Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

Aislinn went up the stairs, hoping Grams was asleep. Right now, avoiding those too-observant eyes seemed like a good plan. She went inside and tried to walk past the living room.

“You missed dinner again.” Grams didn’t take her eyes off the news. “Bad things out there, Aislinn.”

“I know.” She paused in the doorway to the living room, but she didn’t go in.

Grams sat in her bright purple lounger, feet propped up on the stone and steel coffee table. Her reading glasses hung by a chain around her neck. She might not be as young as she was in Aislinn’s childhood memories, but she still looked as fierce as she had then, still thin and healthier than many women her age. Even when she spent the day at home, she was dressed for the possibility of “callers”—her long gray hair coiled up into a simple bun or contained in an intricate plait, dressing gown traded in for a sedate skirt and blouse.

Grams wasn’t staid or sedate, though: she was uncommonly forward-thinking, and entirely too clever when she paid attention. “Something happen?”

It felt like a normal question, and if anyone heard, it’d sound like it too. Always careful, that’s the key to surviving among them. Still, Grams’ strong voice had more than a thread of worry in it.

“I’m fine, Grams. Just tired.” Aislinn went in, leaned down, and kissed her. I need to tell her, just not yet. She already worried too much.

“You’re wearing new steel.” Grams eyed the necklace Seth had given Aislinn.

Aislinn stood there—wavering. How much do I say? Grams wouldn’t understand, or approve, of Aislinn taking an active approach to finding out what they wanted. Hide and look away: that was Grams’ credo.

“Aislinn?” Grams turned up the volume on the news and grabbed a piece of paper. She wrote: Have They done something? Are you hurt? and held out the paper.

“No.”

With a stern look, Grams pointed at the paper.

Sighing, Aislinn took the paper and pen. Using the coffee table as a desk, she wrote: Two of them are following me.

Grams sucked in her breath, quietly gasping. She snatched the paper. I’ll call the school, fill out papers to homeschool, and…

“No. Please,” Aislinn whispered. She put her hand over Grams’ hand. She took the pen and wrote, I’m not sure what they want, but I don’t want to hide. Then she said, “Please? Let me try it this way. I’ll be careful.”

At first Grams stared at Aislinn, as if there were answers hidden under the skin that she could see if only she looked carefully.

Aislinn willed herself to look as reassuring as possible.

Finally Grams wrote, Stay away from them as much as you can. Remember the rules.

Aislinn nodded. She didn’t often try to hide things from Grams, but she wasn’t going to admit that she’d tried to follow them or tell her about Seth’s research.

Grams had always insisted that avoidance was the best and only plan. Aislinn no longer thought that was a good answer—if she was honest, she’d never thought it was.

She simply said, “I’m being careful. I know what’s out there.”

Grams frowned and gripped Aislinn’s wrist briefly. “Keep your cell phone in your pocket. I want to be able to reach you.”

“Yes, Grams.”

“And keep me updated on your schedule in case—” Her voice broke. She wrote, We’ll try your way for a few days. Wait them out. No mistakes. Then she starting tearing the paper into tiny pieces. “Go on. Get something to eat. You need to keep your wits about you.”

“Sure,” Aislinn murmured as she gave Grams a quick squeeze.

Wait them out? Aislinn wasn’t sure that was possible. If Grams knew they were court fey, Aislinn would be on lockdown. She’d bought herself a little time, but it wouldn’t last. I need answers now. Hiding wasn’t the answer. Neither was running.

She wanted a normal life—college, a relationship, simple things. She didn’t want all of her decisions to be based on the whims of faeries. Grams had lived that way, and she wasn’t happy. Aislinn’s mother hadn’t even had a chance to find out if she could have a normal life. Aislinn didn’t want to take either of their paths. But she didn’t know how to make it any different, either.

Faeries—court faeries—didn’t stalk a person for no reason. Unless she found out what they wanted, found out how to undo whatever had caught their attention, she doubted they’d be going away anytime soon. And if they didn’t go away, Aislinn’s freedom would. That wasn’t an option she liked. At all.

After grabbing a quick bite, Aislinn retreated to her room and closed the door. It wasn’t a sanctuary. It didn’t reflect her personality like Seth’s house or Rianne’s too-girly bedroom. It was just a room, a place to sleep.

Seth’s feels more like home. Seth feels like home.