Asylum (Touched by the Fae Book 1), page 15
Something’s wrong. I should be way more frightened than I am. I should be afraid. I’m stuck in a mausoleum with a mythical creature who murdered my sister—and now he wants me to willingly give him everything I have. Only a few days ago, seeing his eyes shining out of Diana’s face put me into hysterics. I should be losing it right now.
He didn’t use that Zella word. I don’t think he needs to. I mean, he drew Madelaine to him with his beautiful smile and his lilting voice. Maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing to me now. He’s charming me, using his glamour and his fae magic to compel me to go to him.
Once again, Rys holds out his hand expectantly. From the look on his face, I can tell that he thinks he’s got me.
If that’s all he wants, then that’s the one thing I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t get.
All I have on my side is the element of surprise. Now that I’m paying attention to it, I can almost feel his charm pulling me further toward him as another second passes. I already stepped away from the wall of caskets behind me, my slippers shuffling as I edge toward him. If I don’t fight back now, I’m screwed.
I’ll only have one chance. It’ll be risky, but it’s the only choice I have.
He waits for me in the weak stream of light. I keep thinking about how the Light Fae are powerful during the day, with the Dark Fae coming out at night. Unless I’m imagining it, Rys is purposely avoiding the shadows on this side of the mausoleum.
Guess we’re gonna find out.
I move closer to him. When I’m standing on my side of the invisible line that’s separating us, Rys reaches one long finger out toward my cheek. He stops when he’s a few inches away. It’s like there’s a barrier that he can’t break through.
Know what? There probably is.
It has everything to do with these rules the fae live by. I know all about this one. I haven’t given him permission to touch me, and he’s not willing to get burned when he’s so confident that I’ll give in to him.
Giving him a meaningless smile, I sidle around him, draping my arm around his slender waist as if I’m getting in position to give him the dance he’s been hoping for. Rys shivers at my purposeful touch. My stomach revolts, my skin crawling as I make contact, but I don’t pull away from him until I’ve moved behind him.
Then, with all of the strength I have in me, I place my gloved hands on the small of his back and shove.
He wasn’t expecting me to attack him. I know that. If I didn’t let him think he won, didn’t give him a little taste of my soul with the seductive stroke across his side, Rys never would’ve been caught off-guard like that.
I hated every second of it, but it was worth it. He never expected it and I manage to push him into the dark depths of the shadows before he even has the chance to retaliate.
I wasn’t wrong when I realized he was avoiding the shadows on purpose. The second he crosses the line, Rys lets out an unholy scream of terror. The shadows streak his bronze skin, turning the deep, rich color an inky back. His eyes light up like they’re on fire.
The last time I saw him do that, he let loose a stream of fire that surrounded Madelaine.
I’ve gotta get the hell out of here before he does it again. I race toward the slim opening of the mausoleum and, sucking in my frightened breath, I pop out on the other side.
The heavy stone door is held open by a block of wood that’s been wedged underneath. I kick at it wildly, willing it to come loose. My slipper goes flying. I don’t give a shit. I almost break the big toe on my right foot as I slam it into the wood on the second kick.
It works, though. Three good, strong kicks and the wood pops free. The slab slams shut with a bang that causes my ears to ache. It echoes, or maybe that’s the dying whine of Rys’s furious scream when he realizes that I truly have refused him.
Again.
I don’t wait around to see if Rys was able to escape the tomb before the door sealed him inside. I don’t even stop to see if any of the visitors to the cemetery witnessed me bursting out of the mausoleum and closing the door behind me.
With one slipper and half a prayer, I book it the hell out of there.
Don’t stop running.
Don’t look back.
Rys could be behind me. I’m not about to look. I don’t want to be some horror movie cliché, getting caught by the bad guy because I was too stupid to take off when I had the chance.
