Wicked Lovely (9 page)

And probably just as dangerous.

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
diem
, 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?"

"Definitely."
He sped up a little, and draped an arm over her shoulders.

The Summer King might have some competition.

You want to tell him that? "Oh, Keenan, love…her toy is yummy."

Don't be mean.
The king's good fun.

They all giggled again.

How much fun will he be with
her
around? You know how he gets.
I'll
volunteer to distract the mortal, so Keenan can woo her.
Mmm, me too.
Look at all those rings on his face. Wonder if he has a tongue ring?

Once they were safely within the metal framework of Seth's train, Aislinn let out a breath. The walk over had been like some medieval gauntlet with faeries watching and easing closer to them. They hadn't touched her, not once, but Seth would have more than a few unexplained bruises the next morning. She was glad he couldn't see them.

She hugged him, just a quick embrace before stepping away. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"
He uncoiled Boomer from the teakettle and lowered him into the terrarium.

"For
them?
She hopped up on a counter.

Seth flicked on the switch for the power strip, turning on the warming rock and heat lamps for Boomer.
"Tea?"

"Sure…Did you feel them?"

"Maybe."
He paused, swished water around in the teakettle. "At the library there was something…Tell me about before, first—about that." He gestured toward her bruised face.

So she told him. She told him about the guys outside the library, about Donia's rescue and fury afterward when she talked to the bone-girl. She let her words tumble out, not holding back anything.

For several tense moments he stood there. His voice was strained when he asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah.
Nothing happened, not really.
Just scared me.
I'm good." And she was.

Seth, however, looked like he was struggling to stay calm. His jaw was clamped tightly shut; his features were tense. He'd turned away from her while he tried to relax, but she knew him too well for it to work.

"Seriously, I'm fine," she assured him. "My face hurts where he grabbed me, but it wasn't a big deal."

Once when she was younger she'd seen a group of faeries drag a delicate-looking faery into a copse of trees in the park. The faery had screamed, awful shrieking sounds that echoed in Aislinn's nightmares for months. Being grabbed and held against her will for a few short minutes wasn't anywhere near what could happen.

"Donia saved me before it could turn into something
bad,"
she told him again.

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you…" He broke off, an unfamiliar panic in his eyes.

"It didn't, though." She wished she could erase his worry, so she changed the subject, "Now, about
your
faery encounters …"

He nodded, accepting her implicit need to change the topic. "How about we both write down what happened?"

"Why?"

"So I know it's not my imagination or your suggestions." He seemed unsure, and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't avoid the fey; he could. He had a choice, something she'd never had with them.

She took the pen and pad he offered and wrote:
Pinched ass,
  library
. Patted cheek,
  library
.  Licked neck,
  corner
of

He flipped his paper over so she could see it:
Pinched at the library.
Shoved (?) outside the deli.
Stumbled under bridge?

She let him take her—still unfinished—list.

"So faeries, huh?"
He smiled, but not like he was happy. "How come I felt it?"

"Maybe because you're aware of the possibility now?
I don't know." She took a deep breath. Knowing she should tell him to get away before they focused on him too much was one thing; going back to being alone in this was something totally different. He deserved it, though, the chance to get away from the awfulness of the faeries while he could. "You know you can still tell me to go away, pretend none of this happened. I'd understand."

He poked his tongue at the silver ring in his bottom lip. "Why would I do that?"

"Because they're
touching you."
She blew out her breath in a huff and scooted further back on the counter. "You know it now. You felt them."

"It's worth it." He picked up the teakettle, but he didn't fill it. He just looked at her.
"Thought they did stuff like that anyhow."

"Yeah, but you felt it more…and they were all staring at you.
Something’s changed now that those two are following me." She didn't try to hide the worry or the fear in her voice. If he was going to know about them, he deserved the truth of how afraid she really was.

He filled the teakettle and came over to stand in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier," he whispered, holding her tightly to him.

She didn't say anything. She didn't know what
to
say. If she told him about the things she'd seen over the years, it would make him worry more. If she let herself think about what could have happened, she might freak out. She didn't want to think about it, about what could've happened, about why they grabbed her.

Finally she pulled back a little and told Seth about the faeries at the library who'd been circling her and talking about him. Then she asked, "So what do you think?"

He wrapped a long strand of her hair around his finger and stared at her.
"About tongue rings?"

"About the faeries' comments," she corrected, blushing. She slid forward like she was going to hop off the counter. "They seem to know what's going on. Maybe you could see if there's anything about groups of Rianne-like faeries? You know, ones that are overly shallow and, umm, Seth …"

"Mmm?"
Instead of moving back to give her room, Seth had stepped forward, pushing slightly against her knees.

"You need to move if I'm going to get down from here." She sounded breathless, not at all like herself, and it felt good—much better than the worries she had been trying to avoid, much better than thinking about the bad thing she'd avoided, or the faery that saved her, or them noticing Seth.

Seth ignored her comment, staying perfectly still.

She didn't move or push him back. She could've. Instead she asked again, "What do you think?"

He lifted one eyebrow, staring at her as he did.
"Can never have too many piercings."

She opened her knees, putting one on either side of his ribs, thinking thoughts
she shouldn't—
couldn't
—about him
. "That's …"

"What?" He didn't move any farther, didn't close the distance between them. He might tease, flirt, but he didn't pursue her. It was her choice. In a world where so many choices weren't hers, it was a wonderful feeling.

"That's not what I meant." She blushed again and felt foolish for flirting back. She shouldn't let it get weird. A one-nighter would mess up their friendship. She was just riding some post-danger rush.

She scooted backward. "Promise you'll tell me if anything happens when I'm not there."

He stepped away then, giving her room.

She slid down. Her legs felt wobbly. "I don't like the faeries paying so much attention to you."

He poured them each a cup of tea and opened a tin of shortbread cookies. Then he put on his glasses and pulled out a stack of photocopies and books.

She picked up her tea and followed him to the sofa, glad to be back on comfortable ground.

His knee bumped against her leg as he sorted out his papers.

Well, not entirely glad.

"One way to protect
yourself
is iron or steel, which you already knew." He gestured at his walls. "I like knowing I sleep somewhere safe, but I am going to stop by Pins and Needles. Just to get steel rings to replace the titanium ones. Unless"—he paused and turned to stare at her—"you think the tongue thing's a good idea. Seriously, I could do that."

He watched her, an expectant look on his face now, like he was waiting for her to say something.

She didn't, couldn't. She blushed even brighter than before.
He's still teasing to distract me.
It had worked.
Too well.
She bit down on her lip and looked away.

"Right.
Well, supposedly 'sacred symbols' work too—a cross, especially an iron one, holy water." He set that page aside and picked up a book with passages marked by brightly colored sticky notes. He thumbed through them, summarizing. "Spread churchyard dirt in front of them. Bread and salt are also good 'protections,' but I'm not sure what you're to do with them. Spread them like the dirt? Throw them?"

Aislinn got up to pace.

He glanced up at her, and then turned back to the marked passages. "Turn your clothes inside out to hide from
  them
…It makes you look like someone  else to them…Plants and herbs that work as counter-charms: four-leafed clover, Saint John's-wort, red verbena—they all help you see through a glamour."