He’s as slimy as an eel. And eels are usually dangerous.
Everything about this guy suddenly makes sense. The epiphany, however, doesn’t explain how they have to deal with him, but sorting out one problem is better in the long run.
Orion looks over his shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet, Clarré.”
“Mhmmm,” she answers.
“If you’re worried, I can confirm that demons aren’t exactly the way Hollywood portrays them. They’re much worse.”
“I’ve compartmentalized that piece of information already,” Rachel mumbles.
Orion turns around and walks backwards. “What is it then?”
“Something else,” she says. “Something human.”
“Vague much?” Mercia asks.
Rachel veers left, heading down the hallway that leads past the administration office.
“Where are you going? I thought—Oh, what the hell.” Mercia harrumphs, earning a chuckle from Orion. “I don’t understand the way her head works sometimes. It’s like she hones in on something and nothing else matters.”
“She can hear you,” Rachel says. She opens the office door.
“Good,” Mercia says. “Your hearing makes up for your serious lack of communication skills.”
Ignoring Mercia’s criticism, Rachel heads into Principal Hodgins’ office, where metal cabinets line the wall behind his cluttered desk.
“Doesn’t it bother you not knowing what Rachel’s up to? What she’s thinking? I’ve always found her mind fascinating, because I can’t figure out her processes,” Mercia says.
“Not really,” Orion says. “I find it intriguing to watch her solve puzzles.”
Rachel moves past the metal cabinets, searching the labels that mark each drawer until she gets to M. She tugs at the drawer once, twice, but it remains firmly sealed. As she turns around to search for a key in the principal’s desk, she comes face-to-face with Orion, who gestures for her to move aside.
She takes a step back, allowing him access to the drawer.
Orion bites into his thumb until he draws blood then presses the wound to the lock. An audible click follows, and he reaches to the drawer to pull it open.
“Or you could’ve just asked me to open the drawer instead of mutilating yourself,” Mercia says from the other side of the desk. “Just my opinion, though.”
“You need to use your magic sparingly, Little Witch. If Golvath gets into my head, and you don’t stop me, this town won’t survive the onslaught,” Orion says.
“Right. Okay. Tell me, how do you suppose I stop a Fae Prince, huh?”
“Get creative.”
Meanwhile, Rachel moves her fingers across the files in the drawer, searching until she comes to one labeled: MAYER, C. “Ah-ha.” She pulls the thin folder out of the cabinet, places it on the principal’s desk, and opens it to find next-to-nothing inside. There are no transcripts, no previous address. Apart from a few recent entries regarding not so stellar grades and his current address, there’s nothing to indicate who Cameron is or who he was before the start of the schoolyear. There is, however, a folded up note with RACHEL written in blocky red letters.
Rachel opens the note and reads the words carefully before she slams the piece of paper back onto the table. “I knew it. I freaking knew it was him.”
“What?” She picks up the note and reads the message Golvath left her. “Oh.”
More puzzle pieces fall into place.
She found Cameron attractive, alluring, even considered him her type. The carefully crafted persona spoke directly to her, and that bad boy façade he paraded around had made her take notice. If Cameron, or rather Golvath, had pursued her for a while longer, if he’d been just a little more patient, she would’ve been head over heels in no time. The disgusting part is, he knew as much from the get-go, and had ended it before she could reject him just so that he could play the victim.
“Are these the ravings of a lunatic?” Orion asks, holding up the note.
“Some may call it that,” Mercia says. “I call it toxic masculinity.”
Orion raises an eyebrow. “Even I could figure that part out, but what’s up with him calling Rachel a Stacy? Who’s Chad? And I don’t understand the term ‘femoid’.”
“Golvath is the Fae equivalent of an incel,” Rachel explains.
Orion’s mouth forms into an ‘O’ as he glances at the note. He looks up again, his eyes seeming to sparkle with realization as he slaps the note with his other hand. “Well, that explains a lot about why Golvath never succeeds in finding a bride. He doesn’t actually want to.”
“That’s not quite what incels are,” Mercia sighs.
“No, I know what a human incel is, but this is a Fae we’re talking about,” Orion says. He places the note on the desk. “We don’t react the same way humans do. For example, we struggle to come to grips with the concept of death, because we generally live incredibly long lives. And where humans make a big thing about sexuality, nudity, and monogamy versus polygamy, Fae find those restrictions comical.”
“Your point being?”
“My point, Little Witch, is that Golvath is a deranged Fae, who’s learned to reject his pursuits before they can reject him. He considers that he’s the wronged party in these events, which leads to unnecessary revenge. Though, I’m aware it’s not necessarily incel behavior for humans, it makes perfect sense for a Fae with some underlining psychological issues,” Orion explains.
“So, how do we rectify the problem?” Mercia perches on the metal arm of a chair positioned in front of the desk.
Orion purses his lips and glimpses at Rachel. “Do you have a plan, Clarré?”
“My plan begins and ends with killing him,” she says in a deadpan voice.
Mercia’s eyes widen. “It’s a bit of an extreme approach, don’t you think? I’m all for condemning people for their actions, but you have to keep in mind we’re dealing with a mentally unstable individual.”
“Fine.” Rachel turns her attention to Orion. “How do Fae deal with their mentally unstable kin?”
“It depends on the individual, the family,
