My heart sank as I remembered the salve that Mickey tried to use on me. If that was magic, then maybe magic didn’t always work the way it should—or maybe it didn’t work on humans.
I banished the thought from my mind before it could take root. Positive thoughts. I took a deepish breath, nodded at my reflection, and exited my bedroom.
It wasn’t until I got it to the landing of the stairs that I picked up on the heated conversation down in the study. It was one of those whispered ones where the voices gradually rise and then, at some sort of invisible signal, drop down to whispering as quietly as possible until the arguing built again. It reminded me of waves breaking and receding on a beach only to come roaring back.
I paused, debating whether I should go up to my room and wait until people were in a better mood before I asked them to heal my brother.
But when I heard my name, I froze.
After another moment of indecision, I decided that them talking about me was pretty much an invitation to listen in. I crept forward just enough to hear a little better. My nose was a mere four inches away from where the wall melded into the study entryway.
Someone sounding a lot like Bridgette sighed. “This is going to get ugly fast. It’s not like we can keep this a secret.”
“I know.”
A long pause followed.
“I’m sworn to protect her, but give me the word, and I’ll find a way around it—I made sure I could.”
“Are you insane?” Mickey hissed.
“Are you? Maybe you’re too close to see the situation clearly. Kella has no magic, so she doesn’t have a chance at overcoming the investiture. We’ve both seen what that means.”
Huh. Yeah, I didn’t have magic—I wasn’t fae. But what was this about an investiture? Stuart had mentioned it too, and whatever it was, it sounded important.
I crept closer, kneeling on the floor to make myself smaller just in case I was too close to be invisible.
“I can’t let her die.” Whoa! Did he just say die?
Bridgette didn’t say anything for a long moment. “What do you mean you can’t?”
Mickey lowered his voice. “Ashlyn begged me to promise to get her though the investiture. I didn’t think she’d ask unless she had a reason.”
Another pause.
“Just give me time to figure it out.”
“Mickey—”
“Just a week.”
“If you wait too long—”
“Then what? It’s not like I’m even capable of sending her away. I vowed a very specific, very unforgiving vow.”
“You of all people know better than to do that,” Bridgette said.
“Again, I thought Ashlyn had a reason for asking me to swear, and I’d thought I’d puzzled it out.”
“There’s your problem,” Bridgette said. “You thought Ashlyn was still in her right mind. She wasn’t.”
“It was before the investiture.” There was silence. I heard the creak of shoes on the floor and I retreated, creeping up the stairs as fast as possible. Once I made it into my room, I shut the door, leaning against it.
If finding out that I lived in some magical fairyland wasn’t enough, my life now seemed twisted up in something I knew nothing about.
Investiture, Ashlyn, vows, death… The words were bumper cars, ramming into my skull, jarring any halfway decent thought out of existence. Nothing made sense.
I took a deep breath. I needed more information. And probably from someone who’d say more than he should. I looked back at the shopping bag.
Someone like Stu.
Chapter 12
Meet me at Seelies after school.
I’d rubbed the wilted strip of paper until the ink had faded and the paper started to pill. Go figure Stu wouldn’t let me pop on over to his store right then. That would’ve been too easy. When I’d tried shoving myself back into the shopping bag, only the crown of my head got through before he strong-armed me right back out into my room.
A few seconds later, Stu sent a hastily scribbled note that said he’d never speak to me again if I dared poke my head through. It wasn’t safe yet, and I was lucky I hadn’t fried my brain the first time it’d happened.
I wanted to howl in frustration. Patience was so not my strong suit. The clock in physics showed we had five more minutes until I could grab Bridgette and bolt out of here. Sure, the conversation between Bridgette and Mickey had her coming across being on the fence about me dying and all, but at least she had a car that could get me to someone I thought would like me to stay alive.
Bridgette hadn’t needed much prodding, anyway. All I had to say was “matching shoes” and she’d been ready to cut class and take us straight back to the mall.
Tic tock, tic tock. The clock was louder than anything else in the room. And slower, too. I was seriously regretting waiting until class, but I needed to stick to my plan: responsible senior with an excellent school record and a job—somewhere. Skipping classes wouldn’t look good to my emancipation judge.
The bell rang shrilly, and I jumped out of my seat and sprinted toward the door, heading down the hallway as fast as I could pump my legs without running. Bridgette raced one step behind me as we charged out the school doors and headed to her car.
“What changed?” Bridgette asked as we slid into the front seats of her black BMW.
“Huh?”
“You wanting to get ready for Homecoming. You were so enthusiastic about Patrick’s proposal that I thought you’d died.”
Patrick had cornered me in the cafeteria today, and after registering his lean chest and dark eyes, I mumbled a “yes.” His tense shoulders relaxed as he smiled. He said he’d pick me up at seven before he retreated to his table. I’d gone back to eating my tuna sandwich, rolling my eyes at Bridgette’s grin.
I glanced down at my hand clenching the little scrap of abused
