Wicked Lovely

“I was just reading while I waited. I wanted to see if you have someone to walk you home before I leave.” Donia tilted her head, smiling. Her whole posture seemed friendly, safe. She walked back toward the rows of tables. “Ash? Are you…well?”

“Yeah.” Aislinn followed Donia around the corner to a table with an open book and a ragged bag.

“Is there someone you can call?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Donia nodded. She stuffed her book into her leather bag.

The door opened, and a mother with a couple kids came in.

Behind them was a group of faeries, invisible to the other patrons. All six were beautiful—moving like models, wearing clothes that looked like they’d been tailored for their willowy bodies. If it weren’t for the flowering vines slithering across their skin, they’d look human. The vines, though, were like living tattoos, moving of their own volition, crawling on the girls’ bodies.

One of the girls spun across the floor, in some old-fashioned dance. The others giggled and bowed to one another before following her.

Then the first one saw Donia. She murmured something to the others, and they stopped. Even the undulating vines stilled.

Several moments passed.

Donia didn’t say a word; neither did Aislinn. Since we’re both pretending not to see them, what could we say?

Finally Aislinn said, “If you hadn’t been there…”

“What?” The expression on Donia’s face was pained as she looked away from the faeries.

“Outside. If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was.” She smiled, but there was a drawn look on her face, making her seem anxious, eager to leave.

“Right. I need to find my…someone.” Aislinn motioned toward the stairs that led to the library basement. “Get something, but I wanted to say thanks for everything.”

Donia shot a brief glare at the faeries, who were giggling again. “Just be sure to keep your someone with you when you leave. Will you do that?”

“Sure.”

“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.