Shadow (Touched by the Fae 2)

Rys laughs.

The sound sends shivers coursing through me.

“Do you know?” he says cheerfully. “You’re the first soul in more than a century who has said no to me—and now you’ve done it repeatedly. It’s so… so refreshing. Ah, Riley. And you wonder why I desire you as my ffrindau.”

Forget shivers. My blood runs cold. He can’t possibly think I’ve forgotten what that fancy foreign word means. Soul mate. Madelaine’s killer is still insisting that I’m supposed to be his bride or something like that.

That’s why he keeps running after me. Chasing behind me. Not because the Fae Queen is making him, but because he’s convinced that me—a human orphan on the run from the asylum—and him—an ageless, mythical creature with powers I can’t understand—are somehow meant to be.

Yeah, no.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

I pull myself up off the nasty sewer floor, backing into the dark shadows so that I’m almost hidden. Rys sees me. The way his unearthly beautiful face follows my every move, it’s impossible to really hide, but I feel better being cloaked in the darkness.

And, okay, maybe knowing the ladder is right by my hand is a bonus, even if it’s really wishful thinking. I’ve got no shot at beating him up the ladder. I learned long ago that the golden fae is as fast as he is vicious and cruel.

I have to remember that.

My hand closes on the rung nearest to me. “How did you know where to find me?”

“It was obvious. You’re the Shadow.”

I’m so sick and tired of the two fae telling me that. I don’t want to be this Shadow person, and I’m still not too sure exactly what they expect of me except that I’m “destined” to off the Fae Queen.

Somehow, I don’t think that that’s what Rys is talking about right now.

“What do you mean?”

“The mausoleum. This”—he wrinkles his perfect, perfect nose—“sewer. The pockets call to you. You instinctively search them out. It was only a matter of following them to you. And here I am.”

I still don’t get it. “What’s a pocket?”

He waves his hand past me, toward the darker side of the sewer. I mean, the whole thing’s pretty dark. It’s a pit down here. But as he gestures a little further to my right, I suddenly see… something.

It’s a patch that seems impossibly black, like a spot of starless night that no light can reach.

That’s just at a quick glance, though. The longer I stare at the patch, the more it seems to change. It sparkles. Shimmers. Gleams.

Invites.

I edge closer to it. I don’t even realize that I’ve moved until my glove slips off of the rung when I get too far away from the ladder.

“That’s right,” Rys says approvingly. “Good sight, my love. I wonder what else those pretty blue eyes can see.”

Not enough. I can pick him out of the gloom—he gives off enough light just by being Seelie, he’s like a flashlight—but he’s the only thing I can see down here.

No hope.

No escape.

Except for the shadow. For some weirdo reason, it calls to me. I can’t think of a reason not to listen.

Especially since Rys hasn’t made a move to follow me.

I know I’m right when he says, “I’m sure you won’t mind if I stay over here. The pockets belong to the Cursed Ones.” He turns sharply, spitting behind him, then swivels back before I can take another step. “They make shadow travel between the worlds possible for the Dark Fae, so they belong to the moon and her ilk. For one of my kind, they’re almost as bad as iron.”

That… actually makes sense to me.