also keep feeling urges to lash out. For no reason. Like I need to test my limits and see what my true nature _really_ is. I'm just hoping I'm not even close to being anything like Donovan.

If only I can learn to be like my mother... I do feel I am on that path. I've curbed my compulsion whenever it has arrived. No one deserves my wrath. Except Donovan and I'm fairly sure he got his fair dose. Or not. He'll get more and he does deserve it.

Whatever this urge I have right now is about, it isn't going away and that's a tad scary. But at least I'm content in the moment. And I have much bigger things to worry about, anyway. Like a prophecy. An insane prophecy. And it's insane that it's a part of my life. I'm part of a prophecy in a land not human. Who would have imagined?!

With a smile at myself, as I can't help but feel rather important, I turn out the light and walk back to the to join the others.

"So guys," I announce grandly as I enter the living room, "now that I'm feeling a little better, I have a question for you." _Like, how long was I in the bathroom since you two are knee-deep in projects now?_

"Shoot." Landon looks up from his painting of a forest scene. Zoë has begun dusting and rearranging things in the house, which reminds me of Hols' room now that I think about it.

Paintings cover the walls and there are cool sculptures and vases on wooden shelves. I assume Landon made them all, judging by how far he's gotten on the painting already and how amazing it is.

Forcing myself to ignore the awesomeness that is their house, I look at Landon.

"OK, in the bathroom just now I was noticing how I look. Everything appears different to me now that I have been re-baptized—the walls, ground, people... everything. But one thing I realized that's even more interesting is that you two look so much alike. Does that happen since you're obviously, you know, together?"

"It's just something that happens over time. We've been living together and building a life for so many years that we've almost melded into one person." Zoë holds up a small picture, moving it around from spot to spot on the wall, deciding where it looks best.

"Well, we still have our own personalities, of course," Landon says as Zoë finishes speaking, almost interrupting her. He rinses his brush off in water and uses a stained cloth to dry it.

"I paint and draw; she sings and dances and even more—but we have a lot of the same mannerisms and we think alike and finish each other's thoughts and sentences."

"Well sure, all couples end up doing that," I say with a flick of my wrist. "What's so fascinating is how much you look alike. It's like dogs and their owners—the longer someone has a dog, the more they start to look like each other.

"But that's just a random human thing that's not serious. It's not like dogs and people _really_ look alike. This is _for real,_ for real. And it's just crazy, but also super awesome. At least I think so. So I figured I'd ask."

"It's really fairly common. The more you are around here—and I assume you will be since you've seemed to embrace your fae side over your human upbringing—the more you will see it." Zoë pauses for a few seconds, head cocked to the side.

"I guess it is pretty cool, now that you mention it." Another beat passes. "Although I don't know about the whole dog thing." She bursts into laughter. "That just sounds funny as hell!"

Landon and I join in, all laughing at the silliness of it—glad the air has lightened again.

I walk over and stand behind Landon to better see his painting and examine the way he works. "You're so quick. And so good. I wish I had some sort of talent like that. I swear I'm the only faery without one."

Landon turns around and looks up at me, eyebrows raised. "Are you serious? You're the bad ass of all bad asses when it comes to fae. You have more talent in your little pinky than I could ever hope to have in my entire lifetime. Which is an insane amount of time considering I'm immortal."

I feel a warmth rise into my heart and then my face. I smile back shyly at his crooked grin.

"Huh. I never thought of it that way."

Not wanting Landon to have to keep craning his neck, I move back in front of him and sit on the floor. "I guess the way Bonnie, my housekeeper, told me all about faery talents led me to assume they are all in the arts somehow. Maybe I should learn some type of martial art..."

"I don't think you need to, Kel. What you have in you from your mom—what I've heard of her, at least—and just you being you, I bet you could teach the masters a thing or two." Landon surprises me with how straight he keeps his face. He isn't kidding.

I twist my arm to look at my tattoo and run a finger over it once. A slight power zaps into me, almost as though my mother is assuring me it's all right to believe Landon.

Zoë jumps on board, too. "He's right, you know." She walks over to a chair near us. "But the fact that we know it and you're realizing it means it's time to _do_ something. We have to figure out a way to stop Donovan. Make this end once and for all."

Landon is certainly up for moving things forward. "Yeah, I think if I head to the library I can find some books that will help. There has to be info somewhere since this is such a big deal and everyone has known it was going to come. I mean, this was something before he even got to your mother, Kellyn. Part of the prophecy was for her to die, as horrible as that is."

"But you're the cool thing about the prophecy. The only good thing." Zoë leans forward, arms on her knees, hands clasped together. "Now that you are here, we know it will really be over. He can't ever do this again."

"You guys are right. You are. I hate how this—how I—came to be, but no one can change the past. All anyone can do is work on the future and end this creature, like you said."

I stand up and begin pacing, something I am growing to realize I do a lot of while thinking.

"So what should I do? Do you want me to come with you to research or should I figure out what's going on some other way? I feel like I should go back and try to find Donovan. Because I haven't even told you the worst part." I stop pacing and freeze for half of a second, the reality of all the craziness crashing over me. I can't believe I really forgot to mention something so huge. Especially with how great my memory usually is. New emotions and information are making my mind all muddled. That's a gorgeous way to go into this fight or battle or whatever it will be—with a mushy brain... I'll be sure to kick ass!

"All we've been talking about has had me focused on this one thing, the prophecy, and so I spaced last night. And that's what started all of this – the asshole tried to attack my human friends. It's how I ended up getting mixed up with him. If I hadn't been around to see him, to fight him like I was forced to, I still might not know anything about who I really am." I shake my head and throw my hands up like I'm lost and can't deal. And I sure wish I didn't have to but I don't seem to have much choice in the matter at this point.

"Seriously guys, how could I have not mentioned that, especially when we were talking about the shadows or shades or whatever they are? So much has happened so quickly, I suppose. I didn't even put two and two together as soon as I should have about Donovan being able to control someone or something else. Well, whatever the reason, the point is that he's not just after fae. He's out for whatever he can get while he's out. Or at least he wants to hurt people I care about. Hell, I have get back and make sure they're all right!"

But first I need to take a seat, yet again, and focus on relaxing. I start to slump over but then remember that sitting up straight has been my substitute for deep-breathing. Once I open my chest and shoulders, I feel stronger. It's rather amazing how this works. Maybe Bonnie wasn't always on me about posture all these years just so I would look better.

"That really sucks, Kel. I hate that he is doing this and I hate that you're having to clean up after him, all while being targeted. Sadly, I'm not the least bit surprised, though." Landon looks at me and his sincerity couldn't be more obvious if it was written all over his face with a Sharpie. I smile at the emotion in his eyes, at my luck of running into them, and also at the fact that I didn't think I could trust them.

Smiling back at me, he continues. "I think it will definitely be best if I go to the library and Zoë can go around the village to talk with some friends. You need to find a way back to the human realm and see what's going on there. We cannot let Donovan hurt anyone else."

"Sounds like a plan to me." I agree that each of us doing something separately is our best course of action. There is only one problem. "How exactly do I do that, though? I know how to _get_ here, but how do I get _back_? Do you two know of any of those portals you mentioned when we first saw each other?"

Zoë stands up and the abruptness of it startles me. My eyes go to her, certain she has something important to say. "Yes, I do. I have seen some of the fae around here use them. We have always been so interested in human life that many of us go and watch what you—sorry, I mean _they_ —do. How things are done... I can lead you to one not far away."

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Landon staring oddly at Zoë, but she avoids his gaze, only looking at me. I sit silently, nodding at Zoë that I am glad to have this information and her help. I dare to look at Landon but he doesn't see me at all. So I sit back and let the two converse—or avoid doing so—in their own way. But it takes less than a minute for Zoë to break and look at her partner.

"No, I'm not one of those fae. Of _course_ I am interested and I have been tempted, but I have never gone. I wouldn't without you; I wouldn't anyway. It is entirely too dangerous."

Relief passes over Landon's face and he stands up, tilting his head and inspecting her face. Somehow I know he is showing his approval. The two smile at each other sweetly—with a sense that their entire world revolves around the other one. I admire the connection the two have, and my heart breaks all over again for Blake. And for myself. But maybe I can have it with someone else one day. Someone real. I vow to hold onto my memories and to remain open to love.

But once again I curse my own mind. As soon as the future and love are even a thought, or an inkling of a thought, that sinfully sexy Sloane flashes across my thoughts as though they are on an IMAX screen. I don't understand why I can't control my own mind. Seeing him as a future love, or lust, or even friend... well, it pisses me off.

How can my mind even think that way? Sloane is friends with Donovan, whom I'm obviously not crazy about—and that's putting it lightly. My mind is betraying me – to think I would ever actually have anything to do with someone who is so clearly evil. I silently 'grrr' and look over at the couple that got me thinking along these lines.

They have broken their lover's gaze in order to take care of business, and are now eying me with looks that imply I have just sprouted horns or a tail or a beak or something. I hold my hands out to my sides a little, palms up—to question them—and they both look down and take a step back.

Which gives me more to think of. Am I now some scary kind of fae? Or one to be revered? I sure hope not. I am no different now than I was when I thought I was a human. I still want to fit in and be 'normal.' Sure, I love being different in the way that I am because it feels right, but I want to be a part of this community here, and others I will come across. I want to be no different than these two.

Thankfully, Landon breaks my thoughts and gets me to focus on the here and now. "All right girls. Let's get a move on. We have a lot to do and, well, we have no clue what we will unearth. And that will determine how much time we need. Which leads to the importance of finding out how much time we _have_." He stops and smiles. "All right, this pep-talk is not all that peppy."

Zoë and I laugh and look nervously at each other. The mood has been changing every few minutes today. I really hope I get used to this heightened awareness and can figure out a way to dull the emotions, at least to a manageable level.

Landon begins his talk again, not much more upbeat this time around. To his credit, there isn't anything to be upbeat about. So I simply listen as he stares directly at me.

"Let's start with what we do know, and that is, based on the moon, that Donovan will strike at you soon. In the meantime, we have _no_ idea what he is doing, but that is where you being a kick ass changeling comes in handy. You can be extra speedy with your super powers and come back to us before he is able to do anything too horrible."

I nod, not able to do much else since I know he is right. About me needing to be quick. _Not_ about me being able to pull it off or me being some bad ass. Which is exactly the wrong thing to be thinking.

Once again, I gather my two bags and sling them over my straightened shoulder, glad that once people in general get the basics down, they don't have to think about things like grabbing bags and walking. I don't have time to worry about that when I have to focus on my shoulders and keeping my head straight. I need to bring out my inner 'bad ass' and believe. A buzz begins moving through my veins as I think of what I am about to do and why, and as I start to feel what Landon was just saying.

Grinning, I let my two new friends lead me somewhere new and unknown.

Walking out of the house, Zoë and Landon kiss goodbye and I give him a hug. He heads west to the repository and we girls need to go east toward the portal Zoë knows of.

It's much closer than I thought it would be. Just a few houses down, Zoë grabs my hand and pulls me into a backyard.

"Shhh, I'm not sure who really knows about this so we have to do it quickly."

"All right. Just tell me what to do and I'll take it from there. Wait. Crap. How am I going to get back to this same spot? Avalon is so huge—how will I find you?"

"You just will. If this is where you want to be, it is where you will end up. Trust me. No, scratch that—trust yourself. I have faith in you and you should, too. Now, let's go."

We walk about twenty paces before coming up to a pair of trees. Zoë speaks to them in a hushed tone.

_Is she really talking to trees?_ Whatever... I shrug and decide I need to take everything as it comes.

To my surprise, the trees start to spread away from each other, leaving a gap much, much bigger than before. One I can easily walk right through.

I turn to Zoë for a hug. "I'll be back as soon as possible. I hope you guys can find out as much as I do, or even more. See you soon."

Walking up to the trees, I touch one with my right hand and feel a warmth as the bark moves just as skin would. I smile, turn and wave, and then walk through the portal.

* * * *

Just as I hoped, I am right back at Hollie's truck. _Ah—you rock, Hols. You never steer me wrong._

Laughing at my own horrible pun, I dig my gloves out of my purse and put them on. Oddly, even though it's dark out, I can see by the light of the waning moon as well as if it was the sun. And not much of the moon is left, seeing as the new one is due soon.

I put on the gloves and walk to the driver side door. As I open it, I pray the car will start. If it doesn't, I'm not sure what I'll do.

Climbing in, I sit back and relax, the smell of my friend overpowering my senses. I am breathing again. I take large gulps of air just to smell the nostalgia.

Hell, I have to do what I need and get back to Zoë and Landon. I can't handle this not-breathing-well crap. Maybe I should get an inhaler or something.

I have to laugh at myself for real now. A heroine who needs an inhaler. What kind of image would that be?!

The keys are still in the ignition from when the truck died earlier. I cautiously reach for them and put my foot on the clutch. I push down with my foot and turn the key and... the car actually starts. On the first try—I did _not_ expect that. Silently, I offer pure thoughts to the gods.

Now I need to figure out where to go from here. Who am I supposed to find?

I guess I should call Hollie to see if she has heard from Olivia or Preston. I need to make sure they are all right. And then I have to find Donovan. Or at least find out where he is and that he isn't causing any problems.

Flipping the car around and going back toward the way I came, or at least where I think I came from since I have no fracking clue where I am, I grab my phone and call Hollie.

She answers on the first ring. "Hey hon. You freaking out about having to see Blake?"

I say nothing, wondering what she's talking about.

"I know you don't want to, but it's something you just have to get over with, sweets."

I scrunch my eyebrows, hyper aware of how strange the skin in between them feels. "What do you mean? I've been gone for hours with some other faeries I met. I've been hanging out with them, trying to figure out what's going on. I left Blake forever ago..."

As soon as the words leave my mouth it hits me that, in the human realm, I probably _have_ just left. Maybe only a half of an hour ago. It's the time difference Zoë spoke of.

"What are _you_ talking about?" Hollie asks, concern in her voice. "You just left my house not that long ago..."

"Never mind," I say with a wave of my hand, which causes the car to veer, which is just my luck. "Shit. I don't have anything together here." I grip the wheel again and rest my phone between my cheek and shoulder.

"You wouldn't believe the differences I've noticed today. Like the time, for example. It's a total realm thing. Time is faster in Avalon than it is here. I'm not sure exactly yet, but I think even days can pass there and it would only be a few hours here."

I think of something then, though. "But as much as that makes sense, it doesn't. When I left Blake's it was no darker than when I left your house; actually, it was lighter. Which is beyond weird in itself. Why didn't I notice the change then? And if, when I went into Avalon through the forest, no time passed here, why is it so dang dark now?"

"Girl, you're scaring me. It's been dark for a while now. It was getting late when you left. A lot has happened today—we spent forever just at my house with Bon, remember?"

"Huh, it was dark? I guess Zoë was right. I'm just seeing things differently. I wonder what would make me see it as light here when it was really dark. I know it was dusk, but it was _light_ light with Donovan—just like I was saying to Zoë... but now her explanation doesn't make any sense." I ponder this for a second, with Hollie just as silent on the other end.

"All I can come up with is that Donovan had some control over it. And maybe I did, too. If it had been dark, I wouldn't have been able to see what he is really like when we fought. Ah, hell. Who cares? I have bigger things to worry about than what freaking time of day it is."

I shift into fifth gear and speed up, just wanting to get wherever it is I am going. The air is thick, making my mind fuzzy.

"All right then..." Hollie replies. "I'm not sure what's going on but I hope you have it all under control. I _really_ would help if I could, I hope you know that, but I just don't think it's my place right now. Especially if you're fighting with Andrew again. I mean Donovan. Oh that's so weird. The whole situation scares the piss out of me, to tell you the truth."

I sigh and it feels unnatural. Breathing is such a task. "It's fine, sweets. You don't need to worry. And I can do this without your help. I'm just kind of freaking out a bit. Sorry to scare you."

"Like I said, it's all right. As long as it's all under control. If you need anything simple, let me know. I'll be home painting tonight."

"Yes! I know where I am." I turn off the road I'm on and head toward town, following a line of familiar-looking houses.

"Listen, I have to go figure out where Donovan went, but there's something I do need from you. Have you talked to Olivia since I left?"

"Yeah, just for a second. I hung up with her right before you called. She wanted me to go out with her and Preston, plus a few other people tonight. But like I said, I'm staying in. I have a lot to process, just like you."

"Awesome, that's definitely what I wanted to hear."

I pause, swallowing down a lump. I feel my eyes wanting to start crying. But I am not about to let them. I focus on what I need to do, and say.

"Hols, I really, really am sorry for how I'm acting. I know this is so _super_ weird and I'm probably not making it any easier for you. Hell, it's hard enough for me so I know I have to be freaking you out. But can I ask you to do me one more simple favor? Something that will help make this safer and more normal?"

"Sure, anything for you. And anything to bring some normalcy back."

"Can you make sure to call Olivia—keep in touch with her and make sure she's doing OK? To the point of being annoying... but not enough to piss her off? And if she ever doesn't answer, call me right away. Like, seriously, immediately. Please."

"Of course. I'm probably gonna be talking to her for a bit while you get all your stuff taken care of anyway. I don't deal well with being alone."

"I know... Me neither. I'm so used to having you there for everything. But it's probably best if we stay apart, at least for a few days or something until I calm down and come up with a plan. Plus, like you said, you need to process."

"You're right. I know you are. It just sucks, is all." Hollie makes no attempt to hide the pain and loneliness in her voice.

I turn off again onto another street—something tells me to and I am learning to follow these kinds of instincts—and I find myself back in Blake's neighborhood. Blinking through tears that magically appear without my permission, I keep my eyes peeled for Donovan. But all I can see are fae walking down the street, all of them glowing without the aid of streetlights which are severely lacking out here. Which makes me wonder what these faeries are doing out in this neighborhood. But it's none of my concern.

I feel just as lonely and lost as Hollie does and I want her to know she's not alone. "I know, it really sucks. But also know that I love you and it's all gonna be fine. Promise me you'll keep yourself safe. Just school and home. The same, basic, boring life we've always led. I couldn't take it if anything happened to you—and you're probably first on Donovan's list as far as someone to hurt to get to me."

"Thanks for the cheery call," Hollie laughs nervously. "And I thought you were supposed to be my best friend."

"Sweetie, you know I am. That's why I'm telling you this. Just watch out for yourself and keep an eye on Olivia. I'll do all I can to make sure you're safe. I don't want you to worry; just to be careful."

"I can do that. I am half-fae myself, so I'm sure I have more strength than we know. But I don't want to have to test it if at all possible... Keep yourself in one piece too."

"I will," I promise. "I love you, Hols."

"Love you too."

I hang up the phone and toss it in my bag, focusing on my surroundings and my breathing. I roll the window down all the way now that it won't interfere with my phone call, and I lean over a little to let the air wash over my face, blowing my hair. It doesn't help as much as I hoped, but it's better than nothing. I am getting more oxygen than I was, at least.

And now that I know my friends are safe, I can concentrate on the task at hand. It doesn't take long to get out of the country at the rate I am driving, and pretty soon I find myself close to downtown.

"Well, Kellyn," I say aloud to myself, smiling at how right it feels to use that name rather than Alexis. "I suppose the best way to find out anything is to get out and ask some people. And maybe find the bad guy." Or maybe avoid him _since_ I don't have a clue how to fight him _yet..._

With this thought, I spot a few open spaces on the side of the street and I parallel park, not knowing what to expect but hoping for the best.

### FIFTEEN

I bounce out of Hollie's truck, not having realized before what it means that I have it. But now that I do, I'm a happy girl. Hols can't even run out to the gas station for some chips—she has to stay home tonight.

Leaving my big bag this time, I take only my purse. I don't love the idea of leaving my journal, but also don't feel the same need for it as I always have before.

I cross the street and see there are more fae walking around than I would have ever believed. They are all so different, yet alike at the same time.

Such unique qualities to each, but no doubt all faeries.

The part of town I have ended up in is pretty much just a block full of bars and restaurants. I suppose this is probably a better place than any other to find evil fae. I know it's a stereotypical, naïve thought, but it is what it is.

Attempting to stop the first faery I come close to, I get pretty pissed when he blatantly ignores me and walks right past.

"Rude!"

The next ones I encounter say a polite 'hello,' but none want to stop and talk, even though I ask a few of them.

What I find intriguing, and what takes away my anger, is that the people—the humans—walking down the street move out of the way of the fae without knowing it. A couple is walking closely next to each other and, as they come up to a purple faery, they part to let her through.

Once she passes, they drift back toward each other. But I can tell it isn't something they noticed. Heck, maybe it didn't even really happen, as far as they're concerned. Maybe I just saw it because it was real and I have the sight. No matter what, it's pretty cool...

As I keep walking, an odd urge grows inside of me. The humans I am passing are starting to bother me a bit. So here I am angry, again. And actually, I'm not simply bothered just a bit. These people are starting to piss me right the hell off, way more so than the rude faeries did.

I have walked around the same blocks three or four times and every time I look at a human, the blank, unknowing expressions on their faces gets under my skin. I wonder how they can just not know.

Of course, I wasn't aware of this other world before, either, but at least I had my dreams—or visions. And I had an idea there was more out there. I sincerely hope I never walked around looking so clueless and useless.

And then I feel like the _biggest_ bitch in the world. Who am I to pass judgment? I'm no one. And besides, I have spent my entire life up until now _as a human_. So it's not like I am much different than them. I try to force myself in check.

Dejected and disturbed, I wander down the street and stare into the storefronts rather than looking at who I pass. I want to avoid any human contact so I can think somewhat clearly. At this point I have walked pretty much everywhere I can and am learning nothing. So now I walk aimlessly, just needing to walk. To get the anxiety out of my system.

No longer rocks or butterflies, I now feel bats or some other kind of bird battling for space in my stomach. And if that isn't bad enough, I think some have made their way out and are moving around through the rest of my body. I swear I am on the verge of exploding. Gods help anyone if they try to talk to me right now...

I pass a tattoo shop and stop for a moment. Standing with one hand on the glass, I watch the large decorated man in the back room place his permanent art on a young, bleached blonde girl. The trashy-looking chick is getting a tramp stamp.

At this point, I cannot stand a thing about humans.

Heck, it might not be so bad if Donovan does wipe out some of them.

Chastising myself immediately, I think back to what happened at Preston's. Hard to believe that was only last night. If seems like eons ago. I feel I've aged ridiculously since then. So much has been learned in a short amount of time.

My new home is wonderful; I finally belong. But a tiny part of me misses the simplicity of being human. I miss last Wednesday. And the day before that, and the one before that. My emotions about the race I lived with for so long are going up and down, as if I am bobbing on a wave—no surfboard to take control and start riding.

For a minute, I consider joining blondie in the parlor. Too bad it would be pointless. Even though I can easily straddle both realms now, I belong to the faeries. Their, well, _my_ dimension isn't a physical one. The tattoo wouldn't truly be a part of me. Not like my mother's mark.

Sighing, I move along and walk until I notice a dive bar-slash-restaurant—one I never would have considered entering in the past. But what do I have to lose today? Nothing, I decide, and open the door.

As I walk into the narrow entryway, I can hardly see in front of me. So much smoke. What is it about smoking and drinking that go together? I have never understood people wanting to kill themselves two different ways at once.

I walk up to the main bar and pull out a stool. Relinquishing myself to the comfort of the cushion, I sigh and place my purse on the seat next to me. As strong as I have been told I am, I don't think I should be this tired. And the breathing—it's hard enough without choking on clouds of death.

The exhaustion has slowly been creeping up on me ever since I came back to the human realm. The annoying humans and their emotions that I can feel add heavily to how tired I am. And the fae feeding off of those... it's too much.

It hits me hard as soon as I sit down. The fatigue really shouldn't surprise me, as even the goddesses are not immune to the downfall of fae's jealousy. But it is so foreign to me it catches me off guard. But it is true what Bonnie told me. I didn't believe it, even with Zoë chiming in earlier, as well. I felt it while walking tonight; I know that fae _are_ extremely jealous of humans.

Even now, emotions are passing from faery to faery so easily and I know how much they enjoy it. The envy has been imbedded in them for so many centuries that it is almost becoming a physicality.

After only a day, I have grown tired of dealing with the ins and outs of the human-slash-fae relationship. Not to mention, I now can feel the emotions of everyone single being in about a two block radius. There is nothing to drown them out as I sit in a rather crowded bar on a busy street, with a person passing every few minutes.

The barkeep approaches and I am thrilled simply because I can stop thinking of all this crap. But I'm already not his biggest fan—I basically have to scream at him to ask for a beer. The song playing is one I have never heard before, yet I know it is 'Violet' by _Hole_. One more freaky fae trick, I suppose. This band is from before my time, but I like the song a lot. Not that that's anything new to me. I can find something to like in almost any type of music. And besides, Courtney Love suits my mood at the moment.

I can read that this guy doesn't even consider carding me, which is odd. But I'm not about to argue. I have never used my fake ID, and there is no need to start now. Of course beer isn't my favorite, but it doesn't much matter what I drink. I found it next to impossible to become drunk when I thought I was human and it will supposedly be harder now since I have given up that part of myself completely.

Faeries are immune to the effects of regular alcohol. Something Zoë mentioned while we were eating earlier. Hence, me never being able to get drunk with all of my friends while partying. The lager fae make themselves, however—that will inebriate even the oldest, most powerful of goddesses.

