Asylum (Touched by the Fae 1)

Like hell I can’t.

He chases after me, but I’m already too far ahead. Still, I hear him shout, “Get back here!”

Yeah. That’s gonna be a nope. I’m still kinda disoriented. I shook off the cobwebs of Rys’s compulsion magic, but the lost feeling I woke up with earlier hasn’t faded yet. I’m in Acorn Falls—the cemetery proves that—but that doesn’t do a thing to help me figure out how I’m going to get back to Black Pine. It’s only about half an hour away by car. On foot? I don’t know. Definitely a lot longer than that.

I’ll figure that out later. Right now? I dash right through the open gate, heading straight because it’s in front of me and that means I’m widening the gap between me and mausoleum where I trapped Rys.

The gravel road that leads to the cemetery is uneven and rough. The sharp edges of the rocks and pebbles bite into my poor, tender bare foot. I push past the pain. Getting out of here before Rys can come after me is the only thing I’m thinking about.

I’m not a fae. I’m not like him. I don’t have a true name. I don’t. But when he says that word, when he calls me Zella, I lose my head. He’s proven it enough times already. No matter the reason behind it, he can use it to command me to do whatever he wants me to. I can’t let that happen.

He wants me to do the fae equivalent of ‘til death do you part with him. Not gonna happen. I’d rather spend the rest of my life inside of a facility just like Black Pine than willingly tie myself to Rys.

That’s the thing, though. He has the power to compel me to be his… his ffrindau thing. I have to get away from him until I can come up with a plan B. Sticking around, hoping Nine will take pity on me after my temper tantrum isn’t gonna work, either.

Keeping pushing forward.

Don’t look back.

I can’t run anymore. It’s pure luck I managed to hang on to this slipper. It protects my left foot as I half-hop, half-jog over the gravel path. I curl my toes against the matted fluff to keep from losing this one, too. Once I make it to the main road, I take it off and tuck it inside of my hoodie pocket. I figure, better to have no shoes on than have people wonder why I’m wearing only one slipper.

Not like I’m not gonna get a couple of odd looks already. It’s the end of June, the sun shining down on me. Definitely not hoodie weather. My jeans should be fine, though they’re rumpled and stained. I probably look like I just rolled out of bed or something.

Great. There goes any hope of staying under the radar.

What if someone’s out searching for me? I mean, they have to be, right? Technically, I’m an escaped mental patient. They won’t know how I got out—and I know they won’t believe me when I try to tell them—but as soon as Penelo

pe came to wake me up this morning, the whole asylum must’ve gone on high alert when they realized I was missing.

I’d like to think that the Black Pine staff would keep my disappearance in-house to save face. Too bad I know better. During my first year at the facility, one of the patients managed to slip out during visiting hour. It was madness. Absolute chaos. The staff locked down the rest of the asylum until they found her, hours later, munching on a donut at a nearby coffee shop.

She walked out because she had a craving for a jelly donut and the whole place went nuts. I’ve been gone for almost a whole day by now. They must be losing their minds.

I only hope that, when I make it back there, they don’t hold my escape against me. It wasn’t my fault—and who am I kidding? Nine’s stunt has just caused me to kiss any chance of a timely release from the asylum goodbye.

Whatever. Right now? I don’t care. Black Pine’s kept me safe from the fae for six years. For my sanity’s sake, I have to believe that Nine is being too careful. That it’s still my only hope. I’ve gotta go back. Then they can lock me up. Throw away the key.

I don’t care.

Anything to get away from Rys.

Acorn Falls is just as I remember it.

It’s a small, close-knit town full of rich people. The Everetts were comfortable enough to make their home here for a while; if Madelaine had survived, I’m sure they never would’ve left. It’s… I guess quaint is the best word for it. It has an honest-to-god main street called Oak Tree Road that cuts through the town, lined with a variety of shops. Most of them are local businesses: antique shops, bakeries, delis, pet stores, collectibles, and memorabilia. Stuff like that. You won’t catch a McDonalds anywhere near here, though I lose count of the Starbucks after I pass my third one.

Considering it’s Saturday, the streets are nowhere near as crowded as I thought they’d be. After I’ve been walking for almost an hour, I run into a group of rich, teenage white boys. They’re loitering on a corner, sharing a single cigarette while they glower in their starched polo shirts and hundred dollar haircuts.

Typical Acorn Falls boys. When I first came to the Everetts, I had my fun with a couple of them before they began to bore the crap out of me. I was a good time to them, and they were nothing to brag about it.

I don’t recognize any of the group. Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same. Today, when they think they’re big enough to catcall at me, I stare at each of them as I stroll by, my bare feet slapping against the hot, summer sidewalk.

When I can feel the weight of their leers, I smile. Lifting my hand, I wave at them, making sure they all get a good, long glimpse at my leather glove.

I’m tired. I’m scared. My feet are killing me. I’ve got no shoes, a stained hoodie, ratty hair, and mud splattered all over my legs. I’m still a chick with a pretty face on her own. There are four of them and one of me. The streets are empty. I must look like easy pickings.

My smile widens.

I’ve got nothing to lose.