Shadow (Touched by the Fae 2)

She offers to take me anywhere I want to go. She’s got the car, right? I could get out of Acorn Falls—but I don’t want to. Not yet. Not while my biggest threat can follow me anywhere and won’t rest until I’m back in Faerie.

Like I said, no one will ever think to look for me here.

Eventually, she backs down. Either that, or she finally gets that she’s not going to get me to change my mind. I’m stubborn like that. And Carolina? She wasn’t kidding when she said she wants to help me, even appearing to be unwilling to push me to the point where I tell her to go away and leave me alone. Dropping the subject for the second, she instead offers to go back to the sewer and get the gifts I purposely left behind when I ran.

I sure as hell don’t want them, but she points out that, in an empty house with no electricity, a magic-fueled lantern full of Faerie fire will come in handy. The blanket, too. And, with a knowing look in her dark eyes, she repeats the very same warning Rys gave me the last time I saw him.

It’s a mistake to turn down a gift from a fae. You never know who you’re offending—or how they will repay the “slight”.

We sneak out after it gets dark. Carolina kept her expensive-looking, shiny car parked a few streets away from the Everetts’ place. My jaw drops when she points out which one is hers, and it hangs open for the whole ten-minute d

rive across Acorn Falls, heading back into the heart of the small town toward the alley I’d been hiding out in.

The girl drives like the devil himself is behind her. The devil, or maybe one of the fae.

It’s a possibility. I can’t help but stare in the rearview mirror, expecting to see someone on our ass. Add that fear to my tendency to get car sick and, by the time I’m shuffling toward the familiar manhole cover from this morning, my stomach is so queasy that I’m glad Carolina didn’t have any food on her.

I refuse to let her climb down into the sewer. Her clothes are too nice and, well, I don’t really want her to see where I was hiding out for so long. I won’t say I’m embarrassed or ashamed, because I’m not, but Carolina has her own demons. She doesn’t need to share mine any more than she already is.

Plus, I’m not sure what I would do if Nine decided to pop his head in right about now.

The climb into the sewer is a lot easier after Carolina offers to swap her sneakers for my slippers. She engages the flashlight on her fancy phone, giving me a little light to work with as I climb down the rusted, pitted rungs again.

Oof. It stinks worse than I remember.

The lantern is right where I left it. The fire hasn’t died one bit since he conjured it, the flames dancing willfully against the confines of the lantern. I hate it. After opening the wound of Madelaine’s murder by returning to the old house, seeing the magic fire is like pouring salt right in there and rubbing it for good measure.

I grab the stupid thing, my fingers aching with the memory of what it felt to burn. Gritting my teeth, I do a quick sweep. No blanket, I notice. The silk scarf Nine gave me is gone, too.

On a second sweep, I see the remains of the demon peach that nearly poisoned me. When I notice there’s a shadowy lump next to it, I move the lantern closer, strangling my scream when I recognize what the lump is: a dead rat.

How much do I want to bet that it’s the same rat I threw my scarf at this morning—or that the peach worked way faster on its little furry body than it did on me?

That’s it. Time to go.

Once I’ve climbed up the ladder again, I hand the lantern off to Carolina. She doesn’t seem bothered by it. I don’t realize how close I am to buckling under another panic attack until she’s holding onto the lantern and I can get away from the destructive fire.

She tucks it securely in the back seat of her car, far from me in the front, and we’re off again.

The trip back takes nearly three times longer than the one out. At first, I suspect that Carolina is driving out of Acorn Falls because she’s decided to, I don’t know, kidnap me or something ridiculously as crazy. I’m wondering just how much it’s gonna hurt if I throw open the door and jump out of the car while it’s moving when I figure out what she’s doing.

Acorn Falls is a small town with small businesses. While Black Pine is only a town or two away on one side, the northern border of Acorn Falls touches the edge of an urban city. It’s late, well past midnight, but Carolina finds me a fast food restaurant. We hit the drive-thru, my mouth watering before she even pulls up to the speaker.

“It’s on me,” she says. “Get whatever you want.”

I’m not about to say no. And I don’t. I order close to twenty dollars worth of food—Carolina hands over a credit card without a word—and I have just enough restraint to stop at one burger so that my stomach stops rumbling. I’ll eat the rest once we get back.

When we pull up in front of the house, Carolina insists on parking a couple of spots away before walking me inside. During the drive, while I was shoving that burger in my face, she mentioned she lives in a suburb not too far from Black Pine and, because she was so close, she took the ride into Acorn Falls once a week in the hopes that she might run into me.

Because she thinks I can help her.

Can’t forget that part.

Whatever. I grab the bags of food and my drink, leaving Carolina to grab the lantern from the back seat. She tries to shield it with her slender body, bowing over the flame. It’s so freaking bright, you could probably see it from down the block.

I just hope no one’s looking.

Once we’ve snuck through the back again, I plop my butt on the floor and start to tear into the bags. The first burger was only a snack. I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but I’m starving. I can’t wait another minute to eat the rest of this food.