A large hand slams the beer on the counter and startles me. I jump back a good six inches, catch my balance, and then reach over into my purse. Grabbing my wallet, I toss some cash down and take hold of the bar railing, noticing the griminess of the yellowed plastic. I make a face and spin around to lean my back against the edge of the bar.

Hell! Damn railing is digging right into my bra. Eh, it's still better than standing or walking...

Glancing about the place, I can vaguely make out the shapes of the other patrons. None interest me particularly so I shut my eyes and take a big gulp of whatever I have been given—the cheapest draft.

A near fire going down my throat causes me to cough uncontrollably. Not exactly painful, but still. Something is definitely up with this beer. I look down at it, and then hold the mug up to inspect it further in the dreary light, but I see nothing out of the ordinary.

I sure as hell don't want to drink any more without knowing what exactly it is the dude gave me, so I turn back to ask him what he put in my mug.

While doing so, I glimpse another faery at a table toward the end of the bar. He raises his glass to me and I do the same.

My eyes stay focused in that direction; I couldn't look away if I tried, but I don't want to. I bring my drink back down, still holding on with a shaky hand, and stare blatantly at the guy who acknowledged me. It's Sloane—Donovan's friend I met at the gas station. And saw at the other gas station. And have been thinking about off and on all day, some of the thoughts being fantasies.

I gulp (not my so-called beer!), afraid that if he tries to talk to me I won't be able to block him and he will read those thoughts.

Of course his gorgeousness keeps me gaping, but it is more than that. Much more. He looks entirely different than he did this morning. And I wasn't able to see him clearly when I was in the back of Hollie's car when she got gas.

I am hyper aware that I am staring like an idiot, but again, I can't help it.

His skin is glowing in the exact same manner as mine.

What. The. Hell? How is this possible?

Every faery has a distinct pattern to his or her skin—I am quite aware of this fact by now. No other faery is supposed to look like me. We are like snowflakes that way.

Sure, mates' looks slowly meld together over many, many decades of being together, as Zoë explained, but I only met this guy for about two seconds a few hours ago.

More than curious, I pick up my purse with my free hand and walk over to him, not quite sure what I am doing but doing it anyway. His skin is sparkling so brightly—not like glitter or anything else to make him appear club-like and cheesy... it is more of a scintillating radiance from within. Loud and attention-grabbing, but somehow classy. Almost regal.

He is glowing in the dark, smoky air, drawing me like a moth to a flame... as pathetic as that sounds and seems to me even as I am doing it. Especially since in the back of my mind there is something I know I'm not remembering. Some reason I should stay away from Sloane. But I ignore whatever it might be and keep walking.

He stands as I approach and then he holds a strong hand out to me. In complete contrast to his self-assuredness, I attempt to switch my drink to my other hand.

I awkwardly hold both purse and mug, then extend my free arm. When the two of us touch, the most energizing jolt zaps me just like the first time I shook his hand. But it is stronger now—it reminds me of the power and buzz of my baptism.

The bats or birds or whatever has been hanging out in my stomach disappear, leaving only little butterflies flitting around.

"Hi. It's Alexis, right? Would you like to have a seat here with me?" He gestures with his arm.

"Yeah. I mean, yes. Of course." I tentatively perch on the edge of the chair and set my purse on my lap. I reach up and grip my drink tightly with both hands, feeling entirely unsure of what they will do if unoccupied.

"You can relax. I just want to talk. I'm sure you noticed the same thing I did—our skin..." Sloane is straight-forward, diving straight into the heart of the matter.

"Uh, yeah. It's kind of weird, right? I've never heard of this happening with a faery you don't even really know."

"I have never experienced it either," he says as he leans back in his chair. "Of course I noticed it this morning, but I also knew you couldn't see the similarity. I can see you do now, though."

He cocks his head and I feel he is interested in my story, but isn't going to invade my privacy with questions. He simply smiles instead. I foolishly grin back, mouth spreading from ear to ear—the elf-like ones I hate so much, yet now understand.

I look down into my drink and, with my eyes off of Sloane, I remember what was trying to nag me a second ago. This guy is friends with Donovan. But just because I saw them together doesn't automatically mean they're like super close or anything. And besides, Donovan told me that the two work together and their families are friends. Does that mean I should automatically condemn Sloane? _No. I have to give him a chance. I think... Don't I?_

Deciding with what I like to believe are good reasoning skills, I give Sloane more than what my gut is telling me to. I look up again and am taken aback by his expression.

He is examining me and I feel as naked as I do when my mom makes me see the gyno. Not the best feeling, to say the least. He must know how he is affecting me because in under a split second he wipes his face clean, so to speak, and he reassures me with a smile that, once again, disposes of any doubt I have.

Seeing his relaxed state and feeling the strangest sort of connection, other than the obvious, I am apparently able to sense his feelings. My body loosens up without me having to try. I ease my grip on my drink and lean back in my chair.

He speaks and his husky voice is icing on the Halloween cookie. Cake is all right, sure, but those pumpkin cookies are my absolute favorite. "Just a warning, you might not want to drink that beer you have there."

He raises his hand up, one finger held up to get one of the cocktail waitress' attention. A girl walks over and asks Sloane what he needs, her voice matching his huskiness and I seethe with jealousy at the fact that she pulls it off.

Which is ridiculous for two reasons. One being that I know I have that natural smoky sound to my own voice and could easily sound like that if I tried. And then there is the second reason, this one being the most important – I have _no_ right to be jealous. An uncontrollable part of myself has already claimed this guy when we have barely said seven words to each other.

"Whatever the lady would like," Sloane tells the waitress with a smile, eyes only on me when I dare to glance his way, even though she is standing here gawking over him, clueless that I exist.

I look back at the waitress in order to let my mind think somewhat clearly. I know right away how stupid I am being. Seriously, could I possibly analyze this situation any more than I am? I tell myself I _have_ to stop and feel it out. See what is going on. And figure out what Sloane's connection to Donovan is.

Because I don't know what the hell I was thinking a minute ago... if Donovan is the leader of The Depraved and Sloane works with him, that _can't_ mean anything good. Unless Donovan has another job, but I have no clue why he would.

If the two are even sort of friends, I'm leaving right now. _Unless..._

The waitress taps her pen and I feel her stare going through me. She finally knows I am here but doesn't see me as anyone real or important. I am certainly not competition for Sloane, in her mind.

"I think I'll just have a Sprite. I'm not much in the mood for drinking, after all."

"Not a problem," the waitress tells me, having looked away the second I stopped talking, and so obviously her comment wasn't _really_ for me. _What a bitch._ She looks over her shoulder as she walks away.

"What was that about?" I ask, not talking about the waitress but scowling at her all the same.

"The bartender likes to have his idea of fun with new customers. He gave you some real liquor. I didn't sense you were up for it, so I stopped you from drinking any more than you already had. Not that it seemed you were about to, but..."

"Well, that explains why it set my throat on fire," I say with an awkward giggle. I am feeling more relaxed by the second. It almost feels like a conversation with an old friend already. An unfinished thought lingers in my head, but I can't imagine it's all that important.

This is so strange. I don't even know this guy. Weirdest day ever. Man...

"So, um, who are you exactly? I mean, other than _Andrew's_ friend. What are you doing here tonight? You come here often?" _Oh wow, did I_ really _just say that? No worries, Kellyn, it's only a tiny bit embarrassing. Ha. Yeah, I wish!_

"This is my first time..." ‏‪‫‎‍‌I feel my face flush even as I say this sentence, making things worse.

He _has_ to think I am a huge idiot, fumbling over my words. Yet I don't get that kind of vibe from him in the least. He isn't holding in any laughter or any other even remotely negative feelings toward me.

I look away for a second, processing. I magically remember my earlier thought and continue it. _Unless... Maybe I can use Sloane to my advantage. Find out some information on Donovan._ And I shouldn't feel bad about it because who knows what he is hiding from me. There is no way he can be sweet and pure enough to understand how I feel enough not to laugh at me. Shit, _I_ would have laughed at my own ass!

I risk looking back up and all I see is his skin and his eyes, like the night sky but clearer, more of a liquid version. He could not be any more beautiful.

Sloane answers the question I have almost forgotten with a large grin, "Yeah, I tend to spend a lot of time here. Me and my buddies. My best friend, Donovan, is usually here with me but I can't get a hold of him tonight."

I swear my blood turns from warm liquid straight to ice. I can't move a muscle and, just as sure as I am about my blood being ice, I feel my heart has stopped beating. So he knows Andrew as Donovan, too. I look at his eyes and tell myself to calm down—it's not like I didn't already have a pretty good idea. What I don't get is why he would try to hide this from me since he first met me when I was with 'Andrew.'

I sit back in my chair and stare at Sloane, trying to gauge anything from his expression or maybe a vibe coming off of him. But I get nothing. He turned it all off. Even the good stuff. And that's good, I suppose, because I am starting to remember that simply looking at him made me forget his connection to Donovan.

My voice doesn't work the first time I try to use it. I swallow what little I can in my desert-dry mouth and then speak. "Donovan? I know someone with that name. It's not that common, either, is it?" I haven't a clue how the words left my mouth and am scared shitless to hear the answer.

"Well, there's only one I know of who's around our age... well, your age, I guess. Tall, dark hair, green eyes with an odd bit of orange in them. Is he the same guy you know?"

_Pleasepleaseplease don_ _'_ _t let me throw up all over the table._ _I have had enough of that today as it is._

"Yup. Same guy."

All I am capable of is sitting and staring at the table. I can't bring myself to look at Sloane. Odd, considering just moments before I couldn't look away. The thoughts of mistrust that vaguely ran through my head when I did look away come crashing back at me and they are not vague anymore. These feelings mix with intrigue and infatuation and my head is way, way beyond spinning—so much so that I physically feel dizzy.

The waitress comes back and breaks the discomfort as she sets down my drink. Leaning forward, I take a sip, hoping it will help settle the churning starting up in my stomach, the butterflies long gone. No such luck. I thought 7-Up and Sprite were supposed to help with this sort of thing. I suppose not for faeries. _Just my luck._

"Hey, are you all right?" Sloane asks me, leaning toward me, his eyes genuinely concerned.

_What is that about?_ _He is as bad as me, switching all over the place every couple of minutes._

Or maybe I am only seeing him that way because of how I feel. That sounds more likely.

"Uh, honestly," I say, daring to look up, "I'm not sure. See, this is really weird but I kind of have this... thing going on with Donovan. I'm actually hoping to find him myself soon. But not quite yet. I'm avoiding him for the moment." _Or as long as I possibly can, which of course is stupid._ "Do you think he'll come here?"

Sloane keeps a blank look on his face—I bet he would make a fabulous poker player, yet I can tell he is considering quite a lot. What to say next and how to say it.

He breaks. "All right. So obviously you know who Donovan _actually_ is. I couldn't exactly say it since you were with him when he was posing as Andrew earlier, but I can tell from your reaction that you know a lot more than I thought you did. It appears you have learned some things since we first met... And if you are worried about him showing up here tonight, it probably won't happen, just so you know."

I grab my drink. Something stable to hold onto. "OK—but if you know all about him, why would someone who seems as nice as you want to be friends with him?"

I'm not at all sure I want to hear the answer, but I have to. I cannot risk not knowing what—and whom—I am dealing with here.

Sloane starts by taking a deep breath and I look right at him, waiting. I'm not letting him off the hook. But he doesn't seem to want to be let off. Again, he appears to be contemplating what to say.

I sense he has something important on his mind and can almost feel what it is, like when something is on the tip of your tongue – but I can't quite read him well enough. Something is blocking me. But almost as if bringing it up equaled me asking permission to invade his thoughts, the door swings open and I am allowed access.

I'm glad to know that the weak vibe coming from him is a good one. One of confusion, but of purity and relief. Something is going on, that I know for sure. Something complicated, yet it will help me. And knowing this is creeping me out.

Even though I was curious to know and had faith I had the power, I almost don't want it now. Sensing things and reading Hollie is one thing but knowing a song I had no clue existed and then knowing, really knowing—not just thinking I know—these things about Sloane.

I have to take it as a good thing, I guess. Use it to my advantage. And hope that if he is the enemy, he doesn't know too much about me and my thoughts.

"Well. I guess what I say next depends on what your relationship is with the guy," Sloane offers after what feels like five years. He is nervous for the first time since I laid eyes on him.

I take a deep breath—something I am getting super sick of doing—before answering. "OK. To start with, I think he wants to kill me."

### SIXTEEN

Why in the world did I just say that, of all things?

Now I have even less of a clue as to what I should say. Can I trust Sloane? I don't know him from Adam. Sure, I feel like I can trust him; my gut says I can. But this is not as simple as it was with Zoë and Landon. For one, I'm not quite that desperate anymore. I simply was lucky with them—that they ended up being so amazing.

But with Sloane... it truly is not the same. If I give him anything that Donovan can use against me – this is literally a matter of life and death. And I am not all right with dying just yet.

So no, I can't just tell him what's going on. I need info from him first. I have to trust more than our matching skin and a stupid feeling I have. No matter how strong and real that feeling is... And no matter how much I have come to trust my senses... I don't have a choice. Vague is how I must be.

"I don't really know what to tell you about it all. I've known him for a while now and we've never gotten along. He was good friends with my ex-boyfriend and caused a lot of problems between us. It's kind of a long story."

"Well, I know the guy pretty well and that sounds like him. I'll admit he's a bit of an ass, but we're still tight."

"A bit of an ass? That's the understatement of the year," I mutter into my drink as I take a sip.

Sloane lets out a deep, throaty laugh. "OK, yeah. I suppose I can't lie and say he's a decent guy." He pauses, "In fact, I can't lie at all."

"What do you mean?"

He leans forward and asks, "Have you ever told a lie—a true lie? Without stumbling over your words? Have you ever gotten an untruth out?"

I sit and think this over before I can confidently answer that, no, I haven't. It has always been a problem for me to lie. It's never felt right. I always chalked it up to a moral thing, but Sloane seems to be implying it is more than that.

"So you're saying we flat out can't lie? Faeries, I mean. I wouldn't know since I'm kind of new to all this."

"I can tell. That's why I brought it up. Maybe change the subject for a minute and learn something about you." He smiles, destroying me inside (in a good way) with the simple act. "But nope. We cannot lie. Some might call it a curse, but I think it's a good thing. You always know where you stand with someone. Well, unless..."

"Unless what?" I prompt.

"Well, for one, D can lie. He managed to figure out some way to do it."

I break in and say, "Yes! He actually _did_ lie to me about where he'd been earlier—the ass..."

Sloane shrugs and then nods. "Yeah, I'm not surprised. Also, there are some ways around lying. I've had to see to that."

He obviously doesn't want to go into that just yet and I don't want to push him.

He seems to trust me so I want him to believe I feel the same. Sadly I do, but I am fighting it with all that I have. With all the practical reasoning I have never possessed. And most likely never will, based on what Bonnie told me about my stronger qualities becoming the prominent ones. I am doomed to be that girl who makes all decisions based on emotion and gets screwed over in the process. Just brilliant.

At this point, neither Sloane nor I seem to know what to say next. We sit in silence... again... both focusing on our drinks more than anything else. Or at least pretending to.

Feelings of calmness and uncertainty mixed together force me to speak. This all has to move forward at some point. I can't let on that I am unsure and this weird silence is not going to help me with that. Especially if I can't lie... But if not for that, then for no other reason than to figure out why we match each other. I am certainly interested in that explanation.

Maybe if I open up about myself—tell him basic things he could figure out on his own anyway—I can learn more about what Sloane knows of Donovan. And I assume that's a hell of a freaking lot, considering he claimed they are BFFs. "All right," I say with a sigh. "I'll break this huge ass block of ice on the table, practically blocking our view of each other."

Sloane takes a sip of his beer. Doesn't say a word. Color me reassured. He is patiently waiting for me to continue. Although I don't know what else I expected since I did say I would talk.

Gods, I can be so stupid sometimes.

Like now, for example. Sloane's interested gaze is making me desperate to spill everything. Something about him feels right to me. Comfortable. Even knowing he is connected to evil somehow; maybe even _is_ evil somehow.

How wrong is that? What does that say about me?!

I push those thoughts out of my head and focus on the comfort. With all the confusion, he is going to end up reading me and I can't have that. So I will embrace the warm and toasty to lead him off the evil and dangerous trail.

"Would you believe me if I told you I just found out I'm not human? I mean, I know you know it's recent, but you have no clue _how_ recent. And that almost everyone I care about has been lying to me my entire life. I'm dealing with that hardcore of a shitstorm pouring down on me all in one day."

"Really?" Sloane leans back again, looking genuinely surprised. I feel calming vibes caress me. _He is actually attempting to comfort me. Can evil people do that?_

At least he has more to say. He has been a bit of a one-liner and not in a stand-up comedian kind of way. "Like I said, I could tell this is all somewhat new to you, but you just found out today? It's kind of amazing that you are out on your own dealing with it all. How do you feel about it?" He pauses, considering, and then asks, " _Are_ you OK on your own right now?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm OK." I smile, as close to a 'thank you' as I can give and he wants to receive. "To answer you as to how I feel, well... Elated. Amazed. Betrayed. Pissed off. Name an emotion and I've probably felt it recently."

I play with my straw while I talk, bending it like a staircase. I am way more stuck in my head than in this bar right now. And my head is not a good place to be. It's not safe yet so I need to snap out of it. Three cheers for me for bringing up the stupid subject.

The shock still hasn't left Sloane's expression. Sure, I can read other emotions on his face, but his overall expression really does say 'wow!'

But then he speaks for real. In English, not in emotions. "I can imagine that would be a lot to take in. So what are you that you wouldn't have known? A changeling or something?"

"Or something." I look at him with a half-smirk.

He doesn't exactly smile back. "How is that possible? I have never known of any changelings to survive long enough to discover what they are, let alone one to grow as old as you are. You're what, eighteen?"

"Seventeen, actually. But yeah, I am a changeling. As hard as it may be to believe."

His questioning feels almost like an attack and I am uncomfortable for the first time with him. And that's all I have been looking for to be able to get away. The only problem is that I really do need to know where Donovan is so I can get some information back to Avalon.

It's time to play the dirty girl card. As much as I hate games with boys, I have no choice.

"Listen Sloane, I don't really feel like talking about this, and plus my throat is still burning from that damned beer. I should go beat his ass for that..."

"I wouldn't go doing that if I were you. You're too new to even think about taking him on." Sloane smiles, but a key element is lacking. I wish I could pinpoint what it is. It almost feels like he is afraid of losing me, but that can't be true. He doesn't even know me. If he did, he would know I could easily take on the giant bartender, no matter how 'young and new' I might be.

So far I'm not lying but I need to get out of here keeping that up. And then make sure he follows me. I have such simple tasks in front of me. _Yeah, if only._

I feel like crap that I am _almost_ lying to him, even considering who he might be. It's not me to manipulate. But then again, I'm not exactly used to being in a position of being hunted and needing to find my hunter before he finds me.

"Maybe you're right. I have a much different fight I need to be worried about. But Donovan, I don't think I'll seek out. I might just wait until he happens upon me."

"Wait—you were serious when you said he wants to kill you? No way. He is a dick, sure, but he's no killer. Besides, you're a faery. You can't die."

Sloane's face looks almost as if I have betrayed him somehow just by mentioning anything so horrible about his buddy. But I know it's not me he is really feeling betrayed by. He doesn't want to believe me, but I can sense that he also can't deny that what I'm saying is a real possibility.

"I was dead serious – no pun intended." I laugh an odd, nervous laugh. "Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do."

"But I grew up with him. I am with him every day. You have to be in the middle of a misunderstanding." Sloane says this with conviction in his voice but it's not coming from his heart. It's a tone, nothing more.

"I don't know. I do know that I have to get out of here, though. After all that's happened and now this. I just... I'm not feeling so comfortable at the moment."

Sloane's face drops. Most people wouldn't notice, but I'm not most people. I feel bad but what can I do? I have to protect myself; not worry about how sad his gorgeous eyes look.

"All right, well can I walk you out to your car?"

"Sure, that would be good." I take one last sip of my Sprite and stand up, purse in hand.

Before I can even reach into it to pay, Sloane tosses a wad of bills on the table. I wonder how long he has been here drinking. I look at the money and smile at him, and then turn around toward the door.

He walks really close to me. Granted, the tables don't leave much room but he also could walk behind me. But he isn't. And I'm not complaining. I don't want to leave but I have no idea what else to do. I have to attempt to get more out of him.

When we pass the bartender, he looks and me with a smirk and I flip him off. Not so mature, I know, but who does he think he is, screwing with a complete stranger?

"Did you have to do that?" Sloane laughs. "Now you can't trust what you'll be served here ever again."

"Eh, don't worry about me. I can handle myself. And I can handle him if need be."

Sloane looks at me, questioning my confidence and looking like he wants to say something. Instead, he opens the door and lets me walk outside before he does.

I stop and take a few fresh breaths. Much better than smoke, no doubt about it. Still not as wonderful as Avalon, but this is some form of a home, right? Hollie and my parents are here, plus Olivia and, well... this is where I grew up. I may personally like Avalon better but that does not make this realm worthless. I need to protect my friends. And I will make sure somehow that Sloane is going to help me.

We walk over to Hols' truck and I dig my gloves out and put them on, making sure the mitten flap is over my bare fingers. Sloane looks at me and I know he doesn't have a clue why I am wearing gloves in May.

"The door handle keeps getting me. That shit hurts."

He starts laughing and I join in. "I know it's silly but since this is all new I'm just not used to every aspect yet."

I inspect my right hand and giggle some more.

And then Sloane makes me gasp when he grabs my gloved hand and the connection between us is even stronger than it before... and through fabric, no less! It is much too intense to ignore. I look up at him; I look at his eyes. Into his eyes. He is staring just as deeply.

"What I don't understand is how you are going to get any stronger or learn more if you run away from such an opportunity."

_What opportunity is he talking about? Being with him? Learning from him?_ I honestly don't know.

"I—I'm not running. Not really." I mutter the last part under my breath. But hey – technically I walked out here. And now I am standing. That surely cannot be misconstrued as running.

Sucks that I know I'm wrong.

"You are running. I know it. I know you know it. But you don't have to run, and you shouldn't." He grabs my hand, (which he is still holding onto) with his other hand. He wraps his fingers under my palm and pulls my hand toward him. I can honestly say I have never had anyone beg for anything from me before. I also have to admit that I like it. Especially when it's Sloane. I bet a good numbers of girls would kill to be in my place right now, as far as Sloane is concerned.

But I have to keep a straight face and not let on that I'm enjoying any part of this.

"So what are you asking of me?" I attempt my best sly smirk, but throw in some annoyance. Like I really do have somewhere I want to go. Alone.

"It's obvious you don't want to stick around, but I am simply asking that you do. Please, for only one hour. Listen to what I have to say, maybe tell me some things, and you will learn that I am trustworthy."

"I'm not so sure that's a great idea. I really want to make sure my best friend is OK." This is true... and it's kind of scary learning how careful wording can make lies possible.

"I get that, I do. Why don't you call her and see how she is and let her know you can see her in an hour? That is all I am asking. If you still don't trust me or think we might have met for a reason—to help each other, then I will watch you walk away and never bother you again."

No words come to mind. Nothing is coming to mind, in fact. Drool might end up on my chin soon, though, if I don't get myself under control. I lick my lips and then purse them in thought. I think about how his warm, strong hands are still holding my little, fabric-covered one. He has long, slender, yet capable and manly fingers. Groomed nails but not so much that, well... He's not questionable. At all. He simply takes pride in his appearance. And why shouldn't he?

He interrupts my thoughts with a valid point I can't even try to argue.

"Don't you want to attempt to figure out what it is about us that is connected? Come up with some reason for why our physical qualities are exactly alike?"

I nod before I know what I'm doing. And I continue to nod like an idiot.

Sloane smiles and light seems to shine from his eyes. "So do you want to find somewhere with a strict non-smoking policy?"

Talking snaps me out of my hypnotic head-bobbing. "You noticed I'm not the biggest fan of cigarettes? Or really any smoke in general..."

"Yes, it was pretty obvious. So do you want to head somewhere and get to know each other a little more and possibly discover why we met—although I already have a good idea...?"

I cannot let him get the better of me. I have to pretend he is inconveniencing me. I need the upper hand here. I know... dirty girl trick, but it's not like guys don't do the same shit to us.

So I shake his hand jokingly and pull my hand away. Taking my glove off, I look into his eyes and arch an eyebrow. "One hour—that's all you get. So you'd better make it worth it."

He turns around to face the same way I am and places his hand gently on my lower spine, guiding me back across the street to the side the bar is on.

"It will be worth it. I promise. Besides, you know you would be kicking yourself later tonight when I popped into your mind..."

"Look at you getting all cocky. I'd keep that in check if I were you." I give a sideways smile as I let him lead me into an old record store. It is more perfect than he could even imagine. Which makes me hope he hasn't read me and is using that information to play me.

But I really believe he picked the first place that is open and isn't a restaurant. The first step to me trusting him. Walking into the store, I feel this place connects us more than our skin does...

### SEVENTEEN

We share random facts about ourselves as we walk up and down the aisles made from banquet tables and milk crates. I love looking at vinyl – hearing it as it slides out of the sleeve, the feel of brushing the dust out of the grooves, the smell of the old cardboard. And those qualities are just the start. The warm static of the music itself – not much beats it, except maybe live music.