The fae are a magical race. The Dark Fae can shade-walk. I saw that firsthand when Nine broke me out of the asylum. The Light Fae? If Rys’s abilities are any clue, I know they can control fire. Good chance he can find a way to escape the Richardsons’ mausoleum.
I’ll take any lead I can get.
I haven’t sprinted like this since my middle school days, and even then I half-assed running the mile. A cocktail of fear and adrenaline erases the last of his commands. I shake it off and keep running, tearing a path through the neatly tended graves. I know this cemetery. I know exactly where I am—where I have to go.
The gate isn’t too far from the Richardsons’ mausoleum. I’m so focused on heading right toward it, I didn’t even notice that I’m running right by the caretaker’s office until I hear his grizzled shout behind me.
“Hey, you! Watchu doin’? You can’t run in the cemetery!”
Like hell I can’t.
He chases after me, but I’m already too far ahead. Still, I hear him shout, “Get back here!”
Yeah. That’s gonna be a nope. I’m still kinda disoriented. I shook off the cobwebs of Rys’s compulsion magic, but the lost feeling I woke up with earlier hasn’t faded yet. I’m in Acorn Falls—the cemetery proves that—but that doesn’t do a thing to help me figure out how I’m going to get back to Black Pine. It’s only about half an hour away by car. On foot? I don’t know. Definitely a lot longer than that.
I’ll figure that out later. Right now? I dash right through the open gate, heading straight because it’s in front of me and that means I’m widening the gap between me and mausoleum where I trapped Rys.
The gravel road that leads to the cemetery is uneven and rough. The sharp edges of the rocks and pebbles bite into my poor, tender bare foot. I push past the pain. Getting out of here before Rys can come after me is the only thing I’m thinking about.
I’m not a fae. I’m not like him. I don’t have a true name. I don’t. But when he says that word, when he calls me Zella, I lose my head. He’s proven it enough times already. No matter the reason behind it, he can use it to command me to do whatever he wants me to. I can’t let that happen.
He wants me to do the fae equivalent of ‘til death do you part with him. Not gonna happen. I’d rather spend the rest of my life inside of a facility just like Black Pine than willingly tie myself to Rys.
That’s the thing, though. He has the power to compel me to be his… his ffrindau thing. I have to get away from him until I can come up with a plan B. Sticking around, hoping Nine will take pity on me after my temper tantrum isn’t gonna work, either.
Keeping pushing forward.
Don’t look back.
I can’t run anymore. It’s pure luck I managed to hang on to this slipper. It protects my left foot as I half-hop, half-jog over the gravel path. I curl my toes against the matted fluff to keep from losing this one, too. Once I make it to the main road, I take it off and tuck it inside of my hoodie pocket. I figure, better to have no shoes on than have people wonder why I’m wearing only one slipper.
Not like I’m not gonna get a couple of odd looks already. It’s the end of June, the sun shining down on me. Definitely not hoodie weather. My jeans should be fine, though they’re rumpled and stained. I probably look like I just rolled out of bed or something.
Great. There goes any hope of staying under the radar.
What if someone’s out searching for me? I mean, they have to be, right? Technically, I’m an escaped mental patient. They won’t know how I got out—and I know they won’t believe me when I try to tell them—but as soon as Penelope came to wake me up this morning, the whole asylum must’ve gone on high alert when they realized I was missing.
I’d like to think that the Black Pine staff would keep my disappearance in-house to save face. Too bad I know better. During my first year at the facility, one of the patients managed to slip out during visiting hour. It was madness. Absolute chaos. The staff locked down the rest of the asylum until they found her, hours later, munching on a donut at a nearby coffee shop.
She walked out because she had a craving for a jelly donut and the whole place went nuts. I’ve been gone for almost a whole day by now. They must be losing their minds.
I only hope that, when I make it back there, they don’t hold my escape against me. It wasn’t my fault—and who am I kidding? Nine’s stunt has just caused me to kiss any chance of a timely release from the asylum goodbye.
