Page 7 of The Cursed Fae

“Archer.” He flashed me another grin. “You can call me Archer.”

My suitcases were already inside my dorm room, along with new sheets and a new comforter on the twin bed. The green and white pattern complemented the vibrant sunshine theme on Tina's side of the room.

While I should have started the arduous chore of unpacking my meager belongings, that didn't happen. I shrugged off my backpack and parka and collapsed on the bed instead. It wasn't so bad. Not too hard. Not too soft. And not at all lumpy.

Small textured swirls in the paint on the ceiling provided a temporary distraction from the dark thoughts swirling in my head. But I couldn't block them forever. They found a girl dead on the same day I started magic college.

Coincidence?

My mother wouldn't have bothered using magic on me if she believed Missy's death had zero vampire involvement. But the vampires from California couldn't have followed me to Arcane Landing. It wasn't possible.

By the time my family arrived two hours later, I was pacing the room and chewing my thumbnail. Both women wore identical blank expressions. I glanced between them and asked the only question that mattered.

“How did Missy die?”

They exchanged glances. “It wasn't a vampire attack,” my mother said, with a note of caution that suggested a “but” was coming.

“Melissa Derringer died of a condition called depletion,” Nana said in a calm, even voice, her eyes locking on mine. “Nothing to indicate vampire involvement. You have nothing to worry about. You are safe.”

There was a thin line between assurance and overkill. Every time someone used the word “safe”, my internal anxiety meter climbed. What wasn't my family telling me?

“I'm fine,” I replied. “What's going on?”

“Melissa Derringer's father is a caster,” Mom began, not bothering to hide her contempt. “Their magic is finite, unlike most fae with infinite magic.”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Casters pull their magic from within. Fae pull their magic from the elements.”

She nodded. “Exactly. Once casters use all their magic, they succumb to something known as depletion, which can lead to death.”

“And that's what happened to Missy?” I asked, unable to keep the doubt from my question. “Isn't she sort of young to have used up all her magic?”

“It has claimed many younger lives,” Nana said gravely.

Ominous, I thought.

“Vampires drain their victim's blood, and Melissa Derringer has no bite marks,” Mom said. Her smile was too bright, her voice too cheerful. “That's good news, Winter.”

“A girl is dead. There's nothing good about this situation.”

“And it's very tragic,” she said, with zero conviction. “But her death was an accident.”

“An accident?” I arched an eyebrow in Nana's direction.

My great-grandmother pursed her lips. “Very unfortunate,” she said with a click of her tongue.

My mother smiled like we'd settled the matter. “Do you want help unpacking your bags?” She gestured to my suitcases.

“No, I'm good.”

She squeezed my arm. “Classes will resume tomorrow. In the meantime, you have all day to decorate your half of the room.”

I looked from my blank walls to Tina's photo collages. “Okay, sure. I'll do that.”

When I made the promise, I intended to keep it. But when dinnertime came, my bags remained zipped, and the walls were still bare. I just couldn't muster the energy or enthusiasm that decorating required. Tina never appeared, so at least the gods spared me that exchange.

All the alone time gave my dark thoughts space to breed, and the results were just as unnerving as the origins. Mom and Nana were acting cagey. They were hiding something from me. If Missy's death was an accident, as they claimed, why the secrets?

Morgan knocked on the door just as the sky darkened outside my bedroom window and the moon grew visible. The last I had seen her was in Chancellor Keene's office, and she'd been in shock. Now, her eyes were bloodshot, her face puffy, and her skin blotchy. She'd attempted to cover the telltale signs of a day spent crying with extra makeup, which only made the evidence more obvious.