And sure, I love my mp3 player—it's way more convenient than lugging around a bunch of CDs, and even some LPs, but it's kind of the same as an e-reader. I use mine and I adore it but it will never replace my books.

Becoming so involved in what we are looking at, our chatter slows down and we move away from each other. I almost feel I am in a different world—not like Avalon different, but this is definitely a sacred area of the human realm. At least to me.

After I grab a few favorites and some new music that looks interesting, I begin to head toward a listening booth. But I don't make it there before Sloane comes up, ridiculously excited to show me the few things he has found. My stomach flips when I discover he likes the same music I do. I didn't really pay attention to what he was looking at when we first came in and chatted.

There is no way that the CDs in his hand are all he wants to talk about, so I give up my dream of listening to the sweetness of the late '60s. They will always be here though. I might not be here if I don't attempt to learn something from Sloane.

"So do you mind me asking about you being a changeling? I know you said you're uncomfortable talking about it, but you seem so at ease in here... I thought I would give the question another shot."

His smile and his eyes and his perfect amount of scruff and his, hell – everything—I truly cannot resist. If this is strength, I feel sorry for faeries in general because I feel weak as hell. Like a little school girl. But he is right and I give him props for reading me so well.

"Yes. This place..." I wave my free hand around, the other is holding onto an armful of records. I have no words but I know he understands what I mean. He understands what I feel and how I feel. He understands a giant part of who I am and that makes me feel safe enough to share.

No matter how stupid it might be...

"Do you want to go sit down at the listening tables? I don't really want to stand and hold all of these for this conversation." I smile and tilt my head toward the back where said tables sit.

Since it's getting pretty late, not too many people are in this store. We have privacy here and it is _much_ more comfortable than that bar we were just in.

I glance around to see what type of stuff is back here and my eyes land on a pop fountain. With the flavors you can squirt in. I head straight over, as if it is pulling me to it, so I can make a cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper. And they even offer crushed ice!

I might have just died and gone to heaven.

I'm surrounded by all this amazing music and my company is the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen and he is connected to me in some magical way. And I have a drink that is almost as good as the ones from Sonic, which are my absolute favorite fast-food drinks.

If only I didn't have to worry about Donovan, I could easily believe I really am in heaven.

Sloane has obviously followed me—he is making a drink, too.

Or maybe... I should get my head out of my ass and realize that it _is_ some really tasty pop and he could just be thirsty. _Idiot!_ I know he is interested in me for whatever reasons, but I am most certainly _not_ irresistible. _So stop being stupid, Kellyn. Hell._

Besides, I don't even know if I want him to like me, or if I want to like him. I am definitely starting to trust him more and the skin similarity won't let me forget I met him for a reason and my gut instinct about that reason is that it is good... But I still don't know and I _need_ to remember that.

We get done at about the same time and choose the most obvious place to sit. A corner with five huge—no, giant—bean bags to sit in. I set my drink down and go grab the music I had chosen but then apparently dropped at a booth when I saw the enchanted pop machine.

When I come back to the corner, I jump up and land on a surprisingly (and thankfully—since I didn't think before jumping) soft bean bag. They are all really nice with microfiber covers; they aren't the cheap twenty dollar ones you can get at any superstore. I settle in easily, kicking my legs up over the chair, almost lying down.

Sloane already situated himself (on the end; I chose the middle one) and I am now hyper aware that he was watching me as I sat down. Interestingly, I'm not at all embarrassed. Just aware.

I am also aware of him sitting on the end. _Why did he sit there? He had to have known I wouldn't sit right by him. Does he not want me to? OK, you_ really _need to stop this crap. And now._

Grabbing my drink, I take a sip to ensure I don't say anything stupid aloud, and then I smile at Sloane just because I want one in return. I want to see his toothpaste-commercial teeth sparkle like the rest of him.

As great as it is staring at such prettiness, the silence is a little too quiet. I figure we should talk, seeing as I only gave him an hour of my ohsoprecious time. Of course he will get more, but I can't let him know that.

I decide I shouldn't make him ask me the same question yet another time so I dive right on in.

One more sip of my yumminess in a cup and I set my drink on my hip. "I'm sure this will always be hard to talk about, but the wound is raw as can be. So please bear with me if I start having a hard time."

Sloane nods and tells me I should know this is a given.

"So, the day I was born, my real mother was killed. I was kind of hidden, I guess, so I would stay safe. But after it all happened—I'm not sure how much later—some people found me in the park and took me to the hospital here in Wales. And that's the beginning of how I came to be who I am. Or was. Whatever." I shake my head at the strangeness of it all.

As hard as I try to focus on Donovan and why I shouldn't be feeling this level of comfort with one of his friends, I would bet my last dollar that something keeps physically knocking those thoughts out of my head. Like a kick to my temple every time one starts. It's actually kind of painful and I already have a headache and am exhausted, so I just give up. Give in to the other feelings—the good ones.

Also, it has all been too much today and, as bad as the subject matter is, I am happy I can talk about this with an almost-stranger. It almost feels like therapy, or what I would imagine therapy to be like. Not that I imagine it a lot, but – see, _this_ is how fried my brain is...

"Ever since I can remember, I've had these dreams. About Avalon. Of course the place never had a name but it was definitely another world full of faeries and other creatures. Well the creatures were fae too, but that was something else I had no clue about. The dreams are, were, apparently a way for me to have a glimpse of Avalon and to embed in me that faeries exist. And more importantly, that I have something to do with them. I dreamed to prepare myself but I always thought they were simply dreams.

"Or maybe not... Because I've always kept a dream journal. Some feeling deep inside told me I needed to document the things I saw at night while asleep. If they were only regular dreams, I wouldn't have felt such a strong need to journal every single morning, without fail."

Sloane and I both pick up our drinks and take a sip at the same time. _I wonder what he is drinking._ We just watch each other, which causes us both to start giggling. Well maybe Sloane is more chuckling than giggling, since that doesn't much seem like a manly thing to do. Then thinking the word 'manly' makes me wonder how old he actually is. Sure, looks a bit older than me but I also look ridiculously young for my age. I've never even attempted to see a rated-R movie at the theatre because I know I'd get caught. But he made a differentiation between our ages when we were talking in the bar.

But for now, I stay on the same topic.

"So I guess on some level I've always known what I really was, but of course no rational part of my brain would allow me to believe it, you know?"

Sloane takes another sip, swallows, and then nods. "Of course. I can't imagine any human believing we exist, let alone one believing they're one of us." He pauses, eyes squinting in thought. "So how did you come to find out everything? Your story and all? About your mom—wait, your faery mother?" Another pause. "How could _she_ have been killed?" Confusion turns his blue eyes stormy and I find myself lost in them for a second, forgetting the question.

I realize I am looking like a total dork staring away at this guy, so I shake myself out of the daze. "I have no clue when most faeries first hear the story, but I had to wait until today to find out... obviously," I say with a tilt of my head and a raise of my eyebrows. "But yes, my mom is the one who was hunted down in the park and I'm the child the creature left in the fountain."

"Wow—that was your mother? How awful. I'm sorry to hear that." Genuine concern and pain shows on Sloane's face, and I can feel a healing power attempting to escape him and come toward me.

_Now see—there's another thing an evil person wouldn't bother doing._ _I can tell it's not fake._

"Long story short, my housekeeper, Bonnie, told—well, showed—me all of it... I guess the same way everyone else finds out." I shrug and continue. "I don't know, but Bonnie has been around my whole life, supposedly protecting me because of what happened to my mother. The thing is, now is the time I really need protection because it's supposed to happen again. To _me_. But since I'm just now learning everything and Bon's not around because I'm off trying to figure out what to do, I'm not sure how to stay safe."

"Let me guess—Donovan, right?"

Sloane sits up a little, to pay better attention and also because he is a little uncomfortable. He knows Donovan isn't good, but isn't sure how bad he really is. And he isn't sure he wants to find out.

And damn! I am getting good at reading this guy. Unless maybe he isn't trying to guard himself, but still. It shouldn't be this easy, I wouldn't think.

"Yeah," I answer reluctantly, heading exactly where Sloane doesn't want to go, but needs to. "I know he's your friend and all but, he's not a good guy. I mean, not in the least."

I look at Sloane, trying to gather some more clues, but he looks as lost as I feel.

"So, if you don't mind me asking—because I kind of have to know—why are you so close with this guy if you know he's not decent in _any_ sense of the word? I mean, you've gotta know that about him, right?"

I pause, and wait for a reaction or answer. Neither come. Sloane has closed himself off in the last three seconds and looks at me as if waiting for more before he will speak.

So I keep talking. "Donovan is essentially my entire problem right now. Everything that's wrong with the world comes down to that asshole. Not only do I need protection from him, but I need to protect others from him, too. And I don't have a clue how to do it. And I do feel bad talking about your friend, but only to an extent. Because I know what I know, as do many other fae, so I can't apologize for telling the truth about some guy who wants me... dead."

I swallow, my throat dry, not liking the sound of my last sentence. Picking up my drink, I realize I have been bending my straw again. I don't remember ever having that habit before. But whatever. I take a drink, ready to complain about Donovan some more.

I open my mouth to speak and no words come out. I am just now _really_ realizing what exactly I am saying and who I am speaking to. "And here I am, telling my secrets to the one person I probably shouldn't be telling secrets to."

Smiling hesitantly, I hope I haven't made myself too vulnerable. I search Sloane's face for some sign I have totally screwed up and left myself open for him to go get Donovan to come kill me. No matter what I think during the good times, the reality of Sloane being so close to the leader of The Depraved—the guy who is so evil he possessed the creature that killed my mother, simply so he can be stronger (or at least that's the only reason I know of), is a reality that cannot be ignored.

But even with that disgusting reality holding strong in the front of my mind, I know I haven't made myself vulnerable. The feeling of comfort and belonging is too strong, and is building by the second. I know Sloane won't betray me. Not a clue how I know, but it is as certain as any other fact is to me—as certain as the earth being round instead of flat.

"Don't worry. You can trust me even if, on paper, it seems I _am_ the last person you should trust. I have a few secrets of my own I can let you in on. Also, and this might sound rather odd, but I think I might be able to help you. But first, to answer your question – why am I friends with D?"

Sloane takes another drink before answering. I can't tell if it's because he doesn't truly want to answer or just because he's thirsty. The guy is a bit hard to read (again) now that he mentioned helping me. _How in the freaking world can he help me?_ _And_ why _would he?_

"Well," he starts, "in a word—destiny. Or try family. Or maybe arrangement. But mostly tolerance." He sits up straight and scooches his bean bag closer to the middle of this corner. Closer to me. I sit up, as well, not wanting to seem rude. Besides, I am actually interested.

"Basically, I really have no choice but to have D in my life. He's been around a long time and I haven't been able to get rid of him. Not yet, at least."

The word tolerance strikes a major chord with me. That is what I've done with Donovan, or Andrew, for the past three years. Simply tolerate him. The fact that Sloane said 'yet' hits me oddly, too.

I want to know exactly what he means by both of these words. And I also wonder if he seriously wants Donovan out of his life, or if Sloane is more just annoyed with him or something.

"Interesting," I note. "You ready to elaborate, or no?"

"I'm not sure yet. We'll see how the conversation goes," he says with a smirk. He can lie with his mouth, but his face gives it all away, blowing his mysterious act.

"All right. I know a tiny bit of your background, so I suppose you can know some of mine. You have spent your whole life thinking you were something you're not, while I have spent mine knowing what I am supposed to be and what I am, but not wanting any part of it. I suppose I am royalty, of sorts, but I have no interest in it and would rather just be unaffiliated—be a Solitary."

"Ah, so you're part of one of the courts."

Mischief runs through mind until realization clouds over in a flash, making me feel extremely stupid. _So he actually works with Donovan—with all that evil. This cannot be good in any conceivable way... Except—wait – Sloane said he has been trying to get away from him and this could be the reason._ Sloane doesn't seem cut out for the type of work I can only imagine they do. I still have to ask the obvious, though.

"But your court is The Depraved, isn't it?"

My palms become clammy and my stomach is sick again. I rub my hands around my cup, wiping the condensation over my palms to get rid of the dirty feeling.

Sloane doesn't look pleased that he has to tell me I'm correct. He doesn't appear pleased about anything, in fact, while he is talking about it. Which reassures me a good amount. I can't stop the four-hundred-and-twenty-seven questions spinning and soaring and crashing into each other in my brain, though. Sure, I was having a moment with this guy, but I need some real information to take back to Zoë and Landon.

"Yes, that is my court—'the evil one.' I'm basically D's right-hand-man. I help him out with all the decisions and necessary tasks. I was born into the position, my father having done the same job before I came of age. I've spent a lot of time trying to play both sides. I have to be loyal to D or else it would cause a lot of trouble for me, but I've also been searching for a way out."

Sloane stops speaking and looks into my eyes, reaching down to my soul, seeking an answer.

With wistful eyes, he says, "I have the strangest feeling you're the one who will set me free."

_Set him free?_ I suppose he is telling the truth, and my assumption was right. It must really be bad being with all of those evil fae... Although I don't know how I can help, except for the fact that I want 'D' destroyed.

I can feel a deep redness rise up my cheeks, but I embrace it rather than let myself be embarrassed. He obviously has so much trust and confidence in me, and that is an amazing compliment. I sit up and lean toward him just the slightest.

"Well, maybe I can. Because I need to stop Donovan. If he's no longer in charge, you won't have to be his _buddy_ , right? And you probably know him better than anyone―know any weaknesses he might have."

He looks interested, in the way I want him to be, and so I arch one eyebrow and take a giant leap of faith. "If we work together, I'll bet we both can get what we want—and need."

After the words leave my mouth, I feel as sure of this conclusion as I had about the fact that Donovan is in control of the monster who killed my mother—once I actually believed it, that is. Except for now, I don't feel sick about the realization. My insides begin buzzing with a thrilling motivation.

"Exactly. And then we can move on..." The way Sloane says this makes it clear this is what he was hoping for from the start. Or at least since he found out I despise Donovan. And he is also implying how he feels about me. He not only wants to move on, away from The Depraved, but he wants to move on with me.

Which I'm not _at all_ against. This surprises me at first thought, but even though I barely know this guy, I feel I know his soul. He has been showing me pieces of it all along and, as we sit here, looking at each other with no words, he allows every single wall inside of him to fall.

The admiration and belief, and attraction—on both of our ends—crashes over me and I can barely breathe. It is by far the best feeling in the world.

I do think of Blake briefly, and I am glad to know the good in me has stayed, that I haven't become selfish. But as sad as I feel about all that happened, this that I have right here, right in front of me – this is real. This is it.

I belong in his life. And we will move forward together.

And kick some ass.

It is so great to have this sense of excitement after the disaster with Blake and after so many other things that have gone wrong, like the situation with my parents. I sense a new love on the horizon, and a possible end to a horrible beginning—maybe even before the hell truly gets a chance to start.

"So do you want to get out of here and walk around and chat? It's nice out and I'm getting kind of antsy sitting, my head spinning with all the info we could be sharing and what we can do with it," I ask Sloane.

"Definitely. I can feel all you are feeling and I am as eager as you. We were meant to meet up tonight, I know it without any doubt. Let's go talk and figure out a plan. But can I ask you just one question first?"

He is giving off an awkward vibe and I have no clue what to expect. But faith is what this is all about so I can't be afraid.

"Sure. What?"

"Well, even with all the talking we have done... I never caught your name. I know you are Alexis, but that's your human name, right?"

I think for a second and realize this is true. He doesn't know my name. _How strange that never came up..._

"Wow," I say, laughing. "You're right. Sorry about that. Yeah, I was Alexis, but my name is Kellyn. My human parents called me Alexis, but yep, my name is definitely Kellyn."

Sloane holds out his hand and I accept it. The spark is still there. It has even intensified, but that doesn't faze me because there is such a lack of surprise.

"It is great to meet you, Kellyn." He smiles—a crooked, goofy grin. Then he stands up and helps pull me up and out of my bean bag, but he doesn't let go of my hand right away.

He even holds it as I bend down to grab what's left of my pop, because I'm for sure not wasting it. I leave the music sitting where it is, not even worried about listening to it anymore. At least not right now.

It isn't until we are standing and facing the front of the store that he drops my hand. And then all he does is switch the hand he was holding mine with so we are side by side. So, with Sloane leading me, we walk around the booths and tables and out through the door. Together.

I have no doubt that, to anyone who might be looking, we seem every bit a happy couple in love.

### EIGHTEEN

I simply can't stop thinking about the utter strangeness of my situation. Here I am strolling down the regular old streets of Wales, yet a member of The Depraved is at my side.

How in the worlds did this happen?

We have basically spent the equivalent of a movie together. But unlike a get-to-know-you-super-slowly type date like that, we have walked around town sharing our life stories, actuallyreallytruly getting to know each other. On a scary deep level.

I received my chance to ask him his age, fairly soon after he asked my name—which still cracks me up. He is almost twenty, so a bit older but nothing gross. I know tons of people in high school who date college guys. And besides, I don't think faery ages work the same way. I'm not sure how they work, but after seeing Bonnie I definitely have some questions about it. Ones I will ask later, when all of this crap is over. For now I am going to concentrate on this amazing, gorgeous, spectacular guy walking next to me, holding my hand.

We have run out of the basics (things that might make its way into conversation in the third or fourth month of a so-called normal relationship), so we move on to options for taking care of our shared problem―Donovan.

I know I am lucky that Sloane knows Donovan so well, and I have complete faith that Zoë and Landon are coming up with the perfect solution—be it a weapon or a spell or something I've never heard of—to defeat Donovan. So Sloane is rather lucky himself, having bumped into me. Or at least I'd like to think so.

Sloane and I confide all that we know about Donovan and the situation I am in. We walk quietly for a few, absorbing the information. Once we do speak, me starting—which seems to be the pattern with us—we decide not to plan anything without talking to the others first. But of course we are both scheming in our heads. How can we not?!

So now we have the opportunity to enjoy each other's company with no distractions. At least not any that we will let get in the way. We both know things will end up just fine. There is no better group of people than me, Sloane, my mother, Hollie, and Landon and Zoë to make this prophecy come true and to knock Donovan down off of his pedestal.

But like I said, there is no more thinking of that. Not right now. So I concentrate on how Sloane and I feel truly secure in each other's company—strangely so. I have, or have had, people in my life who make me feel safe, but nothing of this caliber. And safety is not security. The security I feel with Sloane makes me trust that nothing can go wrong, but if that manages to happen, it will end up all right.

Neither of us are speak, but I know what Sloane's mind is on the second I turn my focus to him – which automatically sends my thoughts in the same direction. Thoughts we should not be thinking; we just met each other.

But now that it has started, we can't seem to stop. And Sloane isn't blocking me out, so he _wants_ me to know...

During the short time we have known each other, we quickly learned to sense and read each other. It wasn't easy at first, but once Sloane dropped his guard, I did the same and it's been fast-paced since then. Each minute we spend together feels like a day, as far as the intensity level and our closeness. At this point, it already feels like we have spent years and years together.

And we even have the matching skin to pretend that we have.

That is one thing we haven't discovered, though—why our skin is the same. The most we can chalk it up to is that we were meant to meet because of the prophecy, so it basically acted as a calling card and a catalyst for that. But also, we are meant to be together so, once this mess is over, we'll have a head start on our relationship.

A relationship that isn't only about Donovan, even though he is still out there wreaking havoc. We already have more on an intimate level regarding our emotions, but our minds are leading to a different kind of intimacy. Neither of us speak this fact aloud, though.

At an attempt to ease this physical tension because it might go on for a while, I come up with something absolutely astounding to say.

"So, do you wanna grab a bite to eat before we go meet up with my friends?"

What?!?? How about, 'Let's go get a hotel room. Or a park bench. Or hell, this garbage can here on the corner would easily support my weight.'

Right now I am immensely grateful that I'm stronger than Sloane. I can block him out of my mind if I really try. And you'd better believe I'm keeping him out now.

"If you're hungry, of course. Arthur's is only a few blocks away." Sloane glances at his watch. "Their salad bar should still be up."

"Sounds good. I could go for that."

Or something more. Your call. Whatever.

The silence returns but at least we arrive at Arthur's quickly. Sloane opens the door for me ( _What a gentleman!_ ) and we step up to the hostess' stand.

Luck has graced us. An empty booth sits in the back corner. It isn't all that busy, either, so we are basically alone.

Is this good or bad? I can't decide. Where is Hols when I need her? Heck, I'd even take Bonnie's advice right now.

"So are you actually hungry, or just tired of walking around the dark streets?" Sloane asks me once we are seated.

"I'm hungry. I think. Hell, I don't know. Everything is so weird lately, I can't even tell about something as simple as that."

"It is all pretty crazy, isn't it?"

"Um, yeah." _Just a tad..._ Even though I thought we were done with this subject for now, I can't help myself. _"_ So I have to ask, aren't you worried about slipping up once we get a plan together? I mean, won't Donovan have you, like, torn to shreds or something? He's been up to some sick stuff lately... I wouldn't trust him for anything."

"I don't trust him, but he trusts me and _that_ is what counts. Besides, he is probably out trying to feed off all the ladies tonight. I'm sure that is why he's not around. So, he doesn't have the slightest clue I am with you—not that he would ever think I am anyway.

I tilt my head and nod, realizing what Sloane just said is true.

"He is a fiend. And quite the jerk. But he has skills when it comes to women, though, you must admit." Sloane tries to hide his admiration, but I catch a glimpse of it before it's safely tucked away. It doesn't surprise me, though. Guys are guys are guys. Of course Donovan's skills would impress Sloane. They would most likely impress my grandpa and my great-uncle Bob, too.

"Yeah, we all thought he was gorgeous before—even though I hated him, so I know he can pick 'em up easily. I'm just glad I can see him for what he is. Which is the epitome of evil, in case you aren't aware." I smile and give Sloane a wink so he knows I'm joking with him, although he should already know because I am leaving myself open.

"And Donovan in his true form... oh man, is he beyond hideous! I still don't see how you can you stand to be around him. Or allow him to take from those poor girls."

But then I pause, giving the vibe that 'I'm not done yet so don't worry about preparing your defensive answer.' "Oh, right. You're evil, too. Since you are such a big part of The Depraved and all..." I can't help but smirk slyly.

From all I have learned, sensed, and seen, Sloane is about as evil as a little baby bunny. I haven't a clue how he has played the game for so many decades—especially considering he is unable to lie to Donovan. Although I found it pretty simple to get around lying...

Right now is definitely a situation where I am wishing I could lie for real. I hope to the goddesses Sloane won't trap me into saying something foolish.

He slits his eyes at me, trying to act mean and angry. "You think you're just so funny... Listen, you know I want to stop this destruction as badly as you do, but we won't be able to without some strong faeries by our side. The two you have gathered so far should be a big help but we probably need more. I also think it is best that your halfling friend stay away."

"Why? Hols isn't a threat. She's staying in this realm for the most part anyway. But if she decides to help it shouldn't be an issue."

"You know it is in our nature. You can feel it, can't you?" Sloane leans across the small diner table and lowers his voice. "We always have to push the envelope. We have to see how much people, and other fae, can take. Donovan is us at our worst. He thrives off of others' pain."

Sloane sits up suddenly, startling me. But I can sense that the waitress is standing next to me and I understand. We aren't exactly talking about things other people should hear.

"Do you two know what you want?" The server is acting just the same as the one at the bar. I obviously don't exist. Sloane is the only one who matters.

At least he looks at me to ask if I am ready. I'm not even hungry, but I feel like I should get something since we're here, so I look straight at the waitress and clear my throat.

The girl refuses to stop staring at Sloane as he stares at me.

"Excuse me. I'm ready to order."

Slowly, and not happily, the waitress turns toward me and glares. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"Well first, I would have liked for you to acknowledge my existence without me having to get your attention. But I know that's a hard task. Trust me, I don't like to take my eyes off him either." I wink at her and give a half-smile. "As far as food, though, I think I'd like a strawberry milkshake. With about four cherries on top. Oh, and lots of whipped cream. Thanks, sweetie."

My smile grows into a large, full one and the waitress rolls her eyes while chomping on her gum. She basically just grunts and then turns back to Sloane, her entire demeanor changing as she twists those few inches.

"And for you, gorgeous?" She smiles and twirls her pen in between her fingers.

"All I want is for my girl to be happy. And if that includes you acting properly, then I suggest you do so. And don't you dare think about spitting in her shake or sticking her spoon down those pants that are entirely too tight for your ass... or anything of the sort. You have no clue who I am and who I know here—I _will_ find out if you pull any crap."

The smile falls right off the girl's face onto the greasy laminate floor. She stammers out, "Uh, uh—OK. No, that's fine. I wouldn't even think... Her shake will be perfect." She looks over at me and smiles and nods.

I take the opportunity to ask for a glass of water with my shake.

"Of course. Sure. No problem." The waitress turns back to Sloane and I swear I can smell her fear. "Do you want water as well?"

"Yes please. I think I would like one. But no food. I'm not really hungry."

"All right, I'll be right back with your waters and the shake—extra cherries—it shouldn't take long." The poor girl is stuck between wanting to be a perky, diner server and wanting to run away and hide in humiliation.

