Shadow (Touched by the Fae 2)

Everything else is different. From the row of flowers planted in front of the porch to the child’s tricycle parked near the sidewalk, this isn’t the house I lived in for two years. Glancing up, I search for the window that led to my old room. My curtains had been black.

These are pink.

The driveway is empty. The lights are off.

No one’s home.

I’m glad. Standing at the curb, staring up at the house—wondering what if… I need a few minutes to myself. The last thing I need is the new owners wondering what some freaky girl is doing watching their house.

The Everetts’ old house isn’t the only thing that looks different than it used to.

When I’m finally done grieving the life I lost when Madelaine lost hers, I start to shuffle away from the Everetts’, accepting that I came all this way because I needed to say goodbye one last time. Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye and, well, I can’t help it.

Can’t stop myself, either.

On a shaky breath, my gaze slides over so that I’m peeking at the house at the far end of the street, tucked behind a shield of trees that keep it almost completely hidden from sight.

Six years ago, it was an abandoned two-story house with boarded-up windows. The paint was a paler shade of grey, the shutters peeling, the grass overgrown. They called it the Wilkes House for reasons no one could ever tell me. No one lived there then, or had in recent memory.

I remember it as if it was yesterday.

When it came to Madelaine Everett, I’ve got to admit that I was the bad influence between the two of us. I was thirteen when I came to live with the Everetts, and though Madelaine was almost fifteen, my years in the system had given me a crap ton of experiences—some good, most not—that she’d never had. The Everetts had adopted her when she was three. Unlike me, they were the only family she’d ever had.

Even though we had looked enough alike that we could pass for being blood-related—same blonde hair, though mine was so much lighter, and the same deep blue eyes—our personalities were opposite. I was always the half-empty type, a wary and independent teen who kept expecting to be sent back to the group home because I was too much trouble. Madelaine was sweet. Kind. She did everything to make me feel welcome and, because of that, she became so much more than just my friend.

She was my sister. And she treated me like one, too.

I trusted her. More than I trusted anyone besides Nine, I trusted my new sister.

Six months into my stay with the Everetts, I told her about the fae.

Madelaine, who was older than me yet so much more naive, laughed at my fears. Trying to soothe my worries away, she claimed they were just fairy tales.

Faerie something, all right.

She didn’t believe me. Up until the moment Rys pulled her close for their dance, then snapped her neck because he believed that she was the only thing keeping me from leaving with him, I don’t think Madelaine ever thought the angelic-looking creatures were a threat.

She paid for her ignorance with her life. And I’ve carried the guilt that I couldn’t save her ever since.

This house is a reminder of that terrible night. There’s only one problem, though: it shouldn’t be standing. The last time I saw it, the entire basement was engulfed in flames. It should be a hollow shell, a burned-out husk, or a pile of rubble.

It’s not. It’s a whole freaking house.

I’m stunned by it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that I imagined the whole fire.

I have to get a better look. I have to make sure what I’m seeing is real. Leaving the Everetts’ old place behind me, I head straight for the house at the end. The paint job is fresh. The grass is still kind of tall, though it’s been tended to recently. The windows are new. So are the shutters.

Once I’m standing right in front of it, I notice something I missed before. There, planted by one of the wild bushes forming a border around the front and side of the narrow house, is a wide yellow sign. In black letters, it announces that the Wilkes House is FOR SALE.

Okay, then.

Someone must have rebuilt the house since it burned down, and now they’re selling it.

Just like six years ago.

Throwing a glance over my shoulder, checking to make sure that no one on the quiet street has noticed me skulking closer and closer to the empty house, I quickly dart to the right. The tall trees towering around me are the perfect cover. Once I go around the back, no one can see me.

I know that for a fact. These trees are exactly the same as they used to be and I’d never been caught sneaking in before.