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I’m not.
And I won’t let them make me one.
But I am a liar. “Yeah. I just wanted to make sure that I don’t accidentally hurt someone else along the way. I hate the fae”—well, except for one—“but that doesn’t mean I want them to drop dead at my feet.”
Carolina’s brow furrowed. “A scrap of iron isn’t powerful enough for that. You’d need a Brinkburn for that. And good luck finding one of those.”
“A what?” I’ve never heard that word before.
“It’s nothing. A rumor I heard one of the times I was in Faerie. I’m not even sure it’s real which is why I never brought it up before. Anyway, that’s not the point of the nail.”
Carolina reaches beneath her blouse, pulling out a nail on a string just like mine. Her nail has red stains along the sides. My first thought—is that blood?—is quickly squashed when I realize it’s got to be rust.
Whoa. How long has she been wearing hers?
She shows it to me, then tucks it back under her shirt. “It something, right? The iron won’t keep the fae off your trail forever. It does make them have to work a little harder to find you. And, like I said, it might hold them off for a bit if you get to use it.”
She’s sold me. I’ll wear the nail. She’s right—at least it’s something.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Promise me you’ll wear the necklace. That you won’t take it off no matter what.”
Again with the promises. Hey, if it makes her feel better...
“Yeah.” I place my hand over the lump in my hoodie. You know what? I actually feel comforted by the scrap of iron. “I will.”
I miss Nine like an ache deep in my gut. Without Carolina as a distraction, it only gets worse.
So it’s not just the power of the iron that makes my stomach feel funny. Truth is, I haven’t felt right in days. I thought it would get better as time went by.
Nope.
I dream of him. Jeez, I sound like a lovesick idiot for allowing him to affect me that deeply, but it’s true. I don’t go anywhere while I’m sleeping, probably because I’ve purposely avoided the whole idea of shade-walking since I decided to keep that little gift a secret from Carolina. I fall asleep in my nest of blankets and shadows as soon as I’m sure I’m alone, then wake up in the same spot shortly before Carolina’s knocking softly at the back door.
My head is full of visions of Nine. While I sleep, I see him doing all sorts of mundane things. For some reason, he always seems to be out in the fantastical Faerie realm on his own. I get the feeling that he’s searching for something. But what?
No idea.
There’s no sound in my dreams. Only pictures. That’s all I need really. Nine is so stinking gorgeous, from his sharp cheekbones to his shoulder-length hair and the shadowy duster that hugs his slender body. He moves with purpose, an obvious air of determination following behind him as he keeps on going, oblivious that some part of me is there.
It takes until the third night of me having the same sort of dream before I realize what’s so different about this Nine. My whole life, the Shadow Man was a haughty, emotionless specter who haunted my nights and served as both my mentor and my only family. He was the only one who never abandoned me—well, until I was fifteen and Rys’s fire burned away the tie the existed between Nine and me. Still, he was the only constant in my life.
He was always the same.
Until he finally found me at the Black Pine facility. Everything changed then, Nine most of all.
Sure, his hair was longer than it had been when I was a kid, and he seemed to carry a weight on his shoulders that never existed before; back then, Nine was absolutely untouchable. He was also this impassive, detached person who was more of a teacher than a friend.
The Nine who appeared in my room at Black Pine and helped me shade-walk right out of the asylum seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. He might have started to watch over me because he entered into a bargain with my mom over twenty years ago. Now that I’ve come of age, I don’t think that’s the reason why he’s still watching me.
He’s attracted to me. It might’ve been a while since I had a guy looking at me the way he does, but Nine is into me—but he’s stubborn enough not to want to act on it.
I get it. I do. There’s the whole power imbalance to think about. Nine is an immortal Dark Fae who hasn’t aged a day in the twenty years I’ve known him. He’s known me since I was just out of diapers. He’s watched me grow, teaching me and shaping me into the person I’ve become.
Who taught me the fae weren’t to be trusted?
Who pounded the refrain into my skull about touch magic so deeply that I developed anxiety and haphephobia over it?