She walks away and I can't help but begin cracking up. I do feel a twinge of guilt but not even close to enough to keep me from laughing. Sloane leans back and smiles, clearly amused with himself, and me. After all, that chick started it with her rudeness.

Between laughs and hard-to-breathe gulps of air, I ask, "Is that what you were talking about?"

"Yes. Pretty much. It came naturally to you, didn't it?"

"It did. That was awesome. I need to watch myself, I guess. Ever since Covetina baptized me..."

I sit and mull over what just happened. I don't even glance at the waitress when she comes back and sets down our water glasses.

"Yeah, I'm definitely wanting to mess with people big time now." After the last word leaves my mouth, my thoughts turn a one-eighty faster than I can comprehend.

Especially you, sexy! Why is he so freaking fine? I'm going crazy here. Seriously!

My bold thoughts practically surprise the piss out of me since I'm normally nothing like this – except for on the walk here, and I was caught off guard then, too. But other things were on my mind.

Right now, I have nothing but tap water in a glass to distract me. I attempt to figure out what each individual floaty thing from the pipes might be but it doesn't work all that long.

Giving my head a shake back and forth, I reallyreallyreally try to focus. Again, I find that I am thrilled I can hide things from Sloane. But not talking will probably tip him off.

I glance up at him and smile and my body heats up, forcing my thoughts to race once more in the direction they were told not to: Thoughts of Sloane with his shirt off. Of Sloane kissing me. Of Sloane throwing me down on the bed. Of Sloane taking _my_ shirt off. Of Sloane—

_OK—Stop! I can't think like this. I have a job to do and lives to save. I need to get my head on straight. Once this is all over... maybe then... But_ not _now._

After a few deep breaths, I remember how strong I am. I rearrange my thoughts (I swear there are hands in my head physically doing so), shoving sex to the back of my brain and putting anything to do with the task at hand front and center.

Looking deep into Sloane's eyes so he will know how serious I am after my outburst of playing with the waitress, I tell him, "You know I've seen Donovan's destruction, or at least his attempt at it, firsthand. It's scary to know where it comes from. That we're all capable..."

But damn it if no matter how much I try to focus, I am finding it more than extremely difficult to stay on subject while looking at Sloane. I can almost feel the thoughts that I so carefully arranged switching places and completely defying me.

My shake is plunked down in front of me and I faintly hear the waitress ask if we need anything else.

I shake my head 'no' and give a nod up to the gods because the waitress didn't lie about the shake. It only took about four or five minutes, if that. I take advantage of its height, pulling it toward me almost as a shield. Offering Sloane a cherry first (the innuendo is not lost on me, although I truly just mean to be polite), he tells me that I specifically ordered four so I must want them all. And that he can wait.

_What?!_ _Wait? At least it isn't just me dealing with this right now._

The strawberry and whipped cream deliciousness are what I choose to pay attention to and to enjoy as much as possible.

The last minute or so since I have had my shake seemed to happen in slow motion, but based on Sloane's next words, it has obviously only been a few seconds because he is still on topic.

"Yes, but we are strong enough to fight it. We don't have to give in unless it is for a bit of fun like we just had. There is no need to worry. I promise. You will be fine." He pauses before continuing, "I must ask something, though."

I nod, telling him it is fine to continue.

"Do you really feel that much different now? I have obviously never been human, so I can't fathom not being this way. Is it more exciting?"

Licking the whipped cream off my straw, I think for a second. "Well... I feel like―I guess like me. I finally feel comfortable in my skin. Now that I know what my skin really looks like." I giggle like a silly schoolgirl and then admit, "Yeah, it is a bit more exciting. Walking around before I went to the bar tonight, I realized humans can be kind of boring. Of course not all of them are, but the majority I noticed were. That sounds mean, but..."

I shrug. It's the truth. I am only speaking it—it isn't my fault or anything. I put the straw back in the glass and take a long drink of my hard-earned shake.

After swallowing, I continue. "I actually feel like a totally different person, or faery, or whatever. I'm still me, but I'm the me _I've_ always known I was, and now I can be that way in public. I just hope I don't end up in any trouble now that my 'filter' is gone." I make air quotes at the end of my response.

"Well good. You deserve to feel happy about yourself. And don't worry about causing trouble. Your mind will be on other stuff for a while. Once this is all figured out and you get some aggression out of your system, you should be a bit tamer."

"Hell, I hope so. I don't see how we're ever gonna pull this off." I look at Sloane with concern and his eyes send back a look of reassurance.

"I honestly don't have a clue. We will have to combine our knowledge and come up with a plan to trick Donovan, or at least trap the creature―release him from D."

I feel secure enough with Sloane to share everything – including Zoë and Landon's theory about Donovan, the evil creature thing, me, and the children's rhyme. I debated with myself at first, earlier when we were walking and sharing, but ultimately felt it necessary to tell him since I believe it to be true, and he deserves to decide for himself.

Knowing Donovan for so long and being aware of the fable, Sloane agrees with the others that whatever killed my mother is alive and well inside The Depraved's leader—and his supposed best friend. Sloane believing makes it all the more real for me.

"There has to be a way to bring D down. I have thought of many scenarios over the years and, now that you are here and I have a good idea of what's going on, I know it is finally possible." Sloane shakes his head. "No, not just possible—it will happen. He _will_ be brought down."

"You really have that much confidence in me?" I feel my face radiating light as I reach out my hand to touch Sloane. But I already know the answer. Still fascinated that he has skin exactly like my own, all I want to do is stare at him forever.

Yeah right, like I could only stare and not touch him.

_Annnnd, this is beautiful._ _The thoughts are back, damn it._

"You should know I do. You should know everything I am thinking, Kellyn. And besides, it is foretold. Your mother and Covetina told you this was your destiny—to bring down this evil. You have more power than you give yourself credit for."

I nod reluctantly, unable to look away from our hands. I am hesitant to see what is in Sloane's crisp, blue eyes. And what my mind will decide to do with what I see.

He turns his palm up and laces his fingers through mine from underneath. The electricity we both still feel is undeniable. I have been waiting to have something this with someone and now I know why it never happened before. Sure, there was a connection with Blake, and one guy before him, but nothing even comparable to this. This is just... it. I keep thinking this thought because things keep occurring to remind me of its truth.

"Yeah, probably. I hope you know how much it means that you have faith in me."

With a deep breath, I draw on the strength Sloane just mentioned and I look up at his eyes. I find myself lost in them—in a much different way than when it happened with Blake. With him, a power took over me—one I couldn't control, probably because it came from Donovan—and yeah, it felt great – but with Sloane...

With Sloane, a power is definitely at play, but I am in charge. I _want_ to become lost in his eyes and his soul. Not only do my knees weaken from the look in his eyes, but my entire body feels like pudding. And all I want is for him to lick me up.

"Is that so?" Sloane asks with the wickedest grin a good guy can manage. And manage it well, he does.

His words startle me out of my thoughts. "What? Did I say something?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

Shit. Did I say all that out loud?

"No, not out loud. But I was privy to some of your thoughts for a moment there."

I am mortified, but I also feel more turned on than I have ever been before—ever. _Hell, I don't even care if he hears me now._

" _I want to do ungodly things to you_ ," I tell him silently.

"Check, please," Sloane says as the waitress walks by.

### NINETEEN

We walk hand in hand, careful not to get too close. Both of us know we won't part if our bodies touch more than they already are. And this dark street is hardly the place for the things we want to do.

"So are you taking me to show off your place? I'll bet it's pretty nice. I haven't found one yet, seeing as I just left home this morning. Oh, and I guess I'm supposed to graduate first." I manage to half-laugh about that situation.

"Definitely. I am already headed there." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and grins.

We're only a short distance away—I can sense the woods. Sloane mentioned he lived near there, as the fae tend to keep near that area. It makes it easier for them to escape, if need be. Just head on into the forest. After about five minutes of insanely heightened anticipation, we stop in front of an amazing loft-style apartment building.

Feeling like taking control, I hold my hand out to him for his keys. With a tilt of his head and a glint in his eye, he gives them to me.

I regret this decision almost right away – before I even grab the keys. I let go of his hand to unlock the door and my stomach sinks a little. I have no idea what possessed me to try this. I still suck at doors.

Hurry up, ya stupid key! You're making me look bad.

I try my best, but I am not even close to being capable of getting the main door open—I hoped I could be quick about it and avoid getting burned, but I should know most things don't go according to my plan.

Sloane takes the key from my hand, his hands rough yet smooth and sensual at the same time. He easily accomplishes what I wasn't able to do. Again, he holds the door open for me and I slide inside next to him.

We climb the stairs to his apartment in no time, where, of course, he opens the door. My hand aches from the key since I have been in the human realm for too long—I am taking longer to heal than I should.

I'm much stronger now than I even was earlier, and being closer in proximity to my own realm is helping me breathe much easier, but the metal still caused me pain. I find that odd but I suppose I've had too long of a day.

Walking into a dark entrance, I shut the door and reach around for a light-switch. It takes only a fraction of a second to realize that isn't necessary. I turn to Sloane and see his body glowing in front of me. Our bodies light up the entire (large!) entry area.

Sparks literally fly when he reaches out to me. He touches my arm ever so gently and caresses my wrist with his fingertips. My heart pitter-patters like I'm in an old Saturday morning cartoon. It quite possibly could start beating straight out of my chest.

Along with the sensation of tender, buzzing electricity, I can also see it. Little bits of light shoot off of our skin. We both stare for a moment, mesmerized by the magic— _our_ magic we are creating.

A burst of boldness shoots through me again and, with my left hand, I grab his hand off my arm. I walk backward—there isn't a chance I'm letting go of him now—and I lead him down the hall. Not once do I take my eyes off his. The blue of his irises light up like neon lights.

As I turn forward just before the entrance to his room—he silently directed me here—I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. My eyes look the same as his, only bright green instead.

Sloane takes charge once he is superrightthereclose behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and walks me past the threshold. It is even darker in his room. The shades are drawn, blocking out any street or business lights.

My heart races with an energy foreign to me, but I adore it. Where my skin touches his, our bodies light up brighter. Stars begin to dance along our arms. If I hadn't experienced this in Avalon, I might be freaking out. Instead I am comforted by what we are and the mystery and art of our bodies.

I sigh and lean my head back into the crook between his neck and shoulder. He turns his head and kisses my hair. I feel him inhale the smell of my vanilla shampoo.

We reach the bed and I turn around, enveloping myself in Sloane's strong arms. He is simply pure bliss. I breathe in his musky scent and it increases my desire like crazy.

Tentatively, I lift my head off his chest and look up into his brilliant eyes. He leans down for a soft, first kiss. I send happy thoughts to the heavens in amazement. I'm not sure what would have happened if I'd had to wait any longer.

The sweet kiss turns passionate―his hands tangle in my hair while mine unbuttons his shirt to reveal the most perfect skin I have ever touched. Yes, it is soft and smooth—he takes care of his body, but he is no doubt a male. The definition of his muscles convince me of that.

He slowly guides me down to the bed so that I am sitting. At first I'm not sure what to do next, but instinct makes me raise my arms—I have no control but couldn't care less—and Sloane lifts off my shirt. In turn, I pull his down off his arms. Both tops land carelessly on the floor.

I move farther back onto the bed and Sloane crawls to join me. In theory, it seems weird as I think about it, but those thoughts disappear when I can see that it's sexy as hell. The movement of his arm and shoulder muscles make him look like a god—a perfect male specimen. He stays on his knees and hovers above me as I lie back. Leaning down, bracing himself with his hands on either side of me, he kisses my shoulder. And then my collarbone. And then my breath disappears. His soft yet forceful lips must have stolen it.

So slowly and sensually, he moves down my body. When he arrives at my waist, he teases me with his tongue and I gasp in delight. He must have wanted to hear it and so gave my breath back. He lifts his head and smiles at me while moving onto his side to lie down.

A fire-red glow captures my attention—the skin where Sloane's lips had been has turned a deep crimson, but with the light from within me, it glows much brighter. I turn my head slightly to look at him and I discover that his mouth matches my torso. Moving my gaze up just barely, I find his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Moving onto my side to face Sloane, I prop my head on my hand and trail my free fingers down his chest and stomach. When I reach his waistline, I see a dull red glow following my touch. The longer I keep my hand on him (which is no problem since I have no desire to stop touching the gorgeousness that is Sloane), the brighter his skin becomes.

I expertly unbutton his jeans, without an inkling as to how I am capable. Normally I'm not so adept at such things. But everything about this moment feels so perfect—a confidence I'm not used to consumes whatever part of me that isn't filled with desire. I am sure nothing can go wrong here in this bedroom.

Sloane lifts his hips as I slide his jeans down off of them. I sit up on my knees and pull his pants off the rest of the way. His boxer briefs follow.

Taking advantage of my brazenness, Sloane unbuttons and then unzips my jeans, but I finish his work by pushing them down on one side, and then the other. Back and forth, until they are down around my lower thighs.

Slipping his forefinger into the top elastic of my panties, he teases me again. I can hardly believe my own actions, but I do the same with my underwear as I did with my pants. Then I reach behind my back and unhook my bra.

Sloane sighs as the garment falls away and sits up to be closer to me... and then grabs my head from behind and kisses me with a fierce passion. The gentle touches and kisses are great but this... _Oh my gods!_

Our bodies meet, skin on skin, and I suck in a breath at the wildness of the connection. I closed my eyes when Sloane began kissing me again, but I can still see the stars waltzing. They appear to move in time with us.

Leaning me gently back onto the pillows, Sloane pulls off my clothes all the way. He then lies on top of me and groans softly as our bodies fully touch each other.

We continue to kiss and caress and grab, anywhere and everywhere possible. As if Sloane is magnetized and I am his opposite, yet his match all the same. I can't _not_ touch him.

When I open my eyes to look at his body in amazement, I notice the ceiling is also alight with stars. Too many to count. Thousands, maybe millions. They light up the room as if the world has a spotlight on us. Like we are the most important beings in existence.

The foreplay and teasing has lasted long enough – I can't stand it any longer. Sloane has his tongue on my thigh and I have to bite my lip not to yell out in excitement.

He knows exactly what I want—he wants the same, of course—and makes his way up my body again, a devilish grin on his face when he looks at me in between soft, trailing kisses. I open my eyes just in time to catch his expression.

And then 'it' happens; our powerful desires come to fruition. As our two bodies become one and truly connect on the deepest physical level, shooting stars soar about the room—their trails forming the same pattern as the our movements. The celestial glitter flies through the air and glides past our heads.

I know without any doubt in my spirit that I am meant to be in Sloane's arms forever, and he most definitely belongs in me. A perfect fit.

The pleasure lasts forever, but is also over entirely too soon. Fireworks explode above as I cry out in elation, unable to contain myself—and not even wanting to.

Only a moment later, Sloane joins me in the throes of passion. He moans deeply and murmurs sentiments which mirror my own, intensifying the colorful display in the room. Red, green, and blue showers. The same colors as our skin and eyes.

All around us, the air is alive with the same knowledge filling me—that our souls were made for each other.

Sloane collapses tenderly on me and kisses my forehead. He practically purrs in my ear, "I have waited _so_ long for you. For this."

I can think of nothing else to say but, "I love you." We have only just met, but I mean these three words with every ounce of my being. I have found my mate and I am positive nothing can take him away from me.

After our breathing returns to normal, or as normal as possible while in this realm, I move out from underneath Sloane. I pull down the covers and slide under them, holding them up for him to crawl under.

Once we are both lying back down, I cuddle onto his chest and fall asleep so fast I don't remember it happening. I sleep a dreamless sleep—Sloane's arms wrapped tightly around me.

* * * *

I wake up to sunlight shooting straight into my left eye through a crack in the shades. Squinting at the stark contrast between my black sleep of nothingness and the brightness outside the window, I roll onto my back and stretch my arms above me.

_This is gonna be weird getting used to not dreaming anymore. You'd think I'd at least have normal people dreams..._ "Ha! Who said I was normal?"

I take a deep breath and smell coffee and vanilla.

_Oh, shit—wow,_ that really did happen. I can't wait to tell Hollie. She's gonna freak!

Sloane walks into the room, pushing the door aside with his elbow as he carries two mugs—one in each hand. I grab the covers and pull them over my head to hide the goofy grin I know is plastered on my face.

"What are you hiding from, gorgeous? I brought you some coffee. It should perk you up a little for our busy day."

Cautiously, I bring the sheet down just below my eyes and smile even bigger as Sloane sits down on the edge of the bed. I almost don't notice he's still shirtless because his blue eyes and adorably tousled hair is demanding my attention.

"How can you wake up looking so great? I'm sure I'm a mess," I mumble through the sheet.

"Oh hush, you look fine. Beautiful, in fact. Now will you please move the covers and take a cup?" Sloane grins and I am amazed that his eyes sparkle when I reveal my entire face.

I scoot back and prop the pillows behind me, making sure I'm stable before grabbing my drink from Sloane's hand. Last night left me a bit off-kilter. In a good way, but so much so that even a good night's sleep didn't shake it off completely.

"Were you talking to someone while I was in the kitchen?" Sloane effortlessly slides over closer to me, not spilling a single drop of his to-the-brim cup of coffee.

"No. Oh, well just to myself. Nothing important." I dismiss the question with a wave of my hand.

I have something else on my mind. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Move so easily. I'm a complete klutz and you practically float around like ghosts and vampires do in movies. Covetina was able to do it, too—well, except she really, truly did float..."

"It's because I am part vampire. And part ghost, I suppose... in a way. You are, too. Part elve, demon—lots of different things." Sloane says this simply, with a perfectly straight face.

"Wh—What? What are you talking about? You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding. Smile or something." I clutch my mug so tightly I'm sure there's a good chance of me crushing it. Either that or I'll have sore, burnt palms for a short while.

A smile breaks out on Sloane's face as he switches his cup to his right hand and places his left on my leg. I discern, though, that the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Seriously." I sit forward. "Wait, _are_ you serious? Or are you just messing with me?"

"Please don't freak out, doll. We are one and the same. Faeries, vampires, werewolves—the whole lot of 'fantasy' creatures stem from the same place. We all have a little bit of each other inside."

I don't have a clue what to say and I am sincerely hoping he isn't saying all of this because he thinks last night was a mistake. _Is he trying to push me away?_

I gingerly bring my coffee cup to my lips and blow on the hot liquid. Not once do I take my eyes off Sloane. Nor does he look away from me. When I take my first sip, he begins to speak again.

"It is true but not in a bad way. I'm not saying I am _really_ a vampire or an angel or anything—I am fae, but we do have some of the same traits. They overlap. Like, some faeries can fly and some cannot. Some live under the water, but most do not. And there are other interesting similarities among us all."

I shake my head in disbelief yet continue to listen, taking small sips, the same way I am slowly drinking in what Sloane is telling me. Just as I have done with all the new stuff I've been told over the past couple of days.

"We all stem from Avalon. But there are different parts of it. There are different realms everywhere." Sloane stops speaking for a moment and cocks his head, looking deep into my eyes. He slowly and gently rubs my leg through the blankets and asks, "Did Bonnie really not tell you all of this? I assumed you already knew."

Again, I shake my head and remain quiet. I stare at him in such a way I hope will direct him to go on.

And he does. "Well, I suppose it is pretty basic. Avalon is only another name for the Underworld, be it heaven, hell, or some other plane of existence." He hesitates, seemingly mulling something over.

"I believe I can best explain it like this. You know how some people believe that the world—the world as you knew it a couple of days ago, that is—started with Adam and Eve? Well, Avalon did start like that. We all stem from one basic mold and idea, and we expanded from there."

I lower my coffee to my lap. "So, what would we have been if we hadn't changed into different beings?"

"I honestly am not sure about that. Just like people who believe in The Garden of Eden don't _really_ know what race Adam and Eve were, we have no clue how we started. Some even believe Avalon and The Garden of Eden are the same. They believe the world split into different kinds of people and creatures, along with splitting into different realms and dimensions."

"Wow—overload here." I take a couple of deep breaths while thinking. "So you're really, truly saying we are part vampire and even mermaid and whatever else?"

"Yes. Not in a 'let's sleep in coffins and hunt the night' or 'let's go live in Atlantis' type of way, but it is where we get our stealth-like abilities. Or so I have been told."

"Hmmm... Do they take a while to, ya know, kick in? 'Cause I'm not feeling anything of the sort."

"Maybe. You are the first changeling I have met, so I'm not sure. But it does seem like you are slowly gaining powers and controlling them. For example—you are better now with mind-reading and blocking others out of your own mind."

I take a couple more sips of my coffee but I really need to get rid of it. It actually produced some sort of jolt; I suppose it's like most people feel when they drink caffeine. Normal people.

Wonder if it's extra strong. Doesn't taste strong.

I lean over and place my mug on the nightstand and then grab Sloane's from him. Some books have to be shoved over, but I manage to find a place for his. I then lean back on the pillows and grab his hand.

"Come here." I tug gently and he moves toward me as if propelled. Laughing, I say, "Well, you didn't need much convincing."

"Hell, no. I have been dying for you to wake up." He lies down next to me in one swift motion, and then props his head on his right hand. "I'm glad you didn't get _too_ scared about anything I just said. Really, I thought Bonnie went over everything with you."

Nuzzling closer to Sloane, I reply, "Nope. Guess she only told me the basics. Figured I'd learn as I go. Not that good of a plan on her part; she knows me better than that... But at least you're here to help me with it now."

"That, I am. I always will be. But do you think Bonnie might have known how much more capable you would be now? I mean, after you visited Covetina. I bet Bonnie simply has faith in what and who you are. Now that you know."

I smile sweetly and lower my voice. "Is there anything I don't know that _you_ want to teach me? I mean, besides what you already did..." I trail off and blush at my brazenness.

Sloane smirks and searches my eyes, and I get the feeling he is making sure I am prepared for what he has in mind. "Oh, you have no idea."

"Well that sounds interesting." My smile changes to match his smirk and my eyes search his face for some kind of clue. I do know it is something I would never expect, or guess, on my own.

"Do you trust me? To do anything?"

"Uh, yeah." He is making me a little scared but I shove that feeling way down away from the surface. "I mean, yes. Of course I trust you."

"All right then."

At this point, I expect him to make some sort of move but he doesn't dive right in. He is sweet and keeps asking me questions. He also asks for my polite cooperation.

"I want to make sure you are ready for this. You can just lie back and relax. Know that I would never hurt you."

"I know that. I do." I stare into his eyes, which now look stormy instead of bright. I am positive he is planning something dangerously exciting. He also is pulling up some of my previous thoughts. Some odd thoughts... My random scary movie fantasies pop into my mind. But none of those can be right regarding Sloane's plan because no one expects a fantasy to come true.

Then again, I certainly never expected to learn that I'm a faery even though I had sensed it. But not as much as I sense Sloane's hot breath by my left ear. And then his lips and his tongue and then I don't seem to have a clue what I am thinking.

Except for that I believe I have found a clue in my thoughts that Sloane is feeding me. I have considered it—just once, during my first encounter with Donovan at Preston's party. On second thought, though, there's no way that can be right. 'Reality' is still too much a part of my mindset.

So I'm at a loss again but I can't possibly care less at the moment. Every touch from my guy causes my insides to quiver.

"I'm glad. I love that you trust me. Are you ready?"

I nod. _Here it comes..._

"Great. Now I want you to close your eyes and lie back on the pillows," Sloane instructs me.

Not wanting to tear my eyes away from his, but keeping my faith in him, I comply. The excitement of what is to come takes over. I feel Sloane move on top of me and sort of sit on my upper legs.

Oddly, I don't feel his weight—his presence. I can feel enough to know he is _this_ close, but not so much that it hurts or that I even feel any pressure.

What's he gonna do next? I'm kind of afraid. Should I be afraid? Shut up! Just shut up and trust him. Gosh!

He uses both of his hands to lift my right arm. Holding my wrist with his left hand, he traces up and down—from my elbow to my wrist—with the first few fingers of his right hand. It sort of tickles, which I normally can't stand but Sloane's hands feel damned good no matter what they are doing.

I almost cry out at what he does next. Instead, I breathe in deeply as I realize it didn't hurt. Not in the least.

_What the heck. I could have sworn he sliced me with something. But now I don't feel a thing. I_ so _wanna open my eyes..._

His warmth now hovers closer to my upper body. I become momentarily distracted from this when I realize something warm is running down the side of my arm.

"What the—"

"Shhh," Sloane reassures me. "Keep your eyes closed, Kellyn. Remember to trust me. I promise you are fine."

"OK. Sorry—I didn't mean to talk out loud—especially that loudly." I feel stupid having done so and force myself to relax.

Then I feel it.

There is no doubt anymore.

I realize what is happening.

Sloane's tongue touches the inner part of my forearm and he licks down toward my wrist. He gently strokes my arm with his soft tongue—his lips barely touching me.

As he just grazes my skin, a surge of energy shoots through my body. I haven't a clue what to think, but it doesn't much matter because I am back to enjoying, not thinking. Strange as the experience is.

His lips grab on to my skin and his tongue begins rubbing around in a circle. Soon this stops and he feverishly takes my arm in both hands and pulls it even closer to his mouth.

He begins sucking on me. Hard. Yet he is gentle... of course.

So much vitality and pleasure bursts from this spot. The thrill radiates up my arm and to my heart. And once my heart is in on the action, it is no holds barred.

