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Something like this happening in the Fae realms I would understand. Happening here, in my safe, modern world filled with phones, laptops, all this technology? No. It can’t be. It’s as if two worlds are bleeding into each other. Is this what I’m supposed to do? Stop it? Or make it happen? Is this what the Fae want?
“You’re not,” Moira says, jerking my attention off the shadow in the corner by the bathrooms.
“Huh?” I ask, not following her train of thought.
“You’re not okay. You can lie to everyone else. You can lie to yourself.” She purses her glistening, full red lips. I can’t take my eyes off them. They’re beautiful, how have I never noticed this before? She glances around and leans in closer.
“Our mutual interest in all that could be,” she says softly. The way her lips move is fascinating. Light reflects from their shine in a dazzling array. “One thing I know, my one true thing, is that I see what I see.”
I force myself to look her in her eyes. A tingle low in my belly causes warmth but I need another distraction like I need a hole in my head. I push it away.
“And what do you see?”
“One, you’re in over your head.” She holds up one finger. “Two, you’re all alone.” She adds a finger. “Three, you’re seeing shit you don’t think you should be seeing.”
She adds the third finger as my eyes widen and I lean back in my chair, pulling my forgotten hand free of hers. I blink twice, then raise the coffee in a lame attempt to cover my surprise. A fluttering sensation fills my chest. I look around the room, but no one is paying attention to us.
“And if I am?”
“Then tell me.” She has a broad, warm smile as she leans over the table. “You can trust me. What, you think I’ll call the psycho police? Get you locked away?”
I can’t help but widen my eyes as she states exactly what I’ve been thinking.
“Maybe.”
She snorts, her red curls bouncing as she shakes her head. “Girl, I’ve seen stuff all my life. Stuff that will curl your toes and your hair. Seeing things ain’t nothing to me. Now spill.”
I study her face, looking for any sign of deception. Her fair skin, the spattering of freckles like an artist flicked a brush across her nose and onto her cheeks, her deep, rich eyes. I see nothing but earnestness.
“Yeah, sometimes.”
She grabs my free hand and clasps it between hers, pulling it across the table towards her and dragging me with it.
“Girl, dish.”
I set down the coffee, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I’ve kept this secret for weeks because I knew no one would believe me. Now it feels like there’s a wall between the secret and my mouth. I try to speak but my tongue won’t work. Fear is an ice wall in my head. If I say this out loud, to anyone besides a known Fae, they’ll have me committed.
I open my eyes and Moira watches with eagerness. Something moves behind her eyes, and for a moment, the briefest of flashes, I see something predatory in her eagerness. She wants this, she wants me to open up to her, but she somehow wants it too much. The thawing ice wall between my mouth and the truth suddenly refreezes in the artic blast of that realization.
I’ve gone too far to stop completely but I decide to give her a piece of the truth. It will be a good test. See how she reacts to that. I can always blame it on my sleep deprivation and too much caffeine.
“I, at least I thought,” I feign hesitancy but now I’m watching her. Looking for any sign of that momentary predatoriness. She nods, encouraging but not eager. “Shadows. I thought I saw something in the shadows when I was talking to my professor.”
“Oh?”
She doesn’t pry but encourages. I don’t see any hints of that creepy look either. I’m probably being paranoid. Not that I don’t have a right to be, with all that has happened, but it’s not fair to Moira. All she’s trying to do is be a friend and here I am being a royal bitch whether she knows it or not.
“Yeah.” I lean in closer and lower my voice to barely a whisper. “It was like the shadow was, I don’t know, alive. Sentient.”
“And malevolent?”
“Yes,” I nod. “How did you know?”
“I’ve run into similar,” she says.
“You have? Seriously? And you never told me?”
“Why worry you?” she says, shrugging it off. She leans back in her chair and runs her hands through her loose curls, pushing them out of her face. “Have you thought, even fleetingly, that maybe this world is better off without magic?”
