Page 9 of The Cursed Fae

I owed Lena a conversation, and I really needed my best friend to assure me life would look rosier in the morning. It was still early on the West Coast, so I texted to ask whether she was free. No response. My mother was my next option, but her failure to mention that I was living in Missy's room wasn't an accident. The oversight was intentional. I needed to decide how I felt about the subject before confronting her.

Only one other person remained in the dining hall when I finally dumped my tray and headed to my room, bracing for my first genuine encounter with Tina Keene. The room was empty, though, and Tina's side looked exactly as it had when I left for dinner. Mine, however, had several notable additions.

A stack of textbooks was on my desk, with shiny covers and titles like: Where Have The Wings Gone? and Fae Origins: Fact vs. Fiction.

As I flipped open the cover of Fae Origins, the spine cracked. It was a brand-new magic textbook. Where the hell would someone have that printed? The title of the first chapter was “Valley of the Elements.” I scanned several pages before taking the book to my bed, bypassing the bags in front of the closet.

At some point, the story of the first fae settlement on earth transferred from the page to my dreams. I didn't remember falling asleep, but the crying that woke me was impossible to forget.

The only light in the room was from the lamp beside my bed, shrouding the girl sitting on Tina's bed in shadows. She held her face in her hands and sobbed. Icy fingers crawled up my spine, and I blinked several times to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. The girl had dark hair, and Tina Keene was blonde.

“C-c-can I help you?” I stammered, scurrying to sit up in bed.

The girl looked up, alarm widening her dark eyes.

“What're you doing in my room?” I demanded when the intruder remained silent.

Fury flashed across her expression, backlighting her shiny eyes. “Your room?” Her lip curled back in a snarl. “This is my room, you jackass.” She jumped to her feet and jabbed a finger in my direction. “That's my bed.”

The pieces clicked together in my head. Missy. The girl standing in the middle of my room was Melissa Derringer. Which was obviously impossible.

“You're dead,” I sputtered, not realizing until the words left my mouth that the comment was insensitive, if not rude. The fact I suddenly worried about offending her left no room for doubt—I was dreaming. Or maybe hallucinating. Either way, this wasn't real.

“Wow. Thanks for telling me,” Missy deadpanned. “And here I've been wondering why no one could see me and everyone kept walking through me in the hallway.”

“This is just a dream, Winter,” I muttered. “Wake up, wake up.”

“Yeah, I've tried saying that a lot in the last week,” she continued. “Good luck with that.”

“Why can I see you?” I asked, at last.

Missy shrugged. “I don't know. You're the Sable, you figure it out.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Tears no longer brimmed in Missy's eyes, and her expression was more curious than angry.

“Doesn't spirit sighting run in your family? I thought Essie was, like, the most famous spirit sighter.”

When my great-grandmother said she communed with the spirits of our ancestors on fae holidays, I had thought the ritual was metaphorical. Saying so seemed unwise in that moment. It felt like everyone knew more about my life than I did.

Missy's eyes widened. “Oh, my Gaia. Am I your first?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I've seen plenty of spirits, thank you very much.”

“Okay, Spirit Virgin.”

I glared at Missy. “Can I help you with something? Do you have unfinished business?”

That was why spirits lingered after death, right?

“I died at the ripe age of twenty-one. So, yeah. I've got a few things left on my bucket list.”

I stifled a yawn. “Okay, well, I'm tired. So let's jump to the part where you explain why you're here.” Not like sleep was a possibility after learning I could see and talk to spirits, but my problems paled compared to Missy's.

My new acquaintance pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. “For starters, you could find my killer.” Her eyes cut to the door, responding to a noise only audible to her ears.

“I'm sorry. Are you saying someone murdered you?”

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