Every vein throbs and I feel a scream desperately wanting to escape. I attempt to hold it in, but as Sloane continues what he is doing, it comes to a point where I can't keep quiet no matter how I try.

"Shit! Sloane. Damn, that feels so good! Oh my―"

I keep moaning as I am also writhing now that Sloane has started rubbing his lower body against mine.

The power of the flow decreases over the next couple of minutes. My blood is now only simmering, rather than boiling. Our bodies don't stop moving, but Sloane does stop drinking.

Rubbing his tongue over the spot where he cut me, Sloane slowly, even slower, and slower still releases his lips and gives my arm a couple more flicks with his tongue.

His body grows from warm to hot as he repositions in order to brace himself over me. He hasn't let go of my arm, but neither of my arms stay by my side for long now that I'm more than thoroughly turned on.

He is forced to release his grip and practically falls as I pull him down to me. I still am unable to feel his weight. It is almost as though he is floating above me, yet I can still feel his entire being, as close as can be.

Yes, Sloane is definitely close to me, almost every inch of his body touching mine.

His lips press against mine and I ravenously return his kiss. I still don't have a clue exactly why he decided to do what he just did, or what the mechanics of it entail. But then again, I haven't had many moments of rational, 'together' thought since I've been awake. They are just starting to come back now, enough so I know what Sloane did was powerful and that it made me ridiculously strong somehow.

_What the hell_ was _that? It was great, but why do I feel so energetic and powerful? Shouldn't I be weak after losing blood?_

I decide just to go with it and enjoy the moment.

Feeling the urge to do the same back to him, I test it out while we are kissing by biting his lip. Just his lower one. Tenderly.

I'm surprised to find that my teeth go through the skin like the sharp blade I used the one and only time I cut myself. _Whoa. Bad thought. Think of Sloane –_ not _weak, younger me. Don't be an idiot, Kellyn!_

Shoving that horrible memory out of my head, the most phenomenal flavor overtakes my taste buds. It is liquid chocolate with a drop or two of raspberry mixed in.

I lick it up greedily and start kissing Sloane again. I'm not quite sure if I am really ready to suck his blood yet; I am content just to taste it slightly during sweet kisses.

He pulls away from me for a second and I notice a trickle of blood running down below his lip. I want to lick it up, but what he starts doing jumbles my thoughts right back into incoherence.

While Sloane unbuttons his pants and unties mine (I don't remember putting on his jammie pants—maybe he did it for me?), I spare a glance over at my arm. Just a small red mark is showing. As if stoned or high, lying in awe, I watch as it fades more – into nothing at all.

Sloane bends down toward me after he accomplishes his task of removing our pants and, without thought, I lick under his lip before he can kiss me again. My insides float and, as my mind begins working once again, I conclude that I am in heaven, no matter how ridiculous the thought seems.

Everything we shared last night happens all over again, and it is even better this time, which I didn't think was possible. At this point, I am even more convinced this truly is heaven. And whatever the whole blood exchange thing was about, well, it definitely is heightening the experience.

I give into the pleasure, loving that I found Sloane. If only I'd known long ago that I'm a faery...

This enjoyment shouldn't be kept from anyone.

### TWENTY

After a short nap, I wake to sun in my eyes again. _Why are those freaking shades open now? That's just annoying. And why am I so grumbly—I should be happy._

I roll over and find Sloane still sleeping next to me. Reaching my arm out tentatively, I brush my hand over his hair ever so softly. _He is just so beautiful._

I stare a while longer, and then quietly (I hope...) get up to creep over to my phone. I don't make even the slightest noise. The sheets don't rustle and Sloane doesn't move as I slide down the bed.

Huh. Maybe I'm learning to be all 'stealth-like' after all. Pretty cool.

Grabbing my purse, I walk out to the living room and settle in on the sofa. I turn on my phone and text Hollie. I can't not share this with my best friend. I don't share every detail, as it's personal and special, and also because I don't think Hols will understand the whole blood part. I decide to keep that to myself.

When I figure I've told Hols enough (at least through texting—private things might become less private when I see her in person), and I also realize my best friend has her own stuff to deal with (I can feel the jealousy even through the phone lines), I end the conversation and flip on the TV. The volume is only on seven and I could hear it. Normally, I would have to turn up any television to at least halfway—like thirty on Sloane's, I suppose. _Huh. Do I have super-enhanced hearing, too?_

Less than a minute later, Sloane pads out of the bedroom, rubbing his left eye sleepily.

"Are you finished telling your little girlie secrets?" He smiles at me and I can't help but smile back if only because everything about him has that effect on me. But I don't want him to think I'm telling anyone all sorts of things about him.

"What do you mean?" I sometimes use the old trick of answering a question with a question to get out of things I don't want to discuss. This is one of those times.

"That won't work on me, silly. You have no reason to be embarrassed that you told your best friend about us." Sloane has made his way over to the sofa and is now perched on the edge of the cushion by me.

"I—I'm not embarrassed. I don't think." I squint my eyes in confusion. "I just don't get how you know I talked to Hollie. My phone doesn't have any buttons to make any noise."

"I know. But I could still hear it so I left you alone. Once you turned the TV on, I figured it was safe to come out."

"So this super-hearing really is another fae thing?" I think for a second. "Well then, did you hear me getting out of bed?" I'm getting all excited about faery powers. I turn my body toward Sloane, arm up over the back sofa cushion. "I think I'm learning to be all spy-like."

"No, I didn't hear you. That is one thing I was going to ask you about. I wondered why I could hear you on your phone, but I have no clue when you came out here."

"That's just weird. How can I be quiet with some things and not others?"

"I think it is probably because you were trying. When you left the bed, I'm sure you really wanted to be quiet, is that right?"

I nod and then continue Sloane's thoughts. "So when I was texting, I wasn't trying to be quiet 'cause I just assumed it would _already_ be quiet. And that made it so I wasn't quiet at all. How weird. This is all gonna take some getting used to."

With a sigh, I ask, "Well, do you think we should go back home and see what the next step is?"

"Yeah, we probably should. Come on, babe. Let's get dressed and head back."

"Do you think they're gonna be super mad at me?" I half-frown. "We spent more time doing, well—other stuff than we did discovering how to take down Donovan."

"We did spend a lot of time doing what you call 'other stuff.'" We both giggle at this. "But we also shared quite a lot with each other and I think you have done a fabulous job with your half of the research. The spells, or whatever else you will need, are going to have to come from your friend, Landon."

"I'm sure you're right. I just don't want to make them angry. They are doing, and have done, so much to help me—a perfect stranger—and I don't want to screw it up."

Sloane holds out his hand to help me up from the sofa. "Even if they are angry, which they aren't, once they see you and remember how phenomenal you are, they will simply be happy to have you back in Avalon."

I tuck myself into Sloane and he wraps his arms around me.

"Who's silly now, babe?" I smile against his chest and can feel his rapid heartbeat, sure that my own matches. "But you are more than sweet so that makes up for it."

He kisses the top of my forehead and steps back. I hate letting go of him but I know we do need to get a move on. Holding his hand out again, I take it and follow him back to the bedroom.

"Oh crap. My bag's out in Hollie's truck. All my clothes and stuff are in it."

"You can hop in the shower first and I will go grab it for you," Sloane offers. "All I need is the keys."

I walk over to my purse and pull them out, still surprised at how warm they are to the touch. Glad to hand them over, I gave him a quick smile and a kiss and head toward the bathroom.

After we are showered and dressed, Sloane and I leave to meet back up with Zoë and Landon, sure they have information by now that I can use. After all, I've spent enough time away. The thought brings a smile to my face and floods my heart with warmth.

Even with what I am up against, knowing I have found something so pure and true is a force that will keep me strong. I am ridiculously happy for Sloane and all that he is and all he has already given me—even though I still have that nagging feeling inside. You can't help who you fall for and I am simply not going to waste my time worrying rather than being happy.

Walking hand in hand, we dash across the deserted street and head toward the woods. Sloane really did pick the perfect spot for his apartment, just like he said. We are extremely close to a portal—I can sense it all the way to my bones.

I can also sense I am being called, which I find rather odd. There's no way I can hear Landon's voice. But the thing is, I can. Faintly, on the breeze, meant just for me. Landon is calling out the name 'Kellyn,' asking me to return. Guess I have good timing. My mother must have given me that because it certainly has never been a strong suit of my own.

I mention to Sloane that I can hear Landon. He isn't surprised in the least. He does start laughing, though, when I manage to trip over a rock. He has to tighten his grip to keep me upright.

"Sorry, love. I guess you're a little unfocused. I must have worn you out," he says with a sideways smile.

"Ah, shut it, ya brat." I laugh back and nudge him with my hip.

We approach the tree line and find a gap wide enough to walk into the small forest. One I hadn't even known existed before I learned of my true nature. I can only assume it's something that is a part of the faery sight. This makes me wonder if these trees are actually even here.

Again, I say something to Sloane, as we step over a tangle of tree roots and branches, finding our way to a clear path.

"Well, I'm not sure since I've always been this way, but I suppose it is possible. Why not? If you have lived here all your life and never saw these trees, then maybe it is part of the fae realm that humans can't see."

"That's kind of cool, don't you think? It's like we have our own little secret. We get to be a part of something most people don't know about." I pause, realizing he probably doesn't understand, not ever having felt out of place.

Well, except for with Donovan, but I'd rather not think of that. I told myself I am going to trust Sloane no matter what. But my stupid mind isn't letting me do that great of a job of it...

I look at him until I think he might notice me doing so, admiring his chiseled features and his pefectly messy hair and even the way he holds himself. When I feel I should probably look away, I realize that something else entirely is demanding my attention. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpse the shimmering light we're looking for―a faint swirl of mist.

Sloane notices it at the same time. "Look, doll. There it is."

"I know. It's awesome. I can't wait to be able to breathe again! Wait―or not breathe. Whatever... Let's go."

Hands still clasped, we jog toward the gap, which almost resembles a doorway, only it's made of light rather than wood, and we jump through it.

The second we pass through, I close my eyes and feel the air around me. It is almost nonexistent, but still feels like silk on my skin. The heaviness of the human realm has disappeared and I feel like myself.

Turns out we have returned to the same spot I left from after meeting Landon and Zoë—when I went back to the human realm to find answers.

"Well this helps. I know where I am. Let's go to my friends' house."

I lead Sloane to the left and, as we walk, we say hello (in unison—like me and Hols!) to a few friendly fae who are taking an evening stroll.

I notice that it is evening. Even though the sun woke me up less than an hour ago. It makes me wonder what day it is here...

We soon arrive at the tree where I was first truly introduced to my realm. Zoë and Landon's house.

It was one thing to talk to Bonnie, something altogether different to see my mother, but this here is the real world as far as I am concerned.

Sloane and I walk up to the door and, as I lift my hand to knock on it, it opens. Zoë stands waiting with a big smile on her face.

"We knew you were coming. Landon called you and I sensed you were close."

"That's so freaking cool. I knew I heard him..."

"Well come in. Don't just stand outside, guys. _Cead mile failte_." Zoë is seemingly proud of her heritage.

"Ah, I know what that means now. Covetina told me." I grin back widely, pleased to have such an interesting connection with my new friends—the fact that they are fae and from a different world. It is beyond me and I can't help but adore it.

We enter the house and I introduce Sloane to Zoë and Landon. Landon is a bit taken aback, as if afraid, or maybe he doesn't trust his guest, but I give him a knowing look. I tell him with my eyes that I will explain it all and not to worry.

I sense Landon knows who Sloane is. But I also knew my friends will understand just as well as I did. Too bad it took me some time because I don't think we really have that here.

The four of us take a seat where I learned so much the day before—at least, the day before when it comes to me own existence... Zoë has prepared more of the honey cakes I love so much, and there is a pitcher of milk and some glasses sitting out.

"For strength," Zoë tells me.

"Yeah, I assumed that, but wasn't sure. So much other stuff is going on, I figured it was the least of things to mention. But good to know. Are there other foods that do the same?"

"Sure. The berries we collect, as well as certain herbs. My favorite is one called saffron crocus. I doubt you have heard of it―if it's even in the human realm, but it's so good! I'll have to make some muffins with it sometime soon for you."

"Awesome. Sounds great. You'll have to show me how so I can return the favor. You guys have already done so much for me and I feel I've done nothing..."

Landon reaches for an odd-looking berry, shaped like a strawberry, yet blue, and says, "Don't even worry about it, hon. You're about to do us all the biggest favor possible. After that, you won't owe anyone anything. All we want is your friendship."

A huge grin spreads across my face and I reach out for Sloane, who is sitting next to me on the same bench I chose before. He grabs my hand and squeezes it, smiling at me with an adoring look. My heart melts like a Popsicle in July.

"All right," Landon says. "First thing's first. Just so you know, I figured out the perfect way to trap the creature from some amazing books at the repository, but before we get to _that_ , we have to address this whole Sloane issue." He looks over at Sloane apologetically, and continues, "'cause you have to know that we know exactly who you are..."

Zoë nods, the same expression on her face as her partner's.

"Fair enough. It isn't like I didn't know this was coming." Sloane squeezes my hand again, tighter this time, and doesn't let up. His nervousness is so strong it even floats into me a bit. I really want Zoë and Landon to like Sloane and even trust him, but I know they will after he tells his story.

"So, yes. I am _technically_ a part of The Depraved. To make an extremely long story short, I had no choice. I was born into it―I took over my father's position when he stepped down. With the courts, you do what they tell you and that's all there is to it. No discussion or compromises allowed. It is royalty. Period. The thing of it is, I have never felt comfortable with it all. For decades and decades, I have seen the destruction and the evil that emanates from them all and I have desperately wanted to get away."

He pauses and looks at me with a little smile. I smile back, eyes lighting up at the sight of him and how he looks at me, and I send reassurance his way (I swear I feel heat pulsing through my eyes, as if they actually are light bulbs!). Zoë and Landon sit transfixed, both leaning forward in the same position. Elbows on their knees, chins resting on their hands.

"I knew I didn't belong, but I haven't had a way out. That is, until a serendipitous chance yesterday, which I now think wasn't exactly just chance.

"Kellyn and I saw each other twice. Once when she was with Donovan pretending to be Andrew, and then again when she came into the bar D and I frequent. And well, as you can see, we couldn't not talk to each other. We are as alike as you two and we had never met before."

Sloane lets up on my hand, but then squeezes it again, gently, sweetly. He turns to me once more with a look of adoration before looking back at the other couple in the room. I am starting to get self-conscious. I hope I don't have toothpaste smudged on my chin or anything. There is no way someone can keep looking at me simply because he wants to...

"It was pretty hard for me not to say anything the first time. I could see her true self, but I knew she only saw a human when she looked at me. So when she came in the bar, well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity again."

Zoë shakes her head, amazement on her face. "I've never seen, nor heard of, anything like it before. It's beyond awesome. That in itself makes _me_ trust you. The goddesses have tied you to Kellyn and I need no more reassurance than that. But, I am interested in your story, so please go on."

"Yeah, it is definitely a sign of some sort," Sloane responds. "And because I met her and we're so connected, and I know of her background and what you guys are up to, I feel strongly that we can take down Donovan. Maybe not completely―not yet. But we can knock him down a notch. And over time, we can maybe take him from his position."

He stops talking, seeming to contemplate if he wants to go on or not. With a shrug, he continues, "Initially, a long time ago, I thought that I wanted to take over and maybe side with The Divine―"

"What's The Divine?" I interrupt, wanting to smack myself upside the head for being so rude.

"Well, just like The Depraved is the dark court, The Divine is the opposite—the light court. But there is a balance to everything that should never be tampered with. That is why I reconsidered. I don't know what exactly would happen if everything was _all_ good, kind, pretty and perfect.

"Then another question I couldn't answer is, would the Solitary fae eventually band together to reform The Depraved, possibly in a worse way―without the history and rules? I haven't decided about all of that yet. But for now, I hope you trust me that I have never _truly_ been a part of The Depraved―only as much as they've demanded of me. I have never been a part of the evil acts they commit." Sloane looks back and forth from Zoë to Landon as he says this, gauging their reactions.

A collective _non_ -sigh, due to the lack of air, travels around the room as everyone appears to be gathering their thoughts. I have no thinking to do.

I know what is true, no matter what stupid warning type thoughts keep popping up in my head. Although it's also true that I thought of Sloane a lot without meaning to and now here I am with him. But that's different. He was basically in front of me after a breakup. There's no explanation needed there.

I know Sloane. I don't doubt him for a second. Not during rational thought. And I was right in my prediction earlier; emotion is my rationality. That's just me so why try to change it. I hope to form it into a strength. With the help of Sloane, who is my mate―my one and only—and he is going to help me in my most desperate time of need. A literal life or death situation. That is all I need to know.

"All right then," Landon says, leaning back. "I have no reason not to believe you, so I guess we move forward—together—on this. Take care of it as a team. What do you think, Zoë?"

"I categorically agree with you, babe. Kellyn obviously feels he's sincere. They're a match, plain and simple. I feel he's true and you do too, so there should be absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Good. Now that that's settled, let's talk about the spell I found." Landon springs up and walks over to one of the stacks of papers and books he has on his desk. While he goes through them, I grab some more food. I can't seem to stop eating it. Not only does it taste phenomenal, but it's making me feel great, too. I am going to need all the strength and focus possible.

Landon makes his way back over and sits down next to Zoë again, shoving the food to the far end of the coffee table, away from all of us. I feel my face start to form a childlike pout but manage to stop it from fully appearing so I don't look like a whiny baby. Even being in Avalon, and after a great night's sleep, my emotions are all over the chart. Up and down and spinning around.

He spreads a few sheets of paper on the cleared spot (makes sense... I'm not that lazy that I can't stand and grab some food when I want), and places an open book on his lap—an old, faded ribbon marking his page.

"Wow, that book looks ancient," I remark through the last bit of food I was able to grab.

"It is. This book has been around for thousands of years. When I pulled it off of the shelf, I was afraid it would turn to dust." Landon laughs lightly.

His face turns serious as he looks at me and Sloane. Zoë curls up with a pillow, feet underneath her like she is ready for a good story. And Landon sure seems prepared to tell one.

"So here's what I came up with." He looks over the loose pages, running his finger down the book's fragile paper. "Sloane is right. We can't stop Donovan. Not yet. But—I found a way to stop the evil creature. It will be tricky, but now that I think about it, Sloane could actually be a big help."

"Really? How so?" Sloane asks.

"Well we have to get Kellyn near Donovan, but we need her to be safe, right? You can pretend to have captured her, claiming you found her doing something wrong―I don't know, you can come up with a scenario that will work, I'm sure. Then you can bring her to him and the plan will be set in motion.

"We only need a couple of things for the actual spell. I did a lot of research and came up with the simplest plan. Here is a list of what we need. One, a picture of the creature, which is hard since we can't use a photograph and I certainly cannot rip a page out of the book, but I'm sure I can draw something."

I interject at this point. "Actually, do you think I could ask my halfling friend, Hols, to draw him? She's an amazing artist and I kind of need to see her―check up on her a bit. The day I found out I was a faery was the same day she found out about her heritage."

"Oh yeah. Sure. That is a good idea. But, well―" he stops and there is no vibe saying why.

"Well what?" Sloane asks with a look on his face that says he isn't going to let Landon keep us in the dark for many more seconds. My first reaction is anger, but I then realize it is probably second nature for him to act this way. He doesn't mean any harm to my new friends. He just has a way about him because of being with Donovan and everyone else for so long.

Still, even understanding, I don't like it and I hope anger like that is never directed at me. Relief rushes through my body when I see embarrassment spread across his face.

"Here is the thing. I have a feeling Hollie might not be safe because of her human blood and her connection to Kellyn.

"So if you are going there anyway," Landon looks at me, "I think I have something else that might help. It's an amulet that will help protect her because, unfortunately, she might need it."

"Yeah, I'm scared for her too, and I've let her know it. I've been keeping in touch with her and asked her to check on our other friends, also. If this amulet will really work, I'm all for giving it to her. Anything that'll help."

"Great, I can get you started with that," Zoë says excitedly. "We'll make it after Landon finishes up telling you what he found out."

"Yeah, Zoë loves making things―all of the bowls and wall hangings around here were done by her. She created them all from nature," Landon tells me and Sloane.

Within seconds, a no-nonsense look washes over Landon's face. "All right. Essentially, the only way to defeat the creature is to wait until his curse is over―until it is close enough to when he will be bound again. What _you_ need to do, Kellyn, is your own spell. One that will trap the creature's soul and send it somewhere else. He needs to end up in a worse hell than he has been living in. It must be one that will not release him—so he can never do this again."

"Wow. Sounds heavy. Do you honestly think I can override a spell that's been around for centuries? I know I have strength, but I can't possibly be that powerful... can I?" I look around at the others for an answer.

"I have no doubt you can do it, babe," Sloane tells me.

"I would not have even gone this route if I didn't think it could be done," Landon agrees. "There is something else I found to help you out; there is another spell you can do right beforehand to give you an extra boost of power. The hardest part of all of this will be staying focused, and to memorize every word. You cannot screw it up in any way, or this all might be for naught."

"Oh, no worries about that. I can read it once and I'll be fine. One of my gifts, I suppose―photographic memory." I smile sheepishly, feeling kind of dorky that I have to tell them this.

"Well then, that's perfect. There is just one last thing―you are going to have to conjure up some of the things you will need when the time comes. You can't meet up with Donovan with a bag full of tricks."

"Is that possible? You think I can do that? I know I keep doubting myself and I need to stay strong and believe, but the thing is, Covetina told me I can only change things about myself. Like I changed my dress for my baptism. But I'm not supposed to be able to change the world around me."

"You won't really be changing anything Mother Nature has created. You will just be adding things, simple things. I will show you how and you can practice. I promise it will be easy enough." Landon smiles reassuringly. "Now let's get started with memorizing these spells and getting you to _really_ believe them so they work at full strength. We have less time than you probably realize."

"Why? How long do we have?" I ask.

Landon half-frowns. "Based on the prophecy―the rhyme―the creature is supposed to be bound again when the new moon is back. That occurs at just a few minutes past one a.m."

"One am when? What day? Wait―you mean tomorrow?! Like this coming morning? Well hell! How are we supposed to do all this before then? Especially if I have to go see Hols—time passes so much differently there..."

"Calm down, it will be all right. We can do our part here so you only need to focus on your own part, which will be simple for you with your talents. Sloane and I will figure out how to get you to Donovan. All you have to do after you leave here is go see your friend and relax. It is important for you to be as fast as you can, though, and when you come back we will all be together to do this."

"Together. OK." I straighten my upper body and process for a second. "Just so long as I have you guys behind me, I'm ready to do this."

I lean over and give Sloane a kiss, and then stand up to go sit next to Landon on the sofa in order to see the book better, praying to the goddesses for strength as I do so.

### TWENTY-ONE

After I have no doubt the spell is in my mind and my heart, and I have faith it will work, I know it's time to go see Hollie. But first, Zoë and I need to make the protection amulet Landon talked about. I am not chancing anything when it comes to my oldest friend.

The guys stay in the house, drinking some of the famed fae lager and bs'ing the way guys do when bonding, while we venture outside, exploring a bit before getting to the task at hand.

I want to enjoy at least a little of the beauty surrounding me before I have to go back and deal with such darkness. Zoë lets me wander and look all around as we walk.

Entering the heart of the town, I almost drop my jaw. It is just like any other small town I've been in, with a street of shops making up the center. Zoë drags me into one of the first ones—it looks like an art store of some sort.

The bells jangle as the door opens, and an amazing array of smells overtake me. The display of colors dazzles me. Stones, fabrics, incense—and everything else they have for sale, much more than I would have imagined could fit in such a tiny storefront—every little thing catches my eye. The beauty is breath-taking... that is, if that was a possibility in Avalon.

I smile and wander aimlessly, touching everything I come across. It's something I have always done in stores, taking in the feel of the place, but here I am practically compelled to touch and absorb what is around. I am experiencing my environment in a way I never have before. I feel lost, but with a purpose. Even as I think this I know it makes no sense, but nonsense can be good—and it is, here in this cozy atmosphere.

"Oh crap!" I can't help but cry out when Zoë taps me on the shoulder, holding up a small paper bag.

"You are too funny." She laughs and lets me know we are done here. "One more place to go and you will be on your way to Hollie. Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Sure." I look around, shocked the time passed so quickly without me knowing it, but I laugh along with Zoë, well aware of the silliness of my reaction.

Our next stop is a tree at the other end of the street, on the way toward a set of houses I haven't yet seen.

"A tree? What are we doing here? We don't need to buy anything else?" The thought of money makes me wonder how things are purchased here. Surely they don't use American dollars, but what do they use? It is not the time to ask about it, though. I'll find out soon enough, I'm sure.

"Simple," Zoë answers. "All we need is a piece of bark. It works best at dawn, but since you'll be making it, it really shouldn't matter. Hollie will be well-protected."

"So we just take a chunk off this tree? Won't it hurt it?" I crease my brow, surprised to feel soothing vibes making their way from deep inside of me out to my skin. Without controlling what I'm doing, I send them to the tree and can swear I hear a voice letting me know what we are doing is fine.

I shake out my arms and wait for Zoë to answer. She is resting her hand on the tree and her eyes are closed.

"I am talking to it right now—asking its permission to take from it for a noble cause." She opens her eyes and continues talking, but still doesn't look at me. "We just need to go to the east side... here."

