“Good. I’ll catch you around sometime. Under better circumstances, I’m sure.” Then Donia smiled. The faery was beautiful—stunning—the way a storm is when you wake up and see lightning streak across the sky.
And probably just as dangerous.
CHAPTER 8
A Cornish woman who chanced to find herself the guardian of an elf-child was given certain water with which to wash its face…and the woman ventured to try it upon herself, and in doing so splashed a little into one eye. This gave her the fairy sight.
—Legends and Romances of Brittany by Lewis Spence (1917)
Aislinn stood motionless, gazing in the direction of the vanishing faery. In that brief moment Donia had been so devastatingly lovely that Aislinn had felt near tears.
Seth came up behind her. She knew it was him before he slipped his arms around her, but she wasn’t sure how she knew. She just did. There were a lot of things like that lately, knowing stuff without any reason why. It was kind of creepy.
He whispered, “Who’s she?”
“What?” It was hard to whisper back to him when he stood behind her; he was almost a foot taller than she was.
“Her. The one you were talking to.” He inclined his head in the direction Donia had gone.
She wasn’t sure how to answer. But when she turned, Seth saw her face, and he no longer seemed to care about his unanswered question.
“What happened?” He stared at her swollen lip, reached out as if he’d touch it.
“Tell you everything at home?” She hugged him. She didn’t want to think about it, not now. She just wanted to leave, go to Seth’s, where she could feel safer.
“Let me grab my notes.” Then he walked away, right past the group of faeries headed toward Aislinn.
One of the faery girls circled behind her. She’s the new one.
A second one stroked a hand over Aislinn’s hair. Pretty thing.
Another shrugged. I suppose.
Aislinn tried to keep her face blank. Focus. She concentrated on the rustling of the leaves against the girls’ clothes, not the strange sugary-sweet scent that seemed to pervade the air around them, not the too-hot brush of their skin as they inspected her with their hands. It wasn’t comfortable—at all—but after the fiasco outside, their touch seemed somehow less awful. The violence of the three guys…She shuddered.
The faeries chattered back and forth, louder now that Donia had left and, presumably, no one in the library could hear them.
The Winter Girl seems to be making progress.
This one’s a no-touch now.
Who cares? I’m not fond of girls. Now her friend…He’s touchable. Tasty.
They giggled.
Maybe she’ll share once she joins us.
If she’s the one, she won’t have a choice, will she? Her friend will be free game.
As Seth walked back toward her, his bag slung over his shoulder, Aislinn held out both hands where he could see them, like she was holding her arms open for another hug.
He gave her a questioning look.
Who says we need to wait? One of the faeries stroked his cheek; another pinched him.
Seth’s eyes widened.
Aislinn’s heart thumped. He felt it. She’d never had to try to speak so the faeries didn’t understand her, not with anyone but Grams, not with anyone who couldn’t see them. Hoping the faeries were as daft as they looked, she slid her arm around his waist and tugged him toward the door, away from lascivious faeries. “Ready to go home?”