“Cool,” she says, feeling weird about parting with him so soon after the whole thing in the Fae Realm. “You’re not going to run off again?”
He looks off, studying the Fraser house and avoiding her eyes. “You heard what Nova said.”
Resentment. That’s what he’s hiding from me.
Rachel sighs. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you, it’s festering, and innocent people are suffering. Sort out your nonsense before the anger devours you both whole.”
“Mhmmm. See you soon, Clarré.”
When Orion disappears again, she rolls her eyes and walks up to her quiet, empty home, where she finds the spare key hidden beneath the wicker seat’s cushion. She unlocks the door and Ziggy flies into the house, meandering up to her bedroom.
The gloomy reception is evidence enough that nobody’s been in there since she left.
Rachel heads to the kitchen, where she’d left her cell phone charging, and unlocks the screen. Notifications for over a dozen messages run up the screen—most of them from Greg. She scrolls through the messages, raising an eyebrow. The first message is one asking to meet up. Then there’s a Where RU? text. The concern continues for a while, before he seems to undergo a sudden personality change and goes off on her for ignoring him. Derogatory terms are used, some creative language, which is unlike Greg.
Rachel moves onto checking her missed calls—all of them from Greg. Voicemails—all left by Greg.
“Take a hint, sheesh,” she mumbles.
Rachel dials Dougal’s number.
She counts the rings until the recorded voice tells her the number she has dialed is currently unavailable, and that she should try again later. Later is out of the question. Rachel redials, waits, before—
“Pick up the phone,” Rachel ends the call as the recorded voice blathers on.
The third try is as unsuccessful as the others.
Calm down. Rachel heads for the staircase. Mercia promised she’ll take care of him, so just call her. She scrolls through her contact list until she finds Mercia’s number.
There’s a knock on the front door before she can hit the dial button.
Rachel changes course, ventures back into the foyer to answer the door. Mercia, her hair a mess and the bags under her eyes obvious, sighs in relief.
“I thought it was you.” Mercia steps inside the house. “Did you find Orion?”
“Hello to you, too.” Rachel closes the door behind her. “Were you waiting in the hydrangeas all this time?”
“Funny,” Mercia mumbles. “Look, did you find him or not?”
“Yes. He’s at his place taking a shower.”
“Good. That’s good.” She nods. “Listen, I came to give you something.” She pulls a pink flash drive from her pocket and holds it out. “This Fae is stronger than I anticipated. I tried. I really, really tried to keep everyone safe, but it’s too strong.” Her eyes twinkle with unshed tears, the bags underneath prominent. “I should have given you access to the town council’s archive before I sent you off to find Orion, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“What are you talking about?” Rachel asks, taking the flash drive.
“I zapped all the information in the archives onto the flash drive. Everything. I thought it would help me figure out what we’re dealing with, but there is so much information on there. You’re better at both research and puzzles than I am, though.”
“Mercia, hold up. What’s going on?”
Mercia chews on her bottom lip, fear rolling off her in waves. “It’s bad.” She begins pacing across the foyer, her hand going back to her hair. “Seven kids at school are already hospitalized, and then the bone carvings just kept on coming. I can’t be everywhere at once. I can’t save everyone at once.” She gulps loudly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s okay. Don’t—”
Mercia breaks down, sobs wrack her body. “Just find out what’s doing this, please. People around town have started finding bone carvings now.”
“Okay, okay.” Rachel holds up her hands in surrender and heads toward the stairs. “It could take a while, though.”
Mercia wipes the tears away with the back of her hand and nods. The poor girl looks like she hasn’t slept since Rachel left.
“I’ll wait,” Mercia whispers.
Together, they head toward Rachel’s bedroom, where Mercia plonks down on the bed. She stares out of the window, looking like a wilted flower, and releases a heavy sigh.
“How’s Dougal? Where is Dougal?”
“He’s at the hospital, keeping an eye on his grandmother. After everything that’s happened, he didn’t want to leave her by herself.”
“Makes sense. Are you okay?” Rachel asks.
Mercia averts her gaze from the window, looking up at Rachel through half-lidded eyes. “Do I look okay?”
“Not exactly.”
Mercia gives her a thumb’s up and turns her attention back to the window.
Rachel nods as she opens her laptop, waits impatiently for it to come to life. She pushes the flash drive into the USB port. A program opens, which looks more like a website, filling the entirety of her laptop’s screen. The headline—in white, bold letters on a pitch black background—proclaims it as: THE UNOFFICIAL HISTORY OF SHADOW GROVE. A menu is situated below the headline with a search bar and revolving images—illustrations, lost artwork, and old photographs—located directly beside it.
“Nice,” Rachel murmurs. She scrolls to the search bar to type in some random terms, which yields numerous results. She plays around a bit, narrowing down the search, by typing in phrases like: bone carving, omen, Fae, and influence. The first result on the list is titled: The Collected Stories of Renaud Dupont. She doesn’t recognize the author or the book, but the summary description is highlighted with every term she’d entered. “It’s as good a place as any to start,” she says, and clicks on the link.
GOLVATH THE LONELY
In a long-since forgotten kingdom, a young servant girl gave birth to her elderly master’s babe. The child would be his only heir, his only legacy. Illegitimate son or not, the ruined,