Whatever. Right now? I don’t care. Black Pine’s kept me safe from the fae for six years. For my sanity’s sake, I have to believe that Nine is being too careful. That it’s still my only hope. I’ve gotta go back. Then they can lock me up. Throw away the key.
I don’t care.
Anything to get away from Rys.
Acorn Falls is just as I remember it.
It’s a small, close-knit town full of rich people. The Everetts were comfortable enough to make their home here for a while; if Madelaine had survived, I’m sure they never would’ve left. It’s… I guess quaint is the best word for it. It has an honest-to-god main street called Oak Tree Road that cuts through the town, lined with a variety of shops. Most of them are local businesses: antique shops, bakeries, delis, pet stores, collectibles, and memorabilia. Stuff like that. You won’t catch a McDonalds anywhere near here, though I lose count of the Starbucks after I pass my third one.
Considering it’s Saturday, the streets are nowhere near as crowded as I thought they’d be. After I’ve been walking for almost an hour, I run into a group of rich, teenage white boys. They’re loitering on a corner, sharing a single cigarette while they glower in their starched polo shirts and hundred dollar haircuts.
Typical Acorn Falls boys. When I first came to the Everetts, I had my fun with a couple of them before they began to bore the crap out of me. I was a good time to them, and they were nothing to brag about it.
I don’t recognize any of the group. Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same. Today, when they think they’re big enough to catcall at me, I stare at each of them as I stroll by, my bare feet slapping against the hot, summer sidewalk.
When I can feel the weight of their leers, I smile. Lifting my hand, I wave at them, making sure they all get a good, long glimpse at my leather glove.
I’m tired. I’m scared. My feet are killing me. I’ve got no shoes, a stained hoodie, ratty hair, and mud splattered all over my legs. I’m still a chick with a pretty face on her own. There are four of them and one of me. The streets are empty. I must look like easy pickings.
My smile widens.
I’ve got nothing to lose.
Not one of those boys holds my gaze for more than a split second. When I’ve made it past them, the tallest of them stamps out the cigarette and gestures for his friends to follow after him as he leads them back the way I came.
I keep going forward.
I still haven’t figured out where I’m going. I’ll have to do that soon. Without any money or a phone, though, it’s not gonna be easy. I tilt my head back, looking over the rooftops of the buildings that surround me on both sides. The sun’s starting to set. I let out a huge sigh of relief. Once the sun’s gone, that’s a good ten hours or so before I’ll have to worry about Rys again.
He can’t come out at night.
Nine can.
He didn’t answer me before, but that was because it was during the day. Right?
I’m hanging all of my hopes on it. Nine owes me. He pulled me through the shadows and left me all alone. And, sure, I did send him away. But you know what? He should’ve known better than to go.
Ugh.
Stupid Dark Fae.
Stupid prophecy.
Stupid queen.
Why the hell did they have to decide that I was the stupid Shadow?
I don’t want any part of it. They can’t make me be what they want. Besides, it’s a fae thing and, whoops, I’m not a fae. Sorry.
Pick someone else. Anyone else.
Just… not me.
It’s bad enough that there’s no going back from this. They can start tossing blue pills down my throat and that would never be enough for me to go back to pretending that the mythical race doesn’t exist. Too much has happened. For the first time in years, my eyes are fully open to the magic around me.
Even though there’s been no sign of Rys since I booked it from the cemetery, I’m on high alert. I try not to make it too obvious, though. Every couple of steps, I turn my head one way, then the next, constantly aware of my surroundings. I use the shiny, reflective glass of the storefront windows to look all around me—
—and that’s exactly how I find out I’m the lead story on the five o’clock news.
I was daring a quick peek inside the window of tiny, no-name, indie electronics store when I glance at the televisions propped up on display and nearly have a heart attack.
My face is staring back at me from like five different high def screens. It’s an old picture, taken straight from the papers. A shot of me leaving my juvenile court hearing weeks after Madelaine’s death—right before they shipped me off to Black Pine.
