Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

—The Fairy Mythology by Thomas Keightley (1870)

When Aislinn woke—the clock’s red numbers proclaiming it past 9:00—the evening’s events came crashing down on her. The weird drinks, dancing, telling Keenan she knew what he was as they watched the sunrise, him kissing her. That was the last thing she remembered. What else happened? How did I get home? When? She bolted out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before she threw up. Oh my God.

She sat with her face against the cold porcelain until she was sure she could stand without vomiting again. Her whole body trembled, like she had the flu, but it wasn’t the flu making her feel so awful. It was terror. He knows I see them. He knows. They’ll come for me, and Grams…. The thought of her Grams fighting faeries almost made her sick again. I need to get out of here.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Aislinn hurriedly slipped on jeans and a shirt, shoved her feet into boots, and grabbed her bag.

Grams was in the kitchen, staring at the coffeepot, a bit less observant before her morning jolt.

Aislinn pointed at her ear.

Grams turned on her hearing aid and asked, “Everything okay?”

“Just running late, Grams. Overslept.” Aislinn gave her a quick hug and turned to leave.

“But breakfast…”

“Sorry. I need to, umm, meet Seth. I thought I told you? We were to have a breakfast thing, date….” She tried to keep her voice steady.

Don’t let her see how worried I am.

Grams was already too fearful after their talk the other night; adding to that would be selfish.

“You know you aren’t fooling me, Aislinn, dodging me so I don’t ask about that issue. We’re going to talk about it.” Grams scowled. “It isn’t any better, is it?”

Aislinn paused. “Just a few more days, Grams. Please?”

For a minute Grams looked like she was going to balk: she pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. Then she sighed. “Not a few days. Tomorrow we’ll talk. You understand?”

“Promise.” Aislinn kissed her good-bye, grateful to put it off even one day more. She wasn’t sure she could handle that conversation, not now.

I need Seth. I didn’t even call him last night.

“I can’t believe I did that.” Aislinn put her head between her knees and concentrated on not vomiting on her feet. “I told him I knew they were faeries.”

Seth sat on the floor beside her feet. He was patting her back, making small soothing circles. “It’s okay. Come on. Breathe. Just breathe.”

“It’s not okay, Seth.” Her voice was muffled by her decidedly uncomfortable posture. She lifted her head enough to scowl at him. “They used to kill people, gouge out their eyes for knowing what they were.”

The nausea rose again. She closed her eyes.

“Shh.” He moved closer, comforting her the way he’d always done when she fell apart. “Come on.”

“What if they blind me? What if…”

“Stop. We’ll figure it out.” He pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child.

Just like Keenan did last night.

She tried to stand up, feeling guilty, like she’d betrayed Seth even though all she did was dance—she hoped.

What if I, Keenan, we… She started to sob again.

“Shush.” Seth rocked her, murmuring reassuring words.

And she let him—until she started to think about faeries again and dancing with Keenan and kissing him and not knowing what else might have happened.

She pulled away and stood.