She walks around to the other side of the tree, her hand still on it, rubbing the trunk as she circles. "This is where it gets the morning sun. It should still be somewhat warm compared to the rest of the tree."

As Zoë finishes preparing for us to make the amulet, my thoughts move to Hollie, for obvious reasons. I honestly have no idea how she is going to react to all of this, and if she will be there for me like she has always been. I have already lost Blake. There is no way I can stand to lose Hols, as well. Nothing has ever gotten between us, but we've never had to deal with something this huge before, either.

Zoë waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. "Wow. You are really out of it today. Is all this finally getting to you?"

"Yeah... " I shake my head—not in a 'no' fashion, but in an attempt to clear everything inside. "Yeah, I guess it is. I just want this crap all to be over."

"Well it will be soon. Don't worry about it. Just do what you have to and that's it. After the hard part—the really hard part, unfortunately—is over, we can move on and everything will be better. So much better." Zoë reaches her arm out and rests her hand on my shoulder. She squeezes gently and give me a reassuring smile. "I do feel bad this is all so new to you and you're having to deal with so much. But if anyone can do it, it's you."

She holds my gaze, trying to make me believe what she does. And I do. It scares me, but I believe it. Satisfied, she pulls her arm back and motions to the ground. She sits, and I join her.

Sitting Indian-style, facing me, Zoë pulls a piece of paper out of her purse and unfolds it. She sets the paper down and, on top of it, she places the small piece of bark, a white piece of cloth, and a yellowish-gold colored piece of yarn.

She looks up at me and studies my eyes. She nods, obviously satisfied with something, and then speaks. "All right. This is pretty simple. All you have to do is repeat what this paper says— _and truly mean it_ —while you bind the bark with the yarn. Then you'll wrap it with the cloth, _et_ _voilà_."

"That's it? Sounds too easy to be true."

"It's the power of the fae. When used for good, it is an amazing thing."

I take the paper from Zoë and turn it so I can read it, looking over the words several times—trying to feel them while thinking of Hollie. Then I grab the bark from Zoë's hand and hold it, forcing some of my strength into it, unsure as to how I even am doing it other than thinking about wanting to. I feel a next-to-immediate zap of, well, something...

"Whoa, that was weird. Didn't think that'd actually work," I mutter.

Next, I take the yarn and begin to wrap the bark, speaking the words as I do so. "Gathered from where the sun awoke, the power of protection and strength I invoke!"

I repeat the saying as I wrap the cloth around the yarn-bound bark, for a total of three times spoken, and then I sit for about a minute after, willing the amulet to truly protect my friend as I think the words silently.

When I feel confident it has the power to work, I stand up and place the amulet in my pocket, wanting to keep it close to my body.

"All right." I look down at Zoë as I wipe the dirt off my butt. "I suppose it's time for me to go."

I hold my hand out for my new friend, helping her stand up. "I think I can find my way back by myself this time. I need Hollie now more than ever and she needs me, too. She needs this." I pat my pocket.

"Can you tell Sloane that I'll call him, or get a hold of him—somehow—when I'm done with this? And ask him to figure out a way to get me to Donovan so when I get back we can get this over with. Landon said we don't have much time and, besides, I don't think I can handle the stress of waiting any longer than I need to."

"Of course." Zoë smiles, wishing me luck. "Not a problem. We'll see you soon."

We hug and then both go in opposite directions—Zoë back to the house and me, toward a portal. I sense one nearby. A different one than I used before, but I am sure I can get to Hollie through it.

* * * *

Rather than the normal shimmering and faltering of the world around me, I catch glimpses of a sparkling phosphorescence in my periphery, almost like flecks of gold floating through the air. They shine with light, but it isn't from the sun. The shimmer is lit from within, just like fae themselves.

A strong urge pulls me toward the odd air and away from where I believe the portal to be.

Branches scrape across my face and my shoes get caught up in small roots of the gnarled trees that surround me. I almost trip about fifty times in the span of five feet. It doesn't take long to find myself being rained on with gold and silver dust.

Is this faery dust? Could it be? Or is that just too cliché?

The next thing my eyes catch sight of also catches my breath—in Avalon's own way. I forget any thoughts about how lame or fake this all might be because, even though what I see ahead of me looks like a Hollywood set, deep down I know it is nothing of the sort.

Two centaurs, each at least three stories high, stand facing each other. They appear to form some type of gate. It is impossible to focus on what the centaurs are guarding because I can't look away from them for the life of me.

They are made of ivory and gold and silver and pearl and opal and whoknowswhatelse all mixed into one. And the light they're giving off... The centaurs are strangely iridescent, and beyond beautiful.

With one arm out to the side, feeling for trees to support me, I walk toward the creatures. I wonder if they are actually real. There's no way that they are. They can't be—

An ethereal, yet animal-like noise mixed with the sweet music of the tiny faeries drifts toward me. Almost like the Pied Piper, calling me as if I am a child.

I walked up to the first enormous creature. With great reverence, I reach out toward a front leg, bringing my hand back to myself and re-extending it a few times before I gather the strength to touch it with my first few fingertips. It is ice cold, yet warm and inviting at the same time. My fingers slide down and, as I am about to place my palm on the sweet surface, a voice startles me backward.

Tripping over a loose twig, I fall on my butt, narrowly missing hitting my head thanks to my elbows and new, quicker reflexes. It's pretty awesome, albeit strange, that these falls and such don't hurt.

But that thought doesn't hold my attention long. _What was that sound?_

"Who's there? What's going on?"

I turn around to look for Zoë, but all I see behind me are trees, and more trees. And fast-fading sunlight.

_Why am I seeing the sun?_ This is just all sorts of strange right now. Like, more so than other things from the past two days.

The forest looks scary as hell behind me so I focus my attention ahead. Not that I have much choice in the matter. It was a struggle to look away in the first place.

I stand up and step forward, cautious as can be, and hear the same noise. It sounds as though an animal is clearing its throat, not that I have ever heard that happen but this is just all so odd. Odd for my new world, odd. I look all around, but everything is too bright up ahead so I can't make anything out. And I already saw that there's nothing behind me. The only other place the sound could have come from is the statues.

A lot of craziness is going on, but I don't think that's possible. _Or is it?_

As a soft, yet fierce, voice speaks, sounding as if it is descending from the heavens, I have my answer.

"Kellyn, we have been waiting for you. We are glad it did not take you long to make it here. If you had not found us, we are not sure what would have come to be."

I look up, covering my eyes with both of my hands. I can barely make out the face of the centaur on my right. Its head is tilted down, looking right at me. It appears to be smiling but I can't read it like a person, so who knows. Looking over to the one on the left, I catch it in movement. To see what I thought to be a stone statue move, well, to say that I am shocked would be putting it lightly...

Shyly I call out, hoping they can hear me all the way up there. "Well, um, where is here? And what exactly have I found?"

"Come inside, walk between us and you shall see." The centaur on the left speaks this time, in almost the same voice, only a bit less feral. Still as booming, but gentle.

As scary as they seemed at first sight, the centaurs now have a calming effect on me. I don't know if it's the voices or their beauty or some other power, but it doesn't much matter. I do just as they say.

My footsteps make crackling noises when I step on the leaves, making me wonder yet again why there are dry leaves on the ground in May, but the sound goes away as soon as I finish walking past the centaurs and through the open, gigantic gates just past them. I find myself in a gorgeous garden, much like the one in Preston's backyard but much larger, and also where I met my mother.

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out this is an entirely different part of Avalon simply because nowhere else looks like this. And I know it has only been two days but I feel it deep inside—this is someplace special. Someplace not every faery knows about.

But I wonder what is it exactly. And where I am, considering I didn't walk far after I said goodbye to Zoë.

I turn back toward the gatekeepers to ask them, but their heads are held high, having done their job of ushering me inside.

Knowing I don't have the time to stop and smell the roses sure doesn't prevent me from doing so. I honestly can't help it. I am drawn to every little thing here. When I bend over to smell a particularly pretty orange flower, a tiny faery flies up in front of my face and waves a hello.

"Hi, how are you?" I ask in an almost whisper, afraid my voice might be too loud for its little ears.

"I'm just fine, thank you. It's good to see you again. Can you please speak up, though? It is hard to hear with your voice so quiet."

Feeling like quite the idiot, I simply smile and nod. "Again? What do you mean? Are you—I mean, we've met before?"

"Yes, briefly. Not by name, but you heard us playing our music and we spoke."

So I was right. That was when I met my mother. But I was in the faery realm then, so I know I'm definitely still in Avalon. I just wish I knew where... No matter what is going on, though, I will find out sooner if I remain focused.

"Well it's good to see you again. And to see you're doing well."

"You, also," the faery says before flying off to its right.

As I consider where I am and why, I am vaguely aware I have started rubbing the inside of my left wrist. I walk around and look at everything, and every creature.

It isn't until after a few minutes, I suppose, that I even _really_ realize I am touching the spot where my mother marked me. When the skin begins to become not only warm, but rather hot.

"Ouch." I take my right thumb off my wrist and use my palm to soothe the somewhat wounded area.

"Are you all right, my dear?" A sweet and powerful voice sounds from behind me. Before I even look, I know who it is. Not only do I recognize the voice, but I can feel the warmth in my heart and the comfort in my soul. The pain on my wrist subsides as suddenly as I had felt it start.

Turning around, I see my mother standing in front of me. Again, I can see through parts of her. She isn't a substantial being, but is most definitely here in every other sense possible. Such graceful beauty holds me in a state of wonder, much like everything in Avalon.

"Mother! It's you again." All I want to do is step forward and hug her—my heart is screaming for it, but I know that isn't possible.

"Yes, darling. I am here. And it seems you have found the secret of Avalon, though not entirely by accident." My mother smiles, almost mischievously, as she is speaking.

"The secret?"

"Why yes. I know you were just thinking this isn't a place most know of. And you are correct. It is quite an amazing world here, this Edge of Avalon we are in.

"Edge? What does that mean, exactly?" I stand perfectly still, watching my mother and nothing else.

"It is as it sounds. We are in The Edge of Avalon. A secret hiding spot for a special type of faery. I am allowed here as a reprieve from such a horrible death, but others must be led here." My mother waves an arm around, showcasing the area we are standing in. "No one can find it on their own."

"So I _was_ led here? And then invited in by the centaurs. Who brought me here then?"

"Why I did. Well, my thoughts and wishes did. And then you brought _me_ here with your need to know as you rubbed our mark."

I glance down at my wrist, the redness now gone. There is one other difference from the last time I looked at it. An enormous and amazing difference. The mark has been black this whole time, from the kiss up until to two seconds ago. It looked like most tattoos. But at this moment it is shimmering every color of the rainbow and light shines out of it like a prism, reminding me of Hollie's skin.

I close my eyes, an overwhelming warmth embracing me uncomfortably.

"There is no need to feel frustrated or upset. I know you miss your friend and want to protect her. I will take you to her when we are finished here. But we are here for a reason. You can use this unknown, nearly abandoned spot to prevent what is to come. If you do not want your friends to be harmed, and if you want to survive, you _must_ use this place."

"Use it _how_? Wait—there are faeries here though. And you said they're special. So if Hollie and Olivia are safe... does that mean these fae here _won't_ be?" I pray the answer will be different than what my gut is telling me.

"I think you know that answer, unfortunately. But I can explain how it might not be as bad as you believe."

"How can faeries dying _not_ be a bad thing?" I hear my voice rise a couple of octaves. Nothing in my body understands how killing, or hurting, faeries is supposed to fix everything. I just don't get how something so horrible can stop Donovan and the creature _What the hell—this is pure insanity!_

"Calm down, my dear Kellyn. Yes, he will be able to hurt the fae, but remember, he can only kill one. Just one. And the others will soon be healthy once more. Remember that we heal almost miraculously."

My mother must be sending soothing vibes my way because as soon as her words are spoken, a sense of peace washes over me. I am still shaken up, but not as badly.

"So what's the deal, exactly," I ask, taking a seat on the ground. Standing isn't going to work for this conversation.

My mother joins me, floating down toward the ground in an effortless manner, looking beautifully whimsical. She makes me smile just like Hollie does. I am so blessed to have people like this in my life.

"Well first of all, I have been able to block out our voices during this conversation so these fae cannot hear us, but it will only work for another minute or two, as I have used much of my strength."

Her voice is going in and out like before, fading and reappearing—the same as her image.

"So we are going to have to have this conversation differently. I am sure you remember how I told you everything the last time?"

I stop rubbing my hands over the blades of grass I've started playing with. "Of course! It was amazing."

"That is good to hear. I do not want to overwhelm you, but I have something important you must hear, and a plan in mind that will help take care of the prophecy with the least amount of pain possible. If you have the strength to absorb it all, that would be most helpful."

I sit up straight, as if a two-by-four is strapped to my back. Miss America would be jealous.

"Sure Mother. Anything. I'll do what I can. Just give me the chance."

My mother nods and once more takes over my mind. She tells me all about The Edge of Avalon and what it truly is. Thoughts rush at the speed of light, but I am able to keep up with it all.

I learn that the reason most fae don't know about The Edge and never come here is because, even though it is technically a part of Avalon, it really belongs to human children. Not that they ever come here physically, but they do spend time with the faeries and other creatures who live here. On a nightly basis... because the children are the ones who create these faeries and unicorns and such—in their dreams and imaginations—all starting with the stories they are told from the time they are born.

Faery tales have been around as long as anyone can remember for the simple fact that they are true. But of course little kids don't know this, so they make up what they can in their minds and base the rest off of picture books and movies like _Peter Pan_.

The Edge of Avalon is where these dreams live. And they travel to the children's minds when the moon rises in the human realm, once they are fast asleep. Eventually, most children grow up and abandon these types of dreams, but for every child who stops believing, another one takes its place and more faeries are born.

And this fact is supposedly why one faery dying will not be the same tragedy of my mother's fate... or what could happen to me. What Donovan wants to happen but the prophecy does not. Plus, if I don't do this, I will only be putting someone else in my exact situation in another fifteen to twenty years.

Way to guilt me into it... I can't possibly be that selfish and weak.

At this point, my mother gives me a bit of a break to catch up—to think things through. I go back to playing with the grass as I process and then look up, pleading with my eyes for more. I'm not sure if I want it but there is a desperate need in me. I have to know more.

The next part hits me hard. My upper body even jumps back a little when I realize the truth of all I am being told and what I will have to do. Even in the lightness of Avalon, I can feel the heavy weight of burden as if it is a lead vest.

When I have learned all I need to, I simply nod. I attempt a smile, but it doesn't turn out as such. It feels like more of a twisted sneer since I am unable to be truly happy at the moment. I know my mother understands my intention, though, so I'm not worried about my expression.

My mother loves me; I love my mother, and that is all that matters in this situation right now.

Once she is gone... well, that is a different story.

It happens as quickly as it did the last time. She blows me a kiss and I do the same. Then all I am staring at is the flowers and grass in front of me.

At least I am left with an amazing faery's faith in me to finish the horrible task the prophecy says is mine, and mine alone.

I need to get out of this place. And soon. Rushing back out to the gate, I faintly hear the centaurs say a goodbye. I am running faster than I would have ever thought myself capable.

I make it fully past both the gate and the keepers, expecting to find myself where I started. Instead, I desperately need to breathe after all that exercise. Looking around, I think I recognize my surroundings but after that mindfuck of a conversation I need to take a minute or so longer than usual to know exactly where I am.

Realizing I am in the park down the street from Hollie's doesn't surprise me. My mother said she would help and I have no doubt that is the truth.

I race down the street, getting to my friend's as fast as I possibly can. And as quickly as I am running, even through the heavy air, I am pretty sure not a single human can see me—just a flash of something one would pass off as an eye twitch or another human oddity of the like.

### TWENTY-TWO

Not even bothering to call or knock, I burst through the back door of Hols' house. Even though everything else in my world is different, this place doesn't feel or seem any different to me. Except for the nasty wall-smoke and carpet mold, but I can handle that as long as nothing else changes.

I race down the hall and push the beads aside to find my best friend sprawled out on the floor, papers and pastels and paints spread around her.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I relax my shoulders.

Hollie turns around at the sound of my arrival and smiles—a huge grin. I return it, feeling a zeal inside that our connection is still here after everything that's happened.

Hols gets up and gives me a huge hug. Neither of us seem to want to let go, but after a minute we both do. Hollie steps back but keeps her hands on my upper arms, taking me in, looking me up and down. I take her in with my eyes as well, still fascinated by her beauty.

Both of us giggle and she sits back down on the floor, facing the bed where she knows I will choose to sit. We open our mouths to speak at the same time.

"You go first," I laugh.

"I was gonna say that, but all right. Well, not much has happened here. My mom still hasn't come home from her date last night so I've been alone, just drawing, painting, and thinking. Bon has stopped in and out to see how I've been doing but really, I've got nothing to report." Hollie pauses for a second and then says, with a wink, "Not like you, you little hussy."

"Oh, ha ha! You're _so_ freaking funny." I squint my eyes, attempting a glare.

The weird thing is that I had forgotten I just lost my virginity. One, it felt natural so it isn't that big of a deal—it feels like something that was supposed to happen. But mainly because so many other things are going on. I haven't had much time to delve into all the sex stuff while worrying about death.

"You have to meet Sloane. I mean, I know you will, but... he's beyond phenomenal. And so ridiculously gorgeous you could just die!" I close my eyes and picture my guy in my head, smiling like a schoolgirl. I open my eyes when Hollie starts speaking.

"Yummy. I'll def have to see him soon." Hollie smiles, but then her face turns serious. "So what's going on for real? What have you figured out about everything? The supposed prophecy Bonnie elaborated on after you left..."

"What? She knew about that? And after all the research Landon did... Whatever. I guess she has her reasons," I grumble. I understand, I suppose, but I'm also a tad upset about the time and energy we could have saved.

Ignoring that, I answer Hollie's questions. "Well, with the help of quite a few people I've figured out what I have to do. But the thing is, it's _gotta_ be tonight. Like right around midnight, Avalon time—maybe just after, but not much. But who knows when that is in this world's time... And it has to be done right. So I could reallyreally use your help with it, sweets, if that's OK."

"What kind of help?" Hollie sits back, concern on her face. I can tell she hadn't expected much to be asked of her.

I wave my hands in front of me, signing a big 'WaitWaitWait.' I know I look ridiculous, almost like a traffic cop, but I want to erase any idea from Hollie's head that she'll have to do anything she doesn't want to.

"No, don't worry. You don't have to come with me to Avalon or anything if you're not comfortable with that yet. Everything we have to do can be done in this room. We will stay right here and you can still help me a ton."

Hollie breathes out a sigh of relief and nods while she relaxes back on her hands behind her. "OK, sounds good. My room—that, I can do." She smiles, reassuring me.

"Awesome. First, I need you to trust me— _completely_. I have to try something kinda different. If I can do it, it'll make the first part easier for you and it will be beyond awesome for me."

"Sure. I trust you. You know that."

Energized by what I am about to attempt, I jump down off the bed and sit on the floor by Hollie. "OK, good. Because this is something that happened to me and I have a weird feeling I can do it, too. But I've no clue for sure. All I can do is try, right?"

I really hope I can do this because if not, I'm screwed since I didn't bring a picture of the creature. _Damn it. It would have been so easy just to snap a shot of the book page... Whatever. Can't do anything about it now. K—shut up now, Kellyn._

I focus on Hollie and start speaking to her rather than ranting to myself in my head.

"Now I need you to close your eyes and concentrate on me. Try to keep me out of your head any way you possibly can. Don't let me know your thoughts. Build up a wall or something and zero in on that, making it as strong as possible so I can't get in. I know it's new and weird, but it's new and weird on my end, too."

Hollie doesn't close her eyes right away. Instead she looks at me inquisitively. "But Bonnie told me you can get into my mind whenever you want. That it's some talent thing you have."

"Well... it is. But I never knew about it 'til now. Like, only in the past couple of days. I've always known stuff about you and thought maybe it was something more but way too creepy to explore. So I've never actually tried to go into your head if you're worried about that. I didn't know I could—well I sensed I might be able to but, like I said, it's too creepy. On top of it being an invasion of your privacy. So anyway, I never tried."

"Hrm. I mean, it wouldn't matter if you had. I have nothing to hide from you. But I'm glad you haven't 'cause that could be kind of weird."

I sigh, yet again. "I've gotta be honest then. What I'm about to do is exactly that. I'm gonna try to break down whatever walls you build to keep me out. Except—wait." I hold my hand out when Hollie's shoulders fall. "I'm not going to be able to read anything you're thinking.

"What I want is to see if I can take over your mind. Compel you to do something. Apparently there's this thing some of us can do called compulsion, and what I have to do tonight will be a lot easier if I have the talent. I could definitely use it to my advantage."

"Oh." Hollie appears satisfied with my explanation. "Well then, as long as you don't make me pick my nose and take a picture and then put it online, I guess we're fine."

My heart warms with Hollie joking around and taking things a bit more in stride. So I make a face and giggle. "Of course not. I'd never do that to you, ya goof."

Straightening my body, shoulders back, feeling—almost conjuring—the power from deep within, I ask Hollie to close her eyes, and she does.

"Now, try with all your might to block me out. Even if you have to chant something to yourself silently saying I can't get into your mind. Anything—whatever you think might work."

We sit in silence for a moment. Hollie begins bopping her head back and forth, either bored or just waiting or... Right after Hollie starts moving, I find myself inside her head, trying to find a part of my friend's mind I can control. And so I begin my attempt at compulsion.

I feel the air moving gently around me. Just faintly, actually less than gently. Not enough to move anything—only the slightest breeze one could imagine.

I watch as Hollie opens her eyes, stands up, and turns toward the bathroom. Walking inside, she turns the light on and off five times, then comes back and sits down where she started. Her eyes close again and I let go of the power.

A big gust of wind blows my direction, whipping my hair around, but then it stops as if it was never there.

Hollie then opens her eyes without me asking her to. "So is this ever gonna happen or are we just hanging out on the floor like this all night?" She gives me a cute half smile.

"It already happened."

"But I didn't do anything..."

"Yeah you did." I can't stop the grin that is spreading across my face. "I wanted to do something simple, so I had you get up and play with the bathroom light. I promise you it worked. I didn't expect you not to remember it, though. That part's kind of cool."

"Really? I got up and went in the bathroom?! How freaking crazy is that? I seriously didn't think I'd left this spot. Well well, that's a pretty sick trick to have up your sleeve." Hollie's tone and expression both say 'impressed' ten-thousand times over.

"I know, right? But now that I know I can do it—and I'm kind of in shock that I _can_ do it and it was that simple, I need to get into your mind one last time. I have to let you see something so you can draw it for me. That is, if you would. It's pretty important." I sort of frown, hoping my friend will do this for me but not sure if she will.

"All right. As long as it's quick."

Hollie is pretending to be fine with all of this, but I can see right through her. It's not that she has a problem with it, exactly—I just know that Hollie wants normalcy and to deal with everything in her own way and on her own time schedule. Which I can understand. I would probably do the same if I had that option but unfortunately, I don't.

"What do I have to draw?" Hols asks me.

"The guy I have to fight. The one in the prophecy. He doesn't really exist in any form where I can get a picture of him, except for in books—and I forgot to bring one—imagine that." I stick my tongue out to the side, making fun of my own ditziness.

"So I'm gonna have to show you what I have seen and I'm hoping you can draw it from memory. Then while you're doing that, I get to practice some other cool magic stuff."

"Magic stuff? Like what?" Hollie takes out a fresh piece of paper and pulls her pastels closer.

"I need to be able to make things appear. From out of thin air... Thing is, I don't know if I can do it here, or just in Avalon. But if I can get it to work here, I know for sure I'll be able to do it there. My mother and another faery told me about it. I'm pretty excited to try it; see if it works.

"I was supposed to give it a shot when I was still in Avalon, but that's something else I forgot. This is all such a big deal that Landon even forgot. And I was just so excited to get here—to see you. And to get this all over with, to tell you the truth."

I'm really hoping that me forgetting things isn't a sign of something bad. I know I'm a klutz and spacey and all, but please, gods, let me be able to do what I need to. This isn't just about me...

"So... this is like witchcraft stuff?" Hollie's eyes cloud over and instantly become a storm. But they are also emanating a tiny bit of fear.

"No, _not_ like that. _Faerie_ stuff. I mean, I guess it could all be considered along the same lines," I tell her, remembering what Sloane told me about the split of the species, while also gauging Hollie's reaction.

My powers are for good. I don't possess dark, witch-crafty magical skills. And I don't get why she seems so put off by this stuff.

I explain more, but barely. She should already understand. "This is all fae power, Hols—even the compulsion I just did. And here's hoping I have it."

I raise an eyebrow, a little pissed off at how my half- _faery_ friend is acting. It's possible she has these powers, too. "You just got super excited and amazed over me controlling your entire body so I don't get why anything else is scaring you or making you think it's bad."

Looking kind of embarrassed but not ready to apologize, Hollie simply shrugs slightly.

"If I can't do it here," I tell her, "I'm gonna have to head back and practice there when I meet up with Sloane, Zoë, and Landon."

"Yeah, you said the name Landon earlier but I didn't want to interrupt you. Who is he? And Zoë?"

"They're two faeries I met yesterday. They've been amazing—helping me figure this whole thing out. You have to meet them, too. That is, when you're ready."

