Page 14 of The Cursed Fae

He arched an eyebrow. “No? Which one's a lie?” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“How many rumors are there?” I asked.

Before he could answer, Professor Tartan called for silence and began the day's lecture. For the next ninety minutes, I listened to her shaky monotone voice drone on about the Taurus fae, taking notes on everything from ancient symbols to the group's Roman Empire origins.

A few times the professor called on students at random to answer questions.

“The main enclave is still in Rome. Can anybody tell me how many factions the Taurus fae have today?” Mrs. Tartan peered around the room.

In the front row, a girl with tiny pigtails shot her hand in the air. The professor ignored her. A gangly blonde girl two rows in front of me raised her hand. And again, Professor Tartan ignored her. The teacher's cloudy gaze landed on the back row. For an uncomfortable minute, I thought she was going to call on me. Until an hour ago, I'd never heard of the Taurus fae.

“Ewan.” She gestured at the guy beside me. “I'm sure you have the answer for us.”

That made me sit up straighter in my seat. When Tina burst into her father's office the previous day, she'd said someone named Ewan found Missy's body in Gemini Forest. Was it him?

What was he doing in the forest so early in the morning? I wondered, watching him with newfound interest. His computer was open, though he wasn't taking notes. He'd spent most of class chewing on the end of a pen like a nicotine fiend.

“Three in Europe. One each in Russia, New Zealand, Columbia, and Colorado,” he rattled off.

“Very good,” Professor Tartan said, and then turned to the chalkboard. “The Taurus were among the first of the fae factions to create shifters...”

I listened to Mrs. Tartan continue her lecture, both hands on the keyboard and one eye on Ewan. He opened a browser window and started researching skis, which wasn't that weird considering all the snow outside.

My preoccupation with my classmate blinded me to the other students and was the reason I didn't see the paper airplane coming. It bounced off my forehead and fell onto my keyboard, and I blinked in surprise. Professor Tartan still had her back to the class, so I unfolded the paper and read the note inside:

Round and round they go.

One by one they fall.

Are you next to hear my call?

Um, what? I surveyed the classroom for the paper plane poet. A guy still in the throes of late puberty stared at me. Could he be the culprit? I gave him a small wave. Had he been a cartoon character, little hearts would've replaced his pupils.

A ball of paper smacked my left ear. Scowling, I bent down to retrieve it.

Stop torturing the kiddos.

I knew who'd written this note because Ewan was smirking at me. Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I returned my focus to my laptop and Professor Tartan's lecture. When class ended, I packed my belongings, including the two notes, and started for the door. Ewan fell in step beside me.

“If you're not careful, you'll end up with a spell on you,” he muttered in my ear.

Instinctively, I pulled away. “Excuse me?”

“Jeffers is one wet dream short of slipping love potion into your morning latte,” Ewan replied with a devilish grin. He winked, then strode out of the lecture hall.

Great. Day two of my new life had brought more dead casters, the discovery of a secret aunt, and the fact depletion ran in my family. Of course, having a creepy admirer would come next, why wouldn't it?

The universe must have put me on some to-torture list.

“What was that about?” Morgan asked. She'd been waiting by the door and witnessed the end of the conversation.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Do you know a guy named Jeffers?”

Morgan considered the question as we started walking. “Don't think so. Why?”

“He sent me a weird poem. I think. Ewan told me to watch out for love potions in my coffee.”

Morgan frowned. “Can I see it?”

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