Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“What?” Everything about the situation was strange, from the way he had appeared out of nowhere to his assertion that my students—my fourteen-year-old students—were tangling with an ancient threat to humans.
I might not have grown up in San Amaro, but even I had heard of the fae. Mythical paranormal creatures who would steal your soul and whisk you away to the Far Realm, where magic flowed freely. They would consume your youth and beauty and leave nothing but a husk behind.
It's not that I never believed in the fae. Or that I had any reason to doubt historical records of what happened to the initial settlers in San Amaro, but… these were high school students. What exactly did the fae want with high school students?
“They are lost. Give them up as such.” My neighbor turned, walking down the alley, and I stared after him for a moment. Well, that was a dramatic exit.
If I was playing Stanley Tucci in this high school drama, my neighbor was Batman in… well, Batman. All brooding glares and ominous statements and that voice.
“Oh, no.” I shoved the twig, my phone, and Detective King’s card into my pocket and sprinted down the alleyway.
I caught up with my neighbor just as he turned, and for a second, he looked translucent, but then he saw me and frowned, deeply annoyed. The piercings on his eyebrow glinted in the light, and he licked the one in his lower lip. Raising one eyebrow, he seemed to say ‘what?’
“You don't get to just walk away after dropping that sort of portentous nonsense on me.
How do you know it's the fae? It could just be kids playing in the woods.” I made a face, not sure what kind of face it was, but I knew it must have looked ridiculous, because my neighbor squinted at me, his lips pulling back. “Kids these days do ridiculous things.”
My neighbor took a step toward me, and I took a half step back before setting my feet and raising my chin. His lip quirked, the sun glinting off the silver piercing, and he took another step, well inside my personal space.
Then he reached forward, his fingers trailing down from the waist of my pants to my pocket. I shivered, every muscle tightening, including some areas that were now very awake.
He pushed two fingers inside my pocket and pulled something free. I couldn't look away from his face, his intense eyes boring into me, the smirk on his face clear and confident.
He moved his fingers between us, and I was forced to focus on the golden twig again. “This is not something that comes from partying in the woods. This is something that can only be sought and found in the Far Realm.”
“And you know this because…?” I tried swallowing, but my mouth was too dry; my throat hurt too much.
He stared at me, and I tried to fill in the gaps.
“Because you've been there?” I guessed. Was that why he was so strange? Was that why he was so mean? He'd been to the Far Realm, he'd experienced the cruelty of fae magic, and now he didn't have the effort for human interactions?
Something about it made me sad, beyond sad, my heart breaking for whatever he had experienced.
With his other hand, he reached out, his fingertips dragging a line of fire down my forearm until he grasped my hand. He turned it over, placing the twig in my palm.
His skin was warm and soft, and even the brief touch of his fingertips against my palm set something on fire within me.
I looked up at him again, expecting to see the cold disdain that had marked all of our interactions.
Instead, he gazed at me intensely, his eyes searching my face, his tongue tracing over the ring in his lip again.
“Listen,” I said, but then paused. “I don't even know your name.”
His lips pursed, pulling to the side. And that was it, I was sure he was going to pull back and make a face, walk away, and ignore me. Instead, he said, “Freely given, and without expectation of return, you may call me Rowan.”
It sounded strangely formal, and I wondered if it was some religious thing. I didn't pay that much attention to the different sects of witchcraft.
“And I'm August, but you knew that.” I tried not to mumble the last words, feeling his hand still touching mine.
I didn't want to bring his attention to it; I wanted him to keep touching me.
How did I get him to keep touching me? I tried out his name.
“Rowan, I know you must have had a bad experience with the fae, but I can't leave my kids trapped. I can't just abandon them.”
Any hope of calling Detective King went straight out the window. What were the cops going to do against the fae?
Rowan blinked and pulled his hand back, as though I had suddenly caught fire and he didn't want to be burned.
Well, that was more in line with most of my recent romantic experiences.
Everything was nice and fun until they found out I was a wolf, or a high school teacher and not a banker, or I didn't have a pack, or…
“You would go up against the fae for a bunch of foolish children?” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.
“For my students?” I stared at him, beginning to glare. “Yes. Who else is going to save them? You told me this; now I have to go. Now I have to try.”
“Try.” His lips pulled again. “You will die.”
That sounded ominous, but what did he know? And I couldn't leave them. They were pups, and I was a wolf. And wolves protected our pack.
“I'm going to try to save them. I'm a wolf.
And I've experienced getting out of situations. Thanks for letting me know.” Then I turned, wishing I wasn't wearing my satchel, which bumped against him awkwardly.
He was standing so close, and I caught that scent again, earthy and rich, sending something warm into my stomach and lower.
He caught my hand, and I was so shocked that I turned back, eyes wide.
“Do not do this,” he murmured.
I clenched my jaw. Turning, I pulled my hand free, walking away.
It would have been so much cooler, so much more awesome, if this had been a movie, and the next scene was me facing down one of the fae, demanding my students back and riding off into the sunset triumphantly.
Well, maybe that was three different movies, but Mercy had already given me my first clue, so now I just had to follow it.
Oh god, was I a person who followed clues now? Did I need a notebook? Binoculars?
I took my wallet, my cell phone, and then looked around my apartment, hoping something like a weapon would appear. Nothing.
Should I bring a kitchen knife? My mind flashed to the intensity that Rowan had said I would get killed. No, I was far more likely to stab myself than save any kids if I was walking around San Amaro with an enormous kitchen knife.
I opened my door and saw Rowan standing in front of it.
He had on a black leather jacket and black jeans, and with his blond hair, he looked so unbelievably cool that I was almost positive my door had opened into an alternate universe where we were both going to burst out in song.
Perhaps not about the Jets, but was there some fae gang that deserved jazz hands and sashays? A pirouette maybe?
“If you're trying to stop me, don't.” My only plan so far was to go up to Ridgecrest Trail. I was sure that, once there, I would see some evidence. After all, I’d seen it on the kids the next day.
If there was a portal into the Far Realm, I was sure I would be able to see or smell something that would tell me where it was.
Now that I said it out loud, it didn't sound as much like a plan as a thought experiment, the inkling of what to do in a Dungeons they didn't even glance at me or Rowan. It was as though we were invisible.
I turned to him, suddenly aware of how close he was, feeling my skin heat under my thin jacket, goose bumps rising along my arms. Was that his magic? If he was some sort of witch, he had cast a spell so silently, so fluidly that I hadn’t even seen him do it.
“They didn't even notice us,” I said.
He stood, glancing at me, his lips pulled into an unhappy smile. Reaching out with his hand, he gripped mine.
Despite his cool exterior, the confidence he had brought us here with, I could feel the tremble in his fingers, the twitch of them. I squeezed his hand.
We followed the kids into the hills.