"Yeah. Sure. If you're cool with them, I don't know why I wouldn't be. There aren't that many people you _actually_ like." Hollie smirks and then bursts into a grin, immediately reassuring me things are still all right.

I giggle, enjoying the lightness and comfort of our friendship, but also a little freaked at my unstable emotions.

Hollie just laughs and says, "I know I'll get used to all this pretty soon and I _do_ want to meet them, but I really believe my place is here—not in Avalon. So it'll be kind of strange. But whatever, we'll figure it out. When the time comes."

"Yeah. We will." I smile genuinely at Hollie. I know it will all be fine and we will stay close and in each other's lives, even living in different worlds—literally. I can't say how I know this, though... maybe I am able to see the future now, too. But that is just one more thing I don't have time to think about. So I continue the conversation about all my friends meeting as though I haven't missed a beat.

"Plus, it's not like they can't come here to see you, if you feel uncomfortable going to Avalon. And I'm going to have to deal with my parents at some point soon so I'll be around. That's not something I'm looking forward to but I actually really miss them and I feel bad about how I left things. But hell—how could they not tell me something so enormous?! Whatever. That's for later..." I wave my hand dismissively.

"You know, I bet things won't change quite as much as we might think, when it comes down to it. Or if they do, we'll adapt fairly easily. We're tough chicks, right?" I laugh a little but most of me believes it to be true.

"Hell yeah, we are!" Hollie pumps one fist in the air, looking rather ridiculous. I give her an 'are you kidding me' look and we bust out laughing.

In between breaths, Hols makes out a sentence. Barely. "And things... will... be fine... with your parents." Considering the serious subject matter, she is able to get herself under control and continue speaking. I just have to wait a few breaths. "They had to have known this day was coming and that there would be a big-deal reaction. I doubt they're mad. They probably really miss you, too."

She purses her lips and looks down, and then asks, "Have they tried to call at all?" She glances up for the answer, hurt and worry in her eyes.

I shake my head, wondering if it's good they are respecting my request not to call, or bad that they don't care enough to ignore it and attempt to talk to me anyway. Even if I'm not their _real_ daughter, I've been their kid for seventeen years. That has to mean something. A lot, in fact. So I honestly have no idea what the heck I'm supposed to think.

A hopeful, but realistic thought pops into my head. "You know, it's actually possible they have tried to call and I just wasn't able to even hear it ring."

"What, when you were... with Sloane?"

I can't help but laugh at the two totally different places our minds went. That's me and Hols.

"No, you perv—because I was in Avalon! I have no idea if phones from this world even work there."

"Oh wow, that's pretty funny. I was way off. Maybe I'm just jealous you're getting some and I'm not. But it makes sense that they might have called and you had no possible way of knowing..."

We both sit and think about the entire situation—I swear she is projecting her thoughts onto a screen just like a movie, but after a couple minutes the silence is uncomfortable.

Hollie starts talking again, but changes the subject entirely and I am grateful she knows me well enough to do so. "Let's forget about all that for now. We should get this drawing started so you can go do whatever it is you've gotta do tonight. Then maybe once that's all over we'll have some peace and can spend more time together. Talk about more stuff, ya know..."

"Definitely. Without a doubt." I agree wholeheartedly with Hollie that time is needed—to process a bit more. But at the same time I wonder if there will _ever_ be enough time to handle all of this craziness. If we will ever completely get used to it.

"All right." I start this part, eager to get the the next. "Well, I suppose just do what you did before, but this time don't focus on pushing me out or away. This is something we both want so it'll be easier if I can find the best place to put this picture for you to access it."

I hesitate, choosing my next words with precision. "I just want you to be aware that this isn't a pretty sight. I mean, it's not absolutely horrible but it also isn't anything you would want to come across in a dark alley, let alone in the middle of the day. It truly is a monster so be prepared. Is that all right?"

Hollie swallows and nods, seeming unsure but also giving out the vibe that she will go above and beyond for me.

"OK, awesome. Now close your eyes and I'll try to be quick."

Hollie obeys and I easily slip into her mind. I wander around, drawn to the area where all of the colors and pictures are—like Hollie's personal art gallery. If people could get in here, she could charge admission. It's amazing!

Imagining the creature, or Donovan as the creature, to be specific, I place the image with all the others that are hanging around, making sure it is large enough to notice, and then I duck back out.

"Ew. You weren't not kidding me. That thing _is_ nasty." Hollie almost shivers while wrapping her arms around herself. She stares down at her blank paper while rubbing her arms, obviously preparing to bring the face of evil to life.

"Right? I warned you. So you think you can draw it for me while I practice this other stuff over here?"

"Of course. I can draw anything." Hollie winks. As an aside, she says, "Oh, if you want to change the music, you can. It's been on shuffle, but if you want some thinking music or whatever... I don't know. Just a suggestion." She shrugs and smiles, almost looking embarrassed.

I ignore how she is acting. Maybe her emotions are all screwy, too. They kind of seem to be.

"No, that's a good idea. I'll go find something."

Hollie takes out a dark green color and starts sketching the outline—and I really have to try hard to tear my eyes away from her talent. Once I manage, I make my way over to the stereo, avoiding the papasan and forcing myself not to think about what I saw there recently.

I stand in front of the stereo, grateful the CDs are on the opposite side of the papasan. I flip through those for a few minutes, which helps my mind forget the scary shadowy shade thing. Not finding anything in the boxes Hollie stores her CDs in, I pick up her iPod and scroll through it, eventually choosing _Enya_. The mellowness might help me relax and, therefore, concentrate on the task at hand.

Plopping back down on the bed, I get comfortable, sitting lotus style. I figure it can't hurt to be in a meditative pose. As Hollie draws, I attempt to focus on nothing but a rock. A simple stone. Even just a pebble will do. I assume something from nature will be the easiest to conjure, and since I forgot to ask what I'll be needing for the spell, I figure starting simply will be best.

It feels as though hours pass with nothing happening, but I know it's just my mind messing with me. Along with the fact that it is difficult to breathe and I am as hot as can be. Hoping that comfort might make the task easier, I strip off my t-shirt, leaving on just my tank.

Shoulders back again, feeling more in a position of power, I let the soft music take over. I breathe as well as I can and I focus like I did on Hols. Except this time I am picturing a plain grey rock sitting in front of me. The type you can find in almost any yard. It is all I am thinking of and, within seconds but also what feels like yet another hour, I see something.

The 'something' resembles a heat wave. Like when it's so hot outside the air actually moves. That happens a lot here in the summer and it is what's happening on Hollie's bed. The air speeds up, bobbing up and down, and then spins in no particular pattern or motion. I can faintly feel it, just as I felt the compulsion power not much earlier, although I have an inkling that controlling the wind is a separate power. But I can't think of that now. I need to concentrate.

With enough focus, the ball of moving air morphs into the rock I so desperately was hoping for. It is hanging out in mid-air, dancing around as if trying to impress me. I put my hands out underneath it, not wanting to take it out of the air but also wanting the dang thing. I made it—I should be able to hold it. It acts like it hears me because it slows down its rhythm like a scolded child, and then it falls the four or five inches down into my open hands.

I hold it, feeling its weight, and then I rub my fingers all over to feel its texture. It feels just like a rock. It _is_ a rock! And I'm blown away. I can't speak at first; I tried to tell Hollie. But after a minute or two, my voice comes back, louder than usual.

"Yes!" I scream. "It freaking fracking worked Hols! Do you believe it?"

I hold up the rock as though it's a trophy, and I stare at it as though it's the largest, most flawless diamond in existence.

Hollie looks up from her drawing, which I notice is about finished, and asks, "You seriously just made that? Just out of thin air? A stone?"

I nod, grinning and biting my lip.

"You didn't bring it in with you to trick me or anything?"

I shake my head, not knowing what to say.

"That is absolutely insane! I never would have thought this would be how our lives would turn out..." She shakes her head in amazement, just staring, pencil in hand and hovering over the drawing.

"I know! It's crazy, right? It wasn't easy like compulsion was, but... if I can do it here, who _knows_ what I can do in Avalon." I try to keep my voice down, but I can't seem to, now that I found it again. But it's with good reason that I'm practically screaming.

Hollie stares in awe for another minute and then goes back to the drawing, finishing up the last part.

I sit and look at the rock, turning it around and over in my hands to make sure it is real, all while praying it won't disappear.

"OK girlie. I think I'm done. Did I do good?"

I look up from my hard-won prize to see Hollie's drawing in all its glory. It is definitely the monster-creature thing—without a doubt. Every feature is spot on. The girl's got talent, that's for sure, and I make sure to let her know. And then continue to praise her.

"Wow Hols! It's beyond perfect. I'm so glad you were able to do this."

I climb down awkwardly off the bed, my legs cramped from sitting the same way for so long. I plan to give my friend a hug when I feel something poke my leg. _Freaking duh._ _The amulet._ I don't know how I could have forgotten it.

"Hey, I have something for you." I reach into my pocket and hand the cloth-covered bark to Hollie.

"What's this?"

"It's something Zoë and I made. Keep it on you all the time and it will protect you. You know, since you have human blood. I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you..." My eyes sting with tears, but I blink them away before the waterworks can start.

"Aw, you're sweet, hon. I'll definitely keep it with me always. If you say it works, I believe you. Especially after what I just saw you do."

"Awesome," I say, leaning over to give Hollie the hug I had come down to the floor for.

I pull back but keep my hands on her arms. "I hate to run, but I kind of need to get back and figure out what the plan is. There's not much time left, according to Landon."

"I understand. It sucks, but I get it. Just make sure to come back. And _soon_. Let's catch up and just be like, well—like us." Hollie smiles, her irises sparkling when she looks into my eyes.

I can't help but smile back, just like any other time Hollie is happy. It's the effect my best friend has on me. And I adore it.

"I will. For sure."

I stand up and look around the room, taking in its beauty while also making sure I have everything I need. Realizing my bag is still at Sloane's, I wonder briefly if there is anything in it I should get, but then I figure I'll be all right with just my purse.

Hollie stands up too and follows me as I leave her bedroom, walking me to the back door.

When we get to the counter I stop short, causing Hollie to bump into me.

"Is that—is that the bowl Bonnie had us use in your room? The rainwater?" I turn and look at Hollie.

"Yeah. She figured she should leave it around for me to practice. Or in case I want to meet my dad or maybe see my Béfind again." She tilts her head. "Why? You need it for something?"

"Well no, not exactly. But instead of going outside and risking Donovan finding me, it might be smarter, and easier, to scry back to Avalon. Would you mind if I do it? You won't freak out when I just... disappear, will you?"

"Eh, it might be weird but feel free. I think I'll just go back to my room; say goodbye to you now. Is that all right?"

"Yeah, sure. It's fine." I give Hollie a cheesy ass smile, feeling high on the awesomeness that is our friendship. "You rock, girlie. I love you. Never forget that— _or_ that you're the best!"

"You too, love. I'll see you soon." With a hug, Hollie is gone. I can sense a connection broken—Hollie walking down the hall toward her rather normal bedroom and life, and me, well... not. The phenomenal feeling I just had starts to fade but I ignore it and think only about what I'm doing right now and why.

One thing I find myself thinking about is why I can scry with my entire body now and not just my mind and spirit. But I figure it's just because I was baptized to be able to do that, among other things.

I wait to hear the curtain of beads move before I sit down at a bar stool and look into the water. I caress the air over it and focus on my home, happily noticing the beautiful cross on my wrist has stayed a rainbow. Yet another grin spreads across my face. I'm surprised my cheeks aren't hurting by now after all the happiness I've been experiencing.

It's probably because the evil pretty much balances it out... As well as some of the awkwardness and sadness going on. But I don't need to think about all this. I need to go home.

I have been calling the faery realm Avalon so as not to hurt Hollie's feelings, but it is home. It doesn't need a name. I just want to be there, and so I do what is now second nature. I send myself home.

### TWENTY-THREE

Along with the extra power from my mother and my baptism, I've obviously picked up moving from realm to realm quite well because I scry like a flash of light and end up exactly where I want to be. Standing outside of Zoë and Landon's house.

I lift my hand to knock, but again, the door opens before I even touch the door. This time it's Sloane who greets me. I dive into his arms, squeezing as hard as I faery-ly can.

"Gods, it's soooo good to see you, babe."

"You too, love. You've been gone a while."

I pull back and we step away from the door to shut it. "I have? I thought it was maybe just over an hour. I tried to be quick."

He laughs and shakes his head with a smile. "Try closer to four... did you even notice the sky? It's dark as could be, silly. It's ten."

"Wow! Are you kidding me? This whole time thing is gonna take some getting used to. It switches from light to dark a zillion times throughout the day, I swear." I walk over to the bench I have pretty much claimed as my own.

"It's fine. You're here now." Sloane sits down next to me and wraps his arm over my shoulders.

"Yeah," I mumble happily as I nuzzle my head into his neck, somehow able to relax in his scent even though I don't have to breathe here. Nothing has ever felt so right and, as corny as it sounds, I honestly cherish every second I have with this guy next to me.

"So what all has happened since I've been gone? 'Cause I definitely have a lot to tell you guys."

"Really? That's great!" He gives me a squeeze and my entire body tingles. "Well I had to go find D, as fun as that was. I mentioned that I've seen you around and he seemed really excited about it. Somehow I got him to believe I'm going to go search for you tonight—sure you'd be out—and then kidnap you and bring you to him."

"Nice! That sounds like it'll work well, actually. So where are Zoë and Landon?"

"They went out for a late dinner while I waited. I didn't want to miss you. They should be back soon." He pauses, and then adds, "But first there's something I want to give you. You wanna take a walk with me?"

"Sure." Of course. I would go anywhere with Sloane. Anywhere. Even to see Donovan in just an hour or so. Calmness fills me now that I am back with him—I know nothing will fail. My heart beats slowly yet confidently and there is an inner peace I have never known. And it's all because of his presence. Because of his existence. It is just one part of what makes him so special to me.

I lift my head and stand up, holding my hand out to him. He takes it and leads me to the door. We leave the house and walk, hand in hand, over to a clearing. Sloane motions for me to sit down on a blanket that he must have brought earlier and spread out. He sits close to me and, facing each other, we share what we've each learned, in full detail.

I'm not exactly surprised at anything Sloane tells me. It's exciting history and spell type stuff, but also pretty much what I expected Landon to dig up. Sloane, though, is most definitely shocked at what I learned from my mother. I explain the plan and, as the words come out of my own mouth—much less reassuring than when my mother spoke of the same thing—I begin to feel baby butterflies.

I am flat out scared we will fail. That _I_ will fail. No matter my faith minutes earlier, the reality makes it seem so risky. Too risky, maybe. But what choice do I have?

"First of all, how are we going to get Donovan to The Edge? I know how to get there—I think." I frown a bit, remembering I had to be called there before.

But then again, it wouldn't be part of the plan if I can't get there on my own. My thumb finds my wrist and rubs it gently. Not enough to call my mother; just enough to help build my faith and confidence back up. Besides, I am almost positive the mark can sense my inner desire—whether I'm comforting myself or if I need my mother.

"Can I force him there somehow? How's this supposed to work?"

"Kellyn, baby. If it is your mom's plan, it's going to work."

"OK, let's say it does work. What then? What if he kills me first?" I tilt my head and meet Sloane's eyes, almost expecting an answer.

"Now you're just being absurd. Your compulsion worked in the human realm so it will be extremely simple here with D. You have so much more power in Avalon so please, don't even worry about that. Better yet, just don't worry at all; don't even think. Do what you have to do and it will all be over soon and we can stop thinking about it."

"But—" Sloane cuts me off with a gentle finger on my lips.

"You cannot be afraid. This is for the best. Everyone gets to keep their life this way. Even Donovan, unfortunately. But children will still have their unicorns and wizards and princesses. And soon enough, they will have their same, sweet fae again. Your mother would not have it any other way, of that I am sure."

"You're right. I know you're right. It's just hard. I spoke with one of them more than once. They're just so sweet and..." I trail off, unable to finish.

I move closer to Sloane, not that it's really possible, and lean into him as though my life depends on his body touching mine. I can't stop the tears that have started. Yes, this is my mother's plan―the only plan possible―but I'm not sure if I can go through with it.

"How can you be so sure, babe?" I ask Sloane. "You can't be. What if it all goes wrong and a bunch get killed and they're gone forever?"

"They won't be, and nothing is going to go wrong. You were raised as a human child. You, out of all of us, should know what it is like. The gorgeous, tiny faeries are going to enter the minds of children again and will return to The Edge. And I am betting on sooner rather than later." He kisses the top of my head and then brushes a tear from my eye with his thumb.

"This is just a means to an end. They won't all die—it can only be one, sad as even that is. But the horrible creature will be taken care of. He won't hurt anyone or anything ever again... especially you." Sloane clears his throat and asks, "Isn't that worth it?"

My stomach sinks at the same time my heart bursts. I hate that everyone is in this position because of me, but on the flip side, I know how lucky I am because I wouldn't have this love otherwise.

So I nod, my head moving up and down against Sloane's chest. Wiping my tears and nose against him, I stand up, step back, and try to shake the nervousness off. Attempt to get back my sense of strength and bravery in any way I can.

Sloane rises as well, and turns away for a moment. I take the opportunity to try to fix my makeup and dry my nose a little more. Hell, I hope I didn't leave snot on his shirt.

I laugh at this thought and, when Sloane turns back around he gives me a look I somehow know, even though we just met yesterday. I know he is loving the fact that I'm having a silly conversation with myself. No condescension at all. It's a look of admiration. He loves that about me—that I'm not normal and am not afraid to hide it now. Not a clue why he would like that, but I'll take it.

"So I have something for you. And I have to tell you, you are a bad ass bitch whether you think you are or not," Sloane says with a crafty smile and an arched eyebrow.

"Oh, I am, am I?" I raise my eyebrows too, and tilt my head, waiting to see what he has in store.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, you are. So I thought it was only fitting you that you look like one."

He produces a shopping bag from behind his back and hands it to me. "For you, my love. To scare the holy—or unholy, that is—shit out of Donovan _and_ to make you feel like the fierce faery you are."

I giggle as I take the bag and sit back down on the blanket with it. Sloane joins me and I start taking the tissue paper out and tossing it aside.

The first thing I grab besides the wrapping is a tank top. A black, leather tank top. _Hrm_ , I think. _OK, keep on digging_.

Next comes a pair of leather pants. I can feel Sloane's gaze fixed on me, but I'm not about to give him the satisfaction of my reaction until I'm done. I manage to keep a stone-cold expression.

After the shirt and pants, I pull out matching gloves that look like they'll go up to my elbows as I stretch out their full length. The gloves have no fingertips, which makes me wonder, but in a good way. I am beginning to like the faith my boyfriend has in me. It's going to go a long way in helping me fight Donovan.

The last thing I dig out of the bag are a pair of tall, kick ass boots. Also black leather... of course. A complete outfit. I look up at Sloane, everything sitting in my lap, and smile so largely I feel like the sides of my mouth might split.

"You are absolutely just the freaking best. This is seriously great. Only you would have thought of something like this. For me, and for D. " I lean toward him and rest my forehead against his. Looking into his eyes, I whisper, "With this stuff, he'll think I've been looking for him and am prepared for a fight. I bet it'll even make him underestimate me a bit, if you think about it..."

I lean back then and he says, "Come here babe."

I climb over the bag and into his lap, wrapping my arms around him.

"So now do you feel a bit more prepared?"

"How can I not?! This is the mind-trick part I needed. I'm practically Lara Croft, Tomb Raider," I say with a smirk. "Except I suppose I'd be Kellyn, um, hrm, no last name. Huh, well..." I trail off, laughing, too happy to worry about feeling like an idiot. "I guess I got the bad ass gene—not the creative, quick, witty one."

Sloane laughs his deep, throaty laugh. The one I love because I know he has no control over it.

It is that lack of control and my love of all things beautiful—and hatred of evil, that helps me grasp onto _my_ control. I am fully aware of this and now I am ready to do what is foretold.

_And hell, even if I'm not ready, I've got to do it, right?_ I don't know why I bother making a point of this to myself. I need all thoughts to be positive.

"Yes. You do have to. Will you please stop worrying?" Sloane responds to my thought, surprising me a little. "I have one more thing for you. You won't need it for more than a second, but it will help with the bad ass vibe and it will confuse Donovan even more. I know he will think you really _do_ want to fight dirty—physically, I mean."

"Yeah, well part of me feels that might be easier—just take him down with my bare hands. But I know this is the only way," I admit. "So what else do you have?"

Sloane lifts me up off his lap like I'm as light as a book or something. He sits me down next to him before he stands up. Walking over to a nearby tree, he reaches behind it. When he turns back to me, he is wielding a sheathed sword.

"Wow, what the—?! I mean yeah, wow. That's insane!"

Sloane slowly pulls out the sword on his way back to me. I rise to my knees to better see the beauty of it—the sparkling, embedded rainbow of color. It is beyond words. More gorgeous than anything I have ever seen.

Well, except for my guy.

"Ha ha. Nice, babe. I'm glad you like it. It will do you good. And just so you know, it's a really strong aluminum so it can't hurt you. But it does its job. Then after all of this is done, it will be a great souvenir for our place."

" _Our_ place?" I stand and hold out my hand, asking to admire the sword more closely. He hands it to me but doesn't let me look at it quite yet, forcing my gaze up to him instead with the look he is giving me.

"Yes. Our place. I love you, Kellyn." Sloane tilts my head up, his hand under my chin so I'll look him in the eye. "I want nothing more than for us to live together and to be like Zoë and Landon. To grow old together—or at least as old as we can get..."

I wonder about the last part of what he said but choose to ignore it. My eyes start to water, but with joyful tears this time. I reach out for the sheath and slide the sword back into it, not caring at the moment what it looks like. Slipping it onto my belt as deftly as I can, I then wrap myself around my guy as much as is possible.

Nothing can ever take this moment away from me. I simply tell him, as he runs his fingers through my hair, "I would love that more than anything. You're it for me and I want to spend eternity with you. I'm so lucky we're immortal and I'll never have to lose you because I don't think I could handle that."

"I know. Trust me, I do. I feel the same."

We stand hugging for quite some time—I'm not exactly paying attention to how long and I don't care to. I am exactly where I want to be. My thoughts are calm and my heart is full.

* * * *

Zoë and Landon interrupt our happy embrace a few minutes later. Somehow they never have any problem knowing where I am.

It's time to go over the game plan once more. Landon brings out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket—the spell. He tells me exactly what I will need to conjure, and then Sloane goes over his plan to capture me and take me to Donovan.

The meeting doesn't take long, which is good because we don't have much time. I need to change and get ready to leave, so Zoë and Landon head on home. I walk to the other side of the tree where Sloane originally hid the bag from me. When I put the gloves on, blades pop out of them.

I jump, but only a little—now more in control of my emotions. _What the hell? Hmmm... Well, I'm gonna have to figure that one out before I slice myself!_

I fiddle with the gloves for a second before I realize how to work them—with a simple thumb lever—and then I grab my sword from where I gently placed it on the ground and walk back around the tree.

Sloane is facing the opposite direction, which I find kind of funny considering all we've already shared.

I clear my throat and he turns around. The second he sees me, his jaw drops.

"What? It is that bad?" I feel my brow crease as blood rushes to my cheeks, afraid I look like a complete fool.

"No. Oh, not at all. No, it's that good! You look amazing. This will be perfect. Donovan will _absolutely_ believe that you were out hunting him and I found you."

I grin and somewhat curtsy. I have no clue why; I must be nervous as hell underneath all the strength I'm harnessing for appearances.

We start walking toward each other at the same time, and quickly kiss when we meet. But then neither of us have any desire to pull away so it becomes more passionate. It's possible this might be our last one, but I pray like hell it isn't. After what feels like an eternity, we force ourselves to pull away for real.

But Sloane has one more thing in mind. "You should drink some of my blood. For power. Not a large amount because Donovan's will help you more. But mine will be enough to get you through the first part."

Just thinking of the delicious taste and the insane connection between us when the blood exchange occurred is enough to convince me. I grab him roughly and he responds in the same manner. This time, I go ahead and use my teeth. I pull down his t-shirt and bite right above his collarbone.

I'm surprised at my boldness—biting usually hurts, so I wonder why would I do it to the faery I love. But my teeth slide right through the skin as easily as if I was, well, a vampire—making me really believe now that my origins are what Sloane said. And I am sure something deep down in me knew that or else I doubt I would have even tried using my teeth. I wonder if elves and the others have bloodlust as well. It only make sense that they do.

I stop thinking pointless thoughts as the blood takes over my every sensation and emotion. I am overcome with pleasure as my body buzzes.

The high is intense and gratifying but some instinct tells me to stop; not to drink too much. It is ridiculously difficult but I listen, knowing I have to. But this alone is almost enough to power me through what's ahead of me tonight. I have to stop much, much sooner than I want and I feel I have to have more later. The desire is simply too much. I lick Sloane's wound to heal it and then lick my lips, leaning back to give my guy a kiss as I swoon a bit.

A stupid, silly grin appears and won't leave my face. I can feel how ridiculous I look. Sloane has the same expression, seemingly just from seeing my pleasure. But then I remember how it feels to be drank from...

And that we have somewhere to be.

