“Admiring your own reflection. How very vain of you.”
I scowled at the ghost faerie, hovering over my shoulder. “I see enough of you in my dreams.” He pressed his hand over his heart, his golden eyes twinkling mischievously, just like always.
“Wow Gemma, I m honored that you think of me so often.”
“Nightmares, Nicholas.” I backed away through his ghostly body and climbed into bed.
“Always nightmares.”
8
“So you say.” He smirked. “But I beg to differ. I think you secretly pine for me, otherwise you’d take the ring off.”
I stared down at the ring wrapping my finger. My father told me it held the answers to saving the world. But all the damn thing ever did was let me see ghosts. Well, one ghost at least. A very annoying ghost.
“You know what, you have a point.” I started to slip the ring off.
“Gemma,” Nicholas warned. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
I inched it closer to the end of my finger, intentionally taunting him. “Why? So you can continue to haunt me and drive me insane.”
He shook his head and brushed his sandy hair away from his golden eyes. “I thought you understood there’s more to everything than what meets the eye.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I said and watched the ring fall off my finger and onto my bed.
The faerie was gone, evaporating right in front of my eyes like an apparition.
I let out a breath of relief and decided that from now on, I’d only put the ring on if I needed Nicholas help, which I couldn’t see happening anytime soon.
Even though it was early, I knew there was no way I’d be able to fall back asleep. So I pulled on a grey Henley and some jeans and tiptoed down stairs, the brightness of the yellow kitchen walls waking me up instantaneously. But I was surprised to find that I wasn’t the only one awake at such an early hour. Laylen lay on the floor, his head tucked under the kitchen sink.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Laylen said with a smile as he peered out. His blonde hair was damp, his long tattooed arms flexing as he twisted a wrench round a pipe. “You’re up early.”
“So are you.” I slumped down into a kitchen chair. “What are you doing?” 9
“Fixing the faucet.” He bashed on the pipe “That stupid drip is driving me crazy.”
“At least you can fix the problem,” I muttered as I pictured picking up the wrench and banging Nicholas on the head with it over and over again.
Laylen paused. “What did you say… Gemma are you okay? You’ve been so down lately.”
“Nothing.” I shook my head, hating my downer mood. But I couldn’t help it. My guilt was eating me alive. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I know,” I replied softly, wanting to talk to him, but refusing to put my guilt on his shoulders.
“It’s nothing. Really. I promise.”
He gave me a strange look and then leaned over the faucet, peering around the back. “I give up.” He stood up straight and clanked the wrench down on the counter. “I guess we’re just going to have to deal with the dripping.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “Why are you up so early? Nightmares again? Or is Nicholas bothering you?”
“It’s the nightmare again. I can’t stop dreaming about it no matter what I do.” He frowned. “Is it still the same one?”
“It’s always the same one.”
We sighed at the same time. Then he draped an arm around my shoulder and tugged me close to him. “I won’t let it happen. You’re not going to die anytime soon.” I rested my head on his shoulder, wishing he was right. “Nobody can control the future.” I gestured at the boarded back door. “Otherwise stuff like that happens.” A scream rippled from outside, adding a dramatic effect to my point.
10
“We’re going to fix it,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
I smiled, but it was a fake smile. My heart actually hurt when I thought about it. People were dead because I’d changed the world’s future.
He dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair, nibbling at his lip ring.
“So have you…” I fiddled with the ceramic cow in the center of the table, avoiding his gaze as thoughts of Alex swarmed my mind. The electricity was gone, but sometimes, when I thought about him, I could almost feel the sensation on my skin. “Heard anything?” He bit at his lip and shook his head, his blue-tipped bangs falling into his eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine, though. He s always been good at taking care of himself.” I never said it aloud, but sometimes I thought about going to Alex, using my extraordinary power to foresee my way to wherever he was. If I closed my eyes and pictured his face, I might be able to pull it off. But deep down I knew he left for a reason. We couldn’t be together. If we were, we’d die. Still, occasionally my emotions got the best of me, and I’d stir in anger over his abandonment.
“I think we should —”
A bang on the back door cut me off. We were on our feet, the chairs tipping back and slamming against the tile. Laylen took a sharp knife out of the drawer while I hurried to the side of the back door and peeked out through a small gap in the board.
“It looks like witches,” I whispered. “But I m not one-hundred percent sure. It s too dark to get a good look at their marks.”
Laylen cursed under his breath and then stepped cautiously for the door, the knife gripped in his hand. “What do you think? Wait it out? Or get Aislin?” I stared at a tall woman with wavy black hair and green eyes standing on the bottom of the 11
back porch. Witches were the worst. Their magical powers gave them the upper hand. Unlike the vampires and faeries, they didn’t even have to touch you to harm you.
The witch glanced back, flittering her eyes at a group of bodies dressed in black, her hands sparkling with purple magic.
“Go get Aislin,” I ordered quickly and he took off, his feet thudding up the stairs.
It was strange calling orders. I’d spent so much of my life as a nobody, and now here I was a Keeper preparing to take on a group of witches. So weird.
I searched the drawers for another knife and picked up a small but razor-sharp blade. I touched the tip with my finger. “This is all your fault,” I mumbled as Laylen and Aislin came barreling down the stairs.
Aislin’s golden hair was a disheveled mess, her green eyes blinking with grogginess.
“How many are there?” she asked, her voice croaking.
“I don’t know,” I said and peeked behind the board. “Five or maybe six.” She nodded and cracked her knuckles. “Who’s going to open the door?” Laylen opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “I got it.” I grabbed the doorknob, my pulse erratic and my hands a little unsteady. “On the count of three… one… two… three.” I flung the door open, catching the witch by surprise. She jumped back, but her hands were already out, her lips uttering a chant under her breath.