Six years have passed. I haven’t changed that much; on the outside, at least. I gape at the image filling the screens. I remember when I was that fifteen-year-old girl. I wore my hair shorter in those days. I was tanner, too—my skin was always sun-kissed back then—and a couple of pounds heavier.
I look resigned in that picture.
I recognize the expression intimately. It’s the same one I’ve seen in the mirror every morning since then.
I’m so consumed by the image from a lifetime ago, it takes me a second before I realize there are words plastered on the screen directly beneath the picture.
My jaws drops when I read them.
Black Pine Patient: Missing One Week
16
In the glass, I see my open mouth reflected back at me. I gulp. Stare. Then, a heartbeat later, my lips move.
“A week?”
It comes out like a squeal. I gasp, then cover my mouth with my gloved fingers.
A perky brunette appears on the screen as my picture is minimized to a square in the upper right corner. No sound—or maybe I can’t hear it through the glass, I don’t know—but there are no captions, either, so I can’t figure out what she’s saying about me.
I only know it can’t be anything good.
One week missing?
Are you kidding me?
How?
No. Seriously.
How?
I only left yesterday.
I don’t get it. It’s not… it’s not possible. And I know that this is only one more impossible thing to lump in with the rest, but time is time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. I was at Black Pine only last night and, while I slept for a little while, it wasn’t like I fainted and stayed knocked out for six whole days.
According to the news, though, I did just that.
I don’t get it. However, before I can even attempt to wrap my head around it, my senses start to ping. I catch a flash of black and white cruising toward me out of the corner of my eye. The ping turns into clamoring warning bells.
Ah, crap.
Black and white cars mean only one thing.
Ten minutes ago, I would’ve been relieved to see a cop car pulling up along the curb behind me. Flag it down, explain who I am, see if the cop would be willing to give me a lift back to the asylum.
I can’t. Not now. If I go back, they’ll want to know where I’ve spent the last week and I won’t be able to answer them. Not can’t—won’t. And what will happen to me then?
Well, my worst suspicions were confirmed with the news report. Whether it’s been one day or one week, the Black Pine staff has told everyone that I’m out here.
And, not only is Acorn Falls close enough to the asylum, but it’s where I lived last. How much do I want to bet that this is one of the first places they looked?
I have to find Nine. He got me into this mess. He can get me out of it.
He has to.
The cop idles at the curb. I shift so that I can get a better look at him in the reflection of the glass. He’s a big guy, thinning hair on top, a travel mug in his hand as he watches me through the passenger side window.
Uh-oh. Even without the shopfront acting like a mirror, I know what I look like: matted hair from the stone floor; rumpled clothes that are more suited to the cranked-up air conditioning of the facility than a summer afternoon; bare feet. And, I think with a sinking stomach, my gloves.
I shake the sleeves of my hoodie so that they cover most of my hands.
Did he see?
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I move so that I’m facing away from the window. I glimpse over at the car. Not good. He traded his mug for some walkie-talkie-looking radio thing. His lips are moving while his beady eyes stay locked on me.
Shit.
Time to go.
I’m no actress, but I try. With a shocked expression and a little jerk as I shake the sleeves of my hoodie down to cover even more of my gloves, I pretend like I just remembered something super important. Then I frown, like I’m annoyed at myself. Shoving my renewed fear aside, resisting the urge to run again, I slowly walk away.
Staying calm is hard. With every casual step, my knees shake with the need to just take off. Sure, I might get away from this cop, but what if there are more?
Don’t make it suspicious, Riley. You can do this.
After I put a block between us, I give in a little. My walk turns into a speedwalk. Then, as my momentum carries me, it becomes more of a jog.
When I’ve made it another full block, I chance a peek over my shoulder. That’s a mistake. He’s still watching me and, in those few seconds, I give him a full look right at my face.