"All right, babe. We had better go," Sloane says, eyes hooded and glistening.

I snap to, feeling the surge run through me again as though it is brand new. "K. Which way are we headed?"

He points toward a portal not far past the tree I just came from, and off we walk into it.

### TWENTY-FOUR

Sloane and I arrive in the human realm through the same portal we used after, well... after we got to know each other better. It's only a short walk to the block full of bars. This surprises me because it felt like an eternity when we walked to Sloane's apartment. We head into the bar next door to the one where we met. We walk in separately, with me showing up about ten minutes before he does.

Sloane sits down at the bar next to me and makes small talk. This doesn't last for long, though. He freaks out and starts to make a scene, pretending to realize who I am. He drags me out of the bar by my arm and leads me next door, to Donovan.

Donovan looks beyond thrilled to see that his best buddy has found his nemesis. One quick conversation, while I struggle against Sloane's strength—wondering why he has to be so rough—and we are all out of there.

Donovan takes charge, telling Sloane to leave us alone. Sloane is reluctant, but I'm sure he will leave―he won't chance screwing up the plan.

"So where are you taking me? And do you honestly think I'm going down without a fight? Come on now, D."

"Sorry, but we're not exactly buddies. Just because you heard _my_ friend say that doesn't mean you can."

I laugh on the inside. I so wish I could let him know... 'Sure, your friend. Right. So you think. Just wait 'til this is all over, you dick!' But I can't. And I'm fine with that because the knowledge alone gives me strength.

Donovan continues trying to intimidate me. "Besides, it doesn't matter where I'm taking you. Be glad you're still alive right now, sweetheart."

"Hey, if I can't call you D then you _sure_ as hell better not call me sweetheart!"

"Well, it kind of looks like I'm the one in control at the moment, so I'll call you whatever I damn well please." He yanks me back toward the portal Sloane and I just came through. Yet another one I hadn't used before we came tonight. Not that I have had much experience but still, it seems to me they are all over.

I hold my breath and use all of my power to take over the situation. To make the portal lead us where I want to go. If Donovan is left in charge, who knows what might happen. I need faith. With my thoughts focused fiercely on The Edge, the two of us leap through. Well, more like he launches me full-force—I can do no more than hope I am the one guiding the way.

* * * *

The centaurs don't appear to be anywhere nearby, nor do I hear the sweet music of the precious fae. But an intense spiritual presence is in the air. I feel it through and through. Just like I felt my power during my first fight with Donovan. I am stronger than him. I _did_ take us to The Edge. It is nearby; I just need to get my bearings straight.

Donovan tosses me aside and I tumble to the ground. It gives me a good chance to look around and see where exactly we are and where the so-called 'abandoned' fae are. I fake a pain in my arm, but don't exaggerate. Donovan is too smart to think I'm that weak.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and know Sloane somehow followed us through. A warmth fills me, knowing he is here, but I'm also afraid for his safety. And a little pissed he didn't listen. And the tiniest bit curious if he is here for me, or for Donovan. But the last thought lasts for less than zero-point-two seconds.

Every molecule in my body—my blood cells, my bones, even my hair—completely trusts him at this point. For him to risk being here... that speaks volumes. I'm glad that his power and thoughts will be sent toward me, and not toward his supposed friend. Great for me, but not good for Sloane if Donovan finds him out.

As I stand up, I know I am grounded in Avalon; my senses are keen as can be. I feel the kindness and purity of the faeries' presence in The Edge. They are due east, just behind Donovan. Which is perfect. I can back him up into them.

As happy as I am to know things are going to plan, the familiar pile of rocks has made its way back into my stomach.

After Donovan gets some ridiculous stretching out of the way (which makes it hard for me not to laugh at him as I watch) and he has searched the perimeter—albeit a short, superficial search since he finds neither Sloane nor the hidden fae—he comes back at me, ready for a fight.

I stand my ground, just as ready as he is. Even more so, in fact.

But I still need a bit of reassurance. I ask Sloane, _"So it all comes down to this? Me in my new black death gear fighting Andrew Hopkins to save the world. This_ cannot _be reality!"_

" _It is, babe. I know you've been through a lot but I'm here if anything goes wrong. No one but you can do this. And you_ can _do this. I have nothing but faith."_

I silently send thoughts of love, knowing I cannot talk to Sloane anymore until this is over, all the while feeling my heart crush with the gravity of what I am about to do. Sloane has never been human. Nor a child, no less—not in the sense that I was and these other human children are. What can he possibly know? I can't do this...

But then Donovan, for I can't possibly ever think of him again as the Andrew I just thought of, surrounds himself with a light mist as he changes into the creature he possesses—or is working with. Or maybe has even eaten. Or whatever is going on. I still don't know for sure, but it doesn't much matter at this point.

When he reappears fully, I almost retch at the sight of him. Even though I have seen him before, he—it—isn't anything one could, or should, get used to. I'm damned proud of Hollie for keeping it together while drawing him earlier.

My eyes, sharp in the night, dart around for any hidden Depraved. If Sloane made it through, who knows what else is here. But both my eyes and my soul tell me it is just me and Donovan—joined with the creature, alone to the finish. Bile creeps up my esophagus but I swallow it down, a sick part of me enjoying the taste―enjoying this disgusting evil.

I start to push these feelings out of my mind. This can't be me. I am _not_ dark and grotesque like this sick creep. But then I think better of it—I embrace the emotions. I want to feel the way he does. Fight his way and play dirty. It's the only way out alive.

Reassuring thoughts are always great before a confrontation, but the fact that my life depends on these thoughts and confidence only makes the rocks weigh fifty pounds more. I use this strange form of nausea to my advantage as well, remembering that adrenaline is power. It is my body's way of preparing for this battle.

"So you've figured out how to block minds. Good for you. It won't help you much, but I must say I'm proud." Donovan tells me this like I actually care what he thinks.

Viciousness I didn't know I had comes pouring out of me. "Shut the hell up, you stupid piece of shit!" I lift my chin in defiance. "Yeah, I learned how, but so what? It's practically a parlor trick. I am capable of much more, so don't you dare talk down to me. I'm _not_ what you think."

"My, my. The lamb has a bite. And I thought the outfit was just for show. Could the changeling really have grown into what her precious mother believed? I don't think _I'll_ believe it until I see it. But it should make for an interesting time here. In these woods. Alone. Just you and me."

"What's that supposed to mean? We'd better be alone! This is between us and that's it. If anyone else gets hurt, I swear..." I drift off as my thoughts about my role in this take over. Who am I to demand that of him with all the innocents about to get hurt?

" _It has to be done. Stop thinking that way. You are_ not _Alexis Hodge. You never were, not really, and you know that. You are my kick ass Kellyn and you are going to rock this! Now stop thinking negatively and do what you were born to do."_

"Interesting. And what, pray tell, are you going to rock? Tsk, tsk, Kellyn. You've kept me out of your thoughts but I can hear that traitor clear as day. Now I know how he found you so easily. Tell him I said hello, won't you? That is, if you get the chance."

"Of course. I'll be sure to. And knowing Sloane, he'll walk right up to your grave and spit on it once I'm finished with you."

Donovan throws his head back and laughs. As he revels in the hysteria, he begins to grow.

Fuck, no time for more witty chatter. _Crap. Shit. OK. I can do this._ I need to clear my head and not think. Just do!

I shake my shoulders and arms a bit to rid myself of any weak thoughts and to force myself fully into the moment. With a simple flick, spikes pop out all the way down my arms, through the leather sleeves. I consider conjuring up some brass knuckles, but all I need is the look. I shouldn't go overboard. My strength is fierce. Plus brass—probably not the best idea... All I need is power. Power and blood.

More specifically, Donovan's blood. Sloane's will help make me strong for the fight, and it definitely helped me overtake the 'driving' of the portal, but Donovan's will cure next to all. Enable me to make sure the horrid evil in him—the one he appears as now—will never be unbound again. Damn the rules. Damn the history. With my mother's help, I am making new history—following what _should_ be to a 'T.' The prophecy is the future whether this nasty thing in front of me likes it or not.

I kick the ground a few times and walk toward my enemy. Not an ounce of fear passes into what I allow him to see. I won't back down, no matter how large he grows. And in this circumstance, pretenses are everything. I won't need any of the cool ass gear I wore to this showdown, but he sure doesn't know that.

Reaching around my back, I pull my sword out of its sheath and hold it as if I am about to fence. The gorgeous metal glints, even in the dark. It is now or never.

I lunge forward and slice through a good inch or so of Donovan's arm. Yelping, he stumbles back, obviously not ready to fight quite yet. He must have expected more flash from the new and improved version of me that he is up against.

There is no sense wasting time. This is a fight that will never come if things go according to my plan. This is all the contact we need. Plus, I don't know exactly how much time I have.

I duck off to the side, away from Donovan and against a tree, and then run a gloved hand over the sword's blade. Sloane cut the fingertips off my gloves—for looks, I had guessed when I first saw them, but it now makes sense. All four fingers on my left hand are smeared with Donovan's blood. It's all I can do to make myself pause before licking the first finger.

But Donovan is coming at me. And he looks a lot more than just pissed. I bring my hand up to my mouth. My tongue can taste the blood before I even lick my fingers. But once I do, the blood is gone in less than a second. No time for enjoyment. But the quickness of its disappearance shows how enjoyable it was.

Power flashes through me—a surge of energy spreads from my stomach to my veins. When I stopped and thought about it earlier, it made no sense, but it's so overwhelming when it happens that there isn't time to think. I toss the sword aside. The air grows chilly as I step forward. Wind picks up dried leaves and tosses them about in a frenzy.

Donovan stops, not having reached me yet, so I have a second to think about this and I find it rather odd. He is fast enough to have made it to me by now. But he stopped and is looking around at what is occurring. He isn't moving any closer to me but I, on the other hand, have no problem pushing into his space, going after him. The elemental power I sensed I had control over when the air moved while in Hollie's bedroom—that wasn't a fluke I misread. Even without 'real' air here, I can make the wind do what I desire. I know nothing about it specifically but it's obviously a strong power. And oh, how I relish it.

Stuck in place, blankness sweeps over Donovan's dragon-like features. Not a chance he was ever human. The only reason I am about to show him any form of mercy is because I have lived as a human for so long. I am positive that even centuries of being a faery will never take that away from me.

"Sit," I demand of Donovan. "And I mean now. This isn't going to be the fight you planned. I have something different in store for tonight. Something you're going to enjoy, surprisingly enough."

I pause, and walk in a slow circle around the beast, taking in all of his hideousness. Such an ugly inside is bound to come out physically in the faery realm, no matter how powerful one's control over glamour is. None of Donovan's beauty shows through and, combined with the creature, well—it isn't a sight I ever hope to see again.

The monstrous creature has definitely taken over at this point, but I still feel D inside—hiding from both me and the creature—so he is who I speak to. It is he who decided to trap the evil inside of himself and so deserves to hear and see—and better yet, feel—what's happening. And what is going to happen.

"I'm about to do you a huge favor. And with your power mixed with mine, there won't be any stopping me."

I raise a devious eyebrow for a second, pretending to care whether or not he is intrigued. But then I glare and grit my teeth when I continue speaking. "So I'm not kidding when I say, 'Sit.'" My teeth grind against each other as I command Donovan.

He falls forward to his knees, yet somehow manages to lean his weight back onto a log, landing on his butt—if you can call it that—without toppling over.

He does exactly as he is told, as if under hypnosis. But that power isn't necessary. Not with the strength of multiple fae inside of me – Sloane's, Donovan's, and all that my mother gave me of her own... and then mine to top it off, like a cherry on a sundae. I am no longer the helpless baby this nasty creature left for dead years ago. Compulsion, along with other faery magic, comes naturally to me—especially right now with my emotions running so high.

I stand in front of Donovan-slash-the-creature, now that the monstrosity is sitting. I pace back and forth, loving that I can give him a piece of my mind.

"So you enjoy feeding off others weaker than you?" Nodding, I think about things from his, or rather their, view. "I suppose I can understand that because man, the rush I have off of your blood right now―wow! Indescribable. But you see, I had to hurt you to get the high, right? You didn't like that part so much... being on the receiving end?"

Donovan bows his head, unable to look me in the eye, and slightly shakes his enormous snout back and forth.

Practicing this on Hollie was one thing but I honestly never expected it to be so freaking easy on this asshole. Yeah, I know I'm strong but I'm barely trying here. It must be because I am in Avalon. I keep waiting for Donovan to jump up and attack me, even with all the confidence I have—and all the blood inside of me. But I certainly am not about to complain. I just need to get the job done and get the hell out of dodge.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out you subsist off emotions. Namely, human emotions. How pathetic is it that you can't even feel anything on your own? I'm a faery and I have more emotions than I can deal with, so I just don't get it. How are you so dead inside, so evil, that you have to steal from others not even of your kind?"

I stop talking for a good minute here, but not for effect. It's because I seriously do not understand and it sickens me. But again, time is a huge factor here so I can't dwell on this now.

"Another interesting fact I learned is that you love to feed off of other fae, which is even more despicable than feeding on humans." I resist the urge to spit at him and stick only to the plan. "No matter―I've found the perfect feast for you. Bet you didn't expect _that_ to fall into your lap―least of all from me, huh?"

Donovan lifts his head up and sits in confusion, looking at me with the creature's eyes. His gravelly voice comes out. "Why? How?"

"Why?" I shrug, half unsure of the reason myself, only knowing that I cannot doubt my mother. Not after what she gave up for me. "It suits both of our interests, in one twisted way or another. It does suck for me—I'm losing a good amount in this deal... but that should make you feel great. Along with the fact that you only have something to gain. I guess what makes me happy about the plan is that my friends won't lose any more than they already have―human or fae."

"So what do I have to do?" He isn't capable of saying much more than the words it takes to answer my questions. This sounds like a particularly difficult phrase for him.

"That part is easy as pie. Humans taught me that phrase." I tilt my head and smile at how lucky I've been to love and be loved by such amazing people. Then I nod and lift my eyebrows. "They taught me a lot, in fact. I would sincerely thank you for keeping me alive so long, but you know I can't give thanks. It's too rude."

Leaning down toward him turns my stomach but I cannot let him know I'm afraid. "And besides, I really don't want to. Because you don't even come close to deserving it. Unless I simply want to be rude, but I have better things to do." I stand back up and take a couple of steps away—far enough to escape his rotten stench, glad that not all of The Depraved smell so horrible.

I raise my right arm toward him, stretched straight out, only my palm twisted to the side. With a flick of my wrist, I usher Donovan to my left, compelling him to move.

Donovan stands and waits for me to pass him before he even attempts a step. I head over to the centaurs at the gate of The Edge, which is fairly far away, but the fae in me takes over. I neither try to speed nor do I know how fast my movements are—I simply find myself standing next to the cool giants only a second after I glance at them. I check over my shoulder to ensure I am being followed and nod when I see the monster is close behind. Then I straighten my shoulders yet again, which seems to be taking over my habit of breathing in for strength—I do it without thinking, and I begin to pass through the gate.

Avoiding the gaze of the two towering guards is difficult, but I can't risk becoming lost in a state of awe so I look down slightly as I make my way past them. Plus, I have to follow through with the plan and need no judgment from anyone or anything at such an important time. I have to focus—keep my mind only on what my mother instructed.

Once through, I stop to allow Donovan to catch up. I turn my head around so he can hear me.

"Now this is the simple part."

I just hope the definition of simple here doesn't translate to 'impossible.'

My heart starts beating like a bass drum and my palms begin to sweat. Having a plan and knowing if it is going to work are two completely different things. I simply have to have faith and trust in myself and my power. And keep my mother close to my heart.

Donovan notices the lights and cocks his head to the side at the sound of the melodies coming from all corners of The Edge. Yet he makes no move to go toward any of it—still under my control.

It is time to release him, though. "Go. Do as you please. I promise on my mother's grave I will not stop you."

He turns and looks at me, but only for a brief second. He appears confused, as much as a hateful face can express confusion, but obviously doesn't care about my reasoning for what is happening here. The creature inside of Donovan understands where we are and what I am allowing him. He makes a mad dash to the first faery he set eyes on, feeding off its purity and fear.

While the darling faeries scream and cry for themselves and their families, I focus on blocking out the horrific sounds. I walk over to a set of bushes and crouch down behind them, hoping Donovan is occupied enough not to notice me.

Out of the side of my tall boot, I pull the handful of bones Landon gave me just before he went home with Zoë. Setting them down on the ground in front of me, I prepare myself for the task at hand by conjuring temporary strength.

I wish I had been able to do this earlier, before fighting Donovan—even before leaving the human realm, but Landon said it would have made me too tired afterward, and I most likely would not be able to do this most important part. The end of it all.

Kneeling down, not an easy task in tight, sticky leather, I put my hands on my thighs and block out sights along with the sounds when I squeeze my eyes shut.

Using the discomfort of my clothing as an advantage, I tense up and tighten every muscle in my body. Concentrating as hard as possible, I faintly say, "As-carini-a-no-n-as." Part of me wonders if it can seriously be as simple as saying a weird word like 'ascerinianonas.'

The answer arrives as a flash of power shooting through me. Not much time is left. The spell only lasts a few, short minutes.

Not having wanted to bring more with me than would fit in my clothes, I swiftly conjure up a black marble table to use as an altar, and then I imagine three black pillar candles on top of it. They appear in the blink of an eye. Next comes a large mortar and pestle.

I blow out what would be air anywhere else in the world―instead, it results in the candles all aflame.

Now I am prepared to start the ritual. I feel my power deep within me. I know I am doing what is right, no matter how hard it may be.

With this act, all realms will be free of the evil forever—just as the rhyme says. I only hope Donovan won't notice the faint light from the candles and come over and find me. No matter―I have to stop thinking and just do. Be quick.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts of anything but the creature and the ritual, I hold the bones in my hand and begin whispering, finally proud that my great memory will be serving a purpose.

Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust

Twist and bend the bones to bust

I scatter these bones, these bones full of my rage...

With this line, I lay out the small skeletal remains on the ground in front of me—my confidence growing.

... _Take them as an offering_

To bring my enemy pain

I see thy enemy before me now...

From the back of my pants, I retrieve the picture Hollie drew of the creature and I smooth it out on the table in front of the candles. I then pick up the bones from the grass and place them in the mortar. Grabbing the pestle with my right hand, I hold the bowl tightly with my other. I continue to speak, ever so softly, staring at the drawing all the while.

... _I bind him, crush him, and knock him down_

With these bones I now do crush

Grind thy enemy into dust

With the eternal fires out of control

With this curse I take thy soul!

When the curse of olde has ended

Let all that has gone wrong be mended...

_This is_ my _will... let it be done._

I stop the grinding, but keep my focus on the picture, allowing hatred to erupt out of my heart and penetrate through my gaze. But only for a moment. It is all I have.

Forcing myself to relax, I use the knowledge that deep down, my power is enough.

I _am_ strong enough for this to work, my petty doubts barely seconds ago were just that—petty thoughts.

And even better, I believe in this curse.

The evil creature will be defeated. There is no doubt in any part of my being. As for Donovan, well I suppose we will find out at some point. Probably sooner than later, unfortunately. But I have done all I can for now and it should be all that is needed. Donovan himself is not a problem. Or at least I can hope...

Grabbing the bowl and picture, I wish away the altar. I rise to my feet and glimpse Donovan attacking something in a shrub.

Knowing what he is doing brings up bile, yet again, but I spit it out and crumple up the drawing in my fist to keep from crying out. I grip the giant mortar tightly against my stomach with my other hand and forearm.

I walk over to the edge of the grass and follow the tree line toward the gates.

It will all be reborn and renewed. Through imagination and dreams. I have to believe it will. The new moon is coming soon and this horrible mess will be over.

With all the willpower I can muster and tears in my eyes, I walk away from The Edge of Avalon, leaving Donovan—or rather the creature inside, to his heart's desire.

Dropping the mortar and pestle to the ground, I rush into Sloane's waiting arms, almost knocking the sword off my hip and down to the ground, but I don't much care. I had no doubt he would be here. He will never let me down, having the same devotion as my mother.

As we walk away from the destruction behind us—destruction I _know_ is for the greater good—I hear that song by _Pixies_ that plays at the end of _Fight Club_. It loops through my head and I feel a comforting, yet crazy, buzz of confidence. Even without my mind fully intact after the past couple of days, I know that this is a new beginning for all.

But it doesn't take long. Across the world, the dreams of children simply begin to fade to shades of grey.

### EPILOGUE

So here I stand on a calm, average Wednesday. My friends filled this past weekend with relaxation and mindless fun. Much unlike the previous one... the one chock-full of Donovan, who has since gone missing. I am trying not to think or worry about him and what he might be up to.

Instead, I am taking advantage of what I am certain is one of the few chances I'll have from now on just to be a girl. I am unloading my closet, dumping everything into bags and boxes for the move to our new apartment. Mine and Hollie's, that is—a transition my parents say is non-negotiable since I _am_ only seventeen. I suppose I can't argue with the law. And I also can't argue with my parents, whom I've made up with as much as possible, given the circumstances. It will all take time. But things are decent. Maybe even, dare I say, on the road to good...

We did the whole apology and crying deal, and what's interesting is that I now feel more comfortable around them. Even with leftover tension and anger and all that, I can be me and they can be them. If I'm not around, it (sadly) won't be much different for them; if they're not around, that's fine because I have other family I can go visit. Of course they aren't related to me, but neither are 'Jeffrey&Diana' when it comes down to it. Family chooses you and vice versa—blood is not always a factor.

As I expected, things are warmer with my dad than with my mom, but I can read her pretty well and I know it's nothing more than guilt. She loves me as much as any mother can love a daughter. Her problem is simple. Not only am _I_ not what she believed... _she's_ not what she believed. Or rather, she didn't want to confront her own truth, choosing instead to believe she was another type of person.

But enough about that. Sappiness can come later. Because I don't doubt another adventure is headed my way. I need to look forward and anticipate what is to come, but in the meantime, I pack at fast as I am capable (which is muchmuch faster than my old, slow-ass self, thanks to my new fae abilities) so I can meet Hollie and shop for some more apartment décor.

It does suck that I won't be living with Sloane like we wanted, but I will still be seeing plenty of him. Hols and I are moving into his building. Across the hall. And then next year, I'll be with him and have my best friend right by me. Hollie and I will always belong together.

But two people who don't are Olivia and Preston. Once she finally sees the light (which may happen sooner rather than later due to my new deviousness) and dumps him, I'm pretty positive I will have two roommates rather than one, which is awesome for now and even better for later so Hollie won't be alone after I turn eighteen.

As for moving forward with the fae side of me, which I must admit is quite dominant, well... I count myself lucky. My powers came easily from the minute I knew the truth because of my faery family and my mother having given me as much of herself as she could.

On top of the cool tricks I'm still learning, I have discovered that I am able to enter people's dreams. My own still evade me, but at least I'm content with the certainty that all the creatures I used to envision are alive and well in children's minds – as well as in the heads of some imaginative, believing adults.

Yes, what I did in order to save myself and other fae does bother me when I think about I, but if I tear apart the situation I was thrown, or rather born, into, I know I had no choice. Ankou (the creature's name, I recently discovered—kind of creepy, huh?) needed to be stopped and I am proud to have avenged my mother's death. My amazing, tolerant mother who first saved my life as a baby and then guided me toward the right path later on in my life. The path I walked was, without doubt, the lesser of two evils. The terrorized fae are happy again, and in such a short time!... but _I_ could not have come back to life so easily. In fact, I wouldn't have even had a chance. And I don't really like to think of that possibility. So that is about the time during any recollecting-slash-reminiscing when I stop analyzing. And then stop thinking about it at all.

Nothing I spend my time thinking of now will change what was. I need to focus on what is and what will be. And besides, ignoring things is still something I am damned good at.

I know it's not that simple, though.

But I refuse to worry. I know my place now and I know my life. I have friends and family, both old and new, and I have Sloane. I look forward to seeing where the Mother Nature allows the wind to take us all.

Eden Tyler studied English Literature and Psychology at Purdue University and resides in the Midwest where she grew up, in her comfortable home with her great little family. Still a reader, she spends a lot of time researching her main obsession—faeries. The Abandoned Edge of Avalon is not only a dark/urban fantasy, but also a form of Mythic Fiction in that it draws directly from Celtic mythology. Eden created her own world from the facts she learned. Other than believing faeries do come into her house and hide things from her and mess around for fun, she maintains a fairly simple life. It consists mostly of writing, reading, and watching movies. Eden adores almost all candy and loves the colors pink and blue. You can contact her through her website, www.edentylerbooks.com

* * * *

Be sure not to miss:

Edging into Magic

The Slivers of Avalon: Book < IS >

2012

– & –

The Mischievous Magic

The Slivers of Avalon: Book < II >

2013

WITH SINCERE GRATITUDE...

Thank you for reading this version – especially if you already read the first one and have dealt with the switching of Alexis' age and the changing of publishers. We hope you enjoyed it and feel it is more authentic this way. We do!

If you did enjoy this book and would like to help the author, please leave your feedback as a Smashwords' comment. These help more than most readers realize. You may also let us know what you think via the author's website or Blue Daisy Books' site. To those of you who read the original published version and gave your opinion, we thank you for that and for being a part of this important decision. An entire series (five books) would definitely be a lot to write the "wrong" way. Eden definitely wants to get it right!

